Desert Rose Adventures

Loch Leven Lakes

2007-06-20T20:15:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday and I was lucky enough to have the day off. I have been working an internship in Roseville and living out of a suitcase at my sister Cindy's house.

Cindy is a teacher and her Summer vacation just started. Rather than do laundry and pay bills on my birthday, which is my normal day off routine, we decided to do something more fun and drive up to Tahoe for a day hike.

I Googled Tahoe hikes and came up with one on our side of the Sierras called Loch Leven Lakes. It seemed like a good candidate because it was a short drive and an easy hike. I was still in good shape from my National Park Tour, but not feeling 100% after fighting off the cold I came down with on my last day out in Utah.

We took the Big Bend exit of I-80 and drove left towards the Visitor Center. Just past the visitor center was a small parking area with an outhouse and the trailhead.

The hike up was easy enough and uneventful except for the train. We spotted it about 10 minutes into the hike, and watched it go by, not realizing that the trail would cross the tracks in about a half mile.

Cindy and I thought that crossing the tracks was cool, if felt like the movie Stand By Me, and we wished we were a few minutes earlier so that we could see the train close up. We crossed our fingers that we would see another one on the way back.

The Lock Leven Lakes were supposed to be good for swimming, and we both packed our swimsuits but did not wear them.

It was a warm day and we arrived at the first lake. It was small but pretty. There were quite a few other hikers and their dogs hanging around so we kept moving.

The middle lake was our favorite. It was dotted with islands that looked like they would be fun to swim to, and had a huge granite rock face on one side that was perfect for laying out into the sun.

Still, there was supposed to be a third lake, and we figured as long as we were up here, we might as well check it out.

The last lake was small and pretty like the first lake, but not as crowded. It also had a few islands and looked nice for swimming. We stopped at this one and ate lunch and relaxed until a couple with two huge obnoxious barking dogs stopped and parked themselves right next to us. (Hello! It's a large enough lake for you two jerks and your stupid mutts to find your own spot! Preferably far away!)

We took the snarling dogs as our cue to leave and went back to the nice middle lake. By this time it was surrounded with other hikers so we didn't dare try to change into our suits. I doubt I will ever hike up there again, but if I do I will definitely wear my swimsuit and bring some kind of floatie toy to help me out to the islands while keeping my lunch dry.

The wind had picked up by this point making swimming less appealing anyway so we took a nap in the sun on the big granite rock face and then started the hike back.

We hung around the train tracks for a while hoping for a train, but no luck. It showed up again as we were almost to the parking lot, but that was too far to run back to get a closer look.

It was a nice hike, a bit boring and crowded for my taste, but I thought it would be a good one to take little kids swimming if you have them so it was worth a post. I was also glad to be outside for my birthday rather than holed up with my laundry, although next year I hope to be able to do something more fun and social.

National Park Tour - Bryce Canyon - Thursday 5/31/07

2007-05-31T20:15:00.000-07:00

Today was my last day of play! I ate the last of my sugary cereals—Cocoa Krispies, my least favorite.

I drove down into Springdale and used my last shower token. It was so nice to have clean hair. I noticed too that my body didn’t stink as bad as it did at the beginning of the trip. I wondered if all the exercise had flushed out most of the stink toxins I accummulated during my very unhealthy spring semester days.

From Springdale I was off to Bryce. I drove through Zion and the amazing 1.1 mile long tunnel built in the 1920s. The east side of the park was amazing as always.

I was not prepared for what followed. The Utah countryside up on highway 89 was gorgeous! To me it was perfect. I enjoyed every mile of the drive. There were many for sale signs and I fantasized as I looked around about retiring out there someday.

Just before Bryce I drove through another park called Red Canyon that was beautiful. I was bummed I didn’t have time to stop and look around. From the road I could see a Visitor Center, a campground, and one of the nicest bike paths I have ever seen.

Past Red Canyon I began to see signs for ATV rides, plane rides, horse rides, helicopter rides, rodeos, etc. Never a dull moment if you have a family to entertain and a little extra jingle in your pocket!

Finally at the entrance to Bryce I found myself in the middle of Ponderosa Pines! I had no idea the park was so high; 7,000 to 9,000 ft. I got out of my car and inhaled deeply. It smelled fabulous.

I was new to this park and had no idea where to go and so I got on the shuttle and rode it to the furthest stop, called Bryce Point. From there I hiked downhill into the canyon. I gathered from my park newsletter that Bryce was known for two things; dark night skies and rock formations called hoodoos. I was not going to stick around long enough for the night skies today, and so decided to get up close and personal with the hoodoos.

My opinion was that the hoodoos were best appreciated up close. To me they got lost in the busy-ness of the panoramic landscape, but were quite interesting when viewed as individuals.

I hiked down, down, down to the peek-a-boo loop trail, passing wheezing hikers as they trudged their way up. After watching enough of them, I vowed to find another way back up and out of the hoodoo. It turned out peek-a-boo was a horse trail. I thought they should re-name it peek-a-poo because of all the road apples. It was a warm day, but I was glad to be wearing pants because the many horse hooves had ground the trail into dust so fine it was like ash that puffed up my newly showered leg at every step.

It was a nice hike, with lots of vistas. The sun popped in and out of the puffy white afternoon thunderclouds that had started to gather. I took the trail from peek-a-boo to a formation called queen’s court, and from there up to Sunrise Point. I noticed they cleverly named their lookout points after the sunrise and the sunset to let you know the time of day each view looks best.

From Sunrise Point I walked back to the Visitor Center and planned to hike to a place called Mossy Cave on my way out of the park. However, when I drove down there the road to the trailhead was not obvious to me and I decided I was too tired to hunt for it and so I continued on home.

On the drive home I soaked up the views of the Utah country, listened to some of my guys (George, Toby, Kenny, Dierks, Keith, etc.) on CD, and pondered roadkill.

Why is it that when a rabbit gets hit and ground into the pavement, there is almost always a solitary ear that sticks up rebelliously, waving as cars drive by, as if it refuses to concede defeat? I also wondered why it is almost always just one ear, and not two.

Once I made it back to camp, I started to cook dinner. I was fantasizing about a leftover turkey melt on my delicious sheepherder bread from Schat’s. I opened my ice chest and my heart sank. The sheepherder bread had slid into the ice water and gotten soggy. What a waste. So I changed my menu to breakfast for dinner. I unwrapped the bacon I bought a few days earlier in Hurricane and couldn’t help but be a little bit disappointed with it after the fabulous bacon I got (and already ate) from Bishop. I made do with it and also had scrambled eggs with cheese.

Tonight the moon is close to full, and, inspired by the Bryce astronomy tour that I’m missing, I decided to take a walk in the moonlight to Lava Point to take in the view. I was walking and walking alone in the dark and began to realize that Lava Point is much further than I remembered. I start to think about mountain lions and how no one has been attacked in Zion yet, but maybe no one has been foolish to walk so far from camp alone in the dark before either. I felt mildly secure in the thought that I could probably beat one off with the big silver maglight I was carrying, but that is an adventure I did not want to have.

Since the thought of lion attacks just made me nervous and not scared, I kept going. When I reached Lava Point, I took in the view, attempted a picture, and then scurried back to camp. I decided I needed a partner and a better camera for those types of excursions.

I zipped myself into my tent and noticed that my throat was a little sore. I hoped it was just from campfire smoke, but my intuition said “uh, oh.” Good thing I am leaving tomorrow. The camp full of noisy boys had quieted down to a dull roar and I decided it was time for bed. Tomorrow I have a long drive to my parents’ house for a short visit, and then the day after, another long drive to Chico to get ready for work.

To recap, it has been an amazing adventure. I should hang out with myself more often. I always get to do what I want, and since I am a happy camper, never have to deal with trying to cheer up a crabby camper. It got a bit lonesome at times, but knowing I will be sharing my stories and pictures with friends and family later helped.

I am now in fantastic shape. My senses of taste and sound have sharpened, to the point where the crinkling plastic sound of my little sugary cereals in the morning hurts my ears!

I’ve also been given clearer insight into what’s important and what’s not. Living out of my little car for a week was much easier than I thought it would be, and also much more fulfilling than some other things I’ve tried. I hope I will be able to make these “put things in perspective” trips a more regular occurrence. It was great practice living my life in the present, having faith and trust in God, and savoring every moment of my life as it unfolds.

National Park Tour - Zion Narrows - Wednesday 5/30/07

2007-05-30T20:15:00.000-07:00

I opened my eyes and thought “This is it!” It’s a day I’ve been waiting for for a little over two years. I’m finally going to hike the Narrows.

I felt a bit nervous. I couldn’t find where the Zion Adventure Company had moved to and was almost convinced that I needed their special gear or else my stuff would get ruined and/or I would die of hypothermia.

However, I got a late start. I slept in to nurse a dehydration headache from the day before, and then had to de-bone and put away last night’s turkey. So I told myself I would just have to tough it up and make do with the gear I brought with me rather than waste time hunting down the rental shop.

Turns out I did not have to worry. Once on the shuttle, I chatted with an older couple (who had the gear) and learned that the Virgin River was near record low. It looked like a creek in many places, in contrast to the raging torrent of muddy water from two years ago. My confidence began to rise.

I eagerly anticipated the last stop as we moved through Zion Canyon. Good old Temple of Sinawava. When we arrived I hopped off and bounded up the Riverside Walk trail.

On the way up there was a male mule deer with new fuzzy antlers and a wild turkey with her chickie. Though tempted, I did not stop to try to get a picture. I was so close to my goal I could taste it.

At the end of the road I zipped the bottoms off my hiking pants to turn them into hiking shorts and took to the river. I wasn’t the only one. Very old to very young were negotiating their way upstream. People wore everything—I saw bare feet, water socks, river sandals, tennis shoes, hiking boots (like mine), and the fancy river boots I wanted to rent. The day was hot and the water was perfectly cool. My only regret is that I did not wear a bikini and board shorts!

The first part of the hike was the rockiest. This is where they speak of walking on “slimy bowling balls.” To me it was the hardest part. The water was relatively deep, about to my thigh, and fast moving. I was also new to hiking up rivers and was still getting used to using my walking stick. It is useful as an underwater eye looking for rocks and gauging water depth and as third leg to help me balance while crossing swift water. Once we made it past the rocks, about 15 minutes upstream, it was a pleasant hike from then on.

The whole hike was amazing. The first highlight we saw was a small waterfall sliding down the canyon wall into the river. Not long after the waterfall, rocks were replaced with white sand, and the river pooled and flowed quietly by in turquoise hues. It became the perfect place to swim and I began to pine for my suit, but I was still on a mission. I was in the Narrows, but my goal was to get to the postcard shot where the canyon walls were a mere 22 ft apart.

I savored every step of the walk at this point, and couldn’t help but smile. People hiking back downstream smiled back. The canyon got more magnificent with every step. I moved in and out of the river, enjoying the cool water on my legs when I got in and then the warm sun as I got out.

Finally, the walls began to close in. The river was completely shaded now, and I was using my walking stick to try to see underwater again. The turquoise pools turned jade green. Looking at them I got the same feeling of perfection at work that I get sometimes when I go to Disneyland.

To my right I saw a very enticing, extra narrow slot canyon. It’s narrower than the canyon I’m in and I almost detour. I figured it must be the one they call the Subway, which means I am close to completing my mission, so I saved the detour for the trip back.

The canyon continued to get narrower and I was in awe. I ran my hands along the smooth and polished walls that felt (and looked) like bumpy glass. I smiled at another human aspect of the hike, because it was here that people for some reason decided to decorate the wall with a dozen muddy handprints. I took a picture.

I looked straight up and saw that the sky had shrunk into a lightning bolt of cobalt blue above. Finally, the canyon opened up again and so I turned around. There it was! My postcard shot. After two years, I made it and what a sight. I stood on the pristine white sand in the middle of turquoise and emerald hued water and took my pictures, this time pining for a better camera with a wide angle lens. I am also dying for a swim, but both will have to wait for a return visit. Maybe that one will also be the backpacking top-down trip with a friend. But for now I was living the dream and feeling completely happy.

I headed downstream until I was out of the other hikers’ postcard shots and ate lunch. Then I made a beeline for the Subway.

The Subway was fun. I got to do a bit of scrambling, and the canyon was awesome. When I made it to the waterfall, I turned around.

Downstream I got to reassure other hikers struggling through the rocky section that it gets much better and they should keep going.

Once I got back out of the canyon, I noticed the wall where people deposited their walking sticks. So on perfect days like today, anyone with a decent pair of shoes on could just grab a stick and hike up the Narrows on a whim.

I put the bottoms back on my pants, traded my soggy socks and boots for some flip flops, and cruised back down the River Walk trail. What a glorious hike. I ranked it up in my top two favorites, along with Panamint City. My friends the deer and turkey were munching whatever it is that they munch on side by side this time, and so I stopped to take a picture. Then on my drive back I saw a grouse and its chickie on the road, but they disappeared before I could get a picture.

Once back at camp, I enjoyed a turkey sandwich and some leftover stuffing for dinner while my dutch oven worked on a cherry crunch dessert. Yum.

National Park Tour - Zion Park - Tuesday 5/29/07

2007-05-29T20:15:00.000-07:00

This morning while I was eating one of my many breakfasts of sugary cereal in a tiny box, I met one of my neighbors. He was a psychologist from Vermont. We chatted a bit about travel, and he told me I should go to Europe and India if I got the opportunity.

After breakfast, I drove down into the valley, flashed my annual pass, parked at the Visitor Center and hopped on the shuttle. I got off at Weeping Rock and motored up the short trail. True to its name, it was a rock that appeared to weep. The best part about it was the hanging gardens. I didn’t stick around long; easy, paved trails like this one tend to attract mobs of the more irritating-type tourists.

From Weeping Rock I continued on to Hidden Canyon. I enjoyed the mostly-paved, beautiful climb up the Zion Canyon wall bordered with wildflowers and nice views of Big Bend and Angel's Landing. Up near the mouth of Hidden Canyon, the trail was carved into the face of an 800 ft sandstone cliff, which explained the stick figure in peril at the trailhead warning those fearful of heights. The trail was wide enough not to need it, but the park service hung a chain along the rock as if to provide reassurance. I smiled as I remembered Angel's Landing. Compared to those heights, this trail was a piece of cake.

At the mouth of Hidden Canyon, gratuitous little stairs had been carved into the rock to help us up to the main attraction. I tried to picture the trail builders sculpting them as they neared completion of the trail. Nice touch.

Once I climbed the little sandstone steps to the mouth of the canyon, I saw a little sign informing me that the trail ends here and some scrambling may be required to continue. Apparently, the Park Service decided they could stop holding our little hands at this point. I grinned as I passed another hiker looking confused as he stared at the rocks ahead muttering something about not wanting to have to do something called "scramble... whatever that means" after hiking all that way up here. I hopped on the rock and climbed on up. If he wanted to stay behind and complain, that was fine with me. The fewer people in my way up the canyon the better. My new Merrills stuck nicely to the sandstone as I climbed up the rocks and the beach-like sand on the canyon floor was nice to jump into when I climbed down.

On my way up the canyon, I noticed a narrow little slot to my right with footprints in the sand leading up. I couldn’t resist a little adventurous detour, so I took off my pack and squeezed through to see what was up there. This was the highlight of my hike. The sandstone walls were carved into smooth and colorful patterns unlike any of the others I came across.

I squeezed back down and retrieved my pack and then continued up the canyon, snapping pictures of cool rock archways and blue lizards. When I reached a dry fall that was higher than I felt like climbing, I turned around.

At the trailhead, I stopped at the creek below Weeping Rock to check out some little fish I noticed on the way up. I took some pictures of them and then picked up a bunch of other people’s trash. Batteries, cigarette butts, band-aids, paper towels, drink bottles. Disgusting. I tried to let go of the bitterness as soon as I could. It seems Zion not only has strata of rocks, it has strata of tourists. The lower the elevation, the more disrespectful they get.

I chucked the trash in a bin, went back down to the creek to wash my hands, and got back on the shuttle to get to the Emerald Pools trailhead. The trail is a loop, and I began going left, which to me was easier because you get the long way going up and the short, steep way going down. The Upper Pool was big and surrounded with colossal canyon cliffs, but was very crowded so I didn't stay long. On the way down to Middle Pool I took some pictures of a big rock that somehow had become completely covered in little cairns of all sizes. I like to see the little human sides to these trails.

I passed by the Middle Pool and saw a little boy living the dream (wading) in it, even though swimming was not allowed. I wished I was his age so I could get away with it too, because it was a hot day. The Lower Pool had a waterfall that the trail moves behind. Today it was just a drip, like spray from a garden hose that moved back and forth with the breeze. I thought it was too bad Karl and I didn’t make it up here in 2005 after all the snowmelt. The waterfall was probably roaring that weekend and it would have been cool to walk behind it, assuming the trail was not blocked off.

After this hike I felt like I had had enough for one day and got back on the shuttle for the Visitor Center. It was full of old folks. I reckoned they were the only other people with time off this time of year.

One man with a wild white beard was joking with some other passengers about Henderson, NV; sort of defending it as a nice place to live. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to, because the seats in the front of the bus (where I was) faced the aisle and he was sitting in the first seat in back that faced forward. Anyway, I was smiling inwardly because I liked that he was so chipper.

His new friends got off the bus and shortly after, the tiny, frail little woman I barely noticed was sitting next to him passed out. He noticed right away and was very concerned, caressing her face and asking “Pam? Pam? Are you conscious?”

Then suddenly she came to in a panic, arms flailing and shouting “What happened?” By this time most of the other passengers were watching and we jumped in our seats in surprise.

He tried to reassure her, saying soothingly “It’s OK, we’re on a bus.”

I didn’t hear her, but some of the other busybodies on the bus repeated that she needed to get off the bus because she was not feeling well. We arrived at the next stop and he supported her off the bus. The driver and other passengers were very concerned, and everyone offered to help or radio for a ranger. The old man declined, his focused priority was getting her off the bus. Sure enough, as soon as she was off, she got sick. Some passengers got off to help and offer her water. It was a hot day.

I watched feeling sorry for her, grateful for my youth and good health, and proud of the little old Santa man for being such a hero to his wife.

As we pulled away, I noticed the other passengers whispering about the incident. Then at the stop sign to get back on the main road, someone said “Look!”

We turned and saw a mule deer with a lame right rear leg hobble up the hill towards the last stop, graciously giving the passengers something else to whisper about.

Once back at the Visitor Center, I filled up my eight gallon water jug and lugged it back to the car. Lava Point is a beautiful, tiny campground full of Aspen trees, White Fir, and Ponderosa Pines. The tent sites are level and smooth, they have huge nice fire pits, and cute wooden picnic tables. Each site has its own locking trash container, meaning no trips to a smelly dumpster. The toilets must have some sort of miraculous composing substance, because they don’t stink as bad as most. The park also hangs flypaper inside the outhouse and provides hand sanitizer (I thought this such a nice touch). I think I mentioned earlier that it is free. Overall, Lava Point is a very pleasant place to stay. The only catch is, there is no water, so you have to pack in your own for drinking, cooking or washing. Hence the water jug.

I decided tonight would be dutch oven roast turkey night. I went down to Hurricane and bought the groceries. As I was preparing the food, I noticed my frozen turkey breast looked a bit taller than my dutch oven. Sure enough, when I put it in, the lid wouldn’t close. No choice but to saw the top part of the breast off with my knife and cook it alongside the rest.

The turkey was absolutely delicious, and not just because I was starving. By the time I had sawed it apart and cooked it an extra hour to make up for it being frozen, I didn’t get to eat it until 10 or 11 at night! It was so worth the wait. Best camp dinner ever. Yum.

National Park Tour - Travel Day - Monday 5/28/07

2007-05-28T20:15:00.000-07:00

I cooked breakfast, packed up, and headed east. I gassed up in Beatty, since the $5/gal price tag at Furnace Creek caused me to only buy what I needed to get out of Death Valley. I drove past “Big Dune” and made a mental note to visit it someday. I called Cindy so the family would know I was still alive when I drove through Vegas.

I got to Springdale in good time. I showered, and did laundry at the RV park outside of Zion. While I was waiting for my clothes, I browsed through their plethora of outdoor adventures magazines. One article in particular made me smile. A woman mused about the differences between camping with women and camping with men. One of them was that all-woman camping trips are well thought out and planned, and you usually have little need for any improv or survival skills. Men on the other hand, do not seem to consider it camping if they do not get the opportunity to play MacGyver in order to have a place to sleep or something to eat. As this was my first all woman camping trip, and also problem-free camping trip, I couldn't help but agree. My trip had been more relaxing than those I'd been on in the past, but I admit the Man vs. Wild trips I've gone on with the guys were more fun.

When my laundry was done, I looked at the camp fees in Zion and decided to camp at Lava Point because it is free. I drove up there, found an empty campsite, set up my camp, checked out the view, and then went to bed.

National Park Tour - Death Valley - Sunday 5/27/07

2007-05-27T20:15:00.000-07:00

It is so much easier to get up with the sun outside a tent than in. I thought I might camp somewhere else tonight so I packed everything up and took off to the Valley.

On a whim, I decided to visit Skidoo. It was another sweaty-palms dirt road, 9 miles deeper into what was already the middle of nowhere. I made it with no problems, but made it where? In the middle of a totally empty valley I drove up to a handy-dandy NPS sign which informed me that I was parked in what was once the town of Skidoo. Not a trace of it was left. No rusty junk, no cement slabs, no rotting wood, nothing. I wondered why on earth anyone would drive all the way out here just for a NPS sign.

I figured I might as well make the most of it. To my right I notice the road goes up the hill to what is likely a nice view of Death Valley. Unfortunately, someone is already parked there and I’m not in the mood for company. The desert prefers solitude. I noticed a mine up the hill to my left and a road leading in the general direction. I got back in my car and drove up as far as I dared in the direction of the mine, then parked and hiked the rest of the way. It was like a cute little version of the Panamint City mine. I opted not to walk in this one, since I was alone, no one knew where I was, and perhaps most importantly, I forgot my flashlight and was too lazy to hike down to the car and then back up with it.

From here I assumed my Forrest Gump mentality and thought since I hiked up this far, I might as well hike a bit further and see what’s over that saddle. Turns out more mines were over the saddle. I marveled over one that looked like an earthquake fault, cut along the ground. I had never seen a mine like that before. I also noticed a wood structure, which finally made me feel like I didn’t drive out here for nothing. Past the wood structure, it looked like I might be able to get my own nice view of Death Valley up a nearby hill. Might as well! I tell myself, and continue on.

The top of the hill didn’t have the valley view I was hoping for, but what it did have was a view of another hill, circumscribed by a road with gates on both sides. It looked like someone didn’t want people over there, so of course I had to go see why not. That’s when I found the reason for the 9 mile bump-fest through the desert. The Skidoo Mill, cascading down a strikingly deep canyon and overlooking a spectacular Death Valley vista, was still in awesome shape! I climbed around it a bit, took some pictures, and then headed back to the car happy.

I turned the car around and while I drove down the hill, a raven flew along side like a playful dolphin alongside a boat. She stopped and perched on the “Warning – Mines” sign (sorry, no stick figures in peril this time). I thought she would make a good Poe-esque picture and so I stopped to see if she would pose. Not only did she pose, but she also starred in a short film titled “Raven Cawing on Warning Sign.” I rewarded her with a piece of bread, as there was plenty leftover from the duck pond, and drove on.

On the way back down the 9 mile bump-fest I stopped at an old cabin and mine I couldn't see on the way up that were also in great shape and took some pictures. The detour was well worth it after all.

My next stop was Scotty’s Castle for lunch and pictures for my desert rose page. I enjoyed the shade for a while and then waved goodbye to the castle’s pet coyotes and took the road to Ubehebe Crater.

The crater was mind-bogglingly spectacular. No picture from my cheeseball camera could do it justice but I tried anyway. The park service warned us to set our parking break due to winds, and they weren’t kidding. The world’s biggest hurricane-force blowdryer was roaring up at us from the bottom of the crater. I attempted to hike up to Little Hebe, but when the trail narrowed I lost my nerve due to the wind. It was fun to watch the other tourists lean into it with their arms outstretched on my way down.

I needed gas and decided to go to Furnace Creek so I could hang out in the air conditioned Visitor Center for a bit. On the way there, I stopped to see Salt Creek on a whim. It was a fun little walk along the boardwalk, and the pupfish were cute.

The Visitor Center closed at 5 and I drove back to Wildrose because camping in any of the valleys would have been way too hot. I had checked Mesquite Spring on the way back from the crater hoping it would have Mesquite trees, but no such luck. I thought it would be a fun place for a group camp, or for stargazing, in cooler weather.

It was windy at Wildrose so I set up the tent. I ended up tying it on both ends because when the sun set the wind totally changed direction! Such is life in the desert. I filled up my bucket for a sponge bath and a shave. I also discovered a cool walk-up campsite at the top of the hill. Maybe on another windless night I will hike my sleeping bag up to that one for a night under the stars.

Tonight, however, I went to sleep to the chatter of a large family of Southern rednecks who had pulled up nearby. So much for solitude! Before I went to sleep I read a few bits of A Course in Miracles. It is very thoughtful stuff.

National Park Tour - Bishop - Saturday 5/26/07

2007-05-26T20:15:00.000-07:00

I got up and immediately went down the hill for some desperately needed ice and milk. Doh! Store’s closed. So I continued on to the local gas station.

Once I was back I packed up, said goodbye to Michael, and went down to the Laundromat/shower to rinse yesterday’s stink off. Ahh, showers are so nice, even if only for 5 minutes.

I was moving back and forth from my car to the showers for various reasons; do the hair, brush the teeth, change the shirt after the moisturizer exploded all over it… Anyway, as I did this I listened to an older gentleman, who would obviously rather be anywhere in this beautiful country other than sitting outside a Laundromat waiting for his clothes, entertain himself by teasing the passerby.

As I crammed the last of my stuff back into my car, he decided it was my turn to be teased and told me I needed to upgrade to a truck. I smiled at him and brightly agreed which took him aback for a second. It obviously was not the response he expected (there are few things in this world that give me greater pleasure than this).

“Really?” was all he could come up with.

“Yep! A little white one with a camper shell. Maybe I’ll have it in a year.” I said thoughtfully.

“That’ll work!” he said.

Though I hated to leave one of my favorite spots in the Sierras while the weather was so perfect, I also couldn’t wait to see Zion again so I drove on.

I stopped in Bishop to get the fabulous jerky and bacon from Mahogany Smoked Meats and of course bread from Schat’s Bakery. I also stopped and bought a pink Life is Good t-shirt since the exploding moisturizer had interfered with my laundry plan. The town was a zoo. I couldn’t figure out what the deal was at first, then I remembered. Mule Days. Luckily the big parade was over by the time I got there.

I managed to find a spot at the park to park my car. My plan to enjoy a peaceful lunch in the shade while feeding the ducks would have to be modified a bit. I wasn’t completely pessimistic about the ducks, however, so I brought my old bread just in case.

I found a somewhat peaceful and shady spot on a stump on the back side of the pond and put my bread away as I watched kids on the other side of the pond progress from tossing pieces of bread, to hurling slices of bread, to dumping loaves of bread into the water—totally ignored by the overstuffed ducks which were huddled together in the middle of the pond, as far from the melee as possible, quacking satiatedly.

From Bishop I went strait to Death Valley, stopping only to snap a picture of the pet elk on 395. From there I drove directly up Wildrose Canyon. My little car chugged up the road to the Charcoal Kilns, which was crappier than I remembered. Then I pushed the poor car up to Thorndike, palms sweating because at times I wondered if it would make it.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I arrived at the campground only to find it completely full!! Inconceivable!! So much for the idea that I would be the only one crazy enough to camp there! I knew from experience that if Thorndike was full, there was not point in trying Mahogany Flat so I rattled my way all the way back down the hill to tree-less Wildrose with my tail between my legs, my plan foiled.

On the bright side, at least Wildrose has running water. I set up my lawn chair under the shade of a scrub brush and waited for the sun to set. It was a gorgeous evening. I cooked beef stroganoff in my dutch oven and slept out under the stars.

National Park Tour - Yosemite Falls - Friday 5/25/07

2007-05-25T20:15:00.000-07:00

I was up at sunrise, about 5am, and hit the road back to Yosemite. I had used the last of my milk in the pot pie, so I skipped breakfast, which was fine since I wasn’t hungry anyway. When I arrived in the valley, I parked by the meadow and walked to the Upper Yosemite Falls trailhead.

At the trailhead I put my head down and panted up the 60 steep switchbacks to Columbia Rock. The months of sitting in a classroom did nothing for my condition, because by the time I reached the viewpoint, I felt like I might barf if I took one more step. I considered briefly if this was the reason the trail builders chose to build the viewpoint, because the first view of the falls was only a short walk away. The valley floor was hazy, but pretty, and I was able to pick out my car which now looked like a micro machine.

Once I caught my breath, I continued to the first view of the falls. I rounded a bend in the trail and gasp like a kid on Christmas morning. It was glorious, and at this point I decided it would be worth it to suck it up and continue the trail up to the brink. I am only halfway there, and the second half of the hike is no easier than the first.

The falls are spraying mist on the trail and after sweating in the glaring sun for much of the first half of the hike, I am welcoming the cooler temperatures as I begin the climb upward. I pass a group of young Brazilian men who apparently had the same idea, because they chose this spot under the world's biggest swamp cooler to take a break for lunch.

From this point on, we would play a game of tortoise and the hare to the top of the falls. They would run past me, then rest and watch me walk by, and then pass me up again. During one of their rests, one of the louder ones finally asked me, “Hey! How come you no get tired? What are you on, vitamins or something?”

I was confused by this question as I sweated by them, red faced, mouth hanging open, and gasping for air. I managed to close my mouth long enough to grin at them, and kept walking. Of course I was tired, but he may have been on to something, because I did take my favorite vitamins that morning (yay, USANA).

Further up the trail, I had stopped for water (can’t bring myself to use a camelback—yuk) and they passed me again. This time the loud one smiles at me and says, “Finally you get tired!! I’m not a eunuch!!” I laughed at this one.

I finally made it to the top and saw a sign marking a trail crossroads. The trail I’m on connects with one from Tuolumne meadows, which explains the cheery looking backpackers that passed me on the way down. Their hike was much easier, though it took two days. I remembered cheerily passing all the suckers wheezing their way up the Walter’s Wiggles switchbacks on their way up to Angels Landing at Zion as Karl and I breezed down from the West Rim Trail—only this time I am one of the suckers. Dammit! Oh well, I made it. I see I also have a choice about whether to go to Falls Overlook or Yosemite Point.

I am wondering which to choose when a pair of hotties walk by on their way down. They said hello, so I asked them which one to choose. They said both. They preferred Yosemite Point, with one of them kissing the tips of his fingers as he said “Magnifique!”

I climbed down to the overlook. It is now 1 pm and I am starving. I squeezed past dozens of tourists to get to the brink, climbed up the guard rail to see anything even resembling a waterfall and to snap my photos, and quickly decided it was too wet and crowded to eat there and so headed back out.

I noticed my Brazilian friends were doing their best sea lion impression by basking shirtless on the rocks next to gorgeous Yosemite Creek. One looked like he was considering getting in the water, which would seem like an excellent idea after a long, hot, sweaty hike except for one minor detail. He was about 50 yards from the brink of the tallest waterfall in North America. I glanced over at an older gentleman who saw them too and said “Stupid!” just as he said “Crazy!” Not all of us want to live on the edge I suppose.

I plopped down under a tree at the top of the hill and polished off my Rice Krispie treat, apple and Cheez-its as I watched more tourists come and go.

After lunch I moved on to Yosemite Point. I crossed Yosemite Creek on a huge sturdy wooden bridge flanked with signs shouting “Danger, Waterfall!” I reckon they are supposed to be scary, but I found the little stick figure in peril humorous.

The creek itself may be the most beautiful creek I’ve ever seen. I was carved into the granite floor, lined with pine trees growing strait out of the rock, and filled with pristine snow-melt water.

Soon I was at Yosemite Point and the view was spectacular. My little micro machine is now a miniscule white speck on the edge of the green splotch I called a meadow. I marveled at how far my little legs were able to carry me in such a short time. The Brazilian boys caught up and I said “Good, you’re not dead!” They laughed.

The boys and I raced each other down the hill. I passed wheezing, red-faced suckers on the way down and assured them they were “almost there!” Many of them groaned at me and said “Yeah, that’s what the last guy said a half hour ago!”

I got to the first view of the falls without much ado other than pining for the walking stick I forgot in my trunk. The sand on the granite paving stones was slippery and my tired legs could have used the help. At the falls I took more pictures, as the light from the setting sun had cast a rainbow in the mist.

By the time I reached the trailhead my feet, cozy in their new Merrills (best hiking shoes, ever!!), were finally starting to hurt, and I am tired from lack of sleep. I begin the groggy post-hike limp back to my car and just as I am getting to the meadow, one of the Brazilian boys ran up to me all excited about something.

“Did you see the brr? Did you see the brr? It went right by where you were!”

“Huh?”

“Brr! You know! Brr!” he said, waving his hands.

I still didn’t know what the heck he was talking about. My tired brain creaked, trying to wake up and make some sense of what this kid was trying to tell me.

“Come here! I took pictures!”

I followed him to a group of people surrounding a camera and the light bulb click on. Ohhh, bear!! Apparently a cute little black bear had run right by me and I was too tired to notice. He had some great pictures of it. I felt like Meg Ryan in the movie French Kiss. Kevin Kline’s voice is ringing in my ears. (Wi, Bob!) I thanked him for sharing and continued to my car.

Once back at camp, I was too tired to cook so I plopped down with some leftover pot pie. It wasn’t half bad cold. By this time I had neighbors and one of them stopped by to say hello and chatted for quite a while. His name was Michael, and he was a chiropractor in Carson City. He told me he was an avid climber and explorer and suggested a few places I should visit. I was glad to have met him. He left and I was in my little sleeping bag snoring by 9 pm.

National Park Tour - Yosemite - Thursday 5/24/07

2007-05-24T20:15:00.000-07:00

I got a late start with last minute packing and grocery shopping. I got up at 4:30 intending to be on the road as the sun rose at 6, but didn’t end up leaving town until 7.

I stopped at the Kings Beach post office in Tahoe to mail thank you cards to Matson and Isom for the interview and office tour they gave me the week before and mail my last-minute employment paperwork to Kohls. Now I was officially on vacation.

I didn’t stop again until the Yosemite fee station at the top of Tioga Pass. I had it in my brain that all of the National Parks accept credit/debit cards for fees since they do in Death Valley, and intended to bring my checkbook just in case. Unfortunately the checkbook didn’t make it onto a checklist; because it turned out to be the only thing I forgot and actually needed for the trip. Doh! I had no choice but to drive all the way down the pass to a Lee Vining ATM because I was $20 short of the $80 needed to buy my annual pass.

Upper Yosemite was beautiful and still had snow and ice on the lakes. The drive down to the valley took much longer than I remembered, and because of my late start and my two trips up Tioga, I only had time for one short hike and so I chose lower Yosemite Falls.

The trail was one of the poshest I have ever seen. It had new pavement, and redwood bridges and boardwalks. The falls were amazing. I found a rock that wasn’t already covered with the butt of another tourist and ate my lunch while gazing at the falls. An overweight squirrel tried to steal my food when I wasn’t looking.

On the way back, I moved off the trial for a picture of Half Dome dwarfing the local park that I thought I would cleverly caption “America’s Playground.”

It was on this detour that I surprised a pair of tame national park deer and got a much more entertaining video of one deer licking its hind end.

I made it back to the car by 5 and after a short stop at Olmstead Point and Tenaya Lake, drove all the way to my favorite Eastern Sierra campsite ( a secret not to be named on the internet) before the sun set at 8. I made the rest of my cash disappear on a couple nights’ campsite fees, which had gone up since the last time I camped. I made a mental note to try some free nearby camping the next time I am in the area.

The campground was deserted. I set up camp and broke in my brand new dutch oven with a chicken pot pie. It came out perfectly, and the crust was crispier and more delicious than any I had ever had before. Yum. Dessert was a s’more. I was in bed by 11 pm.

Table Mountain Wildflowers

2007-04-04T08:54:00.000-07:00

Chico is glorious in the spring. Everything is in bloom and I've seen flowers more spectacular than I imagined were possible in this world. Some trees explode in multiple colors like a firework, and others the flowers seem to alight on the branches like a bunch of butterflies.

Emily, Honey and I took a little daytrip to the top of Table Mountain, north of Oroville to see the wildflower displays up there. It did not disappoint. Here is one of my favorite pictures.

Page Updates

2007-03-26T13:03:00.000-07:00

Spring Break is over, and new pages are up and updated as a result. The biggest updates are Fall Canyon in Death Valley, Schmidt Tunnel, El Paso Mountains, Ridgecrest, Inyokern, IWV, and the Canebrake schoolbus.

Page Updates

2007-03-11T22:33:00.000-07:00

I've got some new pages online on desert-rose.net, and updated many more. The new ones include a Mono Lake page, a Canebrake Trail page, and a More Critters page in my adventures section.

Sierra Nevada Brewery

2007-03-10T21:27:00.000-08:00

This is the "sampler" every first-timer should order on their visit to the Sierra Nevada Taproom. Isn't it pretty? It was tasty too, but you'll have to take my word for it until you can visit and taste for yourself!

I got the biggest kick out of the "smoked beer." Two of my favorite things, beer and campfires, all rolled into one. I wish they'd bottle it so I could take it camping. It would be quite an existential experience.

Blossom Lane

2007-03-04T21:37:00.000-08:00

My roommate and I took a nice leisurely ride on the bike path to Durham. There were fruit and nut tree blossoms on both sides of the road the entire way. Definitely a must-do-again experience.

Panamint City

2007-02-26T17:27:00.000-08:00

I finally posted my pictures from my second Panamint City trip online. Visit the page and click on the top picture for a slideshow of the first trip, and the bottom picture for a slideshow of the second trip.

Sugar Bowl

2007-01-18T22:09:00.000-08:00

Today I took a trip to Sugar Bowl to use a free lift pass I got from buying a Tahoe Card last fall. The Tahoe Card really is a good deal... if you intend to ski or board often. That was my plan, since I knew I'd have the time, the trouble is, we really haven't had the snow this year. So it's a bit of a gamble to buy one of those things. I think I broke even.

I like to classify myself as an intermediate skier, but my first trip of the season I spend my time on the beginner trails. This way I can remember how to ski without killing my knees, and practice my technique without getting in people's way.

Sugar Bowl is a nice little establishment. They have some express lifts and are situated on a mountain that gets a good amount of snow, even in dry years like this one. You can see the train tracks from the top of the hill, which is cool. Unlucky for me, I was at the bottom both times the whistle blew during the day.

Anyway, Sugar Bowl is not my first choice for beginners. I spent my day on only one run, because even the one easy trail was steep, and the conditions were windy and icy so it was easy to get going fast on the crusty snow. That and the people who work there sort of expect you to know what you're doing when it comes to lift passes and rentals.

By the end of the day I had my ski confidence back, since the mountain was for all effective purposes deserted and there was never a line at the lift. My out of shape legs felt like jello, but I knew I must have been getting better because my knees were fine.

Still, I miss Mammoth. There is just so much more variety. It is also so professional... like Disneyland. I won't be able to afford a trip there this year, but look forward to the day when I can go back and try my hand at snowboarding again. As for the next time I take a trip up here, I'll try a different place... maybe Boreal for some night skiing.

Colossal Cave

2006-12-30T22:26:00.000-08:00

Colossal Cave is a neat place to visit if you happen to be in Tucson, AZ. It is right in the hills outside of the city. The drive is short, and they only nail you for $5 for parking like everywhere else in the state.

The park is open 365 days a year. You can even get a tour on Christmas they tell us. For about $8 we got a 1-hour walking tour of the cave, which covers only about 20% of it. If you're really serious about caving, you can take a longer "wild" cave tour where you get your hard hat and flashlight and get to climb around the cave off the paved trail so to speak.

Colossal Cave is dry, and is home to a variety of bats. Apparently, December is not bat season, so the closest I got to seeing one is on my nifty little bat mood ring that I picked up in the gift shop for $3. Endless entertainment, I tell you. Still, regardless of whether you get to see an actual bat, you get to smell them. Colossal Cave was once a lucrative guano mine and the bats, when in season, are busy replenishing the resource.

On our tour we got to hear about the hard-core cave junkies that spent days on end inside the cave, before lights and pavement, and who even got married inside while making the lights and pavement possible for the rest of us. We learned words like "cave bacon," looked for the obligatory hidden treasure always rumored to be left in these sorts of places, and rubbed the very phallic (see picture) stalagmite that the tour guides refer to as "old baldy" or something to that effect for good luck.

All in all, a visit to Colossal Cave was a good way to spend the last day of the year. It is a unique little experience of the beautiful Sonoran Desert.

Fall Color

2006-12-07T12:09:00.000-08:00

It's not really an adventure, but I had to share this tree on campus anyway. Gorgeous!

Bear Hole

2006-10-28T12:14:00.000-07:00

I did get the opportunity to swim here when the weather was blistering. It was crazy full of happy (er, drunk) young people in the water and spread out on the rocks like a bunch of sea lions. If you're in Chico this is one of the must-visit places. It's just up the dirt road in Upper Bidwell park. It's fun, and simply beautiful. If mobs of people aren't your forte, there are plenty of other equally gorgeous swimming holes that a short hike up or down the creek will reveal.

Feather Falls

2006-10-21T12:22:00.000-07:00

Feather Falls is the most spectacular sight I've seen in the Chico area so far.

The hike gives you the choice of two trails. The lower trail is shorter but steeper. The upper trail is, you guessed it, longer but more easy-going. I've made it to the falls twice now, both times making a loop of the lower trail on the way there and the upper trail on the way back. Works out to a nice 8-mile or so (round trip) walk. Both trails are beautiful with creeks, huge trees, ladybugs, and pretty ferns.

Having now worked on a trail, I can see that a lot of love went into this one. Someone really wanted you to be able to see the falls in all their glory, and be safe at the same time. This picture was taken perched on a huge wood platform built out over the cliff.

Feather Falls is something like the 3rd largest waterfall in the U.S. It just barely fit in the lens of my little camera. It's also very old. The geologists say about 140 million years! Apparently the rocks it falls over are very resistant to erosion.

The hike to Feather Falls is something that can be done in an afternoon in a t-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes. You can bring your dog, just look out for ticks. I would recommend at least bringing a lunch to enjoy on the platform while you listen to the roar of the water. If you're more adventurous try camping out there under the stars.

Lassen National Park

2006-10-14T11:49:00.000-07:00

I took a trip to Lassen National Park with Chico's Adventure Outings. Definitely a trip I could have made on my own, but it was a nice opportunity to meet people.

Our first priority was to hike to the top of Mt. Lassen. It was a short hike, about 5 miles, but that sucker is steep! I was getting over a cold so it seemed to take me forever to wheeze my way to the summit. The mountain, in true volcanic form, is naked. Meaning little vegetation and lots of gray rocks. I hear people hike it during a full moon, and it seems logical that the moonlight would light up the trail enough to find your way up at night.

Once at the top, you can see the beautiful Mt. Shasta, and probably the valley, if not for the haze. There are also nice views of the surrounding mountains, and some sparking little mountain lakes.

After Mt. Shasta we took a shorter, easier hike to the pretty little Kings Creek waterfall. The entire hike was gorgeous; lots of good-smelling pine trees, and the creek to the right put on a nice show of smaller falls before we arrived at the grand finale.

Finally to cap off the trip, we stopped to experience the sights, smells and touch (warm!) of the Sulphur Works.

I liked Lassen National Park for its variety and for the proximity of the different activities to each other. It also wasn't particularly crowded which made for a nice, peaceful, weekend getaway from school.

Downieville

2006-09-30T11:02:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of the semester, students go around the campus recruiting volunteers for the CAVE program. One in particular caught my attention because he said the word "Tahoe" in his spiel. Sounded like a fun way to get the word "volunteer" on my resume to me.

So I worked my way through the campus bureaucracy and eventually found myself on the road to a town called Downieville to work on some of their mountain bike trails.

Downieville is one of the cutest little towns I've ever seen. The buildings all look like something out of the 1800s, only they are cared for with love by the residents and are in great shape. It was a mountain biker's heaven.

Our host was a good-looking guy named Erik who was also in charge of the Sierra Buttes Trail Stewardship. He let us crash in their awesome cabin/bachelor pad and then led us out to the trail sites and reminded us what a good day's work with our hands felt like. It was a nice change from studying!

If you're up in Downieville to play, check out Yuba Expeditions. They are nice, cool guys who will take you and your bike to the top of some of these nifty trails in their van, so all you have to do is ride down. Sounds like good times to me. If you're keen on volunteering, you can skip the Chico State red tape and go directly through the trail stewardship. They'll set you up with a job, place to camp, food, and of course beer. Happy trails!

Truckee River Rafting

2006-08-26T13:49:00.000-07:00

Last weekend a group of us went on a leisurely rafting trip down the Truckee River. Here are some things I learned.

1. Go on Sunday and it is less crowded.

2. Book in advance to save money.

3. Book early because it's not only cheaper, it's easier to park.

4. Be aware that there are two rafting companies. Compare the two and park in the right place when you get there.

5. Have river shoes. It's much easier to push a stuck raft, and you're not as likely to lose them when you fall in. (Yeah, I fell in trying to dislodge our raft.)

6. Get a waterproof camera beforehand. They sell them at the station, but convenience has a price.

7. Do not put anything in the raft you would like to keep dry. This includes electronic car keys.

8. Bring something to feed the ducks, so the irresistible little quackers don't end up dining on your Pepperidge Farm goodies.

9. It's damn near impossible to drink beer and paddle at the same time. Plan on taking turns with the drinks and paddles.

10. Wait to put your life vest on until AFTER they take the picture at the start.

Wildrose Charcoal Kilns

2006-08-17T22:01:00.000-07:00

"Designed by Swiss engineers and built by Chinese laborers in 1879, these kilns produced charcoal for the Modock Mine smelter, about 30 miles west of here. The kilns closed after only three years of use. Because of their brief life and remote location, these may be the best-preserved examples of charcoal kilns in the West. Workers filled the air-tight kilns with pinyon pine logs (relatively abundant in the area) and fired them. The burning, which reduced the wood to charcoal, took 6-8 days. Cooling took another five days. Wagons then hauled the charcoal to the Modock Mine smelter, where it was used to extract silver and lead from the rich ore from Modock's mines." - US Department of the Interior, National Park Service, Death Valley National Park

To get to the kilns, take the Wildrose Canyon route to or from Death Valley. Drive carefully, because the road is rough and narrow, with pavement missing in places. The last leg of the journey is a dirt road. It is still do-able in a street car. You will pass a campground and ranger station on the way up.

Past the Charcoal Kilns the road gets worse, I don't recommend it without high clearance. However, if you can make it up, there is a great little campground with a fabulous view called Mahogany Flat as well as the trailhead to Telescope Peak.

Visit my website for photos.

The Lost Woman

2006-08-16T18:43:00.000-07:00

Pregnant Teen Dumped in Remote Area to Die

Lover leaves Kate Vernon in Slate Range to perish

By RICK FERREIRA

Special to the News Review

Residents of Ridgecrest, Trona and China Lake may be alarmed to hear of the alleged attempted murder of a teenage girl named Kate Vernon, formerly a Nebraska citizen, who was relocating to Southern California.

An unidentified man, said to be the father of her unborn child, is reported to have abandoned her in the Slate Range and continued on to the Los Angeles area.

Unfortunately, the statute of limitations for this alleged crime has expired. The event actually occurred in 1869, and Kate was a member of a wagon train.

Please forgive my dramatic introduction of this story. But if the News Review had existed in 1869, the headline news may very well have looked like what you have just read. And the reaction of the average reader may have been the same — for a crime did indeed occur in Ridgecrest’s own backyard.

A young woman endured a horribly undeserved trauma, and her child eventually became a victim as well.

And except for a few people who heard the story from the prospector who found Kate’s tattered and weathered diary, or the few more who read about the prospector in a mining history periodical published in the 1950s, the world has continued on without knowledge of these events.

You might say that for almost everyone in the world, this unknown drama has just occurred. The word is just reaching our ears and our eyes. And Kate, also known as “The Lost Woman,” might well have been victimized just yesterday.

There is another reason to regard Kate as freshly abused — the mysteries. Although little is recorded about Kate’s story, two huge questions have yet to be answered about this forsaken teenager.

First, where is her diary today? Second, what was Kate’s ultimate fate?

If we can draw together the accumulated experience and memory of the citizenry, perhaps we can answer one or both of these questions and eventually give Kate some small amount of justice.

After all this time, if Kate’s suffering can move from the condition of anonymous obscurity to public understanding and recognition, at least she will not have suffered in loneliness.

“The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword.” In the case of pregnant teenage Kate, this can be said to be true. She was on a California-bound wagon train when her trip was cut short and she was left to die.

But she did not die. The native inhabitants helped her build a tiny rock cabin, give birth to her son and eke out a meager living in a secluded canyon on the mountainside.

The whole while she kept a journal, only ceasing to make entries in about 1876 when her little boy Lee sickened and died at the age of six.

Nearly 30 years later, Kate’s diary would be found by prospector Joseph Ward.

Old Joe shares Kate’s story

Joe Ward was born on the Isle of Man and had coincidentally immigrated to the United States at the age of 16 in the year that little Lee Vernon died. Joe hoped the dry desert climate would help his tuberculosis.

"Old Joe Ward,” as he would someday be known, was educated in mineralogy, and had some success in locating mines.

A loner and poet, he spent most of his time prospecting with his favorite burros. Out of necessity he would leave his valued possessions with friends.

Meanwhile Joe freely shared Kate’s story with others. Mary Carrasco of Lone Pine recalls hearing Old Joe’s tale of the Lost Woman when Mary was nine. And later as a teenager she heard the story repeated by others with whom Joe had conversed.

The story was eventually published in a 1950s edition of the Tonopah Times and quickly reprinted in Lucille Weight’s Calico Print magazine. By then Joe was dead. He had suddenly sickened out in the desert, and was so quickly rushed to Los Angeles for treatment that even some of his local family did not know what had become of him.

After a year in the hospital, he died in 1946. But what had become of the diary?

In the 1930s Joe had located a mineral lode in the Slate Range and had sold the claim to a friend, Dick Gilbert, an employee of Metro Goldwyn Mayer Studios who admitted to having been bitten by the “gold bug.” He developed the mining claim into an operating business.

All too soon, however, World War II closed off access to his gold mine.

Where is the diary?

After Gilbert read Kate’s story in the Calico Print, he added his verification of Joe’s words, including the idea that the diary would have been left with someone Joe trusted out in the desert.

Gilbert even supplied an old, old photo of Kate’s cabin, located somewhere near his mine. But the location of the diary was a mystery even to him.

So where does that leave Kate's story today? I have had no success in located any of Gilbert’s family, but that does not mean there is no one left that does not remember Joe Ward, who still has family here in Southern California.

Those remembering Old Joe include Lee Widder of Temecula, and John Nicoll of Weldon. John remembers seeing Joe prospecting out in the desert, lamenting his lifestyle as “lonely, so lonely.” John and his wife Rita have spent a good deal of time researching Joe’s old claims, activities and poetry.

But none of them had heard of Kate or her diary.

So what physical evidence remains of the crime against Kate? As it turns out, quite a bit.

Several years ago I set out to follow in Kate’s footsteps, to find the actual location of her ordeal. In the process I located relatives of Old Joe as well as legal documentation that supports Dick Gilbert’s claim to have identified Kate’s cabin.

Author finds Kate’s cabin

Eventually, with the help of the Department of the Navy and Leroy Doig, the China Lake historian, I even found Kate’s cabin, forgotten since the 1930s.

Searles Lake was a lonely place in 1869. Far from white civilization, it was a good place to die if one was not prepared. When Kate woke up one morning to find her lover and horse gone, she was ill prepared indeed. He had left her only a little food and water.

Kate was left for all intents and purposes abandoned on the face of the Moon, within sight of the place known as the Trona Pinnacles.

John Searles was operating in this area at this time, but I don’t know whether Kate ever connected with him.

In fact, it was the local native inhabitants who helped Kate survive. With their help she built her tiny rock cabin — no bigger inside than a closet — set up a small garden, and bore her child Lee.

Surely this is more consideration than her own society would have given an unwed mother.

After Lee’s death, Kate stopped writing in her diary, no doubt her grief too great to put into words. At some point she left her cabin, the diary remaining at the mercy of time and the elements.

Area’s not as lonely today

Today this area is not quite as lonely as in 1869. But it’s still quiet, except when a Navy jet rushes overhead.

The eerie and majestic Trona Pinnacles still stand, as alien as the surface of another planet. In fact, this natural wonder is often used in Hollywood science-fiction productions.

Remember when Kirk ventured to the center of the galaxy to meet God? God lived at the Trona Pinnacles, you know.

Searles Lake is still there. As is the Slate Range. And up one canyon lie the ruins of Kate’s cabin, still identifiable from a 1930s image. The spring reported in the legend still produces water just above the homesite. A little root cellar in the floor of the cabin preserves only wild grass now.

Lee’s gravestone has not been seen since the 1930s.

Perhaps one day the cabin will be restored to its former humble completeness. Perhaps Lee’s little gravesite will be rediscovered. Perhaps one day Kate’s diary will be found in an old dusty box in the attic of someone whose grandparents knew Joe Ward.

Perhaps we will even learn Kate’s final fate.

The diary no doubt contains personal information that could help answer the ultimate question: Where is the Lost Woman?

One tantalizing clue was found in a forgotten mine tunnel not far from Kate’s place — a woman’s crumbling dress. Was it Kate’s? Did she find mineral riches and return to her own society a wealthy woman?

Who knows?

And who will be the one to find the answer? With all the history and memories in Ridgecrest and Trona, maybe ... just maybe ... it will be you.

Rick Ferreira works in film restoration and is a graduate of the UCLA film school. He came across Kate Vernon’s story while in college and continues his investigations to this day.

Darwin Falls

2006-08-16T18:24:00.000-07:00

Darwin Falls is a real treasure. Imagine a long drive through Panamint Valley, one of the driest places on earth, even dryer than Death Valley. The landscape is dotted with tiny little creosote bushes struggling to stay alive. When you reach the end, you head left toward Olancha and Lone Pine. Past the Panamint Springs resort--which I recommend more for its cute atmosphere than its food--is a dirt road to Darwin Falls. The view along the way is dry red soil and rocks, lots of rocks. This road will take you to a trailhead with a decent sized parking area. The trip is doable in a street car to this point, I've even seen a big motor home full of tourists negotiate the somewhat precarious entrance to the parking area.

From here take your daypack and camera and begin the easy walk up to the Falls. A few yards into the trip you find yourself in the unlikely presence of water. It's just a trickle, but soon you will find yourself walking under the shade of trees and brushing through cattails. Towards the end you may have to scramble over a few somewhat slippery rocks, but this is the only challenge to the journey.

Finally, you hear the sound of rushing water and come into a clearing bearing the gorgeous Darwin Falls. They pour over a rock into a clear, inviting pool below. I haven't seen any fish, but one time there was a healthy population of little chirping frogs. It is a true desert oasis, a wondrous throwback to the age when the valleys were lakes.

As a side note, on my first trip to Darwin Falls we missed the trailhead and continued up the dirt road. High clearance is advisable at this point. Up the hill is a cool old mine to check out, with the remains of some rock cabins.

Visit my website for photos.

Panamint City

2006-08-16T18:09:00.000-07:00

My trip to Panamint City is my favorite adventure. No contest. I spent 4 years in college living in one of the greatest cities in the world and traveling to places such as Australia, Hawaii and New York City only to I find that the city I'd most like to return to is in my own backyard. Define irony.

Panamint City is located in the Panamint Mountains. Take the road to Ballarat and then head left toward Indian Ranch. Then take the first dirt road on the right up a massive alluvial fan to Surprise Canyon. You can probably make it to the trailhead if the road conditions are in your favor. A small family operated mine is at the bottom, so tread lightly out of respect for their water supply.

Be prepared to work once you get out of the car. The sign at the base of the trailhead says 10 miles to Panamint City. I'm still not convinced this is true, I think it may actually be 5 miles (10 round trip). Still, it is a 5000 ft gain complete with rock scrambling, bushwhacking and some backtracking due to losing the trail. It felt like 10 to me, since I was out of shape. You can do the hike roundtrip in a day. We met many people on the trail who did, but I would recommend it as an overnight trip. It's worth an extra day just to explore the town.

Panamint City is a ghost town. In its day, it was a booming little metropolis in a most unlikely location. Most of the city washed away in flash floods down Surprise Canyon. Witnessing firsthand the destruction water is capable of in a short time is fascinating enough, but what really captivated my spirit was what survived.

You may understand what has enchanted my heart and the hearts of other hikers when you reach the city. You join a grassroots community of people who take care of its remnants so to keep it habitable for other hikers. Expect to find running water, beds with mattresses, sleeping bags, kitchenware and food. Camp for a night in backpacker luxury and explore the town and mines. Read other people's adventures in the journals. Explore the mine. Bring a flashlight, a marker for your initials and borrow a hardhat from the cabin.

Panamint City allows you to actually live the life of a miner, in contrast to the sterile, restrictive tours of places like Scotty's Castle. It's real life as opposed to the closed off virtual reality known to our video game generation. I practiced the lost art of conversation and companionship with my hiking partner, and learned a great deal of what I was made of. We were human beings simply being human. The pretension, schedules and distractions common to my trips to places like New York, Hawaii and Sydney had disappeared without a trace.

Visit my website for photos. Click the top photo for a slideshow.

New Adventures Blog

2006-08-15T18:31:00.000-07:00

I love the desert and the Eastern Sierra. No secret there. Though I no longer live off Highway 395, the triangle from Ridgecrest to Bridgeport to Death Valley will always be home to me. Most of this content is duplicated from my website, www.desert-rose.net, but I needed an easy way to be able to connect with other people who share a love or at least an interest in this area.

Enter this blog. I welcome your insights into any of these places, and would love ideas on where to go explore next. Thanks for reading and I hope to hear from you.