The Bodie Hills - April 2012

Hangin’ With the Celebs

 

The exclusive scoop-

Ted's email read, "We're going camping this weekend. What are your plans?"
Wow, could this be true? Fresh from their triumphant feature article Boondocking the American West  and we get an email............................

The Teds are a great couple. They love the outdoors and have put together a lifestyle that allows them to get away with their truck and camper often to pull away from busy lives and take a deep breath and go look for a road to take them somewhere new.

We have enjoyed our opportunities to meet up with the Teds, so when that email showed up we were excited. Plus we’d get to hang out with real celebrities. Pretty cool!

We tied in with them at the small Mono County Park in Walker early Friday evening and quickly fell into conversation until one of the group pointed out we ought to find a camping spot before dark. Ted suggested a spot just off of Little Walker Road.

We made camp and settled in.

It is our habit to be up before sunrise. I wandered and took some photos as the Lady outfitted us with mugs of Peets coffee.

We returned to camp to find Ted up and about.

Ted wanted to walk and explore in the early morning and look for possible future boondocking sites. He is wise enough to know it takes serious on the ground intel on new places to satisfy his growing audience’s hunger for adventure. The Lady helped.

This was a great place to wake up on a Saturday morning.

We packed up and headed into Bridgeport. The Lady had a hankering for a Hays Street Café cinnamon roll.

When a fresh out of the oven cinnamon roll is involved, she is out of the truck, across the parking lot, and inside before I can stop the truck and kill the engine. There were birds overhead, so the Teds and I enjoyed getting out binoculars and doing some birding. There were American Pelicans, swallows, a Swainson Hawk, and California gulls – aka Dump Ducks.

There was a faint barely moving object high overhead. It was reflecting sunlight. It was not an airplane or a glider. Mrs. Ted and I were convinced it was a UFO. Ted set up their spotting scope and determined it was a weather balloon slowly returning to earth.

When the Lady returned with her treasure, Ted couldn’t stand it anymore and went inside. He needed a cinnamon roll too. The Lady joined in on the birding until we all complained of sore necks. We were also wondering what was taking Ted so long. We had noticed a couple of people run out of the café, grab their cameras from their cars, and return inside. Someone had recognized Ted.

After twenty minutes a much harried Ted stumbled out.

“Quick, get in the trucks! We have to get out of here!” Anxiety filled his face.

“My hand is killing me I signed so many autographs. My eyes are shot from all the camera flashes. I had to kiss a baby and I think the little cuss had just spit up.” He was wiping his face.

“I heard the owners calling the NBC affiliate in Reno. They had a crew in Gardnerville covering a story and they are going to divert to here!”

All the demands of his new found celebrity status were overwhelming. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” His voice tailed off as he jumped in their truck.

Away from people was the only solution. My god we both had these recognizable pop up campers and the Lady and I realized we were also drawn up into this whirlwind of adoration. Ted did a couple of donuts in the dirt parking lot with spinning tires throwing up a cloud of dust to hide our departure. Ted can think on his feet. I followed his lead. We headed south on 395 and then a quick left on 182. I spotted Aurora Canyon Road; a dirt road. It looked like it headed into the Bodie Hills. This was like an Old West getaway. We knew this would be a fun trip!

We stopped at a high point and looked to see if we were followed. Our getaway had worked.

This wonderful vastness settled our nerves. Obsidian flakes littered the ground. We scattered out and searched for the source or any evidence of manmade items. We talked about where to go next.

We had intersected the Bodie Masonic Road. We headed south to Bodie. Just north of the final pass above Bodie we found the road blocked by snow. Ted and I thought we might be able to make it. Wiser counsel from the women folk kept us out of trouble. (Thanks to Mrs. Ted for the following photo.)

We turned around and headed north. We passed the Aurora Canyon Road intersection and continued along the crest of the Bodie Hills. We found a perfect place for lunch.

Ted said, “We are having so much fun. I only need one thing to make this feel a little more like a Wander the West rally.”

I got curious about WTF beer and found information here: Lagunitas Beer List

We continued north.

There was a ghost town ahead.

The Bodie Masonic Road intersects with Masonic Road. We turned right on Masonic Road, down Masonic Gulch. The ghost town of Masonic is marked with a plaque.

Ted has turned up information about this area- Masonic Mining District

Before reaching the intersection with Masonic Road the Bodie Masonic Road crosses the flanks of Masonic Mountain and descends into Masonic Gulch. As we were driving this section the Lady noticed a high spot off of a switch back. She said, “I’d like to see if we could camp there.”

There was a short spur off of the road up to the point.

We found it to our liking and settled in.

Ted said, “Boy if you got a picture of this from up there,” he pointed up to the road’s high spot, “That would be the ‘money shot’ for this camp spot.”

Ted knows best.

We were a bit surprised with the cloud build to our east. But, since the Lady and I were already up this high, we climbed higher to the top of New York Hill. From here we dropped cross country back down to camp, supper, and good company.

This was a spectacular evening. The panoramic view was incredible. Ted and the Lady went out to the point just behind our trucks.

Mrs. Ted joined us as the colors continued to change.

It was also grand to the west.

And also to the north.

After taking the last two photos, I returned to the group on the point. The clouds had built over the distant ranges to the east, their tops up into the sunlight.

As we were talking a lightning bolt flashed, surprising us into a spontaneous “Whoa!”

This continued as the skies darkened with the coming night. It was a wonderful show. There was no place any of us would have rather been then this remote high point with our personal show of nature’s beauty.

We watched and enjoyed until our voices were hoarse.

We had only seen one other vehicle this day in the Bodie Hills. As we turned in for the night, three vehicles descended past us on Masonic Road and continued down the gulch. We suspect these vehicles had to do with an incident the next morning.

It had been windy the evening before. At around midnight the wind died away and we slept like babies. At our previous camp along the Little Walker River the overnight low was 34°. It was 45° this morning at 5:30 when the Lady wiggled and stretched and said, “It’s getting light outside. It looks beautiful.”

The Lady likes me out of the way as she commences her morning fussing about the camper, coffee going, bedding stowed, face washing, dressing, getting’ up chores. I enjoyed long exposures in the predawn light with the camera and tripod.

The Lady soon joined me with our coffee mugs. We slowly walked up the road surrounded by the chorus of the birds starting their day, Pinyon Jays, Chickadees, Clarks Nutcrackers, and the rat-a-tat of woodpeckers. We looked back at camp.

About the time our coffee was gone, the sun rose over camp.

And, illuminated the surrounding peaks.

The Lady said, “You take pictures. I’m going to climb that peak. You can take my picture when I’m up there then we can go back and I’ll make us our second cup of coffee.”

It short order she was standing on top.

Soon we had rejoined the main road and returned to camp.

In our early morning absence, we had missed it completely. The Teds filled us in when we returned. Two young men, before daylight, had climbed up to a nearby rocky high point a few hundred yards away. They took position, removed their shirts, and shouted offensive comments over to “you dicks in the white trucks.”

They were quiet when the Lady & I returned. Ted handed me his binoculars. One young man was sitting in the sun, t-shirt off and wrapped around his head. The other was shirtless, laid back, prostate on a large flat rock.

With the quiet we enjoyed a leisurely morning and breakfast. We slowly packed up. Ted put a possible story together about the young men – they were part of the group with the three vehicles. They camped below in Masonic and partied all night, as daylight came, in a burst of bravado, had decided to climb to a high point to greet the day in a foul and uncalled for manner. Whatever had fueled their energy was now gone and they were left as sacrifices to the morning sun.

Before leaving I took a last look with the binoculars. Only one was visible, shirtless, belly down, sprawled over a summit rock, unmoving, passed out.  The sun was doing its work on white exposed skin.

“Yes, there is a god!” the Lady said as we climbed into our trucks.

We slowly drove to the west on Masonic Road. The vistas were incredible this morning.

We stopped at the Chemung Mine and took in the extensive ruins.

We contemplated the question – why, in the rural west, if something is assessable, why is it always all shot up?

We dropped down to Bridgeport Reservoir (again, thanks to Mrs. Ted for the photo).

We parted ways in Bridgeport and made our separate ways home. Our trucks were filthy with a well earned layer of road grime. For that, Ted said “Thanks!”

Each time the Lady and I are able to sit out at a remote campsite and enjoy the natural world around us; we always comment how lucky we are. This is doubly so when we are able to also share time with the Teds.

Postscript:

I have been disciplined, in a round about way.

Everyone should have a friend like Jim. Jim is a gentleman and Jim is a scholar. Jim earned a masters in English from Newcastle University. Jim is tough. Jim taught English in a small town middle school until his retirement. We have shared many adventures with Jim and his wife and it is habit that we get together and share stories and pictures from travels. So it is with both excitement and apprehension that I share one of these travel stories with Jim. I'm excited like a kid wondering if he'll like it. Will I get a good grade? It is with apprehension as I imagine a sea of red ink, corrections and remarks about my butchering of the laws of grammar.

After Jim read the story above, he asked about Ted. How did Ted get to be such a celebrity to draw such a reaction at the cafe and parking lot in Bridgeport? I was caught in my exaggeration, my creation of an event that, well, wasn't quite true. Jim had believed the story.

I like telling stories. I like being a story teller. You have heard the phase, "He never let the truth stand in the way of a good story." That thought doesn't sit well with me. It's too harsh. It's too close to telling a lie. In  Ruff Tales, a collection of country tales, is my favorite definition of a story teller, "A story teller always tells the truth, about something that never happened."

So I'm coming clean here. Ted never signed autographs. Ted didn't go blind from camera flashes. To my knowledge Ted did not kiss a baby and the TV news station was not called to report on Ted's appearance in Bridgeport. We did not spin tires in the parking lot and make a getaway.

Everything else in the story is true. As well as I can remember.

Death Valley April 2012 - Part Three

please remember you can click on a photo to see a larger version

 

 

After we returned from our winter trip to Death Valley and our first adventure up Marble Canyon, I found this helpful website:
 Bird & Hike

In particular, I looked at Mr. Boone’s report on Marble Canyon in Death Valley. Marble Canyon

  

What caught my eye was his description of a side canyon:

“I'll leave the details to be discovered by adventuresome hikers, but dragon eggs become quite common in the wash until reaching the dragon's nest, part of which lies in the center of the wash.

Beyond the dragon nest lie the most amazing narrows that I know of in Death Valley -- even better than Titus Canyon  and Upper Fall Canyon. There are some short scramble-ups in the narrows, but they shouldn't be too much trouble for hikers who can make it that far."

Dragon eggs and a dragon’s nest and the most amazing narrows in Death Valley? Could this be true? What were the secrets here? And no pictures, what a temptation to find out for ourselves.

Our adventure continued as we traveled back up through the second narrows where we discovered signs of geology in action.

As we explored up canyon from the narrows we found an ancient gathering spot.

At the famous Goldbelt rock we turned right up the side canyon. What would we find?

Would we find dragon eggs?

Would we find the nest they came from?

Would we find more interesting rock?

And the narrows above, are they the most amazing in Death Valley? Like Mr. Boone, I will not say too much but I will share a few photos.

You should, if you are interested, make the trip yourself. Draw your own conclusions. I will tell you this –we spoke only in whispers as our eyes were drawn from one detail to another. This is a magical and sacred place; a place where spirits dwell.

This was a day well spent.

Several days before as we were exploring Slit Canyon, I was ahead in the narrows and the Lady said, “You are wearing two socks!”

“I always wear two socks.” I answered.

“No, you are wearing two different hiking socks.” She was laughing.

“I am not.”

She was at my feet unfolding my socks as she correctly pointed out, “See, you have two different socks on!” She was enjoying this.

“Well I brought two pair of hiking socks along. I must have grabbed one of each.”

“I’m going to call you ‘Two Socks’!” She really thought this was funny.

“I’m getting to be an old man. You are going to have to put up with more and more of this stuff.”

“I hear you Two Socks!”

“Next thing you know I’ll have food dribbling off my chin and on to my shirt front.”

“You already do that!”

“How ‘bout long hairs starting to grow out of my ears?”

“I’m already taking care of those for you.”

“How ‘bout forgetting to zip my fly?”

“You’re not there yet, Two Socks, but give it time!” It was nice to see the Lady enjoying herself.

One of the neatest things that happened just prior to our trip was receiving in the mail a copy of my cousin’s (The Big Guy) just released collection of fly fishing stories - Quest for Home Water.

The Lady grabbed it and enjoyed getting in the first read. Finally, on this night, it was my turn to get my hands on it. It is really well done with a great cover photo.

We had a real treat this night, our last in Marble Canyon. As night darkened the sky and the stars burst forth from hiding, the moon rose and cast its subtle light on the hillsides.

We woke early the next morning and enjoyed the predawn light.

It was time to pack up at this secluded campsite and move on. 

The Lady had a place she wanted to explore.

The Lady has gone through our copy of Hiking Death Valley many times. She has made notes in it from all our trips and has entered the dates when we have done the hikes. One she has mentioned several times is Stretched Pebble Canyon.  On this trip I had also brought along Mr. Boone’s guide, Pebble Canyon

As we were ascending and descending the huge Cottonwood/Marble alluvial fan, she would look across at Tucki Mountain and say, “Isn’t that Stretched Pebble Canyon right over there?”

We had no definite plans for Saturday. It was a day to wander and see where we ended up. As we pulled out of Stovepipe Wells I said, “You park along highway 190 about 3 miles up from here if you want to access Stretched Pebble Canyon, Want to check it out?”

“Really? Let’s do it. It will be fun!”

We set out the chairs and between passing cars changed into our hiking clothes. We secured the truck, donned our packs, and headed up the fan. The Lady had read me the geology details of the canyon the night before as we lay in bed. She wanted to know what a “stretched pebble” was. This got interesting. I got this from the description. There are three main layers of rock up the canyon. The top and bottom layers are limestones and dolomites, rocks that have their origins in warm seas. The conglomerate middle layer doesn’t seem to fit because it appears to have its origin from glacial moraine. This is speculated because of the random, unsorted nature of the size of the materials. This conglomerate was buried and subjected to heat and pressure that cooked, melted, and squashed, all the rocks. The striking feature of this “stretched pebble conglomerate” is the elongated flattened boulders imbedded in the rock layer. Well if there were “stretched pebbles” up there, the Lady wanted to see them.

This canyon is rough, narrow and steep. You find this out right away.

And, there are stretched pebbles.

It is almost a continuous series of dry falls. We went up as far as this polished masterpiece.

I thought it made a great spot for a break, a snack, maybe a nap. 

The Lady thought it a great place to leave her pack and try to find a way around this obstacle.

The rock on a possible bypass was awful, loose and crumbling, and any possible route took you out into more exposure.

“I don’t like it out here.” I heard the Lady’s voice from around a corner.

“So, are you coming back?”

She did.

We worked our way back down through the maze.

Stretched Pebble is a wonderful canyon to climb through and explore.

Our trip to Death Valley had been wonderful. We weren’t in the mood to leave. As we dropped down the wash toward highway 190 I said to the Lady, “That’s Lemoigne Canyon right over there. There are a couple little things I’ve been curious about up there. I bet right before the road drops into the canyon at the end is a great camping spot with a panoramic view of Death Valley. But, some say it is one of the worst roads in the Park.”

“Let’s find out!” She was game.

The camping spot was superb with a world class view. We explored up canyon and came upon spring wildflowers.

On our way back we decided to climb out of the main canyon, over a high saddle, and drop down into an adjoining side canyon. The views were worth it. That tiny little spot along that faint road in the middle of the photo is our truck.

We were all alone with an expansive panorama before us. Dinner and chores were leisurely as we watched the shadows creep across the valley.

The wind from earlier in the week had died down, the temperature was perfect, we could not turn in early this night.

We watched the lights of Stovepipe Wells far in the distance.

Morning was just as glorious…………………..

…………………..as we watched the sunrise over Tucki Mountain.

“Isn’t this Easter morning?” The Lady asked.

“Yup, it is and I think this is as good as it gets for our Easter sunrise service.”

Death Valley. It will take us a lifetime to even put a dent in discovering all of its marvels and treasures