Death Valley National Park - November 2017 - Part Two

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Searching for Uncle Erv

I love the long grade on highway 190 dropping down into the broad depths of Panamint Valley. For years there have been two coyotes in Panamint Valley making a living looking cute for the tourists. Now there are three. If you see cars ahead pulled off to the side, slow way down. A tourist or a coyote is going to jump out in front of your vehicle. Guaranteed. As we passed I narrowly missed sending two coyotes to song dog heaven. Thank god I didn't or the videos would be viral on YouTube still.

We pulled in to our favorite spot near the old cars when shadows were long.

The angled sun highlighted every crease and fold on the landscape.

We grabbed a bag of blue corn chips and a jar of lime mango salsa and sat and took it all in. Problem is we hardly eat stuff like this. It filled us up, ruined our appetite for a proper dinner, and had us feeling like fat ticks on a hound. 

"We got to walk!" I announced to the Lady.

"Thank you!" was her immediate reply.

Off we went at dusk, north on Lake Hill Road. The half moon was waning so it rises late. With a skiff of thin clouds overhead, the stars were muted. What I'm getting at is that it got dark, real dark.

"How far you want to go? the Lady asked after a couple miles of walking.

"Well, at least past the Lake Hills but not as far as the spot we like near the end of the road."

We walk every night without light aid when possible. It does wonders developing our night vision but, most importantly, it does not disturb the night world surrounding us. So, I'd say we're good at it. It certainly was not like us to lose the truck.

We turned around after two and a half or three miles. Now, occasionally, far in the distance a tiny light would trace out the route of 190 across the valley, or highlight the curves on the descent down Father Crawley grade to the west. We walked quietly, happily, hand in hand; a wonderful night.

And we walked.

"Don't you think we should be back to the truck by now?"  the Lady asked.

"Why," I replied. "Do you think we should be back?" I could feel her eyes into me.

And we walked.

"I would have thought we'd be back to the truck by now, don't you?" the Lady asked.

"Do you think it possible we could have missed the truck? Have you been looking for it? I've been looking. No way we could have walked past it." I replied.

"I've been looking for it," the Lady assured. "Could we have missed it?"

And we walked.

"Could we have missed it?" the Lady started another round. "We have been walking a long time. Should 190 be so close now?"

"I don't think, even in this darkness, that we could miss a white truck with a white camper on it along the road. I just don't." I explained to the Lady. "Is your headlamp back in the camper like mine?"

"Of course," she answered. "We were just going to walk off the chips."

"Those chips just might be the death of us," I added. "I really hoped I'd make it to 65."

And we walked.

And we laughed.

We were hardly concerned and we found the situation funny. Our laughs were genuine. All the usual games starting, something must be wrong, could we be lost in the night?

"Okay," the Lady asked. "If we missed the truck, what should we do?"

"Good question for the 'what if' game," I said and nodded."

"Don't nod your head when I can't see you nod in this darkness."

"Then how did you know I nodded it?" I asked.

"Because I know you. Now go on!"

"First off, we are not going to convince ourselves we are past the truck and need to turn around. We could do a needless back and forth all night long - have we gone too far, not far enough?. We'd both rather just crawl into the camper."

"I'm with you on that," the Lady added.

I continued. "If we really lost the truck, we need a starting point where we are sure it is behind us. Only sure point for us right now is out to 190 and pavement. We then know for sure it is behind us. We turn around and carefully search until we come upon it. That would only take half the night. Maybe leave time for a quick round of Tease The Geezer? Ready to begin the search!"

"Let's go!" the Lady said into the night sky.

We continued another five feet and there was the truck.

"Well I think I'm hungry enough for a little soup now," the Lady said as she climbed in and turned on a light. "How 'bout you?"

We ate, sat out in the quiet night, and watched airplanes and car lights make lines in the dark. We turned in. The Lady made a bathroom run outside in the middle of the night. She crawled back into the bunk.

"The moon's out so its past midnight," she reported. "Happy birthday!" she snuggled tight against me and kissed my cheek.

"Guess what!" I whispered.

"Yes, I know," she said. "This is the first time in my life I've been in bed with a 65 year old man."

"How's it feel?" I inquired.

"I'll love doing it for a whole year." She was again tight against me and fast asleep.

Morning chores were quick, efficient, and we were on our way.

We found one small pull out along the road. Packs, boots, ready, set, go.

A trace of an old road marked the route up the wash. First thing of interest was evidence of three separate gates along the road.

I have no excuse for not noticing it sooner, especially with all our explorations inside the Park. The description is in the pages of our dog eared copy of Hiking Death Valley. And, on top of that, I had read it many times. It never registered. I follow Andrew's blog - Exploring and Informing. I read his post about the Greene Denner Drake Mill. His information is straight out of Hiking Death Valley -

"What is known for sure is that at different times it was owned by men named Thad Greene, then Erwin Denner, then John Drake and that it probably processed small amounts of gold for local mines after the giant Journigan's Mill closed just down the canyon"

"Erwin Denner," I said aloud. "That's Uncle Erv!"

Mom was very fond of and close to many of her first cousins. Although, more properly, they were my first cousins once removed, we kids always called them aunts and uncles. Uncle Erv was a fixture at holiday family gatherings. In answer to my question about the scars on Erv's face, my parents explained that Erv had been a Seabee and "got shot up at Guadalcanal."

That went right over a young boy's head;  I sure wished I knew more of the story now. Uncle Erv was an electrician. In our family albums are photos of Erv, always in a pair of work coveralls, beside large old equipment trucks. On the doors it read, "Ventura Electric," his business. He had a big house on a corner in Ojai.

Later in life he became a desert rat.

I learned about two important things from Uncle Erv - Chuckwallas and Alzheimer's. My Dad took me out to Essex in the Mojave desert a couple of times. Erv wanted Dad to help with building his place out there. Dad was always helping family and friends that way. On a visit to Erv's mine, Erv spotted a chuckwalla, grabbed it by the tail and began my education. Somewhere in the albums is an old black and white of Erv in his coveralls with that chuckwalla laid out on his thigh. I last saw Erv at a family reunion in Deadwood, South Dakota in the late seventies.  Erv was right there in front of me, but Uncle Erv was not there, my introduction to Alzheimer's.

I have no knowledge or details of Erv's association with this mill site, but both of us wanted to search. Maybe there'd be a bit of evidence that we might recognize. It'd make a great birthday - searching for Uncle Erv.

We arrived.

The place had electricity.

And stuff on the shelves.

The room in the back had a surprise.

My Dad was a plumber. I wonder if he helped with this. Outside was an interesting place for the refrigerator and water heater.

Two springs above the site were tapped for water supplies.

We returned and explored the mill site.

Body parts from this large truck were near the mill. I wonder if the big diesel was harvested for use as the power plant.

We relaxed in the warm sun. It was a beautiful day.

Vehicles and parts litter the area.

There is not a single bullet hole in anything.

The center piece is the 1946 Pontiac.

I don't remember Erv driving a big Pontiac. I wish I did. I wonder if my older brothers do. I have the vin if anyone knows how to track ownership of vintage cars.

The VIN plate on the firewall shows this is a 1946 Pontiac Streamliner built in Pontiac, MI with the straight eight cylinder engine.

We found no direct evidence of Uncle Erv, no little tidbit we could say, "That was Erv!" Nevertheless, the place brought so many memories and stories of Erv streaming back in.

One last tidbit about Uncle Erv. In the 1970's Essex voted against making improvements that would enable television reception. It made national news and, of course, Johnny Carson had fun with it on his Tonight Show on NBC. It was a fun topic, so much so that Mr. Carson decided to bus the whole town of Essex into Hollywood so they could see his show firsthand. On March 25, 1977 we all had to stay up late because Uncle Erv was going to be on the Tonight Show. Yup, Erv was on the Tonight Show.

We headed down canyon, but not without a "Bye, Uncle Erv!" over our shoulders.

Our adventure continues Part Three. please Click Here