White Mountains Nevada - May 2018 - Part Two

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A Search

After another quiet night that gives the best sleep possible, we were ready to begin our search again. Since my research did not pan out for success the previous day, today we expanded our search area. We also took a broader view and used more of our instincts on figuring out where and how the ancient ones may have used this place. We spent an incredible morning discovering amazing sites.

The ground - over a wide area - was littered with obsidian flakes from tool making.

We found sleeping circles.

We also found several petroglyph sites with very faded glyphs.

And, we found a grinding slick.

But, we did not find what we were looking for. We amassed a good deal of knowledge about this area of the White Mountains with our two days of searching and exploring. We can hardly feel defeated but instead invigorated and excited to return again. The best things in life are worth the effort.

A friend invited us to meet him for breakfast at 7:00 am Monday morning at the Whoa Nellie Deli in Lee Vining.

We wanted to camp Sunday night in the Mono Lake area so we would not be late for breakfast the next morning. We headed back out toward pavement in classic Nevada style.

We had time to make a stop along our route. I had heard of a spot to find special obsidian called mahogany obsidian.

If you travel highway 6 between Benton Station and Montgomery Pass, you have passed by Janie's Ranch - a now abandoned Nevada brothel. It was perched right close to the border with California. Your first opportunity if you are into that kind of establishment. Janie's closed down in the early 1990's.

Two reasons you need to know about Janie's Ranch. It is the landmark for the turn off for the Queen Mine route to Boundary Peak - Nevada's highpoint - and to find mahogany obsidian.

We also found black obsidian flakes almost as clear as glass.

I'll mention that the area of our campsite in the White Mountains was a good place to find Apache tears.

We did not keep any of the rocks we found. They are just fun to find. We have no need to carry them home.

It was late afternoon when we reached Mono Lake and the Lee Vining area. We returned and camped at a place we call Donna's Camp.

Desert Peach was blooming.

This is a wonderful place just to wander about, as we did, after our dinner.

We walked over and looked at the ruins of the old Conway Ranch.

 

We didn't think it would happen - special color this evening - but at the last moment the Sierra Wave came alive for only a few seconds.

We woke before dawn to be sure not to be late for our breakfast date but still took time to  take in the day's beginnings.

Our drive home after breakfast was uneventful. The highways were quiet. We will return to the White's to continue our search. As I said at the beginning of this story -

"All the information I had on it was a few paragraphs of text in an obscure research paper. But those few paragraphs were more than enough to ignite a desire to find this place. Certainly it was well worth a second try."

It will be well worth a third try.

White Mountains Nevada - May 2018 - Part One

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The Search

"Do you think we'll find it tomorrow? What's your prediction? Are you thinking a 90 percent chance?" the Lady asked as we descended the highpoint above our campsite.

"Oh no," I answered. "I'm thinking around a 60 percent chance of success."

"What does that mean?" the Lady asked.

"It means, if we find it, I'll be really happy, and I wouldn't be surprised if we don't find it."

We had looked for this ancient site one time before. All the information I had on it was only a few paragraphs of text in an obscure research paper. But those few paragraphs were more than enough to ignite a desire to find this place. Certainly it was well worth a second try to look for it.

We left home late afternoon on Thursday. Rolling through Walker, California on highway 395 we saw that Walker Burger had opened for the season but was already closed for the evening. A quick side trip up along the Little Walker River took us to a nice spot to spend the night - and also a tremendous spot to awake early the next morning.

We headed east over to the Nevada side of the White Mountains. A series of narrow dirt roads took us near to our hoped for camping spot. The last section was a steep crawl up loose rock. The Lady didn't like it. We walked it to look at it in detail to map out a line and also to see if it led to a usable campsite. We both were satisfied and continued the drive in. The camp spot was perfect, with an incredible view, and a huge dose of our desired solitude.

After set up we climbed the highpoint above to survey the area.

As I said, this camp spot was perfect.

I was not too pleased to find a feral horse dirt wallow right next to camp.

I lack the romantic notion of the majestic wild mustang. I would much rather see native wild species flourishing without the impacts and competition from a large invasive animal.  The Lady does not take quite a hard nosed line as I do as we'll see later in this story.

Our survey from the highpoint gave us many clues for our search - water, cottonwoods, old paths, pinyon pines.

It is always a joy for us to watch the shadows lengthen across the landscape with the coming night at a secluded campsite.

The Lady read into the night, the quiet disturbed only by the call of a nearby Common Poorwill.

Our hopes were high the next morning as we started on our search.

We descended into the canyon below, aiming for the Fremont Cottonwoods.

We were following an ancient trail down to the flowing creek. It had been taken over by horses, well used now, and pounded into dust by hooves.

"Why do you think this is an old trail and not a trail put in by the horses to get to water?" the Lady asked as we worked our way down.

"I suspect that horses are nowhere near smart enough to put in switchbacks on a steep side hill. The switchbacks on this trail answer the question."

Stream courses in the arid west are usually choked with vegetation, especially in full sunlight. This small stream was a good example of this. Exploring and moving through this area would be daunting. This is why we headed to the cottonwoods. Their shade blocks sunlight, preventing thick plant grown beneath them, and offers the only easy place to reach water.

This area was excellent for our search. Old trails dropped down from the ridge tops on both sides. The cottonwoods and rocks offered shelter. There was water. The canyon opened up to the east.

Besides the horses, there were signs of many other wild creatures using the resources here.

We spread out and searched about a square half mile of ground. Obsidian flakes from tool making were common but the only habitation site was an old cowboy camp. These was a large rock fire ring, old cans, and other cast offs. I enjoyed the pieces of a wooden box with classic box joints.

The Lady discovered a homemade bucket..............

...............and loved the Hills Bros. coffee can.

The old Arab gentleman (Ethiopian really), known as "The Taster" brought back memories from our childhoods. Product history such as Hills Bros. Coffee can help date an archeology site. Hills Bros. was the first company to vacuum pack ground coffee in cans and brought out "The Taster" trademark in 1906.

Reptiles were abundant. The Lady loves horned lizards - Horny Toads! One large gopher snake remained still as we passed.

The Lady was convinced of the possibility that patterns on Indian baskets - like the Miwok baskets we saw a couple of weeks ago at Indian Grinding Rock - reflect the patterns found on snakes.

The Lady loves her "Little Dinosaurs".

There was one species of lizard we encountered I have not been able to identify. Most interesting is it appears in a light and dark phase. It may be a Long-nosed Leopard Lizard subspecies where the cross stripes are more dominate than the leopard spots.

We turned back up canyon to continue our search. It was a workout with the impenetrable vegetation and steep side hills. No trails led through the area.  We did find several stacked rock hunting blinds at strategic locations.

The canyon narrowed into a tight gorge.

The Lady wanted to press on.

Press on we did. We have the cuts, bruises, and rips in our clothes to prove it. We finally reached a point where we called it quits. One option to return to camp was to climb out straight up the canyon wall. The other was to backtrack back through the mess we had come up canyon through. We took a break and relaxed and decided the devil we knew was better than the devil we didn't know. We backtracked down canyon and climbed out of the canyon at a very doable spot. Camp was waiting for us to return.

We relaxed in our chairs and contemplated the reality of my estimated 40 percent chance of not finding what we were looking for. As the Lady always says, "We now know lots more places where it is not!" We discussed moving to a different spot for the night, but postponed the decision until after we relaxed a bit more. My Dad's wisdom was echoing in the back of my head as we gazed across the wondrous expanse before us - "Never leave a good camp spot to find a good camp spot."  

 And then I spotted the horses.

"Horses are moving down a far hillside across the canyon. It looks like they may be heading for that old trail to take them down to water," I said to the Lady as she fussed inside the camper. She was instantly in her chair beside me with her see mores.

"Look, there's three foals! Look at the little ones kick up their heels and play! Their moms are letting them run ahead! Let's stay and watch the horses."

It was pointless for me to offer up the information that feral horse and burro numbers on our public lands are now 4 times the number that our agencies deem a "manageable level". And, how people rail against cows grazing on public lands but then go gaga over horses. "Special federal law prohibits eating horses. At least we can eat cows" - the Lady has heard this from me over and over. "The West would never have been "tamed" if Lewis & Clark, Fremont, and all the others hadn't survived by eating horses. There's a part of the romantic West that not being preserved." Once again it was no use. Cute, prancing little ones were across the canyon.

"Aren't you going to get the camera?" she asked.

Just like us, the horses headed for the cottonwoods. What mare belonged to each foal was easy to see. The big grayish mare was the group's leader.

Although one band of horses, five adults stayed together with the three foals and was followed by three other adults.

We watched them for hours as they watered, grazed, relaxed, and the little ones pranced, played, nursed, and slept.

They slowly moved down canyon and around a bend out of sight. It was time for evening chores and dinner. And then the Lady was back on the point, glassing the area with her see mores. 

"Keep an eye out for our horses!" she directed. "We may get to see them again. I hope so!" 

 

The Lady climbed into the camper to put on warmer clothes as the evening's chill came. I picked up the see mores from her empty chair.

"The horses are on our side of the canyon climbing the hillside below us." I passed on to the Lady. She was instantly beside me. "Let's go climb that highpoint out on the ridge," she directed and I followed her pointing finger. "Let's watch our horses from there! Grab the camera!"

It was a beautiful evening as we watched "our horses" move below us. The skies darkened as we rambled back to camp.

The poorwill's call danced through our dreams as we slept. But also, deep in our dreams was the lingering question - would we find what we were looking for tomorrow?

Our adventure continues in Part Two - please Click Here