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Seeking Refuge
“Are we going to be okay?” This is a question the Lady repeatedly asks, especially once we are back at the house and more exposed to the moral depravity of the person the voters in this country installed as their president. The gut wrenching lawlessness, hate, and evil demonstrated by Trump, his enablers, and supporters is malignant to anyone with an ounce of moral decency. I cannot lie to the love of my life and exhausted by the constant uphill battle of trying to grasp onto some distant hope, my answer to the Lady’s question is now more real - “I don’t think so.”
The safest place we know is the backcountry, and as far from people as we can get. It is here that we seek refuge.
Taking a break in the middle of our Death Valley trip, we traveled over into southern Nevada. After a nasty section of road crawling along in four low, our chairs were set up in a place we could hold on to a feeling of being safe and at home.
We were in a wonderland of sandstone. We anticipated the sun the next morning as we wandered and explored.
The tinajas in the deepening canyon still held water.
The sandstone amazed us.
And the rock told stories from ancient times.
We spent the day hiking, wandering, learning the lay of the land. There is very little smooth ground out here. Our first objective was the top of the peak in the upper center of the photo below.
Route finding was a fun challenge.
As we climbed the vistas were outstanding.
The up continued.
The peak is capped with older, very rough, limestone.
And soon the Lady stood on top.
The vantage point at the summit allowed us to plan our route for the remainder of the day but also our route for the next day’s adventure. We began our descent.
A sister summit to top out on. The Lady could not resist.
Down off the limestone cap, we again marveled at everything sandstone.
The night was quiet except for the chorus offered up to the heavens by the song dogs.
The next morning we headed toward the west.
We continued up a drainage that also held water in tinajas.
We came upon the rapidly spreading invasive Sahara Mustard (Brassica tournefortii)
Jim Boone, on his birdandhike website, mentions Colorock Quarry.
The road into the area has deteriorated to the point of being almost undriveable. Ours was a cross country route into Colorock Quarry that required navigation skills and scrambling up and over a high pass.
The sandstone changed around every corner.
Our climb began.
Pleased we had both survived the down climb, we approached the remains of the cabin at the short-lived quarry site.
BLM once had primitive campsites in a nearby sandstone alcove. It appears to also be called Colorock Quarry.
The road in is steep, rutted, and badly eroded. We would not drive it; a reason we made the long cross country hike into here.
We thoroughly enjoyed our explorations here.
We found a more roundabout but easier way to recross the pass to return to camp. We also made a wide loop that allowed us to explore more of the area.
We were thrilled as we rounded a bend and saw this unexpected natural arch.
This was a highlight of our entire adventure.
The sandstone continued to delight.
The Lady went to work with her phone camera, documenting our discoveries - lithic scatter from tool making, petroglyphs, and pictographs. I did also.
It had been a magnificent day full of exploration, discoveries, and beautiful rock. All that was left was finding our way back to our home on wheels in this place of refuge.
Freckled Milkvetch (Astragalus lentiginosus)
The evening brought a full moon, more songs of coyotes, and glorious solitude. Our adventure continues in the upcoming (and final) Part Two.
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