Death Valley Weekend - Nov 8-10 - 2013
- Thread starter nckwltn
- Start date
nckwltn
Explorer
working on it.... been super busy at work :-( Need another long weekend in DV
bikerjosh
Explorer
x2, wish I was closer.
A very enjoyable trip report, and the pics were great - almost like photographs! I'm from the Owens Valley originally, and so all this country is very familiar; i had relatives all over this area, and my family has a place in Keeler (where there are still no McDonalds...)
If you haven't been there, make sure and check out the springs at Saline Valley this winter.
If you haven't been there, make sure and check out the springs at Saline Valley this winter.
ETAV8R
Founder of D.E.R.P.
Good Idea. Don't mind if I do.
ETAV8R
Founder of D.E.R.P.
I just got back. Lots of snow...
http://www.expeditionportal.com/forum/threads/119140-Death-Valley-Winter-11-22-Storm
nckwltn
Explorer
Day 2 - Part 1 of 3
-- Start of Day 2 --
Even before the sun broke the horizon, the dogs were moving about the tent and making their little whining noises, subtly letting me know that if they didn't get outside soon, then things were going to get wet inside the tent. Although I was only separated from the outdoors by a thin layer of tent materials, I was a little shocked at the temperature as I unzipped the flap to let the dogs out. They quickly scattered in opposite directions, took care of their business and then back inside the tent. Realizing that the clothes in my duffel were likely the same temperature as the air, I pulled out some clean clothes and stuffed them in the sleeping bag with me. After a few minutes, the chill of the night air was gone from the clothes just enough to get dressed for the day.
As I stepped out of the tent, I rummaged through the dogs' bag, found the pre-measured ziplock bags of dog food and distributed. One cup of food to Gus, and three cups for Waldo. They weren't quite sure of what to do with the water dish, as the top quarter inch of water had frozen over during the night.
First thing on the agenda for me was to make breakfast. When I'm lucky, my wife will make a really simple “egg in hole” breakfast. It is pretty much exactly how it sounds. Cut out the center of a slice of bread leaving a round hole. Put the bread on a frying pan, crack in the contents of an egg into the hole and cook to taste. The combination of the pan toasted bread, and the egg are surprisingly good! This was the first time I had ever made these, and although my wife is a lot better at getting an evenly cooked egg and toasted bread, the first two turned out well enough, but the 3rd stayed too long on one side and burnt. The dogs got a little chaser to their breakfast. Because I had no fork, I had to make do with a spoon.
By now everyone in the camp is awake and the various smells of breakfast foods begin to fill the cool morning air. Ken has one of those fancy watches which includes both an altimeter and a thermometer. He reported that when he woke up, the watch was reading 28 degrees. The campsite was somewhere around 6800 feet and in the winter time, the road we took coming into the camp can be closed and snowed over.
Matt was up early, had made breakfast and had already started taking down his tent by the time I grabbed a couple of pictures of the camp.
Knowing that we would be spending another full day in the car, I took the opportunity while everyone was still eating to take the dogs on a quick hike. Because we rolled into camp in the middle of the night, none of us were really sure what the surrounding terrain looked like. I wasn't even sure which direction was north. Knowing that my Dane is friendly around people, but takes some time to warm up to other dogs I went the opposite direction of Tim's rig. He had also brought his two dogs, Koa and Bell.
At the far end of the campsite, near up where the line of cars were parked stood a log cabin. As best I can tell this is the cabin of William Lyle Hunter, a stockman, miner and explorer. As I now see on a map, the dogs and I were heading north up to a ridge top heading back toward the main road. I snapped a couple of pictures in one direction (northish), and then turned around a took one to the south, where camp was set.
(wide shot to the north)
(Zoomed shot to the north)
(Same location, opposite direction)
The dogs enjoyed exploring around. Thankfully they didn't step into any cactus.
As I was coming back down, I came into an area with really tall grass. Turns out, I had stumbled across a spring known as Hunter Spring. The water wasn't rushing out of the spring, but there was a small pool, and enough to support a fairly lush grassy area. I was more focused on making sure the dogs didn't discover the spring and step into it. Twenty years ago, I probably would have tried some of the water, but now I stick to my bottled sources.
It really is amazing how much better everything fits into your rig when you pack it in your driveway. The previous day, I had noticed Phil had ratchet-strapped a tote at the rear of his cargo area. I noticed that my cooler and dry food tub kind of bounced around a little more than I wanted. Taking a cue from his setup, I ratcheted down my cooler at the back. The added bonus to this setup was that the dogs would not exit the car over the rear bumper, which had now begun to collect dust in just about every nook and cranny possible.
The previous night around the campfire in a can, Josh had mentioned that Day 1's route was the most challenging. Everything we would be doing the next days would be descents and no serious climbs. After hearing that, and being in good spirits after a hot breakfast, I knew I could press on and wouldn't need to bail. After all, going down is easy--gravity does most of the work for you!
As we rejoined the main road from the spur road to the camping area, it was really surprising how quickly the landscape changed. The area we camped in wasn't necessarily a dense forest; however, we were surrounded by tall trees providing some shade. In just a few miles, the trees were gone, and a familiar desert landscape was staring back at me. Not only did the view change, but so did the elevation. Pretty quickly the lead vehicles in the convoy had dropped a few hundred feet.
(Josh in his 4 Runner)
(Matt in his XTerra)
(Ken, Tim & Doug figuring out which way to go)
As we dropped quickly into the valley below, the road split. As it turned out, all of the roads really lead to the same place, Hidden Valley. Although parts of Saline Valley Road the previous night had introduced us to washboarded roads; Hidden Valley was making sure we didn't forget about them. The 10-mile drive from the Ulida Flat area to Teakettle Junction was almost nothing but washboards. Drive faster and it got a little better, but there was no way to escape the bone-shaking washboarding of the road. Washboarding even occurs on railroad tracks, and is called Roaring Rails. It also occurs between rollers in machinery. Washboarding can't be prevented, outside of paving the road. It is also thought that higher tire pressures lead to more washboarding.
As we leave Hidden Valley, we pass by a turn-off to the left for Lost Burro Mine, and to the right a turn for White Top Mountain, which was the original planned camp spot for the first night. This was until we learned that the road coming down from Cerro Gordo peak into Saline Valley was impassible. Josh had run into a guy Thursday night in Lone Pine who had tried to make the route with quad bikes, but had to turn back. At that point, Josh figured it best to pick another route into Saline Valley, as well as using our fall-back campsite of Hunter Mountain.
Through Lost Burro Gap, I can make out a few motorcycles in the distance. As we get closer to the junction I can see four BMW GS bikes. As a daily commuter on an R1200RT, I'm a big fan of the GS line of bikes. If I could do it again, I would pick up a GS instead of an RT, which would afford me a few two-wheel trips to this kind of an area.
(Lost Burro Gap in the distance behind the group)
Josh, being the ever-so-friendly one, hopped out and quickly struck up a conversation with the motorcyclists. I quickly realized that out on the trail, with no idea of what lies ahead, reports from others are a great resource. If not for the conversation with the quad bike rider on the previous day, we likely would have needed to backtrack a significant amount or haul someone out of an impassable trail. While the others talked it up with the bikers, I walked off the road a little and snapped a few shots of our convo. It was also a good time to let the dogs get out to let them stretch their legs, and gulp down some water.
Ken seemed to have been one of the best prepared for the trip. Every meal, he had a pre-made sandwich or something that he could just pop out of a ziplock bag and munch on. This time it was a sleeve of Pringles.
As I put the dogs back in the Montero, I began to notice the dust piling up as well as the brush marks along the sides. Just about every place my hands had touched seemed to collect dust in an unusual manner. It reminded me of this desolate bridge I use to drive out to in high school and junior college, usually with a buddy and a couple of girls. The story was that some kids had gone over the side into the creek below and died. If you parked in the middle of the bridge, the “ghosts” of the kids would push your car down the road and off the end of the bridge. As “proof” you would throw baby powder all over your car, and hand prints would mysteriously show up. In reality, the bridge wasn't level, and after 5-10 seconds your car would roll under the power of gravity off the bridge. The key to really making people scared was to touch your car in all of the places that would normally be used to push it. Then the oils from your hands would hold the baby powder leaving your car covered with visible hand prints.
After the bikers pulled out, the group gathered for a photo at the famous TeaKettle Junction sign. It looked like someone had recently come through and cleared the sign of superfluous kettles.
(Gus and Waldo not pictured)
Earlier, when we had pulled up to the sign, I was surprised to see what looked like a PT cruiser heading from my right to left. It reminded me of a true story told the night before about a couple on a road trip across America. They were somewhere along the Los Angeles coast when they thought “hey, lets go out to Death Valley and see that famous place where the rocks seem to move across the desert.” The couple made it to the same turn that we had used the previous night, Saline Valley Road. From there, his phone GPS gave him two routes. One, a more direct 20 or so mile route, and another appeared to take a longer out-and-around 100 mile route. Both showed the same amount of time to the destination, about 6 hours. He chose to take his rented Toyota Camry the shorter route. It nearly cost them their lives. A pretty interesting read.
As we headed west from TeaKettle Junction toward The Racetrack, unbeknownst to me, behind us to the east was the Ubehebe Crater. Just beyond the crater would be the closest to any paved roads we would be for the next 2 days. Beyond the crater is Scotty's Castle. Both would have to wait for another excursion.
-- Start of Day 2 --
Even before the sun broke the horizon, the dogs were moving about the tent and making their little whining noises, subtly letting me know that if they didn't get outside soon, then things were going to get wet inside the tent. Although I was only separated from the outdoors by a thin layer of tent materials, I was a little shocked at the temperature as I unzipped the flap to let the dogs out. They quickly scattered in opposite directions, took care of their business and then back inside the tent. Realizing that the clothes in my duffel were likely the same temperature as the air, I pulled out some clean clothes and stuffed them in the sleeping bag with me. After a few minutes, the chill of the night air was gone from the clothes just enough to get dressed for the day.
As I stepped out of the tent, I rummaged through the dogs' bag, found the pre-measured ziplock bags of dog food and distributed. One cup of food to Gus, and three cups for Waldo. They weren't quite sure of what to do with the water dish, as the top quarter inch of water had frozen over during the night.
First thing on the agenda for me was to make breakfast. When I'm lucky, my wife will make a really simple “egg in hole” breakfast. It is pretty much exactly how it sounds. Cut out the center of a slice of bread leaving a round hole. Put the bread on a frying pan, crack in the contents of an egg into the hole and cook to taste. The combination of the pan toasted bread, and the egg are surprisingly good! This was the first time I had ever made these, and although my wife is a lot better at getting an evenly cooked egg and toasted bread, the first two turned out well enough, but the 3rd stayed too long on one side and burnt. The dogs got a little chaser to their breakfast. Because I had no fork, I had to make do with a spoon.
By now everyone in the camp is awake and the various smells of breakfast foods begin to fill the cool morning air. Ken has one of those fancy watches which includes both an altimeter and a thermometer. He reported that when he woke up, the watch was reading 28 degrees. The campsite was somewhere around 6800 feet and in the winter time, the road we took coming into the camp can be closed and snowed over.
Matt was up early, had made breakfast and had already started taking down his tent by the time I grabbed a couple of pictures of the camp.
Knowing that we would be spending another full day in the car, I took the opportunity while everyone was still eating to take the dogs on a quick hike. Because we rolled into camp in the middle of the night, none of us were really sure what the surrounding terrain looked like. I wasn't even sure which direction was north. Knowing that my Dane is friendly around people, but takes some time to warm up to other dogs I went the opposite direction of Tim's rig. He had also brought his two dogs, Koa and Bell.
At the far end of the campsite, near up where the line of cars were parked stood a log cabin. As best I can tell this is the cabin of William Lyle Hunter, a stockman, miner and explorer. As I now see on a map, the dogs and I were heading north up to a ridge top heading back toward the main road. I snapped a couple of pictures in one direction (northish), and then turned around a took one to the south, where camp was set.
(wide shot to the north)
(Zoomed shot to the north)
(Same location, opposite direction)
The dogs enjoyed exploring around. Thankfully they didn't step into any cactus.
As I was coming back down, I came into an area with really tall grass. Turns out, I had stumbled across a spring known as Hunter Spring. The water wasn't rushing out of the spring, but there was a small pool, and enough to support a fairly lush grassy area. I was more focused on making sure the dogs didn't discover the spring and step into it. Twenty years ago, I probably would have tried some of the water, but now I stick to my bottled sources.
It really is amazing how much better everything fits into your rig when you pack it in your driveway. The previous day, I had noticed Phil had ratchet-strapped a tote at the rear of his cargo area. I noticed that my cooler and dry food tub kind of bounced around a little more than I wanted. Taking a cue from his setup, I ratcheted down my cooler at the back. The added bonus to this setup was that the dogs would not exit the car over the rear bumper, which had now begun to collect dust in just about every nook and cranny possible.
The previous night around the campfire in a can, Josh had mentioned that Day 1's route was the most challenging. Everything we would be doing the next days would be descents and no serious climbs. After hearing that, and being in good spirits after a hot breakfast, I knew I could press on and wouldn't need to bail. After all, going down is easy--gravity does most of the work for you!
As we rejoined the main road from the spur road to the camping area, it was really surprising how quickly the landscape changed. The area we camped in wasn't necessarily a dense forest; however, we were surrounded by tall trees providing some shade. In just a few miles, the trees were gone, and a familiar desert landscape was staring back at me. Not only did the view change, but so did the elevation. Pretty quickly the lead vehicles in the convoy had dropped a few hundred feet.
(Josh in his 4 Runner)
(Matt in his XTerra)
(Ken, Tim & Doug figuring out which way to go)
As we dropped quickly into the valley below, the road split. As it turned out, all of the roads really lead to the same place, Hidden Valley. Although parts of Saline Valley Road the previous night had introduced us to washboarded roads; Hidden Valley was making sure we didn't forget about them. The 10-mile drive from the Ulida Flat area to Teakettle Junction was almost nothing but washboards. Drive faster and it got a little better, but there was no way to escape the bone-shaking washboarding of the road. Washboarding even occurs on railroad tracks, and is called Roaring Rails. It also occurs between rollers in machinery. Washboarding can't be prevented, outside of paving the road. It is also thought that higher tire pressures lead to more washboarding.
As we leave Hidden Valley, we pass by a turn-off to the left for Lost Burro Mine, and to the right a turn for White Top Mountain, which was the original planned camp spot for the first night. This was until we learned that the road coming down from Cerro Gordo peak into Saline Valley was impassible. Josh had run into a guy Thursday night in Lone Pine who had tried to make the route with quad bikes, but had to turn back. At that point, Josh figured it best to pick another route into Saline Valley, as well as using our fall-back campsite of Hunter Mountain.
Through Lost Burro Gap, I can make out a few motorcycles in the distance. As we get closer to the junction I can see four BMW GS bikes. As a daily commuter on an R1200RT, I'm a big fan of the GS line of bikes. If I could do it again, I would pick up a GS instead of an RT, which would afford me a few two-wheel trips to this kind of an area.
(Lost Burro Gap in the distance behind the group)
Josh, being the ever-so-friendly one, hopped out and quickly struck up a conversation with the motorcyclists. I quickly realized that out on the trail, with no idea of what lies ahead, reports from others are a great resource. If not for the conversation with the quad bike rider on the previous day, we likely would have needed to backtrack a significant amount or haul someone out of an impassable trail. While the others talked it up with the bikers, I walked off the road a little and snapped a few shots of our convo. It was also a good time to let the dogs get out to let them stretch their legs, and gulp down some water.
Ken seemed to have been one of the best prepared for the trip. Every meal, he had a pre-made sandwich or something that he could just pop out of a ziplock bag and munch on. This time it was a sleeve of Pringles.
As I put the dogs back in the Montero, I began to notice the dust piling up as well as the brush marks along the sides. Just about every place my hands had touched seemed to collect dust in an unusual manner. It reminded me of this desolate bridge I use to drive out to in high school and junior college, usually with a buddy and a couple of girls. The story was that some kids had gone over the side into the creek below and died. If you parked in the middle of the bridge, the “ghosts” of the kids would push your car down the road and off the end of the bridge. As “proof” you would throw baby powder all over your car, and hand prints would mysteriously show up. In reality, the bridge wasn't level, and after 5-10 seconds your car would roll under the power of gravity off the bridge. The key to really making people scared was to touch your car in all of the places that would normally be used to push it. Then the oils from your hands would hold the baby powder leaving your car covered with visible hand prints.
After the bikers pulled out, the group gathered for a photo at the famous TeaKettle Junction sign. It looked like someone had recently come through and cleared the sign of superfluous kettles.
(Gus and Waldo not pictured)
Earlier, when we had pulled up to the sign, I was surprised to see what looked like a PT cruiser heading from my right to left. It reminded me of a true story told the night before about a couple on a road trip across America. They were somewhere along the Los Angeles coast when they thought “hey, lets go out to Death Valley and see that famous place where the rocks seem to move across the desert.” The couple made it to the same turn that we had used the previous night, Saline Valley Road. From there, his phone GPS gave him two routes. One, a more direct 20 or so mile route, and another appeared to take a longer out-and-around 100 mile route. Both showed the same amount of time to the destination, about 6 hours. He chose to take his rented Toyota Camry the shorter route. It nearly cost them their lives. A pretty interesting read.
As we headed west from TeaKettle Junction toward The Racetrack, unbeknownst to me, behind us to the east was the Ubehebe Crater. Just beyond the crater would be the closest to any paved roads we would be for the next 2 days. Beyond the crater is Scotty's Castle. Both would have to wait for another excursion.
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nckwltn
Explorer
Day 2 - Part 2 of 3
The 5-6 mile route on Racetrack Road were some of the roughest washboard sections we would encounter. We ended up passing a few vehicles coming the opposite direction that seemed to have no business this far out. Later that night while reading the NPS flyer for Death Valley, I would realize that only the most passable roads were shown on the map. Racetrack road being one of the most passable. Just beyond The Racetrack was a totally different story, and the NPS map didn’t show any roads south of The Racetrack.
As we arrived at Racetrack Playa, I was quite surprised to see more vehicles parked around. Heading out on this trip with really not much more than a National Geographic Map, GPS, and a vague idea of where we were going, I did not know much about the sites or history of the things we would encounter. After I returned home, I spent the next few nights glued to Wikipedia reading about everything we had seen on the trip.
The playa itself has a very interesting texture. As the surface dries it shrinks, leaving a patchwork of cracks that literally extend for miles.
As you walk across the playa, it becomes difficult to judge distances between the roadway and The Grandstand. To help get a little perspective here are some photos of me standing at the cars looking toward The Grandstand, and from The Grandstand looking back toward the cars.
(wide shot looking out to The Grandstand)
(Zoom from same point look out to The Grandstand)
(Wide from The Grandstand looking back to parking area)
(Zoom from The Grandstand looking back to parking area)
(the dogs couldn’t go out onto the playa)
We drove another mile or two to the south end of The Racetrack and stopped for lunch.
After lunch, we had another very short drive to the top of Lippincott Pass. At the top of the pass, we met up with a group of 4 vehicles from Santa Clarita, and what seemed to be more kids than could fit in 4 cars. Seeing how young some of the kids were, gave me a bit of hope and excitement that I may be able to hit up some of these trails with my little one in just a few years and start building the same type of memories I have of camping when I was a kid. The group had just come up from Saline Valley road to the top of the pass.
The Lippincott Pass is the most direct route from The Racetrack to Saline Valley, and for that matter, back to Los Angeles and other populated areas to the south west. The road itself is marked with a sign warning of the unmaintained road and lack of recovery/tow service should something break.
(The group from Santa Clarita)
After reading about the misadventure of the two in the Toyota Camry, I found out that you likely could get tow service, but it would be expensive. Miller Towing, based out of Lone Pine, is no stranger to the Death Valley area, and is likely your only option for tow service within the park, especially on all of these backcountry roads. If you need a tow out, at $250+ per hour, expect to end up with a tow bill of several thousand dollars.
As we proceeded down the pass, panoramic views of the Saline Valley opened up before us. As with much of the trip, even while moving at 5-10mph, I spent a lot of time looking at the road, and picking lines between large rocks, and not a lot of time looking at the surrounding nature. I stopped at several points to take some photos. I was also moving a bit slowly with my transfer case in low range and the gear selected firmly planted in “L”. At the slower speed, the dogs didn’t bounce around quite so much.
The Lippincott Pass, from what I was able to find, is actually Ubehebe Road. Throughout this area during the 1940s and 1950s George Lippincott mined lead and other metals from the surrounding hills. Several mine entrances still exist, but have been boarded or netted shut to keep people from hurting themselves.
The road itself was narrow, quite narrow. In fact, if you were to run up against others coming in the opposite direction, it would be impossible for two vehicles to occupy the same lateral space on the roadway to get by each other. As the group who was on our way down, I think it would have been our place to find a passing area, and wait there for the uphill traffic to pass.
The descent into the Saline Valley was certainly one of the highlights of the trip. Steep terrain and steep drops, going down hundreds of feet in some areas. In a couple of sections the passenger side of the Montero was pressed up against the mountain side, while the other was only inches away from the edge. If you read the story of the two who got stranded in the park over the summer, they had tried to navigate this pass on the uphill drive. In their defense, and having lived ‘back east’ as they do, there really aren’t any unpaved roads. Dirt trails and mountain passes exist, but it just isn’t anything you stumble across. These types of challenging roads certainly don’t show up on smart-phone mapping apps as a viable route.
(You can see Ken’s FJ along the road at the bottom of the image)
I don’t exactly recall where, but somewhere near the top of Lippincott Pass I started listening to an hour long podcast. Just as we were reaching the bottom, the hour long interview ended. The next two hours would be marked for me by podcasts as well. Each interview lasting about an hour, and each major section of the trail lasting about an hour.
After descending into Lippincott Pass we continued laterally across the Saline Valley. The road became almost straight as an arrow. The entire valley floor felt and looked like one big wash. The road itself was made up of dirt with large rocks peeking up out of the ground. Every quarter mile or so the road would would drop 12-18 inches as you passed a 10-15 foot section where water had cut a path.
(about half way across the southern end of the valley)
The next T intersection brought us back to Saline Valley Road, which we had turned off of about 18 hours ago. The first few miles quickly reminded us of the washboarding, but as we continued north into the valley the washboarding subsided and the sandier the turf became. At one point, the road became quite wide. Wide enough to have 3 lanes of traffic. I took advantage of this to ride in between the well beaten paths and up on mounded dirt. This made the ride even smoother. We were able to break into double digit speed territory! Several times, a smaller section of washed out road caught me by surprise. This would quickly drop the front of the montero down 8-12 inches and then a few feet later, shoot me back up the same distance I had dropped. The dogs were not too fond of this, because it jostled them around even more.
A little more than half way up the valley, I was surprised to see a lake. It wasn’t big enough to boat on, but it was bigger than what you would expect to see in the middle of Death Valley National Park. What I was looking at was The Saline Valley Ecological Reserve. There is not a lot of information on the internet about this place, but you can hunt and fish. Just as we were rounding the western edge of the lake we were presented with 2-3 acres of burned wetland. Apparently, a Nissan XTerra had pulled off of the road, the exhaust caught the tall grass on fire and burned the XTerra to the ground.
Along the north west side of the lake, the road turned to the right so that out of the passenger side of the Montero, I was now looking back to the southern part of the valley from where we had just come. The lake itself was perfectly still, and made a spectacular mirror, reflecting the mountains behind it. The photo doesn’t do justice to how awesome it looked.
(Phil, just about to pass me as I stopped for the above photo.)
As Phil drove past and moved on, the dust became so thick that visibility was reduced to just a few feet in front of me. The group had stopped at what I think was the Saline Valley side of the Salt Tram. I got out to take a couple of pictures, and noticed how thick the dust was. It reminded me of images taken after people walked on the moon. Left behind, where I had walked were perfect images of the underside of my shoe. The dust was so fine it was like a powder.
The 5-6 mile route on Racetrack Road were some of the roughest washboard sections we would encounter. We ended up passing a few vehicles coming the opposite direction that seemed to have no business this far out. Later that night while reading the NPS flyer for Death Valley, I would realize that only the most passable roads were shown on the map. Racetrack road being one of the most passable. Just beyond The Racetrack was a totally different story, and the NPS map didn’t show any roads south of The Racetrack.
As we arrived at Racetrack Playa, I was quite surprised to see more vehicles parked around. Heading out on this trip with really not much more than a National Geographic Map, GPS, and a vague idea of where we were going, I did not know much about the sites or history of the things we would encounter. After I returned home, I spent the next few nights glued to Wikipedia reading about everything we had seen on the trip.
The playa itself has a very interesting texture. As the surface dries it shrinks, leaving a patchwork of cracks that literally extend for miles.
As you walk across the playa, it becomes difficult to judge distances between the roadway and The Grandstand. To help get a little perspective here are some photos of me standing at the cars looking toward The Grandstand, and from The Grandstand looking back toward the cars.
(wide shot looking out to The Grandstand)
(Zoom from same point look out to The Grandstand)
(Wide from The Grandstand looking back to parking area)
(Zoom from The Grandstand looking back to parking area)
(the dogs couldn’t go out onto the playa)
We drove another mile or two to the south end of The Racetrack and stopped for lunch.
After lunch, we had another very short drive to the top of Lippincott Pass. At the top of the pass, we met up with a group of 4 vehicles from Santa Clarita, and what seemed to be more kids than could fit in 4 cars. Seeing how young some of the kids were, gave me a bit of hope and excitement that I may be able to hit up some of these trails with my little one in just a few years and start building the same type of memories I have of camping when I was a kid. The group had just come up from Saline Valley road to the top of the pass.
The Lippincott Pass is the most direct route from The Racetrack to Saline Valley, and for that matter, back to Los Angeles and other populated areas to the south west. The road itself is marked with a sign warning of the unmaintained road and lack of recovery/tow service should something break.
(The group from Santa Clarita)
After reading about the misadventure of the two in the Toyota Camry, I found out that you likely could get tow service, but it would be expensive. Miller Towing, based out of Lone Pine, is no stranger to the Death Valley area, and is likely your only option for tow service within the park, especially on all of these backcountry roads. If you need a tow out, at $250+ per hour, expect to end up with a tow bill of several thousand dollars.
As we proceeded down the pass, panoramic views of the Saline Valley opened up before us. As with much of the trip, even while moving at 5-10mph, I spent a lot of time looking at the road, and picking lines between large rocks, and not a lot of time looking at the surrounding nature. I stopped at several points to take some photos. I was also moving a bit slowly with my transfer case in low range and the gear selected firmly planted in “L”. At the slower speed, the dogs didn’t bounce around quite so much.
The Lippincott Pass, from what I was able to find, is actually Ubehebe Road. Throughout this area during the 1940s and 1950s George Lippincott mined lead and other metals from the surrounding hills. Several mine entrances still exist, but have been boarded or netted shut to keep people from hurting themselves.
The road itself was narrow, quite narrow. In fact, if you were to run up against others coming in the opposite direction, it would be impossible for two vehicles to occupy the same lateral space on the roadway to get by each other. As the group who was on our way down, I think it would have been our place to find a passing area, and wait there for the uphill traffic to pass.
The descent into the Saline Valley was certainly one of the highlights of the trip. Steep terrain and steep drops, going down hundreds of feet in some areas. In a couple of sections the passenger side of the Montero was pressed up against the mountain side, while the other was only inches away from the edge. If you read the story of the two who got stranded in the park over the summer, they had tried to navigate this pass on the uphill drive. In their defense, and having lived ‘back east’ as they do, there really aren’t any unpaved roads. Dirt trails and mountain passes exist, but it just isn’t anything you stumble across. These types of challenging roads certainly don’t show up on smart-phone mapping apps as a viable route.
(You can see Ken’s FJ along the road at the bottom of the image)
I don’t exactly recall where, but somewhere near the top of Lippincott Pass I started listening to an hour long podcast. Just as we were reaching the bottom, the hour long interview ended. The next two hours would be marked for me by podcasts as well. Each interview lasting about an hour, and each major section of the trail lasting about an hour.
After descending into Lippincott Pass we continued laterally across the Saline Valley. The road became almost straight as an arrow. The entire valley floor felt and looked like one big wash. The road itself was made up of dirt with large rocks peeking up out of the ground. Every quarter mile or so the road would would drop 12-18 inches as you passed a 10-15 foot section where water had cut a path.
(about half way across the southern end of the valley)
The next T intersection brought us back to Saline Valley Road, which we had turned off of about 18 hours ago. The first few miles quickly reminded us of the washboarding, but as we continued north into the valley the washboarding subsided and the sandier the turf became. At one point, the road became quite wide. Wide enough to have 3 lanes of traffic. I took advantage of this to ride in between the well beaten paths and up on mounded dirt. This made the ride even smoother. We were able to break into double digit speed territory! Several times, a smaller section of washed out road caught me by surprise. This would quickly drop the front of the montero down 8-12 inches and then a few feet later, shoot me back up the same distance I had dropped. The dogs were not too fond of this, because it jostled them around even more.
A little more than half way up the valley, I was surprised to see a lake. It wasn’t big enough to boat on, but it was bigger than what you would expect to see in the middle of Death Valley National Park. What I was looking at was The Saline Valley Ecological Reserve. There is not a lot of information on the internet about this place, but you can hunt and fish. Just as we were rounding the western edge of the lake we were presented with 2-3 acres of burned wetland. Apparently, a Nissan XTerra had pulled off of the road, the exhaust caught the tall grass on fire and burned the XTerra to the ground.
Along the north west side of the lake, the road turned to the right so that out of the passenger side of the Montero, I was now looking back to the southern part of the valley from where we had just come. The lake itself was perfectly still, and made a spectacular mirror, reflecting the mountains behind it. The photo doesn’t do justice to how awesome it looked.
(Phil, just about to pass me as I stopped for the above photo.)
As Phil drove past and moved on, the dust became so thick that visibility was reduced to just a few feet in front of me. The group had stopped at what I think was the Saline Valley side of the Salt Tram. I got out to take a couple of pictures, and noticed how thick the dust was. It reminded me of images taken after people walked on the moon. Left behind, where I had walked were perfect images of the underside of my shoe. The dust was so fine it was like a powder.
nckwltn
Explorer
Day 2 - Part 3 of 3
We drove forward another ¼ mile and stopped again, just past the thick dust area. Everyone was out of their rigs and taking some photos. I let the dogs out for a quick walk. Although the sun hadn’t fully set, we were close enough to the Inyo mountains that we were fully shaded. With New York Butte at 10,702 feet, Keynot Peak at 11,102 feet and Mount Inyo at 11,106 feet, the shadows being cast extended well across the valley floor. The sun was streaming through the valleys between the peaks and catching dust particles in the air. Directly east from these peaks we were only about 7-8 miles away as the crow files, the views along here were amazing.
(The north face of the far peak has snow)
As the convoy started moving again, I noticed a couple of wet spots along the bottom sill below the drivers rear door. Pulling back a couple of blankets I found that the cap on the extra quart of oil was leaking. As I tightened the cap, it didn’t tighten much, but it was loose enough to let oil slowly leak past. I’m also guessing that the extreme elevation changes we had gone through over the past 24 hours probably didn’t help out much either, especially in combination with the washboarding of the roads which shook the Montero to the core. Those washboards are nothing to shake a stick at!
As I sopped up the spilled oil, the convoy had already rolled out. Getting as much as possible cleaned up, I hopped back in and radioed up about my extended stop. By now the group was about 7-10 mins ahead of me. They told me to look for a right turn marked with plastic flags. A few minutes later I found the well-marked route and made my turn.
The next hour of driving were some of my favorite of the trip. The further we drove into the valley, the more sandy and less rocky the road had become. For most of the the next 10 miles, I felt like I was driving on the moon. With no tire noise on the road, the Montero felt like it was just floating along. The sandy soil was a welcome change from the washboarded roads we had encountered during the previous two days. It was along here that I also found it less undulating if I had the Montero’s electronic suspension set to to firm. For most of the trip I had it set to soft. In the soft setting, everything is a lot bouncier, almost like an old hooptie that needs new shocks. By firming up the suspension, the car rocked around a lot less, and the dogs bounced around a lot less, too.
Crossing the valley again, this time west to east, I drove as much as I could between the wheel ruts, up onto the piled up sections that were much softer. During this crossing, we drove through some deep washes, some that were 2-3 feet deep. It wasn’t too steep on either side, but certainly not a place you would want to be after a rain storm.
About half way across, there was some kind of sculpture. It looked like a windmill to me, with a propeller type thing on one end and flat side to turn the whole thing into the wind. Turns out it was just some kind of art sculpture, but it is a popular photo-op. Google “saline valley sculpture”, and a photo of this is one of the first results.
After a few more miles of “driving on the moon,” the road surface became much more firm. Off to the left, I could see what appeared to be an airplane. The closer I drove, I could even make out a runway. I suppose this would be the fastest way to get in or out of this area. In a normal 4x4 vehicle, you are probably a 2-3 hour drive from the closest paved road. I was also surprised to see some burros out grazing.
For the last 10-15 minutes I saw in the distance what looked like palm trees. As I pulled into the Saline Valley Warm Springs I was shocked to see all of the lush vegetation. By now, the convoy had already come through the lower springs and were on their way up to the middle springs. As I pulled up, Patrick walked over to my car and let me know the rest of the convoy had been through a few minutes earlier. I was glad to see that he had been able to meet up with us again after staying the night in Panamint Springs. I didn’t know if we would be coming back this way, so I hopped out to take a few photos. I walked over to one of the soaking pools and was greeted by a couple, both with warm smiles. As the woman spoke to me, I could tell she was asking me a question, but with her heavy accent, I thought she was asking me if I spoke the language she was speaking to me in. After a few more tries, I finally realized that she was asking me if I was part of Expedition Portal group. I had just met Guri (forum name) and his wife. Turns out they are from the other side of the SF Valley, probably only a 15 minute drive from where I live. We went over to one of the pools and got photos of ourselves in front of it. The water in the pools is quite warm, like a heated swimming pool. This place is a true desert oasis.
While walking to the soaking pool, and as I was looking around, I looked to my left, and about 30 feet away is a woman, fully nude, taking a shower. It really caught me off guard and kind of made me uneasy. It was kind of a situation where I begun to question whether or not I was in the wrong place! Not knowing the rules of “naturalism”, I didn’t dilly dally around and walked quickly back to my car.
(I’m not quite sure what this sign is saying “no” to)
(This looks very much like Florida)
As I was pulling up to the springs, I did notice a sign that stated “firearms prohibited”, but seeing other photos of the sign online, there may have been another sign below it reading “clothing optional”. Turns out that this area is quite popular with this lifestyle. Even more so at the soaking pools of the middle springs, nearby where we were camping,
Moving along from the lower springs, I met the group as they were returning from making a circle of the campgrounds at the middle springs. Finding nothing suitable for our entire group, we took a little side road and found a great camping area that was large enough for our entire group, which was now 8 rigs deep. This area turned out to be really great because it was down below the grade of the main road and up over a little hump, keeping us hidden from the main road, and giving the impression that we were the only ones for miles.
This night we made it to camp before dark, and I was able to park right next to my tent. This made inflating the air mattress much easier. After setting up camp, I put the dogs in the tent and they quickly fell asleep. Another long day in the car of bouncing around had warn them out. I pan fried four Smokies Sausages (sausage flavored hot dogs). Two for me, and two for the dogs as a reward for doing such a good job in the car all day long.
This campground allowed for a real campfire. The fire pit contained the drum from a top-loading washing machine. This drum worked out really great as a container for the campfire, while also letting heat out and air in. We went through several boxes of “premium natural firewood” that Ken, Patrick, and others had brought. No campfire is complete without s’mores, and I had brought enough fix’ns for everyone. We sat around the fire recapping the day’s drive, and talking about several other topics. Thankfully the temperature was only in the low 50s, so we were all more comfortable while sitting and talking a little longer than the previous night.
Knowing that we would be in an area with little-to-no light pollution, I brought along with me a tripod to use for some long-exposure night photography. A trick I learned at a photography seminar a few years ago was to use a hand-held camera flash to light up a subject in the foreground, while using the long shutter to expose the background as well. The moon wasn’t quite full, but was incredibly bright. So bright that after my eyes had adjusted, I didn’t need a flashlight to see my basic surroundings. I didn’t get every vehicle in our convoy, some of them just weren’t parked in good spots, and I didn’t want to be lighting up people’s trucks right outside of their tents with my camera flash. I think my favorite of the three is Tim’s rig with the roof-top tent opened up. In the photo of the LR3, you can see its owner, Phil, on campfire duty. He volunteered to be sure the fire went out.
(Parked behind a stupid bush!)
In the distance, you could hear voices from the naturalists enjoying a night soak in the warm 100+ degree pools. With the warmer night temperatures, I slid into my sleeping bag on a fully inflated air mattress and quickly fell asleep.
Distance traveled: ~65 miles
Time on Trail: ~7 hours
High Elevation: 6800 (Hunter Mountain)
Low Elevation: 1200 (Saline Valley)
High Temp: 75
Low Temp: 47
-- End of Day 2 --
We drove forward another ¼ mile and stopped again, just past the thick dust area. Everyone was out of their rigs and taking some photos. I let the dogs out for a quick walk. Although the sun hadn’t fully set, we were close enough to the Inyo mountains that we were fully shaded. With New York Butte at 10,702 feet, Keynot Peak at 11,102 feet and Mount Inyo at 11,106 feet, the shadows being cast extended well across the valley floor. The sun was streaming through the valleys between the peaks and catching dust particles in the air. Directly east from these peaks we were only about 7-8 miles away as the crow files, the views along here were amazing.
(The north face of the far peak has snow)
As the convoy started moving again, I noticed a couple of wet spots along the bottom sill below the drivers rear door. Pulling back a couple of blankets I found that the cap on the extra quart of oil was leaking. As I tightened the cap, it didn’t tighten much, but it was loose enough to let oil slowly leak past. I’m also guessing that the extreme elevation changes we had gone through over the past 24 hours probably didn’t help out much either, especially in combination with the washboarding of the roads which shook the Montero to the core. Those washboards are nothing to shake a stick at!
As I sopped up the spilled oil, the convoy had already rolled out. Getting as much as possible cleaned up, I hopped back in and radioed up about my extended stop. By now the group was about 7-10 mins ahead of me. They told me to look for a right turn marked with plastic flags. A few minutes later I found the well-marked route and made my turn.
The next hour of driving were some of my favorite of the trip. The further we drove into the valley, the more sandy and less rocky the road had become. For most of the the next 10 miles, I felt like I was driving on the moon. With no tire noise on the road, the Montero felt like it was just floating along. The sandy soil was a welcome change from the washboarded roads we had encountered during the previous two days. It was along here that I also found it less undulating if I had the Montero’s electronic suspension set to to firm. For most of the trip I had it set to soft. In the soft setting, everything is a lot bouncier, almost like an old hooptie that needs new shocks. By firming up the suspension, the car rocked around a lot less, and the dogs bounced around a lot less, too.
Crossing the valley again, this time west to east, I drove as much as I could between the wheel ruts, up onto the piled up sections that were much softer. During this crossing, we drove through some deep washes, some that were 2-3 feet deep. It wasn’t too steep on either side, but certainly not a place you would want to be after a rain storm.
About half way across, there was some kind of sculpture. It looked like a windmill to me, with a propeller type thing on one end and flat side to turn the whole thing into the wind. Turns out it was just some kind of art sculpture, but it is a popular photo-op. Google “saline valley sculpture”, and a photo of this is one of the first results.
After a few more miles of “driving on the moon,” the road surface became much more firm. Off to the left, I could see what appeared to be an airplane. The closer I drove, I could even make out a runway. I suppose this would be the fastest way to get in or out of this area. In a normal 4x4 vehicle, you are probably a 2-3 hour drive from the closest paved road. I was also surprised to see some burros out grazing.
For the last 10-15 minutes I saw in the distance what looked like palm trees. As I pulled into the Saline Valley Warm Springs I was shocked to see all of the lush vegetation. By now, the convoy had already come through the lower springs and were on their way up to the middle springs. As I pulled up, Patrick walked over to my car and let me know the rest of the convoy had been through a few minutes earlier. I was glad to see that he had been able to meet up with us again after staying the night in Panamint Springs. I didn’t know if we would be coming back this way, so I hopped out to take a few photos. I walked over to one of the soaking pools and was greeted by a couple, both with warm smiles. As the woman spoke to me, I could tell she was asking me a question, but with her heavy accent, I thought she was asking me if I spoke the language she was speaking to me in. After a few more tries, I finally realized that she was asking me if I was part of Expedition Portal group. I had just met Guri (forum name) and his wife. Turns out they are from the other side of the SF Valley, probably only a 15 minute drive from where I live. We went over to one of the pools and got photos of ourselves in front of it. The water in the pools is quite warm, like a heated swimming pool. This place is a true desert oasis.
While walking to the soaking pool, and as I was looking around, I looked to my left, and about 30 feet away is a woman, fully nude, taking a shower. It really caught me off guard and kind of made me uneasy. It was kind of a situation where I begun to question whether or not I was in the wrong place! Not knowing the rules of “naturalism”, I didn’t dilly dally around and walked quickly back to my car.
(I’m not quite sure what this sign is saying “no” to)
(This looks very much like Florida)
As I was pulling up to the springs, I did notice a sign that stated “firearms prohibited”, but seeing other photos of the sign online, there may have been another sign below it reading “clothing optional”. Turns out that this area is quite popular with this lifestyle. Even more so at the soaking pools of the middle springs, nearby where we were camping,
Moving along from the lower springs, I met the group as they were returning from making a circle of the campgrounds at the middle springs. Finding nothing suitable for our entire group, we took a little side road and found a great camping area that was large enough for our entire group, which was now 8 rigs deep. This area turned out to be really great because it was down below the grade of the main road and up over a little hump, keeping us hidden from the main road, and giving the impression that we were the only ones for miles.
This night we made it to camp before dark, and I was able to park right next to my tent. This made inflating the air mattress much easier. After setting up camp, I put the dogs in the tent and they quickly fell asleep. Another long day in the car of bouncing around had warn them out. I pan fried four Smokies Sausages (sausage flavored hot dogs). Two for me, and two for the dogs as a reward for doing such a good job in the car all day long.
This campground allowed for a real campfire. The fire pit contained the drum from a top-loading washing machine. This drum worked out really great as a container for the campfire, while also letting heat out and air in. We went through several boxes of “premium natural firewood” that Ken, Patrick, and others had brought. No campfire is complete without s’mores, and I had brought enough fix’ns for everyone. We sat around the fire recapping the day’s drive, and talking about several other topics. Thankfully the temperature was only in the low 50s, so we were all more comfortable while sitting and talking a little longer than the previous night.
Knowing that we would be in an area with little-to-no light pollution, I brought along with me a tripod to use for some long-exposure night photography. A trick I learned at a photography seminar a few years ago was to use a hand-held camera flash to light up a subject in the foreground, while using the long shutter to expose the background as well. The moon wasn’t quite full, but was incredibly bright. So bright that after my eyes had adjusted, I didn’t need a flashlight to see my basic surroundings. I didn’t get every vehicle in our convoy, some of them just weren’t parked in good spots, and I didn’t want to be lighting up people’s trucks right outside of their tents with my camera flash. I think my favorite of the three is Tim’s rig with the roof-top tent opened up. In the photo of the LR3, you can see its owner, Phil, on campfire duty. He volunteered to be sure the fire went out.
(Parked behind a stupid bush!)
In the distance, you could hear voices from the naturalists enjoying a night soak in the warm 100+ degree pools. With the warmer night temperatures, I slid into my sleeping bag on a fully inflated air mattress and quickly fell asleep.
Distance traveled: ~65 miles
Time on Trail: ~7 hours
High Elevation: 6800 (Hunter Mountain)
Low Elevation: 1200 (Saline Valley)
High Temp: 75
Low Temp: 47
-- End of Day 2 --
ETAV8R
Founder of D.E.R.P.
Great report. Thanks for putting the time in. Welcome to the greatness of Saline Valley. Reading your posts I can reflect on the times I've come in via Lippencott. The view just takes my breath away. Never gets old regardless of which way I visit.
What camera are you using for your night shots? I've had a challenging time getting good astrophotos. I do like to just wash the objects in the foreground with my headlamp. I feel the flash is too strong.
Did no one in your group soak at night? If not you have missed out on something very special. It's better when there aren't too many people in the pools or camping. I go for solitude. Soaking at night is amazing. The breeze, hopefully only a breeze, waves through the palm fronds and the entire milkyway is there for sensory overload. Saline is my favorite place to travel to.
What camera are you using for your night shots? I've had a challenging time getting good astrophotos. I do like to just wash the objects in the foreground with my headlamp. I feel the flash is too strong.
Did no one in your group soak at night? If not you have missed out on something very special. It's better when there aren't too many people in the pools or camping. I go for solitude. Soaking at night is amazing. The breeze, hopefully only a breeze, waves through the palm fronds and the entire milkyway is there for sensory overload. Saline is my favorite place to travel to.