All posts by Steve Stern
Sulcorebebutia rauschii
One thing we did not see when we went to Nevada was any cactus. I am not sure why. It is generally thought that cactus, as a distinct, New World family – Cactaceae – originated in Mexico and radiated out from there. The family has colonized area pretty far into South America but not as far into North America.
It is not that North America is too cold. The Andes have lots of cactus and the plant shown in the picture above lives at an elevation of over 8,000 feet – actually this particular plant lives in my greenhouse, but it's ancestors came from an area in Bolivia at 8,800 feet.
Running late to the Smoke Creek and beyond and back – really
The plan was to high-tail back to Mike and Linda's. Mike had said that the big mine, that we had visited in the morning, was about 2 1/2 hours away from their place. But we were a little further afield, going back the long way, and would probably stop more; so I was estimating about 3 1/2 hours. It took us more than four hours. But there was lots to see on the way: clumps of rye grass and mallows, Indian paintbrush with some very delicate pink flowers, morning glories, more antelopes, vistas, more road.
We stopped for a late lunch along Applegate Trail – where Michele made sandwiches which we ate, hiding from the wind, on the lee side of the truck.
An aside. The Applegate is the southern route of the Oregon Trail where the first wagon train came through in 1846. It became a busy road with 3500 settlers passing through in 1853. Sixteen years later, it was mote. The country was connected by railroad the continent could be crossed in five or six days – sitting down. Twenty nine years later, my grandparents came to the United States from Europe, and kept going until they got to San Francisco.
End aside.
Finally we came to the Blackrock Desert, the biggest playa of all, and
we knew we were getting close to having a beer in Mike and Linda's
backyard with a great view of the Smoke Creek playa.
We had alot of road to travel, so we said our goodbyes and drove south through the darkening desert complaining about the lousy light. At the very souther end of the Smoke Creek, as we were going over the pass, the sun finally came out to give us a farewell display. (Like all wide formate shots, double clickable.)
Running late to the Smoke Creek and beyond and back
Michele celebrated Memorial Day morning by sleeping in – under a threatening sky. Maybe more than threatening: we could see virga as we looked around.
As an aside. There are four deserts in the United States. They are generally characterized by the plant life but I think they can also be characterized by their character? myths? aura? I am not sure of the right word. I have not spent enough time in the Chihuahuan Desert to form an opinion, but the other three deserts are very different.
The Mojave Desert is the wacko desert and I mean that in the worst way and the best possible way. It is where people get abducted by Aliens, it is the desert of Charles Manson, the Repo Man desert. It is also the home of the Mojave Air & Space Port and China Lake Naval Air Station and Edwards Air Force Base.
The Sonora Desert is the Indian desert. It is where the Navajos live, where tourists go to Pueblos over 500 years old, the best place to buy real and faux Indian art.
The Great Basin Desert is the Cowboy desert. Yes, there are Indian reservations, but few tourists visit them. It is where wild horses still roam and cowboys try to thin the herds using helicopters. It is a cold desert in winter – but, now, by the end of May, it is pretty warm – and the dominant plant is sage brush. Rub up against a plant or drive over one and the smell of sage permeates the air. I find it delightful. It is called the great basin because it does not drain to the sea. There are no rivers that lead out of the Great Basin. You can accurately say that The rain that falls in Nevada stays in Nevada.End aside.
We had camped near an abandoned mine that was really just a vertical shaft – but deep enough so that we couldn't see the bottom – and there was abandoned junk spread around. It was more picturesque in the fading light of last night than the heavy gray sky of morning.
After breakfast, we went south and ran into the tailings, abandoned buildings, and industrial size junk of what looked to be a huge operation.
Because a couple of the abandoned vehicles were WWII deuce and half trucks, I'm guessing the mine operated, at least, into the 1950s. But the remaining buildings and technology could have been from a hundred years ago. Including the Tequila Junction bar Michele dropped by and
the outhouse with view.
The mine site – I wouldn't call it big enough to be a ghost town – was a little creepy in the drab day and what we really wanted to do was go for a long walk, so we drove north to a canyon that looked promising on the map. And it was: we walked up a double track road until it petered out and then cut cross country back to the truck.
When we got back to the truck, it was getting late, so we high-tailed it back to Mike and Linda's.
To be concluded.
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Running late to the Smoke Creek and beyond 2
This is the third part of a multi-part post. To go to the beginning, go here.
The overall feeling of this part of Nevada – maybe all of Nevada – is vastness. Overwhelming vastness. From the top of every pass, the view is of a huge valley and a couple more mountain ranges. But, I think that is deceptive. I think it would look alot smaller filled with trees and houses. It is the emptiness that makes it look so huge. BTW, all the wide-formate photos are double clickable to enlarge.
We had been over this pass and into this basin about five years ago. Mike said that a mining area about two mountain ranges over, the Seven Trough Range, was very interesting. We didn’t have any maps that went that far east, so Mike loaned us his. Michele made sure we didn’t get lost even though, often, we seemed to be in the middle of nothing.
When Mark Twain got to Nevada, some Chamber of Commerce type told him If this place had water, it would be paradise. Twain answered You could say the same thing about hell. Actually, I think the Chamber guy was on to something. Where ever there is water, a spring or a well, there are trees and ponds and grass.
The great majority of the roads we drove on were official county roads with numbers and everything. When I asked Mike how good the roads were, he told me OK but not as good as the road coming into the Smoke Creek. The Smoke Creek Road was in Washoe County and they have a huge tax base with Reno and we would be going into Pershing County with alot less money for road maintenance. But the roads were great and Michele – who drove most of the time with me riding shotgun only with a camera – never had to shift into low range, even when we got off the county roads.
We drove by scenes that looked like paintings – here photoed by Michele and painted by Mike – who I think of, here, as Michael Moore, as in Michael Moore paintings.
– and antelopes or – it is hard to be sure – cows bred with greyhounds.
Sunday night, we camp on the fan from Seven Trough Canyon – for which the Range is named – overlooking Sage Valley.
To be concluded.