Mojave Road Part 2 — So Much Adrenaline I’m Shaking

December 7–8, 2018.

The rain did seem to tail off sometime in the middle of the night, and the breeze did definitely continue on into the morning. All of this gave us hope that we’d climb out of the tent to a similar situation as the previous morning — overcast, but mostly dry.

Nope.

It was overcast alright, but it was also super foggy. I mean, it was a pea soup-type fog that really felt like more of a windy drizzle. The tent was soaked, and we decided that we didn’t even really want to eat breakfast it was so wet out.

Instead, we decided to take a look around the Death Valley mine, the name alone intriguing enough to warrant a look.

Turns out that the east Mojave Desert didn’t have too many crooks, but what it lacked in numbers was made up for by Dawson. A 32-year old gold mining promoter, he started a rumor in 1905 that he’d struck it rich in Death Valley in a place he called “Hidden Hell.” He ran ads across the country promoting the discovery of a mother lode and sold some 2 million shares, despite the obvious absurdity of his story. In need of an actual mining operation to keep the share price up, he purchased a mine established in 1906 by J.L. Bright, which he promptly renamed the Death Valley Mine. The fact that this mine wasn’t even a gold mine didn’t worry Dawson one bit — the fact that the mine was now, miraculously producing a bit of silver as well, an added benefit!

In September 1907, Dawson and his brother ran off with the proceeds of the 2 million shares, and the mine fell into disrepair. It spun up again in 1915 by the Strawn family, and run until 1921 — but produced only $38,000 of silver before shuttering once again. The mine got one more chance in the 1950’s, but as much of it had already been gutted, not much more came out of it at that time.

Since the mine fell into disrepair only relatively recently, many of the buildings are still in reasonable condition. The main house still sheltered from the road behind a screen of Joshua Trees; grape and melon vines growing on trellis’ that covered attached porches.

The interior too was in relatively good shape — the roof still protecting the contents from the brunt of the weather.

Having once employed upwards of 100 men, nearby the main house were several structures that clearly supported mining operations. The remains of an old (and barely used) 10T stamp mill, miners quarters, a workshop, and a second house were all nestled in the surrounding landscape.

While it was clear that some minor excavation and mining had taken place around these structures, the majority of the mining clearly happened several hundred feet to the northeast where tailings surrounded both a 30T ball mill and a bucketed conveyor belt used to pull ore from deep underground.

But it wasn’t until the very end of our exploration that we discovered what we’d read to be the main shaft. Apparently several hundred feet deep, pumps were required to keep water out and since they’ve ceased operation, only the 30 feet closest to the surface are visible.

This was definitely a place that would be fun to explore again in better weather — many details likely still waiting to be discovered. For now though, it was time for us to get a move on — we had plenty to see today if it turned out to be anything like the day before!

So we put away the tent wet and headed back the way we’d come the night before — only this time in daylight. To our surprise (and delight), before long the fog and clouds started to clear — or rather, we realized that it was only the area in which we’d camped where there was a thick pea soup. Lucky us.

Regardless, as the skies turned blue and the sun broke through, we agreed that the surrounding landscape was the most beautiful we’d see on the trip — the vegetation various yellows, greens, and blues; their crazy shapes dancing against the sky.

This too was the only place where we’d see three types of chollo cactus growing together — the segmented branches covered with spikes ready to jump out at passers by.

Having skipped breakfast we were getting hungry and decided that once we were back on the Mojave Road, we’d look for a good spot to open up the tent (to dry it out), get our meals for the day prepared, and eat breakfast. And, though we were initially surrounded by a Joshua Tree forest as we turned onto the road, we could see it meander into the distance — giving us confidence that it wouldn’t take long to find a suitable spot.

It was just as we crossed the Kelso-Cima Road that we found a good place to pull over. Just past a Mojave Road plaque, the Joshua Trees had thinned dramatically and we had an amazing view of the Beale Mountains in the distance. In direct sun and with a reasonable breeze we couldn’t have asked for a much better place to eat a late breakfast!

Our bellies no longer grumbling, we continued on towards the Beale Mountains — the road a continuous series of “whoops” that kept our speed low, especially with the rear shock situation. But we eventually reached the Beale Range — it’s rocky construction different than the others we’d seen so far.

Making note of a few nice looking camp sites we continued on — the road once again full of whoops as we crossed the next valley towards Marl Springs and the Marl Mountains. Perhaps expectantly, any spring in an environment like this is likely to have an attempted civilization around it and Marl Springs was no different. Now just a low stone wall, it was clear that someone had tried to make it here for a time — who and when likely lost to history. A chipmunk now calling this area home.

And then, as we crested the Marl Mountains — a dramatic change. The sun we’d so enjoyed was suddenly gone — a huge bank of fog pushed up against the western face of the range. I stopped the truck and tried to capture the transition.

The fog quickly became pea soup and limited visibility of all but the closest objects; though this time — thankfully — it was not accompanied by a heavy mist.

Bummed to be socked in, we continued on — hoping that any moment we’d pop out the “other side” of the fog to dramatic and amazing views of the desert valley in front of us. Alas, as we came upon the Mojave mailbox — something I’d been looking forward to probably more than any other waypoint, it was still foggy and glum — as it was through the cinder cones on the way toward Soda Lake.

But then, as we put a bit of distance between us and the Marl Mountains, the fog began to lift again and the sky began to clear — the road, once again, stretching into the distance.

It was at this point we had a decision to make. We knew we weren’t going to be crossing the Dry Soda Lake bed given the rain that had fallen in the last 72 hours — the surface is muddy and treacherous enough that even in ideal conditions it’s best to tackle with two or more vehicles in order to effect a recovery if the lead vehicle should get stuck. But we didn’t know if we should take the nicely paved Kelbaker road into Baker or whether we’d find a more fun dirt trail closer to the edge of the lake.

Perhaps predictably, we opted to try the later — after all, even if we didn’t find anything suitable, it’d be more fun and we’d get to see Cowhole and Little Cowhole Mountains, the latter of which was largely covered in sand.

Seriously people, you named a mountain “Cowhole” and thought it was a good enough idea that you’d do it again?

The two Cowhole’s were essentially the gateway to the eastern edge of Dry Soda Lake and upon discovering ruins of the Green Rock Mill near the base of Little Cowhole, we decided that this would be a great place for us to eat lunch and get a view of the lake bed to the west.

Already nearly 2:00pm, lunch was quick and we headed north on a road that our map suggested skirted the lake — thereby avoiding the muddy danger. Even so, the road did take us perilously onto the eastern edge of the lake bed, and we were careful to maintain speed and investigate especially-wet-looking areas before proceeding.

Of course, you’re reading this so everything turned out fine and within half an hour or so we’d made it to Baker, CA and I-15 West, which we traveled for a few minutes to the Rasor Road exit, just past the town with perhaps the coolest name ever: Zzxzy.

Back on dirt, we had a decision to make — and that decision could result in great success or complete failure. To read more, check out The Mojave Road — So Much Adrenaline I’m Shaking at adventuretaco.com.

Originally published at adventuretaco.com.