Conquering Cave Draw | Owyhee #1

Last year, we didn't get to Owyhee at all. This was entirely due to the fact that the Tacoma didn't come home to the Pacific Northwest - from Las Vegas - until early July. By that time, we'd missed prime Owyhee time - a short period of weeks right around Memorial Day - when the grass in the high desert is green, the rains (and resulting mud) are largely done for the year, and the temperatures haven't yet climbed into the unbearably hot range.

Missing the undulating grass, we are trying our best to make up for the lack of Owyhee time last year with a bit more this year. After our first trip into the Nevada Owyhee's just a few days earlier, we are headed back to the Idaho side to spend a bit of time working our way down to the river. We'll revisit a couple places we've been - and enjoyed - as well as a few new spots where we'll revel in the history of the homesteads that once dotted the landscape.

And, hopefully, we'll finally get to meet Kenny, a man I can only describe as "a generous guy who has graciously shared more than I could have ever hoped to learn about Owyhee." For years, he and I have been hoping that our trips to this favorite region of ours will overlap. We've had a few near misses. This time, though, I think we've finally got it!

- - - - -

The plan had been to roll through Grasmere and into Kenny's camp near Mary's Creek an hour or so before sunset on Monday evening - to say hello - before continuing on to the Cave Draw trailhead so we could get an early start the next morning. Kenny would just be wrapping up a week-long trip of exploring the area, having shown up only a couple days after we'd come through the same spot on our way home from the Nevada side of the high desert.

Looking stormy as we rolled through Grasmere.

Unfortunately, a day before we were to show up, I got an email from Kenny that he'd come down with food poisoning and had to go home early. That meant we'd miss each other again - likely for another year - which was a bummer, but surely, it's just a matter of time before our paths cross in the desert.

Even at 8:30pm - and under dark, stormy skies - it was still warm as we passed through Grasmere and exited ID-51 onto Rowland Rd. With a high earlier in the day of 98°F, we'd just finished airing down as the winds kicked up to 40mph and a torrential rainstorm engulfed the Tacoma. Blowing through faster than we were able to travel the usually-dusty roads, it lasted only a few minutes, the thunder and lightning carrying on to the way east as we bumped and bounced our way into camp just after 10:00pm.

The following morning...

A few more sprinkles passed through overnight, though none of them lasted more than a couple minutes, nor were they accompanied by the buffeting winds or rumbling skies of the previous evening. Instead, knowing that it'd dry quickly, the pitter-patter of drops on the tent was calming, lulling us to sleep in a sea of sage.

If you've experienced it, you know there is little better than to wake up to the smell of a wet desert.

I'd planned for us to get a very early start - to beat the heat - on our hike down to Cave Draw, but hoping that partly-cloudy skies would keep the temperatures in a more reasonable range, we hit the snooze button for an hour before getting up just before 7:00am to have our first look around. Knowing that there was a lot more to see than might be suggested by the flat lands around us, I sent the flying camera into the sky for a quick look around as @mrs.turbodb set about prepping breakfast.

Only a few hundred feet from our camp, the Bruneau Canyon gorge (left) was joined by the Cave Draw drainage (right) as they cut through the plain.

We'd soon be hiking through this otherworldly terrain.

A (Bruneau) river runs through it.

Camp on a lonely road, distant storms racing our way.

It was nearly 8:00am by the time we'd slathered ourselves in sunscreen and dropped over the rocky edge of the canyon. This would be our second attempt at reaching the mouth of Cave Draw, having first tried to reach it several years earlier by entering the mouth of the drainage, a few miles to the south. That approach had seemed promising until we'd reach a series of 50+ foot tall dry falls surrounded by sheer cliffs, stopping us in our tracks.

Hopefully, a more successful route.

Layers of lava.

I'd heard - from JW, another Owyhee explorer - that it was possible to reach the mouth of Cave Draw via this western approach, but I still found myself nervous as we approached one vertical drop after another; if we couldn't find our way down one of them, we'd be stuck again.

Sheer walls.

The rusty orange on the underside of the hind legs of this Western Fence Lizard caught my eye as it scurried away. I don't recall ever seeing that coloring on these guys previously.

There was no guarantee, but after dropping 600 feet into the canyon, our confidence was building that we were actually going to make it this time. Regardless, the terrain - with towering walls rising up around us and green grass blazing in the speckled sun - was magical enough to have been worth it regardless!

Following the flow.

Into the Earth.

Glow.

Along the way a wild rose (left) and Grand Collomia (right) were reaching for the sky. A caterpillar (center) wiggled its way toward water.

Light and dark playing on the canyon walls.

Not knowing much about where we were headed, our side-scramble into Cave Draw eventually dumped us into the main drainage. Here, as the terrain transitioned from tall grass and rockfall to densely-packed groves of willow and oak, we headed downstream - toward the Bruneau River - where we expected to find the caves for which this place was named. As we did, huckleberry-sized drops of water began to fall from the sky, first sporadically before becoming a downpour as we scurried to find cover under a rocky outcropping.

We could hear the Bruneau before we could see it, the rushing water pulling us toward its melodic course. Here, hemmed in by the 1,200-foot tall walls, the sound of the river was king, drowning out all else as it rushed along its northerly course.

The grand reveal.

Downstream view.

As we explored the area around the mouth of Cave Draw, we did so through different perspectives. @mrs.turbodb - sitting on a rock and watching the water - enjoyed what we'd discovered; I wondered to myself, where are the caves? I didn't think we'd passed them along the way, and I'd heard that - besides the route we'd just "discovered," - they were only accessible by those rafting the river, so I wondered if they were just upstream or just downstream of the mouth. Luckily, I had just the tool to help with the search, especially given the overgrowth of poison ivy we found growing in every nook and cranny!

Even with the hover craft, all I found were these views. I say "all," but they were nothing to scoff at!

North.

South.

After making my way back to the mouth of Cave Draw, it was time for a quick what-should-we-do conversation with my hiking partner. Naturally, I’d forgotten to bring the pictures of the caves, so I was going just on memory. Yay! As I saw it - and she seemed to agree - there were three possibilities.

1. There were no caves, the draw having been named for some reason unknown to us, and the photos I'd found were perhaps fabricated in some way to suggest their existence.
2. We'd missed the caves in our hike down - perhaps because they were smaller than we'd expected, or because they were high up one of the steep side-drainages.
3. The caves were further up the main drainage - toward the dry falls that'd blocked us the last time we'd been here - than the place where we'd accessed it.

The photos I'd found were more than a decade old, so we were reasonably confident in ruling out falsification or some AI-style fabrication. Still, not knowing if #2 or #3 would be prove out, we started back up the draw, one of us slightly more intent on exhausting each remaining option than the other.

This fungus - some sort of "rust" was on several of the viney plants in the wettest parts of the canyon.

Well hello there little guy! This baby Great Basin Rattlesnake was about 12 inches in length, not even long enough to have a fully developed rattle.

Not long after running into the rattler, we passed a small - and I mean tiny - alcove in the volcanic wall along the side of the canyon. Only about 6 feet tall, we initially joked about this little depression being "the cave" until I found myself wondering if a little wide-angle lens magic could transform it into something more. I had @mrs.turbodb pose near the entrance and squeezed myself into the back of the damp space.

Deceiving shot.

After a few takes, I'd say I was 75% convinced that we'd solved the puzzle. Those who'd taken the photo that compelled me into this amazing canyon - because it was amazing, regardless of cave size - had staged the whole thing! Right?

But of course, there was still that 25% that kept nagging at me as we reached the first steep side drainage. That 25% held some sway because I thought I'd seen a cavernous shadow several hundred feet above the main drainage. Now was the time I wished I could look at that original photo - mostly because I thought I remembered seeing people milling around in front of the cave on relatively flat ground, which would categorically eliminate a steep drainage - but alas, there's no cell service deep in the Bruneau River Gorge.

There was only one thing to do, and that was to head up!

I didn't find any real cave at the top of the drainage, but these feathers were a nice consolation prize.

Having now fully eliminated option #2, I was even more convinced that the small depression we'd found was the cave, but as we reached the split in the trail - one direction taking us back up and out of the canyon; the other continuing up the main Cave Draw drainage toward the bottom of the dry falls - we knew we had to follow the main drainage, even if it meant postponing lunch, and even if only to satisfy our curiosity.

As we worked our way through the towering turns, flowering mint covered the moist ground over which we walked.

There was a little less than half a mile between the fork in the trail and the bottom of the dry falls. The drainage turned frequently here, its path uncertain and constantly in search of the easiest way through a section of canyon with little change in elevation. Tellingly, the trail in this section of canyon - as it'd been from the bank of the Bruneau River - was well trodden; we chalked it up to fools like us, searching for something they would never find.

The upper trail.

Texture and light.

And then, we rounded a corner. The walls - as tall as ever - parted, a flare in the narrow canyon that revealed a large meadow. All around - like sentries guarding a sacred place - caves tunneled deep into the volcanic stone.

We'd found it! Them!

These are the caves we were looking for.

Just a wee bit more than 6 feet tall.

Wandering from one entrance to another, we peered into the darkness, sometimes continuing in, sometimes content to admire from a distance. There was an arch here, too, though the lighting at our arrival - now full sun in the early afternoon - made it impossible to photograph in any pleasing fashion.

Eventually - flush with success and relieved to realize that it hadn't been a hoax - we headed back the way we'd come. It'd be a long climb to the top, a mile-long trek - in full sun and now-90°F heat - before we'd reach the Tacoma, but one that was full of joy rather than defeat. Well, joy and high heart rates. And frequent stops to calm our breathing. And tired legs. Did I mention that it was 1,200 feet in just under a mile?

The way out. And in for anyone who'd like to go!

Meals on this trip were a little different than most, with @mrs.turbodb prepping a series of salads and small dishes for us to enjoy in place of the sandwiches and taco-rritos that comprise our regular fare. Refreshingly cool, we wolfed these down, thankful for the little breeze that blew across the tundra up here above the shelter of the canyon walls. By the time we were done it was 2:00pm; time to begin the next leg of our journey. A leg I'd been talking about for years. A rare second visit to a special spot in the Owyhee.

Afternoon clouds were looking nice as we began our two hour trek to the south.

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