We were parked on the alluvial fan of Warm Springs Canyon, which is a fancy way of saying we'd voluntarily set up camp at the mouth of a wind tunnel. A tunnel that - not long after we got settled in bed -was, predictably, doing its job.
Luckily, we'd oriented the tent in such a way that we were in no danger of it folding up with us inside, so after closing the door flap - to prevent direct hits from the oncoming blasts - we were rocked to sleep through the remainder of the night. We'd both wish we'd put in earplugs by the time morning rolled around, a mistake we wouldn't repeat for the remainder of the trip!
Still gusty out as a purple glow enveloped the morning.
Opting to hold off on breakfast until we were in the wind-protected confines of a canyon, we packed up the tent and got underway just as the sun was spreading across the basin. Even with the breeze, temperatures were in the lower 60s °F; it was a perfect morning to be in the desert and headed toward Butte Valley.
The drive up Warm Springs Canyon is one that we've done several times before, so we didn't stop much at all for photos or to investigate the countless mine workings along the way. Rather, we waited until we reached the Warm Springs Mine camp, where some nice concrete slabs would be the perfect place to enjoy breakfast.
We barged in on Fred and Frannie, who assured us that they were here first, and that they were none too happy to see us.
There weren't many wildflowers in the flats of Death Valley, but we'd see plenty as we got to higher elevations in the Panamints. Datura. (left) | Nerium oleander L. (right)
After a quick bowl of cereal, we grabbed what little was left of our pineapple and headed off for a quick look around the ruins of the old camp. The story here isn't an inspiring one, though it's probably rather typical of the time.
In 1929, Louise Grantham - one of very few women in the mining industry - leased land from Bob Thompson, a local Timbisha Shoshone man. The springs were his ancestral homeland, but after signing a five-year lease and making just one payment, Grantham sued him for ownership.
With the legal battle underway, Grantham occupied this site and posted an armed watchman to guard against "trespassers." The courts eventually supported Thompson's claim. For over a year, attempts were made to evict Grantham (including by federal marshals enforcing a court order), but she refused to comply.
Eventually, Thompson walked away from his claims. Grantham assumed total ownership and operated the most successful talc mine in the region until her death in 1969.-NPS
My favorite artifacts at this mine are the old mill and arrastra.
There's always something "new" to see when visiting places like this. Some graffiti from 2025 on one of the windows was nice but disappointing to see (left). The cold-storage door in one of the buildings surely wasn't new, but I'd never noticed it before. (right)
Knowing that we had several items on our agenda for the day, we didn't spend too long investigating the entirety of the camp or the nearby talc mine - which we've poked around previously.
On to the Canvas Door!
With our eye set on new horizons, we climbed back into the Tacoma, leaving Fred and Frannie to get on with their braying and burro-ing as we headed deeper into the Panamints. I'd gotten wind of a mine, high on the slope of a ridge southeast of ████ Hill.
To get there, we'd traverse the broad expanse of Old Crump Flat, making a short detour to an old habitation site along the way.
Named after a beast of burden (Ox) that played a pivotal role in the survival of the first settlers to famously wander into Death Valley in 1849. Unlike most of Crump's compatriots - whose only pivotal role in the misadventure was to be slaughtered and smoked to stave off starvation - Old Crump was a right old hero if you believe the legends.
According to William Manly, when he & Rogers returned to rescue the beleaguered Bennett & Arcane families, Old Crump was the ox that faithfully, and without a single complaint, carried the family’s children all the way from the floor of Death Valley to their ultimate salvation at the San Fernando Mission, several hundred miles away, outside of Los Angeles.
Also according to Manly, many, many years later on another journey across California, he ran into the old ox in the central valley, now fat & well cared for in his well-earned retirement.
The complete tale can be found here in Chapter XI of Manly’s Death Valley in ’49. Much later the eponymous ox was also featured as the central character in a children’s book “Old Crump: The True Story of a Trip West.”Old Crump Flat
Evidence of Old Crump is long gone from the flat, but evidence of those who inhabited this space many hundreds of years earlier, still remains.
Double door cave.
It was fun to find a few faded pictographs on these unlikely surfaces.
While Death Valley NPS employees may deny knowledge of the existence of any specific cultural resource in the park, they are clearly keeping tabs on the ones they know about. 
Today's resident, hunkered down on a dreaded Mentzelia; perhaps the only plant more likely to get stuck in your clothing than cholla balls.
After climbing around the rocky outcropping for a few minutes, it was time to push on. We weren't sure exactly how far the road we were on was passable, and even if we were able to make it as far as we hoped, there was still a good mile of steep, trailless terrain between the end of the road and the Canvas Door Mine. Not that we were complaining, the original route - used by the miners nearly 100 years ago - was several miles long and involved more than 2,200 feet of elevation gain!
Literally, the end of the road.
Picking our way through a steep ravine before gaining the ridge that would usher us the rest of the way to the mine, we marveled in the spring color that was still so prevalent at higher elevations.
Scarlet Poppy (Calochortus kennedyi). (left) | It's always fun to find a fishhook cactus (right), and this one that was blooming was a special treat!
We also ran into this Great Basin Whiptail lizard, which I've seen before but never been able to get close enough to take a picture.
As usual, what really stood out up here were the views. Extending for miles in every direction, we marveled at the salt pan we'd traversed only a few hours earlier. In the distance, layer upon layer of blue ridgeline repeated endlessly toward the horizon. We made frequent stops in our 700-foot ascent to admire, pointing out landmarks that we'd visited on previous adventures.
Tendrils of the Panamint Mountains, stretching toward Badwater Basin.
Owlshead Mountains, with the brilliant playa of Lost Lake gleaming in the distance.
And then, we reached the mine.
Officially the █████████████████ Mine, the complex consists of two distinct sites. The most easterly one contains two adits - an upper 226-foot tunnel that was worked and a lower adit used as living quarters. An extensive tramway system still exists at the first location, complete with cable and supports. This was used to transport ore from these main workings down the mountainside 1-1/2 miles probably to the wash just north of the ridge that lies northwest of the Warm Spring Canyon-Butte Valley roads junction.
Aerial tramway.
Upper tower. (top left) | An old gear. (bottom left) | Aging anchor. (right)
Discovered in 1894, this was primarily a gold mine, though galena (lead + silver) was also found in the 2-3-foot wide lenticular ore body. Reportedly, work on the mine stopped in 1941, a date that corresponds closely with the remains left on site.
In front of the upper adit is a Model A frame containing a Phillips 66 battery, which might have functioned as an air compressor. A pipe with a gate valve leads from here to a nearby adit.
The old Model A compressor mash-up.
Various debris (tin cans, rubber hosing, nails, hand drills, a windlass, an axe handle, shovel, and drill stems) scattered over the slope.
In the upper adit - whose main tunnel branches off in about seven different directions, creating a fairly large open central area - contains many items of interest. An ore cart built from half of a steel drum placed on wheels was pulled by a cable up short wooden tracks to the main tunnel level.
I love ore carts, and this one was so cute!
I couldn't help but illuminate it for a little dramatic flair.
Pieces of rope, big sheets of burlap, and blanket remains are present in the central area. On one of the latter is imprinted: "Plummer Bag Mfg. Co., Bags, Tarpaulins, & Tents, San Pedro & L.A., 108#." An old shoe, made in Taiwan, lies on the floor. Atlas powder box fragments and fuses are also scattered around.
This lower adit - used as living quarters - was once full of historic artifacts. Soldered tin cans and Mason jars, a wealth of household goods, including:
- Alber's Flapjack Flour cases
- Fluffo vegetable shortening (4 lbs./49¢)
- A 1941 Saturday Evening Post
- A dime western magazine
- A Los Angeles Times dated 15 December 1940
- A five-gallon oil can
- A shovel
- A saw
- A cooking pan, spoon and skillet
- A wall shelf fashioned from an explosives box
- A coffee can full of pinto beans
- A can of Diamond A cut green beans
- A 24-1/2 lb. A-1 flour sack made into a pillow covering, along with two sacks of flour
- A few strips of jerky in a bottle
- Two pie tins and a small square pie pan
- Two small homemade stools and a four-legged table
- Two metal bunks, one with a feather pillow
- A cardboard box addressed to "K.H. Grantham, Wilmington, Ohio" and a postcard addressed to "Fritz" from "Mother and Dad Gibson"
A few of the items are still around, but they are strewn on the floor and quickly becoming overrun with rat turds.
Looters have made off with most of these items, but the canvas door - for which this mine is named - still lays against the adit wall, for those who can find it.
Namesake of the mine.
taken from A History of Mining
After poking around the mine for a while - I'm a sucker for both aerial tramways and ore carts - it was getting on toward lunch time. Naturally, we'd brought neither food nor water in our haste to discover the canvas door, so with only a few stops - again, to admire the views and local flora - we worked our way back to the Tacoma.
Anyone for a view?
This honeybee (left) was fully loaded with pollen from the plentiful Mojave Bunch Cacti (top right) that were in full bloom everywhere. And several Swallowtails (bottom right) were flitting this way and that for our entire trip!
With no shade to speak of, lunch was a quick affair. @mrs.turbodb whipped up a couple of rotisserie chicken sandwiches, some Lays potato chips, and pulled a cool, Cosmic Crisp apple out of the fridge for dessert. Then, it was into the Tacoma - with the A/C firing on all cylinders - for a bit of driving, and in the case of the passenger, her after-lunch nap!
We were - once again - on our way to Butte Valley. Almost. We had one more short detour before making the final push.
Frank, Frannie's brother-from-another-mother, had gotten wind of our presence in the area and wasn't too happy when we showed up at "his spring."
I'd hoped that our detour to a nearby spring would turn up an arrastra, but I either didn't search hard enough, or the willows have completely overgrown the old mining apparatus, so the only thing I got - besides the side-eye from Frank - were a few more fantastic views. #worthit
Another road's end.
Who Locks a Shared Cabin?
Now mid-afternoon, we were finally headed into Butte Valley! As we entered from the eastern flanks, I could immediately feel myself relaxing. This is one of my favorite places in all of Death Valley, and I could feel my anticipation growing, knowing that I'd be spending the next several nights with a view of Striped Butte.
With our first destination on the other side of the valley, we made a quick stop at a well-known cabin to have a look around. While we had no plans to stay at the cabin - there are a few other places that we much prefer camping in the valley - it would give us a chance to see how the cabin had fared since we last visited, and archive the visitor log, which I've taken to doing with each one I cross paths with on my adventures.
It was a little unusual to see the stars and stripes waving in the wind - the universal indicator of "someone is in the cabin" - but no sign of another vehicle when we pulled up.
Two beautiful sets of stripes!
After admiring the view from several vantage points, and for quite a bit longer than even I expected to do, I headed toward the cabin to take a look inside. Reaching the door, I reached to undo the latch, only to find that it was locked!
What the heck, I thought. My pea-sized brain immediately kicked into full-on-smoke-mode, trying to figure out what was going on. Initially I thought that NPS may have locked the cabin due to vandalism, but I quickly ruled that out given the relatively clean surroundings, the flag blowing in the wind (they wouldn't have left it out), no visible damage to the exterior or windows. If it wasn't NPS, that left only one other answer - somebody random had locked the place up. And since they weren't there, I figured they must have done it to reserve the cabin for themselves, in case someone else - like us - came along when they weren't there.
And that - most definitely - didn't sit right with me.
This is not right.
Just before my entire head caught fire from analyzing this most unusual situation, I realized I had a couple of options. The best of them turned out to be a little screwdriver action on the three screws securing the clasp to the door, and a few minutes later, I was pushing open the door to see what was inside.
Occupied.
Obviously, whoever was staying here had locked up the cabin while they were out and about for the day. I felt better about this than if the cabin had been locked up to reserve it for some future date when someone expected to arrive, but I still thought it was a little weird. There is most definitely a first-come reservation system for these backcountry gems, but that system also generally assumes that the cabins remain mostly publicly-accessible during the day, since others may want to see the inside, sign the log, etc.
Not sure exactly what to do, I left a note in the visitor log, and resecured the door, before we headed on our way.
I thought this was a rather friendly note to both alert someone I'd been inside, and also convey the strangeness of locking the cabin.
It didn't take long to put the entire cabin situation behind us; what was in front of us was so much more amazing!
Update: 3 Days Later
Three days later, as we were headed out of Butte Valley, we noticed the flag was no longer flying, and we decided to take another gander at the cabin. Thankfully the lock was gone, and I found a rather entitled entry had been added to the visitor log.
I couldn't help but add my .02.
To anyone exploring backcountry cabins: they are not yours just because they were unoccupied when you arrived. You are still a guest. And not everyone is out to steal your stuff.
The Perfectly Inaccessible Fallout Bunker
We had only one more thing to do before finding camp for the night - which was really driving to camp, since I already knew exactly where I wanted to spend the low-light hours of both evening and morning - and that was a short hike to one of the strangest adits in the park.
Finding our way out another lonely road, we were soon - once again - on foot. Having done a good amount of research, I was reasonably certain that I'd ascertained the location of the Fallout Bunker, but one can never really be sure with a place like this that wants to be kept secret. All I knew for sure was that the entrance was blockaded by a stack of rocks, and that the interior of the bunker was crisscrossed with cobwebs.
News had traveled fast about us in the Butte Valley area, and Fred's cousins were keeping a close eye on us as we scoured the grassy hillside for the entrance into the darkness.
Found it! And with a little clearing away, I realized that it was going to be a tight squeeze if I wanted to get inside. (And, I wanted.)
Rumored to have been built by a park ranger long ago to stash supplies, or even by Charles Manson and his “family” as a last resort to get away from the impending Race Wars that they were trying to incite, I can say only one thing about this fallout bunker with confidence: it is gross!
Armed with a 3-foot long rusty pipe to clear spiderwebs as I ventured several hundred feet into the dank, dark, depths of whatever this place has become, I completely understood why @mrs.turbodb had opted to stay outside. Brains. She could see what was in store for me, and had no desire to be part of the madness. Pushing deeper, I jumped as first one mouse, then three more, scurried past my feet. Great. Suffocating in the damp shaft was no longer the worst-case scenario - now I had hantavirus to look forward to, too.
Whoever stashed stuff in here should have thought for about two more seconds and realized the damp environment wasn't really the best place to put sheets, clothes, and other decomposable items.
Maybe they meant to line the place with cedar and turn it into a sauna?
Frankly, I couldn't get out quickly enough. There was apparently a log book in one of the metal lockers, but my guess is that it didn't have many entries, and I certainly wasn't going to be fighting the rats to access it. Instead, I climbed my way out over the barrel of clothes, pushed my way through a net of new cobwebs, and held my breath until I reached the entrance. I'm not usually one to rush out of an adit, but boy, was I happy for the dry heat of the desert.
So much better.
I emerged to find @mrs.turbodb conversing with one of the local burros, and after restacking the rocks and ensuring that the Fallout Bunker was once again secure, we headed back the way we'd come. It wasn't yet 5:00pm, but in an effort to slow down and enjoy this wonderful area of the park that we're always rushing through, we had nothing else planned for the day and I figured we could spend a few hours enjoying the view from camp.
Butte-iful view.
So that's exactly what we did. Hours just sitting there, mostly in bliss, as Striped Butte performed a slow color change across the valley. Every now and then, conversation drifted back to the weird locked-cabin situation. The cure for that, it turns out, is also Striped Butte. Highly recommend.
The Whole Story
Thanks again for the beautiful photos & your great descriptions. I have visited the Butte Valley area & Striped Butte several times, love the area! I always like visiting the Geologist Cabin & other cabins in the area.
Thanks Rick, I think it's my favorite "just sit and look out at the view" spot in the park. Though, as I've come to know more and more of the park intimately, there are definitely some close contenders!
You have the best adventures!
I plan to do a few in Death Valley in the fall.
Need more folks to join me.
Know if good groups that like to do this??
Thanks Joann! I'm not really sure about groups to go out exploring with. I'd see if you can find some folks who are local to you (who might go out locally) together, and then try to organize a road trip to the desert. That's how my "group trips" work, and there's a core set of us that have visited many western states together.