No Cake for You in Stone Canyon | Nadeau Deux #4

As a windstorm raged out in Panamint Valley - gusts over 50mph whipping up dust and sand - we enjoyed a reasonably peaceful night tucked away in the lower reaches of Thompson Canyon. With the CVT ladder tied down, earplugs, and the strenuous activity of the previous day, we slept very well and very long.

In fact, knowing that we had less hiking in front of us today than the preceding two, we didn't even get up before sunrise. Heck, we burned through more than an hour of daylight by the time we climbed down the ladder for some Wheat Chex (me) and Honey Bunches of Oats (@mrs.turbodb).

Beautiful morning under Lookout Mountain.

Coincidentally, our camp site was only a few hundred feet from an old miner's trail that we could have used as the starting point for the day's adventure to a remote mine in the adjacent canyon. Alternatively, with a one-hour drive - back out through Panamint Valley and a little further north along the Nadeau Trail - we could save ourselves 500 feet of elevation gain. In each of our minds, the choice was obvious. It was not, unfortunately, the same.

Of course, I didn't really mind the driving - it would give us a chance to revisit the old road up to Lookout, which has a few fun, technical sections - and also get us a little closer to the cabin I hoped to raise the flag at later that evening.

The entrance to this canyon - with a colorful mountain towering overhead - is one of the best in the Argus.

It's amazing how things change over the years. This little climb was a lot easier than it was five years ago.

Guess we're going the right way.

Private parking.

With our late start, and leisurely pace, it was after 11:00am by the time we were applying a bit of sunscreen, grabbing the sandwiches, chips, and sweet lemon cake that @mrs.turbodb had assembled for us, and getting ready to go.

Our hike today would take us into the upper reaches of the canyon. While this canyon is perhaps best known for the Defense Mine, or perhaps the remnants of Lookout and the Modoc Mine that were the impetus for the Nadeau Trail, continuing deeper into the Argus promised a myriad of little wonders to explore, culminating in the workings of the █████ Mine.

I look like I'm ready to go.

The excitement from our private parking began almost immediately. From a four-way junction at the saddle, the old - now closed to motorized traffic - road into the mid-canyon is an engineering marvel. Or was an engineering marvel in its day. Build by Chinese laborers, its 30-foot-tall walls of neatly stacked stones allowed vehicles and mule trains to skirt a series of difficult dry falls. Today, we'd get to enjoy this quarter-mile-long masterpiece on foot!

@mrs.turbodb on a gentle entrance back into the wash.

This marble chute looks like it'd be fun in the Tacoma, but perhaps less enticing for a hoofed wagon train.

And with that, we were headed up the wash.

This part of the canyon is not too steep and is pleasant to walk, not very spectacular but scenic and ever changing. The first point of interest is the lower spring, on the south bank. Some years it is a profuse mass of greenery; at other times it shrivels to a hanging garden of ephedra and yellow grass vying for what little water oozes out of the mud.

A little further, the ruin of a large, well-constructed stone house with 6-foot-thick walls rests on a low terrace.

I'm not sure I'd call these walls 6-feet-thick, but Digonnet isn't the only desert hiker who might stretch the truth now and then.

Next is an old spring. Named after the historic owner of the Minnietta Mine, it is the only perennial water supply for miles. A few inches of water usually fill the bottom of a 10-foot-deep vertical slit blasted into a rock wall. A stone ruin, a rusted tank, and scattered pipes attest to past exploitation of this spring for the Defense Mine. If you have binoculars, climb the opposite slope and stay still. It often takes only minutes before birds come flying in.

Hiking Western Death Valley

Jack Gunn spring. Mmm, "tasty."

A bit before 1:00pm, we enjoyed our tasty chicken sandwiches, chips, and a crisp, juicy Cosmic Crisp apple in the sun by the old rock structure before heading further up the canyon. The sweet lemon cake, we saved so we'd have something nice to enjoy deeper in the Argus.

Twisty and narrower, the next stretch of canyon was punctuated by easy-to-climb dry falls and a few little slants, some of them carved smooth in brilliant white marble. None presented any sort of problem, and we frequently opted to climb these enjoyable features rather than take the bypasses once preferred by miners and obviously still preferred by descendants of their pack animals to this day.

Converging canyon.

I always love the look of a hedgehog cactus, this one seeming to grow right out of the rock!

This Scarlet milkvetch was brilliant, and something we've never seen before in the area.

Terrific terrain.

Even maintaining a much more leisurely pace than we had on previous days - something I think we were both grateful for - it wasn't much longer before we reached the lower workings of the Imlay Mine.

Owned prior to the 1950s by Paul █████, from Lone Pine, California, it has no production record. Its not-insignificant workings line the both sides of the wash: five short tunnels and a 40-foot inclined shaft crowned by a crude headframe. The ore here was iron and manganese oxides, with a little azurite and malachite, all occurring in white marble of the Lee Flat Limestone.

The old headframe and collar. A ladder still descends the short distance, but I was duly informed that it was not climbable.

It's always fun to find a door. Why there was a door here - for an empty, 15-foot-deep adit - is beyond me.

Nothing but some nice light in this one, either.

The most interesting area - and the one that'd inspired the hike to begin with - was at the next side canyon. There, an ore chute and a lonesome cabin - its shelves mostly empty and windows mostly gone - guarded this now-derelict property. A lot of work went into this place so many years ago, but it's slowly being reclaimed by the desert.

Front side.

Back side.

It's not that the cabin was a complete disaster. In fact, for its permeability - never quite the descriptor one envisions for such a place - it was remarkably clean and free of the usual rodent "reminders." Looking around inside, it was obvious that this was a place - long after miners no longer made the long trek out to work the hillsides - that people had loved. "Friends of" signs were plentiful, as were a few bits of unidentifiable-to-me history, and a toolbox. The fridge - its door left ajar - contained two gallons of clear water, and a water-stained visitor log.

Still salvageable, but not for much longer.

What have we here? (Seriously, what is this? Some sort of clock?)

Fine art.

Not many visitors.

As I was poking around the cabin and archiving the visitor log, my hiking companion found herself a wonderfully-horizontal, human-sized boulder in the wash. Through the window I could see her - hat over face - enjoying the slower pace of our day. What I didn't know - until I later wandered out to suggest we continue up to the mine workings - was that she had also enjoyed both pieces of sweet lemon cake as she soaked in the distant valley view.

A nice place to eat cake, apparently.

Behind the cabin, a steep road climbed into an initially narrow side canyon. Its surface composed of softball-sized stones, it must have been as torturous to drive as it was to walk, and a dry fall halfway up must have resulted in an ongoing battle to keep the road operational. Perhaps this dry fall was the impetus behind the now-collapsed aerial tramway whose cables still hung above the wash; an acknowledgement of defeat and a new set of tactics in this unforgiving environment.

Guess we know where we're going next.

Collapsed tramway.

Also in the canyon, a stranded mine car has taken on a new role in life.

Mine car flower garden.

By now we were nearly to the main workings, but they would quickly take a back seat to the magnificent scenery that opened up as I rounded the final curve in the canyon. Behind the waste rock pile, a vast amphitheater - ringed by the sweeping curve of a sheer two-toned escarpment - was enough to elicit an audible gasp as I saw it, and a chuckle from my companion as I excitedly called out.

Turns out she'd known what was coming, as Digonnet had shared a similar sense of amazement - which I think she'd even read to me a few minutes earlier, as we'd passed the ore cart - in his description of this place!

Beautiful bowl.

Admiring.

Finally at the main working - and with the sign on the door welcoming us in - it didn't take long to fully explore the 50-foot deep adit. It was entirely empty but for a ladder and some heavy timbering at the very end where a small stope extended up, and a small shaft, a dozen feet down.

"Welcome to all."

The back wall.

The outbound leg of our adventure now complete, it was time to mosey our way back down the canyon to the Tacoma. This hike being our only agenda for the day - or at least, the only one I'd shared so far - it was once again a very chill experience as we worked our way in the downhill direction.

We found this super strange rock that we hadn't noticed on our way up. Fossils?

As we were picking our way through an especially gravelly part of the wash, my well-tuned-peripheral-lizard-vision caught a quick movement of an unrecognized reptilian form. It was big - or at least bigger than usual, though not chuckwalla big - and fast, and it's shading was different than the extremely common western side-blotched lizards that seem to scurry in and out of every crevice.

Lucky for us, it took shelter under a reasonably sized stone in the middle of the wash, and I knew that with a little careful tipping, I could probably sneak a quick peek before it ran away again. Boy, did we get more than a peek. That guy hung around for plenty of time for glamour shots!

All curled up under a rock. Or at least, under a rock a second ago. (Collared lizard)

Almost looks like she's wearing lipstick!

I don't know that collared lizards are all that rare around Death Valley, but this is the first I've seen, so it was a lot of fun. The other's I've encountered - in Utah - have generally been a lot more colorful. Perhaps males, trying to show off for the ladies.

The photoshoot over, Cleo scooted off to another nearby shelter, and we carried off down the canyon.

Layered ridges.

We'd be back at the Tacoma a little after 4:00pm, with just enough time to scoot ourselves toward our own shelter. One canyon over, we'd spend our final night of the trip at the currently controversial, ███████ Cabin.

 

 

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