My exploration of Blue Valley complete, and a bit of my curiosity satiated at the Hattie Harrell Homestead, it was time to scratch another itch that had been bothering me for more than a year. On the same trip where I'd seen the Harrell Place across the river, I'd spotted a road high up on the eastern escarpment of the canyon. A series of switchbacks, I made a note to investigate when I got home.
I year earlier when I spotted this zigzag I thought, "Doesn't that look intriguing!"
Making my way back up through Blue Valley - completing yet another of my out-and-backs - I soon found myself overlooking the descent back down into the canyon at access road to the Christine Marie Mine. Unfortunately, by this time, it was raining.
A tempting plunge, but a difficult climb if it becomes a muddy mess!
If the Pollock-esque pattern on my door was any indication, I wasn't in for a clean afternoon.
Looking out over the canyon, the weather situation didn't look promising. Or did it? There seemed to be rain everywhere around, some places heavier than others. But then - far to the west - I could see what appeared to be rainless skies; not cloudless, but dry. With a brisk westerly wind, I crossed my fingers that the ground would still be dry enough upon my return and drove over the edge toward the mine. If I was going to do this, I was going to be quick about it.
On a small plateau above the switchbacks, the old cabins for the mine as well as an old International Harvester Scout 800 stood guard over the site.
Axle seals anyone? Castle nuts?
Barely broken in, mileage wise!
Jake's cabin was set into the hillside - likely to moderate temperatures and shelter from the driving wind.
I really liked the rockwork-woodwork combination. I don't feel like I often see this attention to detail in miner's cabins.
With the rain increasing, I started to wonder if I'd made the wrong decision. Even a quarter inch of water on the Owyhee mud could leave me stranded until things dried out. But I'd come this far - and curiosity is a beast - so rather than retreat, I rolled the dice and headed to the top of the switchbacks. "I'll just take a photo from the top," I told myself, and then beeline it back to the relative safety of the plateau.
"A photo from the top."
As I'm sure everyone reading already suspects, upon reaching the top of the switchbacks, I couldn't bring myself to turn around. "I'll just descend to the first turn," I decided.
"The first turn."
Well, at the first turn, I could see that there were only a few more to what appeared to be the main mine workings, and after a bit of hmming-and-hawing, I convinced myself that I could be quick about a trip down to check them out. I'd later discover that these were the workings of Jake's Place, and not the Christine Marie Mine.
For more information about the Christine Marie Mine and the man who worked it - Eugene Mueller - I have some recommend reading. Years after working the Christine Marie Mine, Eugene put together a blog containing several of his stories. I wish I'd discovered his blog before heading out on my adventure, but having only discovered it once I returned and was doing some research for my own story, I knew I needed to share to those who enjoy my adventures. His writing style, as well as the background and detail on this place, are fabulous. Read a few pages or the whole thing; I don't think you'll be disappointed.
The Whole Story
I soon reached the workings about 700 feet down the hillside. This, it turns out, was known as Jake's Place.
It might appear that copper was the goal at the Jake's Place - and by extension the Christine Marie Mine - but it wasn't. Morrisonite Jasper was the ultimate prize.
The views from the workings were spectacular. To the northeast, the storm that'd been passing overhead continued to dump buckets across the landscape - my earlier hope that the clouds would add a bit of drama, easily fulfilled. To the southwest, it was still cloudy, but - as I'd hoped - dry, the green landscape below, now devoid of any dust, somehow even brighter than it'd been earlier in the day.
Into the storm.
Blue Valley has never been greener!
Eventually - though in less of a rush, as it wasn't raining at the moment - it was time to make my way back up to the top and on to my final destination for the day - a second set of petroglyphs that I'd apparently passed by many times before! And so, up, up, up, I went, surprised at how quickly I'd made it down, and now slowly I was making it up the old mining road at the Christine Marie. I can only imagine driving this road in the old International Harvester Scout, hoping that it would make it with a full load!
On the way back up, I detoured to check out a small cave on the hillside.
Relative safety of the flat ground. At least here, muddy trails would only lead to a muddy truck, rather than the risk of sliding down the hillside!
From the mine, I had only about five miles to the site of the petroglyphs - somewhere long the circumference of Jordan Craters. Then, as I slipped and slid my way across the just-wet-enough-to-be-sloppy roads, I spotted a truck up ahead. Initially I thought it was someone out hunting, but as I drew closer, I realized it belonged to a rancher, working their fences. Likely having bugged out a couple hours earlier when the rain had started - some would say, in the way I should have - they'd left the job for another day. I climbed out to take a look.
An old Dodge M37, the military version of the Power Wagon. Sharing the same same chassis, drivetrain and most of the body, the biggest difference was that the M37 had a rag top, and the PW had a full steel cab.
I loved this sticker on the inside of the door. If only drivers today still took such pride in their practice.
Now, with nowhere to put a key, how do we start this thing?
(Note: I never figured it out, and wouldn't have, even if I had.)
After poking around a bit - hoping that the owners would come return so I could gush over their rig for a bit and learn a bit more of its history - I eventually pulled myself away and was soon trekking cross-country through the on-again rain towards the edge of Jordan Craters. I'd never approached from this angle before, and with the green grass of spring, it was quite the dramatic view into the blackness of the flow.
On the edge of a lava lake.
I searched around for the petroglyphs for a good half-hour or so, finding several places where they should have been - nice patina to the rock, smooth faces to etch on, etc. - but never actually finding the rock art I was after.
While I didn't run into any rock art, I did startle this little guy. Of course, he let me know he was there, and I gave him plenty of room. (Great Basin Rattlesnake)
Finally, with the rain increasing and a realization that I could always come back for a more thorough search, I headed back the way I'd come, toward the Tacoma. With only 20 miles between me and the highway, I decided that I'd push towards home a bit - hopefully out of the rain - before finding a spot to get some shut-eye in order to break up the ten-hour journey. It'd been another fabulous trip to the Owyhee Canyonlands - one I would not soon forget.
Airing up in the rain, always a joyous experience.
Spring Flowers of Day 2
I thought the lupine leaves were just as pretty as the flowers!