Rattlesnakes and Skinny Dips | Owyhee #3

Having thoroughly enjoyed our downtime along the gurgling banks of the Bruneau River, found ourselves racing north along Rowland Road shortly before 11:00am. Our plan for the remainder of the day was to visit several homesteads that I'd marked - but that we hadn't been able to see due to time - on our first adventure to the Idaho-side of Owyhee. Oh, and there was a possible hike down to another of the canyonlands rivers, should we feel as though we hadn't had enough of the start-sweating-as-soon-as-the-Tacoma-door-is-opened temperatures outside.

Our first of several visits to Sheep Creek throughout the morning.

One of the nicest things about Rowland Road is that it is extremely well-graded. I'm not sure exactly why this is - perhaps because it is a major route into Nevada, or because there aren't many other roads in the area - but it easily allows for highway speeds as long as one has aired down, shifted into 4wd for a little extra traction, and is careful at turns. Racing along as we were, it took several hundred feet for us to come to a stop after I shifted my foot from the skinny pedal and asked @mrs.turbodb if she'd noticed the snake in the road.

She hadn't, but unlike some sightings - where a last-minute sighting is hard to avoid - this time I knew that I was safely on the other side of the road. So, after backing up, we hopped out to take a look. Almost immediately, I knew we were in luck. This was no gopher snake - the only kind we'd seen on our last trip to the Nevada Owyhee - rather, it was a nice big rattler!

We initially found this Great Basin Rattlesnake fully extended in the road, soaking up as much sun as it could. With all that sun he was a quick, but not as quick as @mrs.turbodb's retreat to the Tacoma once she realized that fact!

Not long after crossing Sheep Creek, we made our first deviation toward a spot that I'd been extra-bummed to miss on our first exploration of the area and had wondered about every other time we'd been through: Dan's Place. With a name like that, this place would obviously be a complete let-down , but I had to see it anyway.

A little more than a mile of bumpy two-track and we arrived at the gate that delimited the property. Hopping out, my copilot soon had the barb wire blockage out of the way, and we made our final approach to a series of ruins nestled a few hundred feet from the creek.

The only structure with walls.

All the structures at Dan's Place - as far as we could tell - seemed to have been used most recently as barns. Still, given the name, it was sort of cool to wander around until I stepped on a cow-turd that looked to be sunbaked and solid, only to find that under a 1/8-inch crust, it was as wet and juicy as the day it'd been deposited.

There were a few nice purple alliums (onion family) around, but that didn't make up for my misplaced step.

After spending more time than I'd have liked in the baking sun to thoroughly clean the bottom of my shoe - using my bare hand, something I definitely recommend doing if you want your hand to smell of cow shit for hours on end - I finally got most of crap out of the nooks and crannies of my shoe sole and we bumped and bounced our way back to Rowland Road.

At less than two miles, our next stop wasn't far as the crow flies from Dan's Place - it was even situated on bank of Sheep Creek - but it was significantly further in the Tacoma, given the maze of roads needed to access it in the comfort of our air conditioning.

The Bengeochea Place.

A little more of one wall, but a lot less of the others, this neighborhood along Sheep Creek could use some rehabilitation.

The mosquitoes in this neck of the "woods" were thicker than we'd run across any time else in our last two trips, making me extremely thankful that I didn't step in - and have to clean up - another stink bomb as I executed a hasty retreat to the Tacoma.

By now, it was nearing noon and after a relatively small breakfast - somehow, we'd brought more than enough milk and less than enough cereal - we were both getting a bit hungry. So, as we made our way east through the tundra, I wondered aloud as to whether we should simply drive to the Tindall Trailhead and look down from the rim of the canyon on Sheep Creek - now 600 feet below - or whether we should brave the heat and hike down to the water's edge.

We decided to play it by ear.

We didn't expect to see this, but it was cool!

As we pulled up to the rim of the canyon - and end of the road - we decided that no matter what, we should eat lunch first. This would be a toasty affair, but we'd once again be enjoying cool slaws and salads that @mrs.turbodb had prepared before leaving home, so it'd be easy and refreshing as we faced our chairs into the wind and our backs toward the sun.

Procrastination can only last so long, and 15 minutes later we once again broached the subject of plunging over the edge. I'd taken a quick look as lunch had been prepared, and noted that the trail here seemed to be quite nice - especially compared to the bushwacking descent at Cave Draw - and to my surprise, my companion seemed ready to brave the blazing sun once again!

The clouds were starting to get interesting as we wrapped up lunch.

Sheep Creek V.

As we began our descent, the same black-on-orange layering that we'd seen the previous day presented itself here. Geology!

Down we go.

The Tindall Trail turned out to be even better than I expected after seeing it from the rim. It was both well-defined and a reasonably gradual descent, something we knew we'd appreciate on our return trip.

Halfway down, we could hear Sheep Creek as it rushed through the green belt at the bottom of the canyon.

Crossing the last level rise some 50-feet above the river, we paused for a moment to wonder if this was once the location of an old homestead. With no indication of ruins, grading, or machinery, it seemed like a good guess that this was simply an access trail to cross the creek and continue up the opposite side. A long way down and then up, but easier than the long way 'round that would otherwise be required for homesteaders on their horses.

And that got me wondering - never a good idea - whether there'd be somewhere to swim. Surely a crossing would eventually evolve into a pool over time. That's when I joked to @mrs.turbodb about taking a dip.

Her absolute favorite few minutes of the entire adventure!

A Sagebrush Mariposa Lily (Calochortus macrocarpus) we found growing along the bank.

Damselfly heaven.

I futzed around taking photos while @mrs.turbodb cooled off in the creek, both of us having a fantastic time on this hike we'd nearly skipped, and yet were so glad to have done. Refreshed and in high spirits, we made quick work of the climb back to the truck, ready to tackle the final destination for the day.

As we climbed through the canyon, we found ourselves wishing that the clouds on the horizon were a little closer. And you know what they say, "be careful what you wish for..."

By 3:30pm we were once again headed north on Rowland Road, the clouds we'd seen on our climb up the Tindall Trail now far to the east. In their place, darkness was in the process of enveloping everything in its path, including us. First, it was 50 mph winds. Then, within minutes, raindrops the size of blueberries - travelling nearly horizontally - were pelting the Tacoma as we fought our way along the final stretch of gravel road and onto ID-51. As with the last time we'd been hammered by rain in this same spot - just 36 hours earlier - this storm was intense but only lasted a few minutes.

By the time we reached our turn to Wickahoney, the last of the drops were falling and the skies were even starting to clear.

Like Rowland Road, the Wickahoney Road is nicely graded. With a fresh dousing, it was mercifully dust free as we raced towards the last couple of spots - what we thought were two more historic homesteads - we hoped to check out before bidding farewell to Owyhee for another season. But, as is often the case, an unexpected surprise presented itself, and we eagerly hopped out of the truck to greet the opportunity.

Very curious.

A friendly herd, and freshly showered.

Even as we drove away, we continued to be quite intriguing!

After a greetings, a bit of sniffing, and a few strokes of noses, we popped back into the Tacoma and continued west. From this point on, the roads would get a bit rougher, but nothing like we'd encountered on the east side of ID-51. This wasn't due to any additional maintenance by landowners; rather, the geology here - as we worked our way along and into the Big Jack Wilderness - was just a little different.

Series of small buttes.

Located along Duncan Creek, the Buncel Place seemed quite nicely situated in the valley as we opened - and closed behind us - gates onto the property. Now surely owned or leased by one of the larger ranchers in the area, the structures and smaller pastures - as with nearly all the older homesteads - were no longer in use, their interior walls covered in the carvings of those who'd visited before us.

An old shed, now the last standing building at the old Buncel Place.

While we're happy to leave a note in a cabin visitor's log, we aren't big on carving, writing, or painting our names on the walls of the structures we come across; doing so feels disrespectful to those who put a lot of sweat and love into these places (even if they are slowly being reclaimed by nature). Still, it's interesting to search out the oldest and newest dates, and to see if there are any recognizable names, so I wandered around the interior of the shed, being careful to avoid the series of rodent nests that covered large portions of the floor.

As I did, I was being watched.

Fred the field mouse was not happy to have me poking around his mansion.

Looks like a couple folks from the Rocking Seven P Combined and the (unknown) ranch were hanging around at some point.

While the afternoon storm had provided a bit of relief to the sweltering heat, the sun was already starting to warm everything up again, so we didn't linger long before continuing on our way. The final place I'd marked - which we assumed was another old homestead - was only a few miles away and we made quick work of the stream crossing and series of gates that left us overlooking the Big Jack Creek and wondering if we really wanted to descend another canyon wall in order to search out the spot I'd marked "cabin?".

A quick discussion led us to the same conclusion that we always reach - "we're here, so we might as well do it," and soon we were working our way into one of the most beautiful canyons we'd seen all trip.

The green channel of Big Jack Creek was striking!

A little further in, and still no cabin.

I don't know what I'd seen on satellite imagery that made me think there was a cabin in this neck of the canyons, but whatever it was, it may be time for me to get some glasses. Not only was there no cabin, but it was abundantly clear that there wasn't even a flat area that might have once been home to a cabin.

I did find this weird aerial marker. Still no idea what it was/is used for.

As I'd searched for the cabin, @mrs.turbodb had been poking around closer to the spot where we'd worked our way into the canyon, and as I returned to fill her in on my discovery - or lack thereof in the case of the cabin - we discussed another waypoint I'd marked as "geocache."

We aren't big on the geocaches in general, but since we weren't able to find the cabin, we figured that finding this cache would be a nice consolation prize. Little did we know that it would be so much more.

After a few minutes of circling - the time-proven way to find any cache is to circle it several times before finding it in the most obvious place possible - I spotted the full-size ammo can mostly obscured by a pile of rocks. Opening it up, we found the requisite logbook along with a brand-new deck of cards, a pencil with an eraser that was soft and supple, and several other do-dads that seemed to indicate relatively recent visitation.

Except that when we looked in the log, the most recent entry was 2014! Not only that, but the handful of entries before that identified all of the items we now found in the cache!

The last entry before we wrote our names down on June 12, 2025 was more than a decade earlier, on March 8, 2014. Wow!

But then, as I flipped through the three pages of entries, I spotted something even cooler. There, a page before our contribution, in April 2012, was a name I recognized...

The myth, the legend. Kenny himself had been here!

It was a great way to cap our trip, and with spirits high we carefully packed everything away into the geocache, stashing it back under the rocks that kept it safe for the last decade. Then, we headed up the trail to the Tacoma, and to pavement. It'd been a great couple of weeks in Owyhee, and nice to get back after not being able to make it the previous spring season.

 

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