Secrets of Crooked Creek | White Mountains #4

Somehow, we'd completed a 16 mile hike to 14,252 feet above sea level in just under nine hours. Figuring that it'd take more than a little longer - especially after eating lunch and hanging out at the top for a while - I'd planned for us to spend a second night at the White Mountain trailhead. Then, we'd spend our final day of exploration winding our way through a few canyons and meadows that I'd heard were well worth visiting.

But now, we had options. It was time to work out how to best squander them!

Broadly, I'd hoped we could turn Crooked Creek, Dead Horse Meadow, and Wyman Canyon into a large loop that would take us through a good chunk of the eastern flanks of the White Mountains, but I knew that the road - if you could call it that - connecting Dead Horse Meadow and Wyman Canyon had been in rough shape for the better part of a decade, so our hopes were not high that we'd run the entire loop without a major change in direction.

Before long, we found ourselves at an intersection we'd passed more than once, and with the afternoon sun at our backs, we turned to follow the Crooked Creek.

Along each of the roads that made up a segment of the loop we hoped to complete, I'd used the USFS MVUM (Motor Vehicle Use Map) to plot out the various spur roads that we could explore along the way. This seemed like a genius move at the time, but as with many such moves, I later realized that - as had been the case in the Inyo Mountains that I'd explored a few weeks earlier - these were mostly old mine roads, with little to see but views. Definitely not attention-grabbers that would make sense to explore with a companion along.

Still, as we neared the first fork, I noticed that my copilot was fully engrossed in her mid-afternoon nap, so spur road it was!

As with Crooked Creek, the road down ██████████ Canyon crossed the creek more than a few times. With a bit more water, there were a few crossings where 30-50 feet of road were under six inches of water - perhaps a place for a bit of a high-speed car wash, had it not been for the tasty residents.

Of course, even if the trout had been more than 8-9 inches long, we were without permit and poles, so we slowly made our way through the neighborhood, joking that we'd know whether we'd gone too fast if there were floaters on our way back!

Not many people visit the old ███████ Ranch, and the only thing of interest in the cabin were a few dozen small - condiment-size - pouches of water strewn about on nearly every flat surface. This though was our turnaround point according to the MVUM, so we headed back up to Crooked Creek in search of our next spur.

Over undulating terrain, I noticed that I'd accidentally marked something potentially interesting on one of the spurs: a trio of structures. Still, it wasn't the cabins that we noticed as the rocky terrain opened up onto a grassy meadow, it was the teardrop trailer and Grenadier that were parked out front.

Turns out the residents of the tear drop - a father and son - were up from the Los Angeles area to escape the worst of the heat dome. They'd been camped here for nearly a week, spending their days relaxing in the meadow and rock climbing the granitic outcroppings that decorated the valley.

After wasting a few minutes of their time with what we'd been up to over the last couple of days - though, to be fair, I did catch them checking out the Tacoma as we were coming out of the cabins - I had one final question before we said our goodbyes, "How'd you guys get here, and do you know if the road through the bottom of the canyon is passable?"

That got a good chuckle, and I was informed - for the second time - that Hillary had done a number on the road, and that even the Wyman Canyon portion of our loop would be questionable at this point.

Hoping that the opinion of a Grenadier driver might not be the same as those held by the occupants of a beat up, 25-year-old Tacoma, we bid our farewells and continued on.

Frequently checking to be sure we still had all of our teeth, we bounced over the rocky terrain for longer than either of us would have preferred, hoping that the reward at the end would make it all worth it.

As quickly as the rocky road began, it disappeared. A change in terrain, we found ourselves leaving a high desert transition zone for a steep, switchback descent into the place I'd heard we should spend a couple of days.

Assuming - that is - that we could get there.

The trail at this point seemed passable - for narrow vehicles - but definitely kept us wondering as to the continued feasibility and turnaround opportunities. Still, the reward at the end was definitely enticing!

Frequent readers will know that my favorite spots to camp are often on the edges of cliffs overlooking an expansive view. @mrs.turbodb doesn't mind these either - as long as we're not too near the edge - but we both agreed that nestling into the boulders in this most unusual landscape would be more than sufficient.

So, though it was only 5:00pm, we found a nook, set up the tent, and promptly climbed in for a nap! Let me tell you, this whole "slowing down" thing is not overrated!

As the sun dropped below the ridge to our west, its heat finally relenting just a bit, we climbed down the ladder and set about the task of dinnering. Rather, @mrs.turbodb set about preparations - it was hot dogs and corn on the cob again - and I set about the consumption.

We certainly hadn't pictured ourselves here after a hike to the top of White Mountain, but as we climbed into the tent, there was no doubt that it'd been an amazing day.

The following morning...

Knowing that we'd have plenty of time on the final day of our adventure - even retracing nearly 50% of the loop to run the remainder from the opposite direction - we weren't in any huge rush to get going in the morning. And, after a few just-before-sunrise photos with the flying camera, I climbed back into the warmth of the tent for another 90 minutes of cuddling and shut-eye.

Even with our extra tent time, we were on the road before 7:00am, climbing along Crooked Creek toward a road that'd become familiar over the last several days. The sun at our back, this time we took the easy way down, following White Mountain Road all the way to pavement at CA-168. There, we headed east, toward the final segment of our loop: the mouth of Wyman Canyon.

A glutton for punishment, just as I'd dutifully transcribed all of the MVUM spurs along our loop, I'd also included several that branched off of CA-168. Mercifully, we could tell from the highway that a couple of these were so obviously boring as to be entirely not worth checking out.

That left only one road - a road that reached nearly back to the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest - unaccounted for, and completely ignoring the untrod nature of the two-track, we dutifully entered the canyon of no views.

We wasted the better part of an hour slowly winding our way through a canyon that was neither wide nor narrow, neither technical nor graded, neither exciting nor beautiful.

That canyon did teach us one thing, however: just because a road is on a MVUM doesn't mean it's interesting. I'd learned this lesson when I'd explored the Inyo, but while some might classify themselves as visual learners, I prefer the descriptor of "slow" in situations such as this. I'll probably only follow MVUM roads another handful of times before finally connecting the dots.

For now though, we were finally ready to run Wyman Canyon.

Pretty quickly, Wyman Canyon began to deliver. More granitic outcroppings, a few early creek crossings, and even a bit of "wildlife" kept our attention as we quickly began to gain elevation.

Unlike upper Crooked Creek - where the creek stayed in its own lane - long sections of Wyman Canyon Road were indistinguishable from the waterway. Surely this changes as summer wears on, but for now, it made for a sloshy, fun climb.

It was just before 11:00am when we arrived at the junction where the road to Dead Horse Meadow left Wyman Canyon Road. We could tell that no one had driven the road in quite some time, but curious to see how far we could make it, we pushed our way through encroaching willow branches and onto what was once - apparently - an old mining road.

Making our way - in reverse - back to Wyman Canyon, we hoped for more of the river-as-a-road that we'd enjoyed to this point in our journey, but the water mostly dried up, the road becoming a reasonably well-maintained right-of-way for power line maintenance. Still, there were a couple things to stop and see along the way.

Our early start on the loop meant that it was a few minutes before 1:00pm when we crested the ridge and found ourselves in the same place we'd camped two nights prior. Here, with clear blue skies, we looked down on Bishop and the Volcanic Tablelands, the Sierra still snowcapped in the distance.

The problem - if you could call it that when we were enjoying a view like this - was that once we dropped down into Owens Valley, the pleasant temperatures at 10,800 feet would become oppressive. Not only that, but they'd remain above 87°F through the night - a situation we'd need to endure in order to catch our 5:55am flight out of Las Vegas, but one we wanted to suffer for as short a time as possible.

And so, we did what any good procrastinators would do in our position - we headed up. Ten minutes later we parked the truck in the shade of a Bristlecone just under the Silver Peak Summit and set about two very important tasks: 1) napping, and 2) reading.

With a six-hour drive between us and some yet-to-be-determined place where we'd spend the night, we finally pointed the Tacoma back down Silver Canyon Road a little after 3:00pm. Our destination was a Mexican joint - Las Palmas - just off of Main St. in Bishop. We'd stopped there on our way into town for a quick bite and had been thoroughly impressed with the fish tacos and enormous serving of guacamole. These delights weren't inexpensive, but they were well worth it in our opinion, so a repeat dinner was in order!

 

 

 

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