Echo Canyon is not one of Death Valley National Park's lesser-known places. Quite the opposite. Its main route is one of the most heavily traveled dirt roads in the park and - unlike all but a few of the most popular canyons - campers must reserve a numbered camp site in order to spend the night.
But I wasn't headed to the usual spots in Echo Canyon - at least, not entirely. Sure, I'd pass a couple of them along my route - watching as the folks already there wondered, "Where's that guy going, he didn't even slow down?" - but my destinations were some lesser-visited secrets held by the surrounding hillsides.
Heading into the narrows, the cloudy skies added a bit of drama to the route.
There's a reason Echo Canyon is so popular. It's a dramatic drive!
As much as I poke fun at the "usual" spots in this canyon - pretentiously elevating myself above them, and the folks who visit - I'd secretly been hoping to find myself alone at the Eye of the Needle arch. There were - if I could manage it - a specific shot I've never had time for on previous trips.
Typical Eye of the Needle Arch shot.
The reason I've never taken the time in the past was due to the fact that I needed to climb the steep canyon walls in order to get the right angles. And, I knew I'd need to do it a couple of times in order to get the Tacoma positioned in just the right place. A lot of work for a couple of silly glamour shots!
First ascent view. Look at those stripes!
Needle-eye view.
Happy with the results on my little camera screen - and even happier that someone else hadn't come along to scoff at me while I was playing Echo Canyon tourist - I quickly descended into the wash and pushed on up the canyon.
Passing a gaggle of Jeeps, SUVs, and Sprinter vans at the Inyo Mine, it wasn't long before I reached the trailhead for my first foray on foot. I was - as had been the case earlier in the day - on the hunt for ancient rock art.
“Roads? Where we’re going, there are no roads.”
Unlike my morning search for pictographs, this time I'd be looking for petroglyphs. Soon, I was once again wandering my way through dramatic canyon walls, their angular features in stark contrast to the soft form of the equally dramatic clouds above.
Rock formations deposited more than 500 million years ago when this was a Cambrian sea.
This winter has been a wet one, perhaps an indicator of a super-colorful spring to come!
Perfectly pyramidal.
A cool breeze - harbinger of things to come - kept my pace brisk as my head swiveled in all directions, toward every rocky outcropping I encountered. Some I spent more time at than others. Whether this is an indication that I'm slowly learning to differentiate a candidate canvas or a meaningful location from a seemingly endless landscape of rocks - or simply me hoping that's the case - is open to debate.
I was, however, successful!
When visiting rock art and ruin sites, be respectful.
This is most easily done by following the Leave No Trace principles; leaving the place exactly as you found it and taking with you only photographs and memories. In case that is not clear enough for some reason, here are examples of respectful behaviors:
A full panel of combs, water, and abstract symbols.
A curious figure.
More combs.
Could this be a crab, with two pinchers (facing left)?
Shaman(?) glyph.
Clouds and rain.
What have we here?
Comb in a corner.
Perhaps there's merit to the rumor that these were left by intergalactic visitors.
"ET 22"
My spirits were high as I headed back to the Tacoma. It's always nice to find a site reasonably quickly, and though these weren't the most fantastical petroglyphs I've found in the park, a few of the figures - the crab, a possible shaman, and some of the water symbols - were new to me, and so a joy.
I am easily amused.
Back at the Tacoma, I got a second good chuckle as the same folks exploring the Inyo Mine - now eating lunch in the parking area - were doubly confused as I drove by a second time. Because seriously, could there possibly be anything else up this road worth seeing?
In fact, there is. Sort of. However, rather than following the main route, one must take the road less traveled. The road to Amargosa Valley.
Even the sign hints - excuse me, "advises" - that this is the fun way.
Most who know, travel this segment of Upper Echo Canyon - or the Echo Pass Trail - for the technical driving encountered along the way. I enjoy that as much as the next guy - and I'd get to it in good time - but I was here for something else entirely: another hike! Technically I'd be visiting a remote working of the same Inyo Mine that I'd avoided in the lower canyon, but this place is sometimes also referred to as the ███████ Mine, for reasons that become obvious should one find themselves poking around the site.
A steep hike up to the old mine offers typically splendid views of the desert.
The site of the [Inyo Mine's] last mining effort in 1940-41, sometimes referred to as the ███████ Mine, is about 0.5 miles northeast of the [upper] shaft, on the far side of the ridge. To get to it, climb the very steep slope north-northeast about 250 feet up, until you overlook the upper drainage. Then follow a contour line (~4,400') along the back side of the ridge to the mine, visible to the northeast. The other approach is to drive or hike the upper canyon road towards Lee. This road starts 0.5 mile west of the camp. Follow it about 1.9 miles, which should put you at a sharp 90° left bend.
A faint trail, starting at a stone platform, winds 400 feet up the steep south slope to a ridge. The cable near the trail was used to literally drag supplies up from the road, which were then lowered down the other side to the mine. The winch drum and engine of the cableway stand at the top of the ridge.
The main feature at the mine is the smelter's small rusted furnace. Ore was mined from the timbered, inclined shaft above the furnace, and from a collapsed tunnel, connected to the furnace area by tracks. This is an intriguing site, a repository of obsolete machinery well worth sweating the climb.Hiking Death Valley
Having not reviewed Digonnet's text prior to my arrival, I was pleasantly surprised by all that I found. I'd expected the chimneyed smelter, but everything else was a surprise! As usual, I wandered from spot to spot, hoping that a photo or two would be enough to tell the story.
At the top of the ridge, the old winch and compressor still stand guard to this day.
The compressor: an old Ingersol Rand. And, it had a secret!
For the second time in as many trips, I was thrilled to find still-operational moving parts!
The winch. Note the wooden-spoke wheels, strikingly similar to the wheel-in-the-wash that we encountered not long ago.
I'm sure I spent more time than I should have as I waited for a sustained breeze to create "the perfect few seconds" of the spinning fan, but once that was done, I followed the old cable down to the main workings. With a bit of luck, I'd get a few shots underground before poking around the most iconic relic still clinging to the hillside.
So much for any exploring underground.
The timbering of the inclined shaft has mostly collapsed, and what's left was in what I can only refer to as "safety second" shape; not something I wanted to wander into all alone. It was time to follow the waste rock down the hill.
An old ore chute that once shuttled gold-rich material to the smelter below.
Money shot.
In 1904, after Jack Keane's first discovery of gold in the northern Funerals, dozens of fortune seekers were combing the mountains hoping for new strikes. In January 1905 two prospectors, Maroni Hicks and Chet Leavitt, got lucky and discovered rich gold-bearing quartz veins in Echo Canyon. By May they had staked a total of 20 claims on all the promising ground they could find, and were ready to sell. Over the next few months, several groups of investors became interested in their property, which was rapidly viewed as one of the most attractive in the burgeoning Echo-Lee District. In December, after a few false starts, the two men finally fulfilled their dream. A group of Utah mining promoters purchased their entire group of claims and created the Inyo Gold Mining Company, incorporating it with a capitalization of $1 million. Hicks took cash for his half of the property. Leavitt, for better or for worse, retained his interests and became the company's vice president.
Over the next two years, the company carried out extensive development work. Ore worth between $44 and $300 per ton was uncovered as shafts were sunk more than 100 feet into the ground.
But this was the fall of 1907, the year of the great financial panic. It hit the area just after the company stocks went up for sale, and investors shied away from this remote district. Over the next four years, as the mines remained idle, the company tried every trick in the book to interest investors in either buying, leasing, or sponsoring, but all negotiations failed. In January 1912, the Inyo Mine was finally abandoned. Although the company once claimed to have $650,000 worth of ore in sight, it never shipped any.
The mine was [worked] one last time [in 1940-41], when two men who exploited a different area and attempted to treat their ore with a small smelter. Their operation was short-lived, and the mine closed again, this time for good, in 1941. Although little is known about the production of the Inyo Mine's revival era, chances are that it did produce more than an occasional sack of gold - it was probably, after all, almost rich.Hiking Death Valley
For an even more in-depth history of the Inyo mine, check out Digital Desert's timeline (part 1 | part 2).
Thomsen-Wright Mining Corp, Crucero, Calif.
(the two men working the claim in 1940-41)
Another view of the smelter, which was only ever fired a single time.
ST. L. F.B. INSL. CO.
St. Louis Fire Brick & Insulation Co. was located in Los Angeles County and operated from 1936-1949.
With several hours of driving between my current location and where I hoped to camp for the night, I reluctantly wrapped up my time at the upper workings of the Inyo Mine and followed the narrow miner's trail back down to the Tacoma.
Even though my hiking for the day was done, it wasn't as though my afternoon excitement was complete. I still had a reasonably fun drive - some of it entirely new to me - that would ultimately lead me out the eastern edge of the park to US-95. Along the way, I'd get to tackle what is, I think, the single most technical 4WD obstacle in Death Valley National Park. Or at least, one of the top three.*
* While the difficulty of 4WD obstacles varies from year to year given natural changes as well as rock stacking, I'd say that the most difficult obstacles in DVNP (that are still legally drivable, and when in their natural condition) are:
- Upper Echo Canyon dry fall - more technical than Chicken Corner.
- Chicken Corner - more dangerous if you get it wrong than Echo Canyon.
- Mengal Pass - most likely to incur body damage.
- Dedeckera Canyon - most well-known technical road.
Astute observers will recognize this modern - yet still historical - petroglyph which is found in at least one other location in the park; possibly pecked out by the same person.
New gravel in the wash and plenty of stacked rocks made this climb much easier than it has been historically.
Beyond the fall, there's still a bit of climbing to do.
For the next hour or so, I worked my way east. The road system beyond the dry fall is infrequently visited and anything but efficient, winding from one old mine working to the next. Wagons and mules once ruled these lands, carrying - more often than not - high hopes and supplies instead of metal riches and ore. Today, there is not much left besides old tunnels, but the vast silence and endless desert views are reward enough for the journey. There is still gold in the ground, a fact that may spark your imagination as you poke around old tailings along the way.
Having crossed the divide, it was only slightly tamer as I dropped down on the Nevada side.
By the time I hit the highway the sun was mere inches from the horizon. I'd be arriving in the dark to a place I've wanted to camp for years. The edge of a cliff, overlooking my favorite spot to explore.
The Whole Story
