Stories on Stone | Sierra-Nevada #6

After a leisurely morning at the site of the Project Faultless nuclear test debacle, I had a little less than 24 hours before I needed to be back in Las Vegas for a quick alignment - I'd somehow knocked the driver front out on my first day - and my flight home. It was the perfect amount of time to allow for an afternoon of petroglyph hunting in the Pahranagat Valley region.

Another underrated place in an underrated state.

Now nearly a week into my trip, my first stop was in Alamo to gas up the Tacoma. I'd been able to use fuel from my jerry cans - purchased in Oregon when I'd driven through on my way to the Sierra a few weeks earlier - negating the need to fill up at all during my time in California. In fact, I might have been able to complete this entire trip - filling up only in Las Vegas when I was flying back - if I'd kept my original itinerary, rather than swapping things up so I could climb Boundary Peak on a day when the clouds were mostly below the summit.

As a side note, California has a reputation for high fuel prices, but what people don't realize - since they're just so happy, inexplicably IMO, to hate on California - is that Washington has the highest fuel prices in the country!

After my quick stop for dino-juice - appropriately, at the local dino-mascotted Sinclair - I took a new-to-me route into the South Pahroc Wilderness.

A promising approach.

I didn't know of any petroglyphs along this new route, but knowing how much rock art is sprinkled through this region, I could feel the stories in stone that were surely watching as I drove by. So, as desert-varnished rocks started piling up next to the road, my pace slowed dramatically, and I pulled out the binoculars for a closer-without-being-closer inspection. Surely, I missed the majority of whatever there was to find, but I had a good time following spur roads and scanning the boulder-covered hillsides as I continued, generally, east.

I was excited when I spotted the Trickster & Pahranagat Man from my air-conditioned cab. Soon enough, I was braving the heat in search of their buddies.

One of several Trickster Site sheep.

Given my late start in the morning, it was already after lunch time as all this was going on, and as I reveled in the search for rock art, my stomach seemed less than thrilled that I wasn't stopping to address a clearly - in its opinion - critical issue.

Pretty typical, actually.

In fact, I was just about to stop and make a tasty tuna sandwich when I was caught completely off-guard by the sight below me. I'd just crested a small ridge, and there in the distance - on a grand playa - was a little island. The resemblance of this place to The Racetrack in Death Valley was uncanny.

Wondering if I could drive on this playa - something that is 100% absolutely not allowed ever under any circumstances on The Racetrack - I was excited to see a road leading out onto the infinitely flat surface.

I couldn't believe it.

Another Alvord! (ish)

I really shouldn't have been all that surprised. The big difference between this playa and the famous one in Death Valley was jurisdiction, and the BLM is notorious for allowing pretty much any activity on the land they oversee. I'm not sure I always like the result of that approach, but it was fun on this particular day as I found myself - at first, gingerly in case the playa wasn't quite as dry as it appeared - gleefully speeding along in large arcs across the lakebed.

Weeeee!

But speeding around like I was trying to set a land speed record - an impossibility, I assure you, in a Tacoma - wasn't the only reason I was excited. Like The Racetrack's Grandstand, this playa had an island! I worked my way over to check it out.

Not so much a grand stand. More like cheap seats.

Not frequently visited.

After ripping around for a while, I headed back to the entrance and resumed my search for the stories left by those before us. I'd completely forgotten about lunch at this point - or at least, convinced myself that I should just wait for an early dinner - and spent the next several hours hopping in and out of the truck as I'd spot a glyph or panel between the valley floor and the ridgeline, every one of which I had to explore.

Solo boulder.

Left-handed.

A couple of Pahranagat Patterned Body Anthropomorphs (PBAs)

The Pahranagat Patterned Body Anthropomorph (PBA)

The Pahranagat PBA has many variations but is always represented as a headless rectangular form that is internally decorated with a variety of grids, dots, or geometric motifs. One of the most interesting things about the Pahranagat PBAs is their interior design. In fact, of the 227 known PBAs on sites in the area, only six have no interior markings.Ken's Photo Gallery

There was a really cool panel that had a coyote chasing a series of sheep, but I arrived at entirely the wrong time of day - half the panel was in shadow - to capture all of it.

The chase.

Not all of the rock art required me to climb, but whenever I found glyphs at the base of a hillside, I always found myself wandering higher, just so I wouldn't miss anything. I realize now that I probably still missed a lot, which I feel even worse about since I made the effort to look!

Little lost sheep.

Rough drafts.

Surely that can't be a jellyfish.

I hadn't had enough by 4:00pm, but with an early morning appointment in Las Vegas, I wanted to try to camp at the Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge which would put me only about 90 minutes away from Firestone when I woke up in the morning. It's not always easy to find a spot - there are only a dozen or so - since the campground is free. easily accessible, and a favorite of birders, so I figured I ought to make my way over and see if I could find somewhere to call home for the evening.

Every site was full except for the best one. What luck!

Under the shade of a cottonwood, I finally assembled one of the thickest tuna sandwiches I've ever eaten, and then headed down to the water's edge to enjoy it as a warm breeze blew across the lake.

Then, after a little clean-up and reorganization of the Tacoma in preparation for leaving it in Las Vegas, I climbed into the tent an hour before sunset.

The following morning...

With a 7:00am appointment at Firestone, I wanted to roll into Las Vegas right around 5:00am so I could wash the truck, grab a donut, and get the skid plate mostly removed to make the alignment tech's life just a little easier. That meant a 3:00am alarm, which was not my favorite.

Still, the timeline worked out well and as the big doors rolled up at Firestone, I was ready for a quick in-and-out so I could get myself over to In-N-Out for an early brunch.

Not all alignment techs are good, but Dave at this Firestone was great!

You can see how far my witness marks had moved. The cam was covered in gear oil from the front diff breather, so maybe that loosened things up?

After less than an hour, everything was realigned and I was good to go. It'd taken three weeks, but the Tacoma finally arrived at its winter home just before 11:00am, as I was ushered off to the airport. There, with Spirit Airlines now essentially out of business and no longer flying to Seattle, I'd lowered my expectations even further. I was flying Frontier!

For all its crappy reputation, I always thought Spirit was great. Not so with this airline. They are cheap, and there's a reason.

 

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