Our night in the southern flanks of the Cottonwoods was chilly but with a couple down comforters and a replacement Exped Megamat that did a great job of holding air and keeping us toasty warm, we slept well. It helped that it wasn't windy, too!
Good morning mountains.
(White Mountain - of the White Mountains - rising in the distance.)
The Sierra and Inyo Mountains fought for dominance to our west.
We ate a quick breakfast - it had to be, since the milk in our bowls was freezing as we spooned the cereal into our mouths - while trying to keep our hands warm in our coats between bites. Then, it was off to a small summit behind camp to soak in the entirety of our surroundings.
They say location is everything, and it turns out location is everything.
While on the summit, we had a quick conversation about the remaining meals for the day. Typically we'd have tasty turkey sandwiches and chips for lunch, but this being Thanksgiving, we'd planned a special feast: chicken pad thai and pumpkin pie. Realizing that it might be even colder once we returned from our hike and made camp at an even higher elevation, we quickly came to the conclusion that we should spend a little more time to enjoy our Thanksgiving feast once we reached the trailhead. Then, we could eat the sandwiches (also prepped prior to our afternoon adventure) once we'd returned from our hike - and in the warmth of the Tacoma - for dinner.
It was a good decision, and though our slowly-freezing brains may have made it more slowly than expected, we chalked it up as a win, stowed the tent, and turned up the heat in the cab as we got underway for a bit of American-style Hiking (a.k.a. Driving) to see some of the sights we'd been unable to experienced as we'd arrived at sunset the evening before.
Off we go.
Like many roads in Death Valley, those we found ourselves traversing this morning were plotted more than a century ago as miners - seeking the motherlode - pushed into remote corners of the desert to find the perfect spot. Few of those miners found what they were looking for, most discovering that hard work and struggle are not always enough to unearth the American dream.
Don't worry Tacoma, we won't leave you in the desert like your ancestors.
In this case, the owners of the J.O. Mine were after wollastonite, a calcium-silicate mineral that is usually white and forms when impure limestone or dolomite is subjected to high temperature and pressure. Similar to asbestos, wollastonite is resistant to chemical attack, stable at high temperatures, and improves flexural and tensile strength in composites. Therefore, at the time, it often served as a substitute for asbestos in floor tiles, friction products, insulating board and panels, paint, plastics, and roofing products.
As we reached the end of the road, a small, white wollastonite working was dwarfed by the expansive views.
With not much to poke around at the old J.O. Mine, we were soon back on the road and working our way in and around the flanks of Hunter Mountain as we shed a thousand feet of elevation toward Ulida Flat and Hidden Valley.
This is a beautiful section of the park that not many - at least, relatively - visit, and a place where we will need to return in the future; this part of the Cottonwoods not highlighted on this particular excursion.
Bathed in light, the undulating hills unfolded all the way to the horizon.
Anyone for a bit of uplift?
Racing through the silt beds in Hidden Valley. We were glad to find them dry and easily passable.
Our main hike of the day - the trailhead splitting off of White Top Mountain Road some 20 miles from where we'd spent the night - was to a ridgeline and summit known as Leaning Rock.
Lost in the central Cottonwood Mountains, little-known Leaning Rock is one of those summits that takes you by surprise - the drive to its isolated location takes longer than the climb, yet the views from it are spectacular. A relatively short but steep ascent leads to the crest, following a trailless route over scenic open desert graced with Joshua trees. The views from the summit are awesome, with eerie vistas of the Racetrack Valley and Hidden Valley areas, and eye-filling views of central Death Valley.
The best part of this hike is taking advantage of being on high ground and exploring the crest. South from Leaning Rock the terrain is open and gentle. Grizzled and wind-combed cliffrose cling to the rubble, their gnarly bleached trunks as thick as trees. Mound cactus grow out of cracks in the limestone. It is an easy half-mile walk, with gentle elevation changes, to a local summit with a good view of Hidden Valley and its shiny mud flat.
The tilted bluff north of Leaning Rock is a more challenging destination. This area commands superb views east into Dry Bone Canyon's gorge winding half a mile below, and north over the wrinkled slopes of the upper canyon rising 2,000 feet toward the lofty heights of Tin Mountain.
Sunsets are dramatic, in every direction.
Climbing further into the Cottonwoods.
But first, it was time to celebrate with a meal. In trying to determine what to have for Thanksgiving, we'd initially envisioned something along the traditional lines of turkey, stuffing, potatoes, and of course cranberry jelly. We quickly realized that such a spread would require quite a bit of at-home preparation, as well as significant cleanup in camp, and so pivoted to the unconventional-but-still-tasty chicken pad thai. We'd never tried cooking it on the trail before, but - having prepped the chicken at home - it seemed like an easy enough meal that would also feel special and different!
Before we set about making lunch, @mrs.turbodb assembled sandwiches for dinner - no better time to do that than during the warmest part of the day - and I wandered away from the trailhead to capture the unbelievable surroundings for our Thanksgiving meal.
It was 12:30pm when the water started boiling and the rice noodles went into the pot. Green onions were chopped. Eight minutes later, bean sprouts, peanuts, and limes were at the ready as the water was drained and the dish was covered with a sticky, sweet sauce. A pumpkin pie - warm from half an hour in the sun on the hood of Tacoma - and a mysterious RC Cola we found stashed in the fridge sweetened the deal.
Yum.
Pull up a chair and dig in.
Lunch - despite the fact that I overcooked the noodles slightly - was fantastic. As with any good Thanksgiving meal, we went back for seconds, ultimately eating way too much food, and I found myself holding my gut as we set out toward Leaning Rock nearly an hour later.
Into the desert after a fantastic feast.
We followed a wash to begin the two-mile trek, a wide, 6-foot-tall horseshoe-shaped limestone wall blocking the route after only a few hundred yards. Easily climbed, another, and then a third, followed, the large bajada beyond sloping gradually upward for a mile before reaching the foot of the steep mountain front that would ultimately deliver us to Leaning Rock.
An easily handled obstacle.
Ancient desert art. (DEVA 87E77, lower right)
Leaning Rock, the highest point along the ridge (center) is neither a rock, nor leaning.
Working our way a little more than a mile up the wash, we gained 700 feet by the time we reached the base of the hill. Here, a steep ridge - northwest of the summit - climbed more than 1,300 feet in 0.6 miles, a route that could only be described as "straight up."
Though common, this geometric plant caught our eye as we worked our way through the bajada.
Now, up.
The slope of the northwest ridge was a slog. It wasn't as steep as the nearly vertical gully we'd recently climbed as we followed Digonnet's directions up Cowhole Mountain, but it easily reached inclines of 45%. Not only that, but it seemed to drag on forever, certainly redefining our concept of "just more than half a mile."
At least though - on our frequent, "I'm not tired, I'm just making sure to admire the views," stops - the surroundings were steadily becoming more and more spectacular.
A third of the way up, it was looking pretty nice.
Halfway up, the layers of mountains were multiplying at an amazing pace.
Along the way, a few clumps of rock spiraea decorated the loose talus hillside.
There are few hikes that elicit unexpected audible reactions as I round a corner or reach a summit. While I'm not shy to express how fantastic, reflected light might be on a Red Wall Canyon, or how infinite a view might appear from a cliff-edge camp, these are sights that I generally have - at least some - prior knowledge or expectation of encountering.
Despite Digonnet's description, such was not the case as I reached the ridge - and a small saddle - just below the summit of Leaning Rock. I gasped as the landscape unfurled in front of me. I urged @mrs.turbodb up to my position.
The first view east, down into Death Valley.
Looking back west, the way we'd come.
After a quick look from the saddle, someone was keen to make the short climb to the summit, and before I knew it, I was no longer in the lead, a purpling sky silhouetting my partner on her final ascent.
Nearly there.
I can't say the views from the top were significantly different than the saddle, but all that meant was that we suffered through another round of 360° turns, only with a little less audible amazement. For anyone a fan of the desert, this is a view that should be high on a short list.
Looking north along the ridge, I loved the contrasting chaos of the rocky ridge plunging toward Dry Bone Canyon, and the smooth mountains beyond.
Plummeting to the east, the Cottonwood Mountains drop more than 7,300 feet to the sea-level expanses of Mesquite Dunes and ultimately Badwater Basin.
Our eyes satiated for a moment, we turned our attention to the summit itself. There were initially two, and ultimately three interesting artifacts to be attended to. The first - and always most important - was the summit log.
We were in for another surprise as we flipped open the cover to find the first entry dated 10 March 1979, and fewer than twenty entries between that time and our visit. Unsure if he'd left a note, our anticipation grew as we flipped through the pages in search of the name that'd led us to this destination. And then - dated Sept. 27, 2013 - we found Digonnet's entry!
Safely secreted away yet easily found and admired.
Sept 27, 2013, Michel Digonnet, Views as eerie as Cowhole Mountain, w/o the freeway... Good choice, Charlie! (left)
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Register Place by Wes Shelberg, 10 March 1979 (top right)
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Nov. 28, 2024, Happy Thanksgiving! Just a quick hike up after Pad Thai Thanksgiving lunch at the trailhead. Dan & M (bottom right)
We weren't sure the difference between a benchmark (left) and reference mark (right), but we found both at the summit.
With the sun now minutes from the horizon, and having planned for much of the return hike to require the headlamps we'd packed along with us, we followed the ridgeline south, in search of the "eerie vistas of the Racetrack and Hidden Valley," that'd enticed us here in the first place. They weren't hard to find, and at several points along the way, we stopped to soak them in before heading back down to the Tacoma.
Diminutive Dutton Mountains on the far side of Hidden Valley, the stark Ubehebe ridge, the massive Nelson Range hiding in front of the Inyo Mountains, and the snow-capped Sierra under purpling skies.
A pinwheel sky over the Funeral mountains, with Nevada's 2-mile-high Spring Mountains in the distance.
The Panamint Mountains, capped by Telescope Peak, rising up into the last of the light.
Down we go.
We made it only halfway down the steep, talused hillside before headlamps became a necessity. By the time we were back to the trailhead, stars filled the moonless sky; we shivered slightly in the cool night air. It was time to drive a few more miles up the road to eat dinner and find camp before hitting the sack early for nearly 10-hours of sleep. We knew we needed them, as the following day would be a doozy.
What a way to spend, enjoy, and be thankful on this Thanksgiving Day.
The Whole Story
Wow, some great hikes. DV high country in Nov is gutsy, weather can get "interesting". I have to go back now and spend some time there after seeing your photos. I have only spent time at the Lost Burro Mine. The time (Nov.) I was in Hidden and Racetrack Valleys we were high tailing it out via Hunter Mt Rd, as a winter storm was blowing in with cold and high winds, did I mention dust.
We had a great time. Was certainly cold, but with clear conditions we weren't too worried. In fact, after this trip over the Thanksgiving holiday, we headed back for more during the week before Christmas (see Following Giants). I was worried about weather on that trip too, but it turned out to be even nicer! Stories and photos will be coming soon, but you can see a preview on the trip page for each story.