Way Up Waucoba | Sky High #3

While Tacoma troubles may have prevented me reaching the summit of Waucoba Mountain on the first day of my trip, my failure to reach the top of Mt. Tom on the second day had me hoping for a bit of redemption. Luckily, I had a final day in my schedule before I had to head to the other side of the Sierra for a trip with Pops, so I decided to backtrack in the hopes of knocking one more summit off my list of Death Valley High Points.

Wanting to get an early start, I arrived at the trailhead - on the border between Death Valley National Park and the Inyo Mountains Wilderness - just as the sun was setting. I was exhausted. Having climbed more than 4,500 feet earlier in the day - in an attempt to reach the top of Mt. Tom - and knowing I'd want to get an early start the next morning, I wasted no time in setting up the tent and climbing into bed.

Out my window, Venus and Jupiter appeared in a spectacular conjunction, separated by only about 1.5 degrees, creating a dazzling cosmic kiss that I enjoyed through the pinyon pine silhouettes in which my bed was perched. Or at least, I enjoyed it for about 45 seconds before I fell asleep.

The following morning...

The hike up Waucoba Mountain is not a long one. At least, not given the route I'd chosen. In fact, it was the 1.75-mile distance that had me considering a late-afternoon attempt after replacing the battery in the Tacoma only a few days earlier.

Luckily, I didn't make the mistake of underestimating the climb. Over that short distance, the summit of Waucoba towers 3,565 feet above the trailhead, an average 38% grade! What better way to let my legs know I hated them for a second day in a row?

To make the majority of the hike even steeper, the first quarter mile or so follows an old mining road into the wilderness before turning abruptly upward at the base of the mountain. As I snaked my way through the Pinyon Pine - once again, my entire day would be without-trail - the world was starting to wake up around me. Or, perhaps, the locals wanted to watch as I suffered for the second day in a row.

 

My legs pumping, the rate at which I gained elevation was staggering. Through breaks in the trees, the Saline and Last Chance Ranges rose from Eureka and Saline Valleys. In the distance, Telescope Peak towered over the desert terrain.

Usually, I'm able to keep a reasonably consistent pace when I hike. I'm not the fastest - I'd be the tortoise, not the hare - but with a bit of mental fortitude, I keep my feet moving and can usually push through the burn of my quads on a climb.

Today was different.

As I climbed through 8,000, 9,000, and eventually 10,000 feet in the course of 8/10ths of a mile, I found myself zigzagging from one shady spot to the next, stopping to catch my breath - and evaluate the hillside for the "next easiest 20-feet-of-progress" - on a regular basis.

To make matters worse, somewhere too-far-to-turn-back, I realized I'd forgotten my sunglasses. This was fine at 5:30am but progressively less fine with every thousand feet, until I summited into full glare and got to squint at one of the best views in the Inyo.

Of course, I am not the only bozo to make this trek. Though there was never any real question about the direction one need go - the steepest 'up' possible - I'd find 4 cairns over the course of the climb. Each of them was perched on the top of a much larger boulder, though all were invisible - in a sea of decomposing granite and tortured pine - from more than about 15 feet away.

I gauged my progress by my relative height to the summit of Squaw Peak, and continued to remind myself that I am not a peakbagger. That there was no reason for me to follow in the footsteps of the serious hikers who work their way to both highpoints on a single outing.

I gained the single false summit - approximately 300 feet below the top of the mountain - at 9:23am. There, thankfully, the grade dropped momentarily, allowing me to catch my breath and admire an old snag watching over the hillside.

Fifteen minutes later - and just more than three-and-a-half hours after I'd left camp - I crested the summit. A slow pace for sure, but the views from the broad meadow on the top of Waucoba Mountain were worth it. On the highest point in the Inyo, it felt like I could see forever!

Opening up the ammo box, I was dismayed to find a quarter inch of water at the bottom, and two soggy logbooks. A few minutes later, I'd learn that the second logbook was placed only a couple months before my arrival since the first one was wet. That seemed more confusing than anything - especially given that both were put back into the wet container - so before looking around too much I found a nice spot to start drying out the original log book. Then, it was time to enjoy the views!

Of course, the real treat of this desert peak were the views out of the desert. Across Owens Valley, the snow-capped Sierra cut a jagged ridge across the sky. What a majestic range. One so full of great places to explore. A place that I'd soon be spending a week with Pops in the only spot he camps anymore.

After wandering around for an hour - allegedly to let the logbook dry out, but mostly to allow my legs to recover and to procrastinate the steep descent between me and my Tacoma - I settled down with the little notebook and a pencil to write a few witless lines.

Somehow, the route down almost seemed worse than the route up. While I wasn't out of breath and my heart wasn't trying to beat out of my chest, the relentless down over uneven terrain was torture on my lower extremities. Already fatigued from the downhill the day before, I knew that I'd be out of commission - while my knees begged for a bit of ibuprofen - for at least a couple days to come.

I suppose I did move faster downhill than up, but it still took more than two hours for the descent. Upon reaching the trailhead I immediately scarfed down an apple and handful of nuts to tide me over before lunch. I still had one more place I wanted to check out, before heading into town for a big ole container of fresh guacamole and chips at Las Palmas, in Bishop.

"The Jupiter"

Before lunch though, I had one more place to check out. I'd visited this location on another trip, but I'd been tight on time and hadn't had a chance to fully look around. Now with an entire afternoon to kill before I'd head west toward the Sierra, I figured that I might as well grab my LED puck lights and descend into the cool depths of the earth in search of treasure.

In fact, the most interesting thing about this mine to me was the fantastic collar and seemingly sturdy ladder that led down into the placer gravels that make up this part of the landscape. This had to be a tough place to mine, but there were several workings in the vicinity, so it must have been reasonably lucrative.

In the end, there wasn't much to this mine at all. At least, not much that is still explorable by someone unwilling to dig through the collapses that quickly close off the underground tunnels. What little bit of the winding passages still existed were meticulously lined with stacked-rock walls, and a few old implements sat waiting for the return of their owner.

As usual, I wasn't the first to explore this place, and tucked into a tunnel I found the calling card of a group with much more experience than I have in spots like this. I wonder how far they went, and if the mine was in better shape when they were here.

And with that, it was time to head back into the daylight. I hadn't had anything to drink all day and I was ready for some food. Probably not the best way to wander around Death Valley in the summer, but what's a little adventure without the possibility of death?

 

 

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