The last time we drove White Top Mountain Road - in fact, the only time we've driven White Top Mountain Road - we did so under the cover of darkness. This was no problem - it is, for the most part well-graded - but it did mean that we were unable to experience the surroundings of this unfamiliar part of the park.
Having just completed our hike to Ubehebe Peak, we had just about an hour of daylight as we took full advantage of the skinny pedal, a long trail of dust glowing in the evening sun, as we sped up Racetrack Valley Road toward Teakettle Junction. There, we'd turn east - through Lost Burro Gap - before heading north again toward the place we hoped to call home for our last night in the park.
Never-before seen narrows as we wound our way toward White Top Mountain.
The long orange rays of evening illuminated Leaning Rock, a hike we'd enjoyed after a Thanksgiving feast at the trailhead.
Turning off the main road, a spur climbed steeply - through a series of switchbacks - to an unnaturally white break in the ridge. The site of an old talc(?) mine*, surely this brilliant formation was the impetus for the name.
* Update (immediately upon our return)
It was not a talc mine. More importantly, it was probably not a good camp site.
The Lawrence Asbestos and Fluorspar claims located on the north slope of White Top Mountain two miles northeast of Burro Spring have been explored by several lessees over the years, but have produced only a few hundred tons of asbestos and fluorspar. Much scarring in the area has resulted from dozer prospecting and road building. The property consisted of three fluorspar claims, thirty-two asbestos claims, and a millsite under, location by R.H. Lawrence of Mojave.
In 1970s the lessees proposed to develop the fluorspar deposits and ship the ore to Barstow via truck.
Today the area consists of bulldozed prospects and a miner's shack.
Death Valley Historic Resource Study - A History of Mining (1981)
The final push up.
It wasn't the top, but it was the top of the road.
Soft sunset to the south.
We'd enjoy the surroundings for only a few minutes before darkness set in just after 5:00pm. This was fine with us as we busied ourselves setting up camp and prepping dinner - it'd been a long day and we were ready to refill our tanks with both food and rest.
Little more than an hour later, we couldn't keep our eyes open, and after only a few page turns on the Kindle, we were fast asleep.
The following morning...
A few minutes before sunrise - on the shortest day of the year - I awoke one minute before my alarm went off, hints of a brilliant display just beginning on the horizon. Thinking that I'd take a few photos and then climb back under the warm covers, I kissed @mrs.turbodb on he head and began to pull on my clothes.
As I did, she rolled over and asked if I wanted to hike the mile or so to the summit of White Top Mountain - a hike we'd not planned, but that she knew I'd enjoy given our proximity - and my incessant need to leave no opportunity unexplored. A grin spread across my face as I answered in the affirmative, and before long we were both out and about, deciding to wait on breakfast until our return.
Our camp site shown bright in the early morning light.
There's that light show I was anticipating over the Cottonwood Mountains!
Making quick work of the shortest hike of our trip, we gained the ridge and followed it all the way to the summit. It was windy - a condition we hadn't realized in camp, the gap in the ridge sheltered from southerly gusts - and as we reached the top I found myself wishing that I'd brought along more than my hole-riddled sweatshirt to keep me warm.
Of course, @mrs.turbodb made no such mistake - her puffy coat serving to both insulate and protect her from the wind - a reminder that packing light isn't always packing right.
On the way up, this rock spirea - one of many - was looking nice!
Nature's garden. (wild buckwheat, ephedra, joshua tree)
We weren't sure what this crust was, but it was unlike any we'd previously encountered.
Nearing the summit, the sun finally peeked over the horizon, Telescope Peak rising dramatically in the distance.
Most days, we'd been rolling out of bed a few minutes after 7:00am. Today, not only were we out of bed, but we'd reached the high point and were pouring through the White Top Mountain summit log by 7:24am. Appropriate, I suppose, if we wanted to maximize the Winter Solstice high in the Cottonwood Mountains.
Buried in a pile of rocks and protected by an old tin can, we carefully extracted the log, which had been placed in September 2021.
For such an easily accessible summit, we were surprised to see only a few pages of entries over the last several years. Wondering out loud about why this might be, the only conclusion we could come to was the fact that some of the more popular books - such as those that describe TODO(link)Hiking Death Valley - skipped over this hike for some reason.
Once again, we found ourselves in good company, following in Jeremy's footsteps no matter where we seemed to go.
To the south, the views of Hidden Valley rivaled those we'd encountered at the top of Leaning Rock.
Good morning Sierra (and Inyo), nice to see you again!
We spent only long enough at the top to peruse the log and add our own message, the wind aiding our - and especially my - desire to return to the Tacoma where we could enjoy a bowl of cereal in the relative shelter of camp. Plus, while our planned hike for the day wasn't that long at a little more than five miles, we knew that the down-then-up order of elevation change would make for a tiring trek by the time we were done.
But, before setting out on our hike, there were two things we needed to take care of. The first - a little more driving - would take us to the end of the main fork of White Top Mountain Road, up and over a rise to the north that we'd been wondering about ever since our first visit, three weeks earlier. The second was checking in on a "picturesque wood cabin," once home to those who worked the Silver Crown Mine.
Up and over the rise, the Funeral Mountains looming in the distance.
Down the other side, we'd discover a series of radio towers, used - likely - by the National Park Service for communication throughout the park.
Wrinkles, crinkles, and in the distance, Nevada.
Having explored the road - which predictably led to an old mining prospect, likely one of many claimed over the years by the Silver Crown Mine - we headed back to check out the camp. Having passed it a few times by this point, we knew it's picturesque days were in the distant past, but like a fly to light, I always like to see what sort of trouble I can get myself into as we poke around.
Not much left.
Reliable sources suggest that this cabin has been in rough shape since at least the late 1990s, the back wall and half the room having collapsed well before 2006. Time to update the book, Digonnet! 
The most interesting thing in camp.
P.O. NOKES PLUMBING AND SHEET METAL WKS. CHINO, CAL.
And with that, it was time. We had a few miles of "American Hiking" in the Tacoma, to the head of O'Brien Canyon. There, we'd work our way down - to a thrilling set of narrows and tight passages that promised to make for a grand finale to a glorious Christmas season in the park.
Oh, and Mike @mk5 - remember that apple you found? It appears to have ripened. Or, at least, that's our story and we're sticking to it.
The Whole Story
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I take exception with Clint Rogers' log entry "good road any car can drive". I have seen broken 4x4s and shredded AT tires on the Racetrack Valley Rd and I don't think its any better coming in from Hunter Mt.
Knowing White Top is an asbestos mine, think I will travel there via these pages rather than pointing the Cruiser up there. Thank you for the report.
Interesting you stumbled on a fluorspar mine, very useful stuff. Canon uses Fluorite (fluorspar) in some of its lenses. In nature the crystals are not large enough, so Canon grows it own.
Don't know when you added the "Add an Image" button, just noticed it, it will be handy.
Yeah, Racetrack is certainly the gatekeeper when it comes to White Mountain. The White Mountain road, however, is reasonably chill - at least, until you get to the Bighorn Gorge trailhead, at which point it becomes quite gnarly!
My guess is that the asbestos is "gone enough" to be a nonissue, otherwise the NPS would have closed the place off... but who knows for sure. I will say that not knowing made it a really fantastic camp site - the views are fabulous and there's no one else around (perhaps for a reason)!
Put that Add an image button in yesterday. We'll see how it goes, I'm a little worried about the spam it could encourage. I've ensured that all comments with images require moderation, so hopefully that'll help!