Trip Date: May 11, 2017
Find this SpotWe have been to the Black Rock Desert in Northwestern Nevada a number of times over the past 20 years or so and have always camped at the same spot. It is an extraordinary spot, high above the playa, almost directly opposite the “Black Rock” for which the area is named, and 20 miles or so North of Gerlach, so plenty away from 96% of the very few people that head out this or that way.
Although not publicly, I thought of this as my retirement trip. Although not officially retired, I had gone in to work for the last time, earlier in the month and so felt a celebration was in order. I have wanted to camp on what we refer to as the “hi-dries” for several of the last trips out this way. However, the “playa”, the near perfectly flat and level surface of the desert floor, turns to a very sticky muck when wet, so travel across it is very perilous any time any precipitation has been received in the area. This time I was determined to get out there and made it known to fellow companions. Of course, brave talk often yields lesser results.
This was a good group. Four guys in 2 – 4-wheel drive Tundra’s; good power if needed. Two guys to a rig if optimum so as to keep all the sensitive goods (clothes, sleeping bags, pad, bedding, beer, and chips, etc.) in the cab in the back seat to stay protected. The hard and dry goods can easily travel in the bed. Maximum planning, consolidation, and packing is unnecessary because there is plenty of room in the bed for 2 guys’ stuff and gear.
We met at Tom’s to caravan, and although we didn’t get an early start, the Black Rock is only about a 4 hour drive, so we did not feel compelled to rush. We headed into the unsettled weather happy and oblivious; a very good feeling. We would head up I-80 to Truckee, North on 89 into Sierra Valley, onto Highway 49 to 70, to 395, into Strangeville for gas and final provisions. At a pit stop on Highway 89 near Sagehen Creek, we picked up a souvenir and felt compelled to give it to Kier in Loyalton. Fortunately he wasn’t home, so we were able to give it to him.
We were making progress without hurrying, but this was definitely the long way in. We gassed up in Doyle, one of the strangest places on earth and was happy to be leaving as we headed East looking for the “different” way to get over Sand Pass. By different, I think I mean the main way, but I have never found this supposed more prominent road that leads more directly to the Pass and into the Smoke Creek Desert. County Road 322/Hackstaff Road is supposed to lead North out of Doyle to the Army Depot in Herlong. Funny story in the fucking embarrassing Trump Fuck era, the web address for the Army Depot came up with a security problem. I’m sure the Russians are out there paying attention. Fucking Trump Fuck.
Anyway, I was determined to find Hackstaff Road to Summers Road to Turtle Mountain Road to CalNeva Road to First Avenue into Flanigan (I NEED to see Flanigan people!) to High Rock Road to Surprise Valley Road up and over Sand Pass lickety split, quick like a bunny. Instead what always seems to happen is we get on Fort Sage Road, to Fish Springs Road to Surprise Valley Road up and over Sand Pass. Someday I will have to do it in reverse and see if that helps. Not reverse like make the car move backwards, but reverse like come from the Smoke Creek over Sand Pass onto High Rock road onto Flanigan Road and into downtown/uptown Flanigan proper. Oh so many goals!!!
This reminds me of a story about my brother Steve who did drive backwards, as in reverse from our grandparents house on 23rd Avenue between Ulloa and Vicente up to /near our house on 19th and Ulloa. Now it would have been quite a feat, suicidal no less, to actually get to our house as he would have had to go onto 19th Avenue, which, for those of you keeping score, is Highway 101 as it passes through the City. Six lanes of traffic, none of them moving slow. But driving in reverse in what I believe was like a ’57 Chevy was still quite an achievement. I assume he stopped near Larson before crossing 19th. I will have to ask him about that.
So this time we got onto Surprise Valley Road and got out to have a beer and wait a second or two for Bill and Tom. The wind was blowing but it was sunny and warm. Shade would have been great, but the only spot was literally under the rigs. A beer was cold and refreshing and motivating to get on down the road. We passed the Pyramid Lake Paiute Reservation, the spot my brother and I camped on a prior trip, the Smoke Creek (for which the area is named), which is quite significant and supports a grove of sweet Cottonwoods , brush, and grasses. We passed Smoke Creek Road which we came in on yet another trip. We passed Buffalo Meadows Road, which I am determined to take some day. We stopped at the site, now actually filled with water, where Kier, Ken, Vince and I camped near the half buried pony on what I believe was our first trip into the Smoke Creek. We had a beer and waived to the sheep, I mean the shepherd who was tending the sheep. I tried to coax the sheep dog over, but while very interested in us, he stayed out of range.
Eventually we hit pavement and were seeing Gerlachians in no time. Town was much closer to that intersection that I had remembered and the road we needed to head to our spot was literally in town; another fact I had crossed. We headed to Brunos for facts of all kinds. The place had been remodeled since the last time I was there and updated and improved immensely. I didn’t like it. The wind was howling and wide swaths of desert were obliterated by dust and I was weary of camping in a dust storm. We received some excellent intel from the Gerlachians at the bar that the dust would be far less farther up the Western arm, where we were headed. I believe Gerlachians, but I was wary, so we tried to call the Soldier Meadows Lodge to see if they had room just in case.
Of course there is no way to communicate with a resort that allegedly has lodging; no phone, no email, no tweets or Linked In or Lined Out. Fortunately the very pregnant bartender knew the folks that run the Lodge and texted them to see if they were open. I needed a beverage and the boys were getting restless. They wandered outside while I awaited a potential return text from the Lodge. Another beverage appeared. I was torn. I recalled a night Gabe and I spent in Bruno’s Motel. It was wonderful.
The Lodge was another 50 miles past the 50 miles we still needed to travel. The wind was irregular, but gusted up to 40 miles per hour, setting the stage for a very rough time setting up camp. Everyone told us that recent rains had made the playa impassable; other more knowledgeable people and the Gerlachians themselves made it clear the playa was not an option. In the blustery alley outside Bruno’s Country Club, it was decided we should proceed to our regular spot, and if it sucked, we would consider heading on up the Soldier Meadows. The hi-dries seemed out of reach.
We headed out County Road 34, past the site of Burning Man, (don’t bother, it’s already ruined), then onto Soldier Meadows Road. Past Mormon Dan Canyon, into and out of Pershing County and into Humboldt County. About 15 miles up the road, we turned left onto our road and headed a mile or so into the Calico Mountains. The spot was still pretty awesome. The wind howled, but in spurts, and after a long day and driving and thinking, we were sure the right thing to do was to set up camp here. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. We helped each other with tarps and tents. We used a table as a wind block for the fire.
We had fire, cocktails, and Steve was heating up some pasta in no time. Things were looking up. We ate and drank with the last of the light which also was a huge plus so we had things in shape before the night was done. The last of the light on the playa clearly showed water on it so we were satisfied we had made the correct, albeit conservative decision to not try to get to the hi-dries. We let the fire burn down, even though the brush was green and well hydrated, and the playa seemed full of water, so aside from the wind, fire danger seemed significantly less than previous trips. The stars we exceptional, and sleep was good.
The wind continued through the night, and it was rumored to have rained. The morning was breezy, but the air was so sweet and the brush so green, the wind didn’t seem to be that big of a deal. We weren’t in a hurry to do anything or get anywhere, and the fire was warm, so thought and effort centered on food and beverage, not far from the flames. We decided to head up to Soldier Meadows Resort and Lodge, to see if it had changed much since our last visit and to see if this time we could find the hot springs. Keeping an eye on the playa as we headed North along the edge, I couldn’t help but think it looked awfully dry and stable, like a decent roadbed. However, we were on a path to Soldier Meadows Resort, and I didn’t want to risk getting stuck or having some mishap out on the playa, where we were told not to go.
The hunger called so we took a side road up into the Butte Spring Hills, near the Opal Mines, and found a spot out of the wind for lunch and refreshment. It was a great stop, with much exploring and roaming about. Back on the road we were at the resort in no time. It looked rough, much more run down than last time. A feller came out of the main house to greet us, but it was soon evident this was not his strong suit. He was nice enough, just knew way more about cows and cowboying than lodging, food, water, and guests (or potential guests). He turned us loose to roam about, and returned inside. Everything looked different to me. The cool historical barracks, stable, and tack room all seemed to be mostly gone, giving way to the weather, wind, cold, and heat.
The newer motel rooms and bunk house seemed fresher, better kept than last time, so maybe that was the emphasis. We didn’t get invited in like last time. No lemonade, no old timers telling tales and entertaining visitors. No offer of food, water, or provisions. This was the modern version I guess.
Soldier Meadows is the original location that hundreds of 49ers arrived at after crossing what many consider to be the most treacherous stretch of the Lassen Applegate Emigrant Trail. Early pioneers sought refuge in the valley, as it provided opportunities for replenishing supplies and bathing opportunities in the bevy of surrounding creeks and hot springs. Interestingly enough, Camp McGarry, the site of the present Resort, was established in 1865 by the U.S. Calvary to protect early explorers from “hostile Native Americans” in the area. This exact camp stands on the same property as the Soldier Meadows Ranch & Lodge, and is the reason why Soldier Meadows received its name to begin with: the post of soldiers who were stationed in these particular meadows. Several stone buildings and stables remain standing from this former U.S. Army Camp. The Soldier Meadows Ranch & Lodge has since been placed on the National Register of Historic Places.
The historic nature of this place makes it very disappointing that it has fallen into such disrepair and the folks seem less concerned with visitors than with babies and cows. Generally considered the Winnemucca area, it was the traditional territory of the Northern Paiute and Western Shoshone. The first white men were beaver trappers led by Peter Skene Ogden of the Hudson Bay Company in 1828. John Fremont, with guide Kit Carson, lead an expedition through the Black Rock Desert in 1843. Fremont named the Humboldt River after Baron Von Humboldt, a German naturalist.
Silver was discovered in 1860 in the Humboldt Range leading to settlements and a trading post in 1863 at the site of present day Winnemucca. Conflicts with the Native Indians led to mass killings and near extermination. What was left of them were rounded up into reservations at Pyramid Lake, Fort McDermitt, and Summit Lake. During the 1870’s, large cattle and sheep operations moved into the area. Sheep ranching brought many Basque people, whose direct descendents are represented by many families still living in the area today.
But the area is most famous for the early settler trails that passed through the Black Rock Desert. The famous Applegate-Lassen National Historic Trail runs right up the western arm, right through the Soldier Meadows and out High Rock Canyon. First used in 1843, much evidence can still be seen today in the form of wagon wheel marks, rope marks on rocks used to lower wagons, and names scratched into rock and covered with grease. In 1852, the Nobles Route was established as an alternative, more southerly route to heading through High Rock Canyon, and another shorter route established in 1856 with the discovery of Trego Springs. One could just focus on one tiny aspect of what is in the area, and spend many lifetimes trying to gather all the information about it. Yet, to so many, it is empty, barren, lifeless desert. Thank god for them.
Another knock on the front door proved more helpful as she directed us to the hot springs a couple miles down the road. This intel made up for much of the prior lack of attention or interest as the hot springs were exceptional. Set out in a broad low valley, not a soul for miles, the breeze gentle, the water deep and warm. The soak was outstanding. It was among the deepest springs I have been in and not too hot. Completely natural but for the wooden deck and the metal ladder into the pool, the tall reeds surrounded the near round pool. The muddy bottom protected bare feet from the heat that was erupting from beneath, a truly unique feeling as the heat was not coming from an external pipe or from a flow at one side or the other. It was literally boiling up from the center of the earth right into this pool from the bottom, from the super heated mud at the bottom, another first for me.
The boys were reluctant to get in at first, but then I had a hard time getting them out and moving towards camp. The thirst raged. We took an access road on to the playa, but stopped well short of it, fearing the worst. By the time we walked out to the playa, we had had enough. Although no water was in sight, we were satisfied we were looking out onto it, so returned to the vehicle and on up to camp.
The wind was still present but not terrible. No vertical table needed for wind protection. We warmed up a brew I made ahead of time, cocktails were poured and celebrations begun. We decided we should walk out to the rock point out in front of us so we packed up our supplies and headed for the rock. It is a great little walk, but does take some maintaining to scramble up the rocks to get to the top. Up top, we had several of Tom’s Manhattan’s and enjoyed the view immensely. Getting down was much trickier, but the boys persevered.
Back at camp, we continued to glass the playa, enthralled at the changing color, shadows, and location of the water on the playa. It seemed to move every time we looked out there, but we were convinced it was water, obviously it was water, so we were pleased with ourselves to be seeing yet another side of the Black Rock. The stars were good, but the dam Hycroft Mine in Sulphur has really made an impact. It is about 2 miles wide and 3 miles long, a huge scar of lighter exposed soil against the darker natural landscape by day, and a glowing mass of artificial light at night. It is impossible to ignore and certainly has gotten larger and more disruptive over the years. Although this camp spot has served us well many times, and is still a great spot, I hope it is the last time I stay here.
Sleep was good and I didn’t hear the reported rain for the second night, although the brush seemed extra green and odiferous. Coffee and biscuits made the brown rumble and I had a nice walk back (less comfortable going). The boys eventually decided to have a hike about the hills behind camp. Having done this in the past, I deferred and stayed put in camp to nap, read, relax, nap, eat, and drink, not necessarily in that order or even individually for that matter. We all enjoyed ourselves.
I had been pondering the water out on the playa, still disappointed at not getting or even trying to get to the hi-dries. I needed to satisfy myself and my curiosity, so after the boys returned from their hikeabout, I convinced Bill to drive down with me to do a better reconnaissance of the situation. We headed south on the access road to where it appeared the water was closest to the road. That way, we wouldn’t risk driving too far towards and getting stuck, but rather could walk far out onto the playa to decide once and for all if water was present of if the mirage, shadows, spirits and sprites were hard at work giving us the impression of water where there was none.
We were beside ourselves with confusion. We had seen water clearly from our camp site, but now it was nowhere to be found. It was impossible that what we saw was not water. We had glassed it and smelled it. I got a tiny sense of the settlers, being certain they were coming upon water and then being less sure and then being miles beyond where the water was supposed to be. Of course, we had nothing but interest on the line, not literally life and death, or having to listen to your wife nag for another 60 days, even if she died some time back. We walked perhaps a third of the way across the playa, plenty far to be certain no water existed. Only chalky dust 5,000 feet thick; enough to make one insane.
We headed back to camp for a massive feast – typical for the last night when folks bust out all the stuff they still have in the coolers. We eat as much as we can and then at least the leftovers are cooked and don’t go to waste. No bonnet wearing Bighorns. We didn’t camp at the hi-dries, but it was a damn good trip with the boys. I will camp there someday by god.
Find this Spot