Trip Date: April 19, 2021
Find this SpotThis trip was some 45 years in the making. In high school, or maybe even grade school, I became interested in the SouthWest. Maybe it was the cowboy and Indian stories and TV shows I watched as a kid, and certainly an early trip to the Grand Canyon with my parents cemented the area in my mind. I joined a conservation group and received their newsletter and then learned about the Paria River. I applied to the Student Conservation Association my sophomore year of high school and got a job in Bryce Canyon. We built trails for three weeks and then backpacked for a week. It was a life affirming month.
Ingrid and I took the kids to the South Rim when they were young. I returned on my own and then again with Kristen, Mike, and Edna on our RV trip. I had heard stories of places you could drive right to the edge of the rim, with nobody else around, and have a piece of it to yourself for a bit, but other than Thelma and Louise, I had not ever seen where it could be had. Steve mentioned that his neighbor told him about a place he had recently been, and that rekindled the quest. I saw the National Monument area and the trip was born. After some initial research and discussions, we pushed the trip back from March to April. With the freaking Covid pandemic seriously rocking our world for over a year now, and with all of us fully vaccinated, it was time for a road trip.
After lots of texts and emails, the crew was whittled to 5. Tommy came from the Central Coast, Billy and I drove solo, and Bob and Steve road together. Bill stayed Sunday night in Tonopah, and Bob and Steve camped outside of town; Tom and I drove straight to St. George, Utah on Monday. The drive was awesome; long but awesome. It was 11 hours of driving (12 with the time change) from home to Sand Hollow Resort in St. George, Utah. I left home at 5:00 and although my planned route was up Highway 50 until the night before, I blasted up 80 to Fernley, NV, then on to Fallon to pick up Highway 50. I made great time into Austin, but got behind a gravel truck just as we came into town so I had to follow it all the way up the steep windy hill through town before he could pull over at the very top, beyond town.
A short time East of Austin, I was cruising right along and a Nevada Highway Patrol approached me at a high rate of speed straddling the center line with lights flashing. I had to slow very quickly as we were coming right at each other. He pulled alongside and asked me to pullover and wait for a piece of mining equipment to pass. He sounded like a real nice country guy, almost like he was asking me, not telling me. I took the opportunity to take a leak, check the load, and stretch and got out my camera to capture whatever it was that was coming my way. At just about the time that I was getting antsy and thinking maybe he did ask me to pull over and maybe I didn’t really have to, another NHP ripped past me, in my lane, just a few feet from where I was leaning up against my driver side door. I guess pulling over could still be considered optional, but there would have been severe consequences. Another NHP ripped past me and then another, then the “Oversized Load” rig, then comes the flatbed with a massive dump truck on it. It was quite impressive, especially set amidst the massively wide open spaces of Nevada’s Basin and Range. Once past, I was free to roam.
I kept trying to place Spencer hot spring in my mind, but I was soon in Eureka, and then Ely and knew I had gone past. Trips to Arc Dome, Table, and Mt. Jefferson danced or stumbled in my head. Finally, I ended my Eastward ride and headed South, past Great Basin National Park , down Highway 93 and into Utah on 319, and finally into St. George on 18. The last few miles into town was really beautiful with Snow Canyon and the Red Cliffs areas, but quickly the population, traffic, and speed at which people were moving made me grip the wheel a tad tighter and zapped me out of my mellow scenic drive. I had a lucky guess at the major intersection I needed to turn at and got onto 15 North and off at the correct exit. I was relieved to get a text from Bill with directions to the building in the resort, and he greeted me outside our pad. It was sweet.
Bill had already checked us in so I was able to pull right up to our place. I don’t want to call it a room, because it was more of a condo. Huge kitchen, huge living room, huge patio, 3 bedrooms and 3 baths; this place was sweet. We were on the first floor which had its benefits, but we were below grade so we had no view. Nonetheless, Bill directed me to the underground parking, and I was sitting on the patio enjoying one of Bill’s chilled beverages in no time. We learned Bob and Steve were frolicking in their pool a few buildings down, and soon Tommy was pulling into the parking lot. We had all arrived within an hour or so. Beverages were served. There was much rejoicing.
After a while, we walked up the hill to have dinner on the veranda. We quickly realized this resort really was built around the golf course, as there was a fleet of carts, and golfers coming up to the deck to go to the bathroom, or get a quick drink. The restaurant was nearly empty and we were quickly seated at an outside table overlooking the course, the development, the natural areas and red rock formations, and the mountains beyond. It was killer. Before too long we had cocktails and were easing into a mellow dinner with a nice waitress, killer view, and looming sunset. Then it came.
This guy was so drunk he was going to sit down in an empty chair at our table because he thought we were his friends. He was asking about our round, and the course and stuff; Steve told him he had trouble on the back 16. He still didn’t get it. His buddy had to come usher him to an empty table trying to explain we were not his friends on the way. Once at his table, he cranked up some rock and roll on his speaker and I was just about done. What was once a perfect setting, had within seconds, changed to competing music so loud we had to shout at each other, babbling drunk guy, and cigarette smoke. The table grew from 2, to 4, to 8, then to probably 14.
Fortunately, our waitress was used to this behavior so she turned down the house music, which seemed to result in him turning down his, and then perhaps with so many more guys, it eventually went off, but guys continued to smoke right at the bottom of the stairs, which was not nearly far enough away. The food was not great, but we enjoyed being all together for the first night of the trip. I definitely could have walked a bit after dinner; the area was gorgeous, but being clean and fed, and hydrated, my big comfy bed was calling. Sleep was scarce, and I definitely would have been better off walking around a bit before heading to bed, but we were all excited for the day as morning came.
We waddled up to the restaurant again for breakfast on the deck, and rolled back to I-15 to the Chevron for gas and ice. We had to backtrack 3 miles to the River Road exit, amongst massive construction sites and home building and paving and infrastructure projects of all sorts. This place was getting scraped and paved. It was exploding. A few miles down the dirt I noticed it was 11:00. 11:11 is a “special” time for Kristen and I and so I thought it would be fun for the boys to stop and have our first beverage at the same time, but there really wasn’t a good place to pull over and the area was scattered with huge RV’s and trailers and kind of ratty/scrubby looking. We finally got to the top of a huge grade about 11:30 and stopped for a celebration.
The road was 40 feet wide and graded fine gravel, but we still took it pretty slow. We stopped or slowed at each intersection just to make sure everyone in the 4 vehicle caravan took the right turn. At each turn, the road seemed to get a little narrower and rougher. At a point about 3/4 of the miles in, we were stopped at an intersection, and a BLM fire guy pulled up. We talked through the window for a few minutes when he asked about an electronic map service, which Bill actually had. They fooled with that for a while, and of course could not get it to work. We yacked for quite some time he being a super nice guy, and we eventually pulled away much more informed about the directions and road ahead.
As I was stopped just beyond the next major intersection, Tommy pulled up beside me and I knew we had some sort of issue, as Bobby had been following me the entire trip. He told me that they had gotten a flat and Bill was back with them helping out. Our first flat, and on the way in no less. I was bummed about the trouble and concerned about Bobby’s attitude after such an early issue. Tom and I quenched our thirst and yacked away until the rest of the caravan gathered. All were in good spirits and more than ready to finish the journey. First obstacle overcome in grand style.
We eventually left the wide open grasslands, sort of a savanna looking area, and got into the fabled Ponderosa/Jeffrey Pine forest. I didn’t notice much as I was using my laser like focus to try to stay out of the 2 foot deep mud ruts. Somebody definitely had some fun in there but it sure wrecked the road. Just past the ruts, we left the National Monument boundary and entered National Park land. As promised, the roads went to shit. No more grading; no more road work of any kind, just rock. Our average speed dropped to about 3 MPH and I longed for the end of the trek. After hour 5, we got our first glimpse of the Grand Canyon and I was overjoyed.
I thrust my left arm out of the window celebrating with Tommy behind me that we were near the end. Until we weren’t. As much as the views and the stiffness, and tiredness tempted me to pull over and call it good enough, I felt compelled to go until the road ended. We had come this far, and we had looked at websites, and read blogs, and searched for any bits of current accurate information on the National Monument. That I really didn’t want to give up short of the end of the road. Twin Point or bust!
A few more jolts to the spine and a few more tight turns, and a short stretch of decent road, and there it was. The rim of the Grand Canyon and the end of the road, and best of all, not another vehicle or person in sight. Not a moment too soon. Tommy was right behind me and Bob and Steve pulled up just as we began to wander about; Bill right behind them. We were elated that we had all made it in, and that 2 huge days of driving, 3 for some, had finally ended in success. The vistas were every bit as advertised; shade trees much better than expected, plenty of flat open ground for rigs and tents; weather a tad windy but warm and clear. We picked a great kitchen spot, and guys picked tent spots, and the unloading began in earnest. I was happy to get some of the weight out of trucky having hauled its burden so far.
There was a massive clearing and fire pit out by the rim, so we figured we’d work with that, despite it being a ways away from the kitchen. I picked a tent site near the rim, but tucked behind a Juniper to hopefully avoid receiving every ray of the first light. Before long we had cocktails and Bobby was heating up some tasty taco/tostada fixins and Steve was conducting the Dead on some early bluegrass tunes. We were slowly leaving the road behind and settling in to a long awaited destination. The moon was bright enough to be visible through the cloud cover, but no stars could be seen. We eventually noticed some lights, presumably from the South rim and the Hualapai Indian Reservation. Bob and I were the last up, but still faded pretty early as the last of the red embers turned to gray ash.
I may have been the last up as sleep was scarce, and dreams of falling off cliffs filled my night. It was sunny and clear, but breezy and cool as I got my coffee and joined the boys in the sun. The canyon was hazy, but indescribably delicious. We decided to wander out to a point off to the East, not very far away, and completely level, but the makings of a nice little walkabout. It was great fun to pick our way through the Junipers and Mesquite, the sage and other shrubs and grasses, and most importantly over and around the cacti. We found a couple that were already blooming, some geodes, little gemstones and minerals, and plenty of cool rocks. And, of course, every time you raised your head from carefully choosing your footsteps, you were reminded of exactly where we were.
We had a nice little rest and a snack on this far point and had fun looking back at our camp spot, able to pick out my fluttering tent getting hammered by the wind. The boys were ready to head back, Bobby was ready to continue on, and I was ready for a nap. All were appeased. I gathered my things and found a nice Juniper to lean back against. I was maybe 3 feet from a thousand foot drop, but it appeared everything around me had been there for awhile, so I quickly lapsed into unconsciousness. It was sweet. When I came to, I was astonished at where I was. It was still super exciting to know we made it, all together, and without serious incident. The camp was quiet except for the rustling of tents and zippers I attributed to the wind.
I was futzing around camp when I saw someone coming around the other side of a Juniper assuming it was Bob as he was coming from near his tent, I was surprised to see a stranger. He had walked down the road not wanting to barge into camp. He had driven from near Lake Meade across the National Monument and seemed to be exploring by himself. We talked for a few minutes and then he walked out to the edge of the rim to take a few photos, and then he was off. I was a little startled to see someone just appear and then disappear, without a bunch of noise and dust. It was very fitting in this type of outback for people to be on foot and silent.
Soon enough, it was cocktail time Tommy was serving up fresh Mai Tai’s and chef Steve was whipping up a delicious meal. We retired to the fire pit out near the point and soon the tunes joined us. Steve busted out our wine and the bottle soon was dry. There were tribal-esq dancing and gyrating as if some were in a trance; their rhythm being enhanced by a foreign power. As the flame subsided, so did the energy, and as darkness engulfed our group on the edge of the rim, I found my way to bed and dreams of local activities and adventure.
I was a tad groggy in the morning, and fortunately found coffee in abundance. As all emerged from their morning routine, we decided that today we would mount an effort to get out to the far Western point we could see, the Twin Point to ours. It would be a jaunt, without compass or map, or aerial photographs, but it would be fun. All of a sudden, a rig blasted out of the Junipers and sped right to the edge of the rim near our fire pit. It was just the type of energy I had no interest in so I stayed away, but apparently this guy was in a rental truck, had blasted out here alone from the same Sand Hollow Resort we stayed at, hopped out of his rig, snapped one photo, and blasted back in an attempt to make a 1:00 tee time. I give the guy a lot of credit to get a rig, and come out here alone, but in another sense, I would have much preferred not seeing or hearing him at all.
Once the dust settled and we returned our focus to the day’s events, we loaded up snacks and beverages in our day packs and headed out. I hoped to see the guy that I saw last night to see what type of rig he had and see his rooftop tent he mentioned, but there was no trace. We wandered out the road a bit until Bill saw the little trailhead sign he had noticed on the way in. We headed to the trailhead for the Sanup Plateau Overlook and headed on out. Before long, we were plunging off the edge with much concern about hiking back up the steep and not well maintained trail. I think the consensus was we were headed down to the plateau and that would be a one way trip, so we came back up figuring we needed to head further out the road before heading out to boony crash to a place we could head on out to the point.
At some point, we decided we had gone down the road far enough as it kept bending away from where we wanted to go, eventually bringing us in the opposite direction. Space and time being what it is, we started out cross country, to just feel our way in a direction that felt right and a distance that, in hind sight, probably didn’t matter so much. We were up on a peninsula of a plateau, and at some point, we would come to an abrupt edge, where we could course correct until we reached the other cliff edge, and then another until eventually we were at the point and could look back and see its Twin and possibly even our rigs at camp. However, it all feels different on the ground, especially without any navigational aids other than cliff edges. Looking at Googly now, it seems logical. On the ground, not so much.
Growing concerns about staying together, unforeseen errors, unknown unknowns, and risk/reward cost benefits, I was trending in a very conservative direction, not wanting to overshoot the neck of the peninsula and really be lost. We traversed on a course that seemed in the ballpark, until, much to my surprise, we were back on the road. Walking in circles anyone? Oh well, maybe the gods were keeping an eye on us and sent us to the road rather than off the cliff. Rather than stubbornly sticking to the original plan or just heading out and hoping it worked out, we decided to go back to the trail and stay on that for a bit longer. At least we would know we were all together.
The trail had a great rate of descent and was in great need of repair. This greatness again resulted in a fair amount of trepidation, and not much further than the first assault, we pulled off to sit in the shade and hydrate ourselves. Where was our beast of burden? After a little rest, we headed back up the trail and began to follow the rim back to camp. This was more like it. No trail, but a clear indication of what direction we needed to go. The views were spectacular, the weather warm and breezy, the plants and rocks and birdies and things were fascinating. It was a great little trek.
Back at camp much rest was needed and the thirst raged. Showers seemed to be in order and were unanimously convened. Mid-spritz, Tommy was delivering Manhattans and the evening was off to a rousing beginning. Clean bodies, minds, and clothes, we settled into another fine evening. Bob’s flat tire and the 6 hour drive from pavement to point, really opened our eyes to the looming jaunt back. It was decided we would begin the trek tomorrow and some might camp in another spot beyond the rough road and with part of the journey back behind, and some might head all the way back to St. George for the night, but the thought of driving out to pavement and then on to Tonopah, was clearly beyond the realm. With this becoming essentially the last night at the Point, we acted accordingly. Cocktails, Steve’s lasagna, great tunes, great fire. This night was mostly clear and the moon bright; it was a fine tribute to the boys and to the canyon.
The morn’ came all too soon and there was a cacophony of activity. After much discussion and weighing of options, Tommy decided he would head all the way out and at least partially home (we later learned he drove all the way to SLO; some 14 hours to arrive at midnight). Billy was headed back to St, George, not wanting to set up and then pack up for one quick night. I was still on the fence, not opposed to a quickie last night camping, but feeling like putting the entire drive behind me and then just having a pavement drive from St. George to Tonopah as a good way to divide the drive. Bob headed out first intending to take the drive very slowly and cautiously. Tom followed. Billy and I took our time and lingered for a bit, toasted our spot, and thanked everyone for a great time.
Billy and I stopped about 3.5 miles back at the first place the road meets the rim and were in awe. The canyons and slots and colors here seemed even more inspired than at the point. The soil was soft and there was plenty of open ground. We hung for a bit taking it all in, finally leaving the rim behind and looking forward to meeting Bob and Steve at the new and improved outhouse despite its exact location a complete unknown. I imagined in my mind camping in the little Ponderosa Pine forest, but it came without an outhouse in site. We passed the rest of the forest and entered the savanna portion of the drive, still without outhouse. I began to feel we perhaps had missed it somehow, because we had driven much farther than I had expected.
Eventually Bob pulled over and said he and Steve would drive a bit further and begin looking for a camp spot for the night. By this time, I felt I could be back in St. George in a couple hours, and the country was not so appealing to me, so I decided to head back to town with Bill. Bill followed Bob and Steve until they pulled off onto a side road, and then headed in to St. George to meet up with me. I headed to the Chevron to air up and called Kristen to ask her to help me hunt for a place to stay. She quickly called back with directions to the Best Western right in Old Town. I let Bill know my plan and he found it acceptable. Back in traffic, I felt uneasy at best trying to navigate directions, turn lanes, traffic, signs, and signals. I was much relieved to pull into the parking lot.
I was quickly checked in and parked and in the shower. It felt good not to be driving although it took me a minute to feel like I wasn’t moving anymore. Clean and relaxed, I headed to the balcony to relax. I got a text from Bill that he was checking in and Called K to thank her for her help. The camping part of the trip was over, so I looked for eating options within walking distance and found several. Bill eventually notified me he was clean so I wandered across the parking lot to his poolside villa. We sat outside for a beverage and viewing the wildlife, while we built up an appetite. At that it was time to head off to restaurant land.
We went to George’s which was a nice couple block walk. When we arrived, the place was mobbed, but mostly by folks who wore masks and distanced somewhat. We put our name in and decided to look for a cold beverage to whilst away the 45 minutes or so we needed to wait for dinner. There appeared to be a bar a few blocks away and so we headed West down St. George Blvd. to find it. After a few blocks of navigating on my phone, Bill inquired as to its whereabouts. Certain I was on the right trail, we continued on, the town slowly diminishing behind us. Eventually Bill had had enough, and we stopped to get a better bearing. East was our course.
We walked up a block to get off the one busy street in time, and suddenly, all was better. It was quiet and calm, and the homes were really nice, old, and in some instances, downright historic. We followed our little blue dot right back to the restaurant we made our reservations, looked up, and saw the bar directly across the street. Oh well, it was good to stretch our legs a bit. Inside, we got our hands stamped, something which hadn’t been done to me in like 2 decades. We walked up the steep narrow stairs to the upstairs bar of this converted firehouse, and got a couple bourbon and cokes. We went out to the shady back deck and watched a few kids on electric scooters go up and down the alley and listened to people’s conversations. It was great fun. Just as we finished our drink, we got the text our table was ready and off we went.
By now people were gathered all over the place. A restaurant across the street also had people hanging around waiting. It was Friday night after all; Dixie State University was having classes on campus, and it was a beautiful evening. We were seated right away, but right next to the entrance, so it was a little busy. After our waiter came up to us, a guy leaned on my shoulder from behind me and, way too close to my head, told us what a great waiter we had. We had an awkward laugh, and the waiter was thrown off his schtick too, but it was a fun moment.
Apparently, Mormons were sent South from Salt Lake City to grow better crops in the warmer climate, cotton among them. Mostly families with southern roots were chosen to go, hence the strong connection to the South and Dixie, and Rebel Pride. It was a strange layer to an already strange place. Our dinner was good and the service was great, but still weird to basically be eating in front of everyone still waiting. By the time we were done, I was done too, so I dropped Bill off at his room and went on to mine. As I opened the door to the complex, I was smashed in the face with the combined stink of over chlorinated indoor pool and cigarette smoke. It was rank, but I got upstairs and opened the slider and sat out on the balcony to clear my air passages.
The morning was cool and clear and I sat on the balcony with coffee. I went down to get my breakfast that was included in the deal, which actually wasn’t bad. It was great to bring my little bag of burrito, banana, and coffee back to the room and enjoy it outside. However, I soon learned it was my neighbor, also sitting outside, that was smoking, and during her numerous and lengthy telephone calls, she was trying to cough up a lung or two, all while I tried to relax and eat. I heard from Bill and then Bob and Steve, and our timing was perfect. I wanted to stop for ice and retie my load, so I think we were all leaving St. George about 10:30 – 11:00. My ice chests were holding up, and now topped off, I hoped everything would last.
The drive down through the Virgin River Canyon was really impressive. The Red Rock and narrow verdant canyon was quite a contrast to where we had just been. Once out of the canyon, it became equally unimpressive. The flat wide-open spaces of shades of gray were whipped and blasted by the raging wind. Trailers were getting pushed and shoved left and right, and motorcycles were driving leaned over like sailboats. Soon Vegas was in sight, and what a sight it was. Just super bizarre and growing massively in every direction. New construction, new freeways and overpasses, heavy equipment everywhere. The earth getting scraped away and paved. Real progress.
With Vegas behind me, I blazed up Highway 95 into country far more comfortable and familiar. I passed the road to Pahrump where Jordan got the stitch in his nose without Novocain. I passed through the Amargosa Valley, infamous in the gold and silver days. I pulled into Beatty and recalled the many times we have come through on our way into or out of Death Valley, including the very last time when we went with Haley and Brett to look at a possible wedding venue. The smoke from the fires in the Inyo National Forest was getting pulled into the Owens Valley and it was so thick, we decided to come out this way to avoid it. I stopped to get gas at Eddie World, and then I set my sights on Alkali hot spring.
Kristen and I had stopped at this spring on our way to Las Vegas, but there was an old timer in the tub, so we didn’t stay. I have wanted to get her done since, so I convinced the boys to meet there. I was just passing through Goldfield when I got a call from Bob. They had just arrived at the Spring and it looked good, but by the time I called back, the spring didn’t look good, and several people were there, so I was not too confident heading in. As I pulled up behind Bob’s rig though, I saw the waving hands from the main tub, up away from a larger but stagnant pool full of algae, fish, and plenty of other aquatics.
I grabbed a beverage and quickly joined them in the cement tub. They had already played with the hot water inlet and dialed in a great temp. Within minutes Bill arrived and he too joined us. It was great to be together again, having started out in different places some 200 miles away. We soaked for a bit, had a beer at the truck, then headed in the last 21 miles to Tonopah. Bob, Steve, and I were staying at the Mizpah Hotel, and Bill at the Best Western. I had to listen to the old turtle make us all wait in line while he scammed them out of $10 to get the same rate as his friend did, but the place was built in 1907 and recently remodeled, so there was plenty of cool stuff to look at.
I called Kristen and showered and relaxed a few minutes before meeting the boys at the bar. It was a huge room and massive beautiful bar, with massive red velour furniture and heavy oak or walnut details. Bobby joined me shortly, then Bill, and finally Steve. With each additional person, I had another round, and then I drank the one we ordered for Steve, but he took too long talking to Barbara. We decided to walk up to the Tonopah Brewing Company for dinner and man what a decision that was. We sat outside, but the breeze was picking up and it cooled down, so we all walked back to the hotel to put another layer or two on. Browsing through the BBQ menu, we noticed a dinner for 4 and went for that.
We were really enjoying the beers, when 2 pounds of ribs, 1 pound of brisket, and a pound of smoked turkey came out followed by potato salad, mac and cheese, a side of fried pickles, 2 other sides I can’t even remember now, and corn bread muffins. It was insane; the food was so good, and we were super hungry. It also was getting cold quickly so I was having a hard time eating everything as fast as I could and trying to maintain after so many drinks on an empty stomach. Yes, first world problems!
The ladies were really fun and attentive and got us a couple huge to-go boxes. I still had a full glass of stout that I was not going to part with nor could I consume. Steve suggested we head up the hill to a flashing “bar” sign, and so off we went. I could have walked all over town that night, maybe, but just wandering the few streets we did was great fun. I finished my beer outside an old motel that apparently was converted to more long term/permanent living quarters. Like so many things in Tonopah, it was old and weird, but fortunately shared its parking lot with this log cabin bar. I stopped to stash my glass and take a leak, because I was not going to use the inside facilities in this place. As I opened the door, I was smashed in the face by stench of body odor, bad cologne, cigarette smoke, and dirty bar. The boys were seated in a semi circle in front of a fireplace. There was no way I could stay inside. I proceeded right through the place to the back deck, which is what we saw from down below at the restaurant/brewery.
The boys joined me in a few minutes and we hung out there for both rounds. The wind didn’t seem to get us and the views of town were awesome, and the air was clean. It was so much fun. I don’t remember walking home or going up to my room. I don’t recall any ghosts, but they say they are there. I tried to hook up with the boys for breakfast, but Bob and Steve were already on the road and I didn’t hear from Bill until I was nearly gone. He had walked over to the hotel and saw me drive down the alley just as I shoved off. I pulled onto main street and as I pulled past the hotel, there he was on the corner. I stopped and we chatted for a minute and then I headed on down the road.
I thought I would regret not stopping at the Burger King in town, but I was anxious to make some miles so I skipped it. The weather forecasts were calling for snow all up and down the Sierra’s so I was a little anxious to get into it. As I left 95 and merged onto 6, I passed turn-offs for Fish Lake and Dyer, where Gabe got the Sponge Bob piñata and we lit it on fire. I passed the Benton Crossing turnoff where we did the underground cast iron, had the incredible drive in the F-350, and had the spectacular motorcycle ride across the back side of Mono Lake, into Aurora and Bodie, then into Lee Vining and back to camp. In Benton, I remember the old lady shuffling for minutes across the road to grab a 12pack and then taking even longer to shuffle back into her trailer for yet another day in uptown Benton.
Onto 120, I remembered the wildest drive ever from the North side of Mono up to the obsidian and back, seeing the wild horses, and just plowing over hill and dale to eventually get back to 167. The camp spot on the ledge overlooking one-table park and the spring. The Snag trip and being up at Bald Mountain Lookout. Of course Bodie always reminds me of Mike and I and the kids going up there and on to the Bristlecone. We saw my sister Wyn in Bodie and she always stayed at the Walker River Lodge in Bridgeport. I began to think about taking 108 over Sonora Pass, thinking the sooner I got over the better, but it was closed. I then got a text from Bob telling me that 89 and Monitor was also closed. I had to push further North.
Up in Gardnerville, I barely missed the Waterloo turn, and made a quick “Uee” correction. As much as going up and over Monitor brings back some unpleasant memories (and many many more good ones), I never seem to be able to navigate cleanly from 88/89 onto 395 in this area. Fortunately, this time wasn’t so bad as a bunch of detour signs marked a fairly direct route onto 756 to 88. Bob and Steve confirmed 88 was still open when they went over, so up I went under blue skies, until it gave way to snow flurries right about Red Lake. In a mile or so, the weather was completely different. There were flurries on and off, but the pavement was clear, almost dry in places, and very little traffic, so I breezed up and over with no trouble. I was much relieved to not have to go all the way to 80, although time wise, it was probably about the same. Past Caples and Johhny Pechal’s Place, Silver, and the Mormon Emigrant turn-off, it was all new country to me. I almost always take ME, so coming all the way down 88 was a welcome change.
I was tempted by Omo Ranch road, and took the bait on Shake Ridge, which I was somewhat familiar with, although not enough to take the Fiddletown branch which would have taken me right into Plymouth. Instead, I stayed on Shake Ridge into Sutter Creek, which reminded me how beautiful all the old Highway 49 area is and the time Kristen and I stayed in Volcano. Highway 16 is always busy and a tad dangerous so I was glad to turn North on Sunrise. I was home about 2:30 and glad for it. It was a huge and wonderful trip. I can’t help but wonder how many more we have in us, but Bill is 68 and Steve is 70 and they are still going strong, so we better get them in while we can.
Grand Canyon Parashant National Monument Photo Gallery
