Arc Dome Wilderness, Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest
Trip Date: July 6, 2005
The boys had been camping together about 10 years by this time and our trips were getting a little farther away, a little longer, and a little more adventurous. The Arc Dome Wilderness in the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest in central Nevada would be our biggest trip to date. I believe Mike suggested the location, although I don’t recall how he heard or knew about it. The plan was to meet at Columbine Campground, a forest service campground just outside of the Wilderness. The trip would be about 6 hours of driving, fairly reasonable compared to more recent trips, yet incredible to think in 6 hours from our doorstep, you could be in that country, in the middle of Nevada.
Gabe road with me in the F-350 and we headed out first. After heading out I-80 to Fernley, then 50 to Fallon, we decided to take a little bit of a back door out of Middlegate Station on Road 361 South into Gabbs. From Gabbs, Road 844 heads East, and seemed to me to be one of the steepest grades I have ever been on to cross over Brunton Pass. As history would have it, the plastic hydraulic clutch line that runs up against the turbo in the truck melted and I lost my clutch (this would happen about 4 more times in the years I had the truck). We finished the pull up the grade and in a total panic, in the middle of nowhere, slowing to a crawl, and partially pulling off the road, after some mad discussion and weighing of options, we decided to keep rolling, down the other side of the Paradise Range and into Ione Valley.
Gabbs had a population of 269 in 2010 (love to know what it is now after the 2020 census results) and Ione is listed as a ghost town, and those were our 2 options for “help”. We figured stopping did not help us, so we just kept going. Across Ione Valley and back up into the Shoshone Mountains. As we came into Ione, it had a little hill in the middle of town, whereby, if we parked on the top of the hill we could jump start the truck again as it rolled down the other side, and as nerves and stomach and brains were quite thrashed, we decided to pull over. On one side of the street was a cute little town park, with a few benches and tables shaded by some nice trees. Across from that was a bar, We headed to the bar.
It must have been afternoon and we needed a drink. The trip had been rough, and the truck needed fixin, and the trip was in jeopardy. Gabe was a great friend and I leaned on him pretty hard at various times, and this was one of them. We got a drink in this dark, dirty, rough place and I tried to recover from the day’s events. Outside was a pay phone so I called Ken and told him the trip was off, we were broken down in a ghost town, and I had no idea what our next steps were. Kenny would have none of it. He said all the boys were still coming the next day and it would all work out okay. That really picked me up, and I felt like things would be OK, and we would continue our adventure and still enjoy the trip. Another beverage or so, and Gabe was trying to secure the companionship of the “lady” behind the bar in case of future need. All of a sudden, the door burst open, insane brightness filled the tiny dingy hole in the wall, and the Prince of Madness, Vinny strolled in like he owned the place. This was impossible. I have no idea how he found us, but he must have known we were coming this way. I didn’t know he was even coming this day; thinking he was leaving the next morning with the rest of the boys.
Nonetheless, insanity prevailed. Several more beverages, spirits buoyed, energy raised, confidence afloat. With another rig and Kenny’s injection of confidence, we felt like we might as well keep going and see what happens. After about another hour drive got up to Ione Summit and could look across to what we were pretty sure was Arc Dome. I felt like maybe we had pushed our luck far enough; we were close to the intended destination, we were at the top of a hill, and if we could find an area big enough for all of us, this definitely could work out. I pulled the rig off to the side right on the cusp of the pass so we could roll it down the other side and start it on compression again when needed. We hiked up the side road a little to the top of the knoll, far off the road and above, and we found an awesome area with plenty of Junipers for shade, flat ground for tents, open space for rigs; this could be home.
After conferring with the boys, and blessed by a beverage, it was decided. Vinny drove up and unloaded and then we unloaded my truck into Vinny’s over and over again. It wasn’t too long before we had everything up top, and began to realize we had stumbled into a very cool spot. We had great views and were probably within 10 miles of Columbine Campground. Perhaps Vinny drove back to the bar to use the phone, but somehow our location was relayed to the boys and they all found us the following day bringing much merriment and satisfaction. The boys found the location favorable and there was much rejoicing.
The next day the rest of the crew arrived and everyone seemed fine with the alternative camp spot. I think everyone was somewhat relived not to end up in a campground. Although it wasn’t real hot, the direct sun was pretty intense, so we rigged tarps for extra shade. Vinny set up an awesome kitchen and the boys spread out amongst the trees. That cocktail hour was epic, with great tunes, great food, and the potato canon shots were plentiful. Gabe had brought back a potato gun from one of his family trips so we used it as a model to build one on our trip up to Ahart Campground just beyond French meadows Reservoir. Another one was made with a shorter barrel, and both were in heavy use on this trip.
The main event was getting into the Arc Dome Wilderness, so the next morning we loaded up in a couple rigs and headed out. Ken and I hopped in the back of Mike’s Titan and we cruised down into the Reese River Valley. We passed the Yomba Shoshone Tribal buildings to see if they had any suggestions for what to do with my broken truck. I recall they let us borrow some tools or a jack and such and were as helpful as they could be. We went on across the basin and picked up tiny Stewart Creek. There were some cool rock formations along a creek before we entered the forest and up into the campground. Gabe told Mike to take the road and in his new Titan truck headed down this narrow track until it became more of a trail. Mike couldn’t do anything but continue on through the thick brush on both sides initiating his brand new truck in a big big way. Mike was not happy; we were hysterical at the thought he listened to Gabe!
Stewart Creek Campground was tiny, and full of people, cars, dogs, and commotion, and we were ecstatic to not have to camp there. Stewart Creek flowed pretty well in the campground and we took the opportunity to rinse off and cool down before we started our hike up the Stewart Creek Trail into the Wilderness. The wildflowers were spectacular and the trail easy going. We got into several massive groves of giant Aspen and guys stopped here and there. Mike and Steve and Bob were more determined than most to try to get up to the Summit so they went for it, unbeknownst to me. I hung in a grove and mellowed for a while, then meandered about on different trails, until I finally headed back to the rigs. It was some time before those guys got back and then all shared stories of their adventures. Camp raged that night with beverages, food, tunes, singing and dancing, and potatoes falling from the sky.
The next day was slow and hanging about camp, and showers were in order. A few of the more mechanically inclined couldn’t help but look under the hood and poke around for a possible solution or temporary fix for the Ford. It was a great day, followed by another fantastic night and incredible stars. At some point a potato may have been shot through a camp table that was dear to Barbara and Steve, but facts are difficult to ascertain and memories have failed us.
We loaded up the truck and got her running on compression as we cascaded down the from the summit. Fortunately, there is no traffic whatsoever of Reese Valley Road and we were able to roll right through the stop sign and head on North up to Highway 50. Getting onto 50 without incident might be another story. At some point, Gabe steered and worked the gas pedal from the passenger seat while I stood out on the railing to take a leak as we could not stop, or really even slow down too much so as to keep moving in 3rd gear. Mike and Vince went ahead onto Highway 50, one to the East and one to the West to look out for cars. As we approached, they gave us the high sign so we just blew through the stop sign and in a big cloud of diesel accelerated up to highway speed to see how far we could get.
I believe we got all the way into Fallon, and we saw Mike pulled off in a car wash trying to rub his new scratches out of the Titan, fearing the wrath of Sharon. We pulled over there and called a tow truck. I don’t recall waiting too long and he got me up on his flat bed in no time. Maybe it was my mileage limit, or cost, or what have you, but the tow truck brought me up to the crest of Donner Summit and let me off on the down slope. I hopped back in the rig, jump started it again and drove into Sacramento. I don’t recall what I did for gas, but I must have gotten some somewhere somehow. I have no idea where I drove to, probably just home, but I may have driven it right to the shop.
That truck cost me lots and lots of money, broke down several times, and could be considered a lemon. However, I had some great trips in it; tons of family trips with Ingrid and the kids, and tons of boys’ trips. I could not possibly bring enough stuff or tow a big enough load to make that truck work in the slightest. It was an absolute beast and was great to have around, just in case. It pulled several people out of scrapes; it carried many people to great experiences, and Cub cub too. It moved people, and helped many people with various jobs. It certainly was the only diesel I ever had, and may have been the only car I was able to sell for anything after I was done with it. I was not sad to see it go when I bought the Tundra, but I sure do have some great memories in it.
This Arc Dome trip set us up to explore the next basin East, into Table Mountain, then Mt. Jefferson, and on to Jarbidge. It was kind of our first blast into Nevada and proved to be an extraordinary trip on many fronts. So many places to explore, so little time.
Arc Dome Gallery
