Trip Date: November 10, 2021
Find this SpotThis trip came together in a heartbeat. For some time, I had been thinking about a hot spring Tom, Bill, Steve, and I had been to up by Soldier Meadows a few years back. It just had been calling me to come and visit again, especially at this time of year; Fall colors, Fall temperatures, fewer people. It seemed like the time to go. My son Jordan got married in June and daughter Haley in October, and at Haley’s reception, there was much discussion of getting together with wives and families if possible, sometime soon.
Bob took the lead and organized a gathering at William Pond area on the American River at the Arden access. We got a great turnout, including Haley and Jordan, and Bob’s 2 kids Ryan and Rita, who have known each other since they were littles. It was great to get together and just hang on a beautiful afternoon at the river. At this gathering, the boys began chattering about a return to those hot springs and the Black Rock in general, and the idea was quickly fertilized in the fertile minds of Ken, Bill, and Bob. We soon had a date and the trip was born.
Ken came over on Tuesday to load most of his gear in the truck and I picked him up about 7:00 Wednesday morning and we were off. Up 80, over the summit, into Reno, out to Fernley without incident. But then we couldn’t find out turnoff. Stubbornly insisting on an exit that said Highway 447, we passed several exits indicating they led to Pyramid Lake or Wadsworth, both of which we needed to pass by. At some distant Eastern point, we realized we must have gone too far, and turned around to accept a Pyramid Lake exit. Of course, we were crawling through Nixon and the Paiute Indian Reservation. Now we were in familiar country.
The lake looked low and the town a little rough, but we knew we were on our way. What we had forgotten was how beautiful the scenery is along highway 447. It was stunning. We kept ooing and awing at the mountains, valleys, dry lakebeds, and finally pulled over by a massive tufa tower for a break. We scrambled up the rocks and checked things over, making sure everything was OK with the million year old formation. We packed back up, but didn’t get too far before Ken realized he didn’t have his water bottle. I instantly remembered I forgot to remind him that I saw it on the bumper before we headed off to make sure he got it. So much for memories.
We turned around a mile or so down the road and came back to the tower, assuming we would easily find it not far from where we parked. However, we looked and looked, walked both sides of the steep banked elevated road, but somehow it disappeared. During our meandering back and forth and up and down, Bobby pulls up alongside and says “how do”. This blew our mind because Bob had texted us he was at the summit as we were at the highway 20 intersection, a good 20-30 minutes ahead of us. It turns out he stopped to visit the Pyramid Lake Museum in Nixon. He joined the search party, but somehow this plastic water bottle stumped us all and was not to be found. Eventually we gave up and headed on down the road to Gerlach.
I needed gas and Bob needed eggs, which seemed an easy enough list for Gerlach. While gas was obtained, there apparently is no grocery store in Gerlach. Really? The folks said the closest eggs were back in Empire, the open again closed again company town that produces Gypsum for the US Gypsum Corp. In 2016, the mine and town were sold to the Empire Mine Company (EMC). In 2020, it was the location for some of the filming of the movie Nomadland, which is partially based on the company town experience and old way of life for so many people. It was only about 6 miles back down highway 447, and we had heard from Bill who was some 2 hours behind us, so off we went.
The store was huge, but 90% of the space was empty and 90% of the shelves they did have were also bare. They did have eggs which was all we cared about, and the 2 ladies were nice, so we were happy. We tried to drive into town to check it out. In all the times I have driven past, I have never seen the houses or residential area, but it too is apparently behind the gates of the plant, so we just turned around at the gate. Not having any other business in town, or places to visit, we headed on out highway 34 to the county road 217 to the turnoff to our old camp spot, and the designated rendezvous spot with Bill.
It was great to patch together all the various fragments of memories from past trips. Numerous boys trips, one with my brother Mike and Tom, one with Kristen; they were all streaming through. I definitely got goose bumps from the most recent trip with Kristen as we past the spot we got stuck on the wet playa, and after hours of struggle, were eventually pulled out. Passing the 3 mile, 8 mile, 12 mile access points to the playa, I was still tempted to get out there, but this was not the time for such tomfoolery. We found the access road that led up to the first night spent in the Black Rock with Gabe, and then past the tall ridge, were looking up into the next access road which led to our spot below the face.
We had so much time, we decided to head up the 1 mile course and enjoy a celebratory beverage. Bob followed and we had a nice break. Not wanting to miss Bill, or have him drive all the way up the track, we headed down shortly, and sure enough, Billy pulled right up. He greeted us with a huge smile and a wee bit of Rye left in a bottle. He was in great spirits. It was just 2:00, the original time we decided to meet, but an hour after the final decision, which still seemed like plenty of time to travel the last 35 miles or so to the spring.
The road is mostly good, with sections of extreme washboard and a random ditch or hole scattered in to keep focus keen. We made good time, but we threw up quite a bit of dust so each rig lagged a little further behind. We stopped at lovely Mud Meadow which was much more lake like than I had remembered. The water glistened blue in the low setting sun. Bill greeted us with the last of the Rye and off we went, just a few miles from our turnoff, which became less clear than I imagined in my mind. We stopped here and there, and headed down what seemed to be the most logical road, but past several “Private Property/No Trespassing” signs along the way. These were not part of my memory bank and really threw me off.
I had given up on this road and was in the process of turning around, when they boys came up. Bill greeted us with a bottle of Jamison’s, and encouraged me to turn around again and continue on down this road just to make sure it was not the right one. Some how his Coast Guard compass was still functioning, however slightly, but sure enough, down the road a little more was the spring. Hallelujah! I was certain this was the spring, but it seemed more “developed” than I recalled. There was a string of lifejackets, a huge solar panel, a BBQ pit, and chairs. I didn’t recall any of that, and the signs were very off putting.
We quickly agreed this was not the spot for us, but then what/where? On heading back out, Bob was in the lead, and just as we got to a fork in the road and the fence line we followed in, I had a premonition to turn left and follow the road leading North along the hillside. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get Bob’s attention, so we followed him out to 217/Soldier Meadows road, where Bill met us with more Jamison’s. At this point, he was extremely happy and of no use to decision-making. His value was strictly entertainment. Bob, Ken, and I decided to head out another major road we had passed that we thought may lead to the BLM campground I saw on Googly. It was getting late, dusk approached, it had been a long day already, and we needed to set up camp and eat.
I was getting a little anxious now because I had imagined n my mind simply driving straight to the spring, like it was the corner liquor store. I had spent some time on Googly, but not near as much as I usually do for a trip to new country. I was now wishing I had spent more time and/or brought some print-outs of the screens with all these roads and tracks, specifically in this spring area. Taking this major road, that we had met at when we originally came in this far, we assembled again at a cross-road, Bill met us with more Jamison’s. Bob took one track back towards the spring from the South and Ken and I headed further West. Not too far down the road, we came to another intersection and a very helpful informative BLM sign. This was the key to our near future.
The sign indicated we were within a mile or so of 3 different camping areas. It also indicated that on top of the rather massive and irregularly shaped piece of private land belonging to Soldier Meadows, we also were now in a BLM designated Area of Critical Environmental Concern (ACEC) within which, BLM wants you only to have fires in the designated camp spots. On the one hand, we are out in the middle of nowhere, in the off season, so really? I have to assume enforcement is rare. On the other, I hate the feeling of being concerned that every vehicle we see or hear may be BLM and getting rousted, having to move, paying a fine, etc. We travel all this distance to get away from people and these sorts of issues, not to worry about breaking the law. The sign also indicated a significant number of springs.
Now we have all looked at enough maps that indicate this that or the other without any discernible sign of it actually on the ground. I had my hopes but, pressure was mounting. We returned Ken and I returned to the last intersection to gain share intel with Bill and Bob. Bill met us with more Jamison’s. Now he was speaking like the Tasmanian Devil. Bob didn’t find much on his exploration so Ken and I brought them down to the sign. All were in favor of driving through the water covering a good stretch of the road and up to the cabin and camp site about a mile up the road. The water was not much of a physical challenge, but for me it is always a mental one, but with Ken’s guidance, we rolled right through it. Probably didn’t even need the 4-wheel drive.
On up to the cabin, it was a very cool spot. The cabin was in good shape with a massive wood burning stove, an attached wood shed, and a huge outhouse on the outside of the loop. Two tables, a fire ring, and having driven upslope for a spell, we were getting better views of the massive open expanse in front of us. It was a very decent spot, but admittedly, the cabin was not our style. According to the sign, there were 5 more camp spots and a cluster of spring about another mile up the hill, so we decided it was worth another mile to check out. Someone must have us by the hand. Holy schmackerel. This was a spot.
Completely out in the open, nary a shrub or sage bush higher than a knee cap, out on a massive broad slope, we had climbed again in elevation and almost got us tucked up against the low hills behind us. We had unbroken views all the way back to Mudd Meadows, Soldier Meadows, and the mountains bordering the playa. There was plenty of open space as the vegetation was pretty thin. BLM had done a great job of outlining roads, trails, and sites with small rocks, and while I was ready to jump into the first site, which turned out not even to be a site, just the info center, we jumped into the next one, not a sole in sight, no evidence of humans other than what could have been from years and years ago. We had found our place.
Before doing anything, I flung myself down a rock lined trail, much like those at Saline Valley in Death Valley, in hopes of finding a hot spring. Oh boy did I. The trail ended right at a very nice rocky bottom, dammed pool, with a sweet rock bench and stepping stones for easy access exit. I was thrilled. Hustling back to the boys with my report, they were fast at work wetting up tents and then getting camp ready. It was dark by now and headlamps and lanterns were called for duty. The boys speed and efficiency was impressive. We had a fire and kitchen up in no time and a celebratory beverage. Kenny was aiming high to fill Tommy’s shoes and had made a canteen of Manhattan’s. The boys consumed them in one sitting. Bob volunteered for whip up dinner and soon we had a smorgasbord of taco fixings. It was most excellent.
At some point after dinner, Billy wandered down to the hot springs. We hooted and hollered from camp every once in a while to make sure we got a response. Eventually we headed down to see where he was and he had found another pool, a little lower down the hot creek. He was in his glory. We headed back to camp and Kenny crashed before too long. Bobby and I hung around the fire until Billy returned when we all retired to our separate individual tents. Sleep was rare and infrequent.
The morning was outstanding. Cool and calm, but not cold. It was very damp, everything left out being covered in moisture. The entire length of the creek was evident from the rising steam. Kenny came back from a predawn soak and reported that there was another massive pool up above us. After a good fire and some breakfast, we all headed up to the big pool for an early morning soak. Billy showed us some knee and lower leg damage from a spill the prior night, but no lost limbs. The soak was outrageous. Even though we eventually found the Spring we had been to before and had expected to be at this trip, this spot was far superior in every sense. We soaked for quite some time.
I got out of the spring and in just my sandals, I followed the trail Ken had explored earlier in the morning. The stream had a number of pools, perhaps 8, until it seemed to disappear. A distance beyond, it reemerged from the ground to bubble up in a thick muck that eventually cleared back up as it fell down the slope and through the grasses and roots and brush and became a clear stream again. Maybe a mile or so down, I came to the road we had come in on, maybe just a mile further down from where we turned off. The creek crossed the road and had at some time made quite a mess of it. Now tons of rock created the path that both vehicles could drive on and the creek could pass through.
As the sun came up over the mountains, it brought out more and more details of the surrounding hills and the broad plain. Shadows were now cast as the negative images of those exposed by the light. We could make out the cabin and the very edge of Mud Meadow, and distant hot springs and a lone tree or prominent vegetation. Down at the road, Bob came along to meet me. We were amazed that we found such an awesome spot and raved about all we had seen and experienced already this morning. He decided to make a loop of his walk, heading back down the road to the sign, up past the cabin and then back to camp.
I retraced my steps back to camp, thinking about Fly Canyon and the boulder worn down from the friction of heavy ropes used to lower pioneer wagons in their efforts to cross this rugged desert terrain. I thought about past trips through High Rock Canyon with Gabe on our motorcycles. One of the signs near the campground has a quote about this place from William Swain whose pioneer diary was turned into the book, “The World Rushed In” that I read. I began to imagine my path was wagon wheel ruts and that I was indeed in the same place as he was and probably many others. I was feeling good.
Nearing camp, I began to think we had a visitor, and sure enough, eventually I was sure that was not one of our rigs. I got the report that he was a solos guy with a dog, his enclosed trailer carrying a quad runner, presumably for hunting or scouting. By the time I passed his site and came up to ours, I could see that he was very far away from us and had arranged his truck and trailer to be between us and him so that we wouldn’t even be able to see the light of his fire. It would be okay. Eventually, he drove out of camp on his quad, taking the outer loop road so as to have the least impact on us as possible, which admittedly, was very minimal.
After some additional lounging and camp straightening, Bob whipped up the last of the taco fixings to that we could all have a morsel. I heated up some pizza I brought for the drive in, so we each had a slice. We grazed a little more and chatted about stuff, and eventually decided e could take a hike up the road past our camp. According to the sign below, there was a trail that left the road above us and headed to a lone camp down below us near the road at another pool. We hiked on up the road with binocs and beverages, passing a fence line and keeping a keen eye out for a trail, but to no avail. Being certain we had gone plenty far, we turned around and came back for an afternoon soak before dinner prep.
In keeping with all our trips, we had 4 times the food we needed. Since Bob and Bill were staying a third night, we decided we would eat the food Ken and I brought for dinner; pork chops and eggplant. We got a fire going in the pit and another in the Weber bottom I brought, and in a first, in my memory anyway, we heated up briquettes on a grill over the fire. It was extraordinary and effective. Kenny BBQ’d the chops to perfection and I heated up the eggplant in the Dutch oven. The boys were satisfied. I shared a bottle of the 2018 Storelli-Hart Zin blend and then Kenny and I got into cocktails. He and I hovered around the fire for a bit, perhaps to extend the night a little longer with a morning departure already encroaching on our minds.
The night sleep was very decent and the dawn sky was again glorious. The rising steam all along the hot creek was surely a site, adding to the prehistoric scene. A great morning fire brought us to our senses enough to head back down to the springs for another morning soak. Back at camp, Bob whipped up a killer breakfast of fried eggs, copious amounts of country bacon, and fried taters. It was painful to get to packing, especially knowing these guys had another day in this place, but I had committed to seeing Ellie’s soccer game Saturday, then supporting Brett’s mom Sharon at her first Spartan Race at 61 years old on Sunday, so I needed to get back. I was happy to have 3 days and 2 nights and still be able to do all the stuff back home rather than not going at all because of not being able to stay longer. It doesn’t even make sense thinking it in my brain.
It didn’t take long to pack up and ready for departure. Our camp buddy past us on his quad again, heading for distant locals. Parting was bittersweet, but we were full of new memories and another extraordinary trip, that Bill and Bob were able to continue for another day. Ken and I retraced our route, through the flooded road, and back out to Soldier Meadows Road. We saw 2 trucks full of camping gear at Mud Meadow and a group of 3 or 4 side by sides just beyond. We wondered if they were camping or just passing through and whether or not this Veteran’s Day weekend would have any impact on visitors up in here.
We stopped for a rather violent and sudden bowel movement and to talk to Vinny who was checking in. Ken found the remains of a coyote or a dog, as it had a seemingly blunt nose rather than a longer slimmer coyote snout. We didn’t see anyone else all the way out to the pavement at 34 nor or down the road to the 3 mile playa access where we pulled off just to get a little playa time. The surface was dry, but even our weight was breaking through the tin crust into the moosh below. It may have been possible for a light vehicle, staying on the main warn tracks to travel on it, but any deviation out onto the open playa this low would have been problematic.
We were back in Gerlach and passing Empire in no time. We checked in with Kristen and Misty and then texted Marya and Liz to let them know all was well. Past Pyramid Lake, we decided to take 446 West out of Nixon, to 445 and into Spanish Springs where Bill Armstrong lives, an old friend of Ken’s from DOC who originally introduced us to the Black Rock many moons ago. This route became more and more problematic as we stopped at light after light in Friday afternoon traffic. It was uncomfortable being thrust into such congestion and thousands of vehicles and the throbbing pulse of commute traffic. That and the onset of my hot spring redbug (chiggers) bites made for a irritating drive home.
Once we got onto 80 and through Reno, traffic opened up and we made a pit stop in Truckee for gas. From then on home, it was smooth sailing. It was a little later and a little darker by the time we got into town, but not bad. It only took a few minutes to unload Ken and I was home moments later. I was pretty thrashed from the drive and getting itchier by the minute. K was kind of rubbing my back and I mentioned I felt like I had a few bites that were itching more and more. Taking off my shirt revealed hundreds of bites all over my torso, front, back, and especially around my arm pits. My legs were unscathed, but by the minute, my discomfort was skyrocketing.
By morning, I was basically a rash. The itchiness factor was high and climbing. Kristen hit me with hydrogen peroxide, then rubbing alcohol, then more peroxide. It seemed like poison oak level itching and raised welts, expanding until I was basically a rash, red and inflamed. We got in the hot tub thinking the bromine would help, but if it helped dry it out some, the heat really made it uncomfortable. I took a cold shower outside and the cold really made it calm down. We went to Ellie’s soccer game and then to lunch afterwards, but I was officially uncomfortable.
Once we got home, K gave me another hydrogen peroxide rubdown and I tried not to let my skin touch anything, including the air. I took another cool shower before bed but didn’t sleep much. Sunday we went out to watch Sharon at the Spartan Race out at Rancho Murieta. Fortunately, it was cool and a little damp and felt good on my skin. Folks were pretty surprised I was only wearing shorts and a T-shirt, but it kept me cool, so while I could definitely have used a sweatshirt to be warmer, the cold was keeping the itch at bay. We stopped at Safeway for Benadryl and hydrocortisone cream. Two Benadryl really helped me sleep at night.
I kept up with the hot tub, cold shower, hydrogen peroxide baths and Ibuprofin during the day and then 2 Benadryl at night to sleep. I checked in with the boys upon their return, but no one else reported bug bites or rash or anything, which was quite perplexing. I also heard the first reports of the events of Bill and Bob’s last day, that I will get to in a moment. After about day 5, I finally took some pictures and emailed the doctor. They prescribed me Ceterizine for the itching and Traimcinolone to reduce the rash and inflammation. I didn’t use either as after a week, I felt like things were progressing with our treatments. It is now 10 days since I have been back and last night was the first night I didn’t take any Benadryl for sleep. Most of the spots are gone, all of the inflammation is gone, a little itch continues, but I am just about beyond the whole ordeal.
Postscript: While I still have not spoken to Billy beyond texting, what I know from brief reporting is that the other 3 camp sites in camp filled up with visitors Friday night. The sites were very far apart, so it certainly wasn’t like a typical campground, but it certainly wasn’t like having the place to yourself either. Then, the big news. On the way out Saturday morning, Billy lost his brakes. He did yeoman’s work maneuvering the rig the 50 miles back to pavement on road 34. Once there, they stopped for a break and to make a plan for getting back into Gerlach.
Ready to start the next phase of the trek, Bill fired the truck up, but he couldn’t get the transmission into drive. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize a Toyota safety feature prevented him from getting the transmission into drive knowing the vehicle had no brakes. Apparently, now he perhaps had done some gear shift/linkage damage. He was, however, able to get a tow unto Gerlach, then enjoy or at least consume a few beverages at Bruno’s while waiting for another tow truck to get him into Sparks. It being Saturday, he had to hole up in Sparks until Monday to even have someone look the truck over. It is true we are retired and have time and money to address these types of issues. However, Bill has an extraordinary calm about him that raises his ability to deal with this type of stuff well, and maybe not enjoy the entire ordeal, but not let it get him down anyway. A couple days in town? Why not.
I am pleased to report a complete repair of Bill’s Tundra and only a slight and temporary dampening of spirits. We shall see about any prolonged reluctance to drive or acceptance of the risk to be one of the drivers on these trips as it does most definitely come with added cost. I could not, nor would I want to add up the number of brake lines, tires, dents, bumps and bruises to my vehicles driving on these trips, nor even able to add up the extra expenses of gas, tires, maintenance on my vehicles because of the miles put on by these trips. But it is of little issue. Life is meant to be lived. These trips are among the pinnacle events of my life. I give freely and readily to continue these trips and the shared adventures of our gang of fools.
Black Rock Desert Photo Gallery
