One Full Plate

Expedition Vehicles- Spied

This was a super cool landcruiser camper that we spotted in Joshua Tree back in May, 2008.  It was diesel powered and I didn't recognize the plates, some of the decals led me to believe that it began life in Italy.  Unfortunately it was headed out of the campground and I couldn't talk to the older couple driving it.

Note the little pop-up roof for standing room, the smallish windows, and the sand ladders strapped to the back.  Different lot, those Euros.  But its cool to see such unique and rugged vehicles being driven apparently by retirees on sort of a high-adventure, autumn-years-walkabout.  I can think of worse ways to spend retirement.

They were travelling with another Euro camper truck- something that resembed a Sprinter (Iveco, maybe?) but it was down the road before I could snap a picture.

He Is Basil

That's Basil, as in Rathbone, not basil, like the herb.  We snatched him from amongst the pit bulls at the humane society, had him fixed and brought him home.  (Footnote: "fixed" is a euphamism for something much worse, and which implies that he was broken, but he wasn't, but now he is.) 

You will not usually see him as he is below.  Normally he is tearing around the house or yard at high speed, chasing or being chased by a young girl.  But you can never get a photo of him like that, so here he is in a state of exhaustion:

He's a standard poodle mixed with something- some say Cocker Spaniel, but I don't see it.  He's 6 months old, and we're not sure how big he's going to get.

Notice I keep saying "he?"  Its true, I'm not the only dude in the house anymore.  He even waters the grass on 3 legs, which is better than seated.  Of course, being a poodle, he still looks like a girl.  But he's got an epic name, which makes up for it.

Sunrise

Sunrise in Anza Borrego, December 20, 2008, with my home for the night. 

Goat Canyon Trestle Expedition

On December 19-21 I joined a group camping in the Anza Borrego desert and hiking to the Goat Canyon Trestle.  The trestle is supposedly the longest and tallest wooden railroad trestle in the country (or world?).  Anyway, its freeeeking huge, and very difficult to get to.  The Carizzo Gorge Railway (CZRY) has control over the tracks and railway, and the interweb is chock full of outlaw trips to the trestle, as well as promises of trespassing citations and arrests.  Before we left, someone even posted a warning that the rail line was active, and we risked getting run over by a train if we explored the tunnels.  A lot of baloney, as we would find out.

 

The group camp on Friday afternoon.  Several more rigs would arrive before the night was over.

 

 

 

This is the "trail."  Prior trip reports described it as a "moderate" hike.  On that imaginary scale, "difficult" must be a 100' plunge onto rocks.  Out of 13 participants, only around 8 made it all the way to the trestle.  The rest judged either that the risks outweighed the reward, or that their pace would prevent them from returning to camp before nightfall.  One stopped midway due to injuries to her dog's paws. 

 

 

 

 

Poor Peanut here did the cha-cha with a chola cactus and took a few dozen thorns in his paws and mouth.  I pulled at least a dozen spikes out of his hind legs and others took his front end.  He made it back safely, and will probably get a trip to the vet to tend to his tongue.

 

 

More "trail."  That white stuff is what happens when it rains when it is really, really cold.  They call it "snow."  I'm told that it is common in other parts of the country.

 

 

 

 

Believe it or not, this photo was taken in a location a good solid hour's hike away from the trestle itself.  The last stretch involved scampering, bouldering, sliding and falling down several hundred vertical feet of loose rock.

 

 

 

 

Here's the the reason for all the fuss.

 

 

 

Hey look, they built that tunnel crooked!

This was supposedly "plan A."  They were going to build a long tunnel and a short trestle, but mid-construction the tunnel collapsed.  So they built a short tunnel and long trestle further down the canyon.  Since they abandoned it, gravity has done its work.

 

Without human beings in the frame, its hard to see grasp how big the trestle is.  There are a couple folks in there, if you look closely.

 

 

 

 

The catwalks start off in wooden planks. . .

 

 

 

And change to steel mesh.  I don't care who you are, if you aren't unnerved by walking on a window screen 200 feet off the deck, you don't have a brain.

 

 

 

This was one of the mysteries we encountered.  A CZRY rail truck was partially buried in rubble at the entrance to a tunnel.  Hand tools were scattered around, and it was obvious that those involved bailed out in a hurry.  Probably so they wouldn't get turned into paste by more falling rocks.

 

 

The truck looked perfectly driveable, save a dead battery, despite the rubble.  Although it had seen the recent rains, it probably hadn't been in this condition for more than a week or two.

 

 

They even left the keys in the ignition. 

We speculated that workmen came out in two trucks, someone got bonked with a rock in the middle of a job, and everyone else rushed out to evacuate him.  Why else would they have left it like this?

And yes, of course I tried to start it.  It would have been cool to drive home!

 

 

Naysayers tried to tell us that the rail line was active and that we risked getting run over by a train if we walked the track.

 

 

 

The tunnel isn't really that big, Jamie is only 3 feet, 4 inches tall.

 

 

 

Jamie thought he might get bored, so he brought some old magazine to read.

 

 

 

 

That'll buff right out.

 

 

 

 

Jamie and I took a different route back to camp, and came across what looked like a primive structure flooded with water.  That circle is a 55 gallon drum submerged to the rim.

 

 

 

Right next to the rock house was a more modern concrete foundation, purpose unknown.

Inyo Mountains- Salt Tram Expedition

Over the weekend of October 3-5, 2008, D1, D2 and I travelled up to Lone Pine to explore the long-abandoned Salt Tram.  It seems at around 1912, entrepreneurs built an ariel tramway to transport salt from the remote Saline Lake over the Inyo Mountains to the railroad at Owens Lake.  It was the largest project of its kind, and was profitable until cheaper sources of salt were discovered.  The tram is now abandoned, but many of the support towers and cables are intact.  Our destination was the Tramkeeper's cabin located at the summit, and the changeover station where the salt buckets would reach the end of their uphill trip and turn to go down the other side. 

In order to reach the tramkeeper's cabin, we had to traverse a four-wheel-drive trail across the ridgeline from the ghost town of Cerro Gordo.  A very, uh, interesting drive, if loose rock, steep dropoffs, impossible uphill and downhill sections interest you.  They do!

 

Here's the group- like minded historians and four-wheel drive folks.

 

 

 

The Tramkeeper's Cabin- our home for the night.  D1 and D2 enjoy a midafternoon snack on the south porch.

The Salt Tram Transfer Station. Its in pretty good condition, but the sheet metal panels which would have made the walls have long since been stripped off.  The timbers and planks are in good shape also, some having been recently replaced.

 

 

There are catwalks that go down each downhill side- a pretty good dropoff on either side but no problem for sured footed mountain goats with pink camelbaks.

 

 

 

 

The electrical pit.  Big electric motors were installed down here to drive the pulleys which pulled the cables up the mountain and down the other side.

 

 

 

I'm told that my hat is very cool.

 

 

 

 

Rabbit ears never get old.  In the background is the tramkeeper's cabin.

 

Aspiring photographer.

 

 

This is the overlook to Saline Valley, and Death Valley beyond.  There was a huge storm in the area which pounded Death Valley with rain and lightning all afternoon.  It put on quite a show for us in the distance. 

  

Sunset only made things prettier. 

 

 

 

The road out on Sunday morning.  This is one of those photos that I looked at afterward and couldn't believe it was the same white knuckle road we had driven in and out.  The slippery shale surface, narrow roadbed and sheer dropoff were attention getters, especially when it went off-camber towards the downhill.  It was all a psychological thrill; I knew that I was chickening out long before the Bronco would fail.

 

I have about a million photos like this.  Every view you see is better than the last.

 

 

 

The ghost town of Cerro Gordo.  A lot of precious metals came out of this place.

Have I ever let this thing slide!

So it turns out that I really don't have time to be sharp and clever on a blog. . . please be patient, I'll upload when I can.  It's not that nothing is happening, just the opposite.  I'll try to catch up over the Holidays.