Small Town Nevada

I decided that there were too many question marks for my liking so Sprocket and I headed out for a nice training hike around the historic town of Belmont.

We summited a few minor peaks around town before dropping down to check out Belmont Courthouse. Unfortunately, I was not there when the Friends of Belmont Courthouse were doing tours, but the work they’ve done to make the building stand for another hundred years was impressive.

After leaving Belmont, we headed north enjoying the scenery. When I reached Kingston, I saw a sign advertising Jack’s Lucky Spur Saloon. Stopping to check it out was an excellent decision: they had Icky and I made some awesome friends who invited me and Sprocket to their house for dinner! Traveling solo(ish) is fantastic sometimes.

Nevada Is Weird, and I Love It

When school was out for summer, I loaded up Sprocket and all of our gear (and a lot of tools, but more on that later) and we headed for Washington State. The really long way—through Nevada. After leaving Mountain Meadows, I’d planned to hike Washington County, Utah’s highest point, Signal Peak but after our effort on Fish Lake Hightop, I opted to leave it for another time. Instead, I headed west on a dirt road and camped just before crossing the Nevada line.

After a lovely night of listening to coyotes howl just far enough away from camp to be restful, we packed up camp and headed for Nevada. A quick stop for gas in Panaca and then I continued south to Caliente. I had breakfast at a little restaurant called Side Track that had just opened. The décor was adorable, the service was fantastic, and my food was good (and cheap!).

I was kind of in wander mode, so after breakfast and a walk around the historic railroad depot, it was time to wander west again.

I stopped at Oak Springs Trilobite Site and we walked out to the site but it was too hot for me to want to spend much time actually looking for a trilobite fossil. The walking path was really nice though so it was a good stretch for both Sprocket and me.

At Crystal Springs, I continued onto NV-375, The Extraterrestrial Highway. Since I was there, I stopped at the Alien Research Center just off the highway. I wasn’t really into buying alien souvenirs and I’d kinda hoped for some displays of “research” so I didn’t stick around too long.

In Rachel, I couldn’t help but stop for a beer at the Little A’Li’Inn. Again, my server was wonderful and we talked a lot about my road trip. An older woman, she seemed to delight in the idea that I had time to just wander and do what I wanted.

I made a quick gas and leg stretch stop in Tonopah and then continued north to Manhattan. I stopped for a beer and chatted with the locals there who told me that the campground at Belmont was free. I was really on the fence about the Jeep’s ability to do the Mount Jefferson road (and for the ridge to be free enough of snow) and Sprocket’s ability to do the hike if we had to hike from further down the road but I headed that way anyway.

 

The campsite was so perfect! I was really glad that we decided to make camp there. Thunder threatened in the distance but we pretty much stayed out of the storm for a lovely night’s sleep.

Mountain Meadows Massacre Site

While re-reading Under The Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer last fall, I really found myself attracted to the subtitle of the book: A Story of Violent Faith. In support of this Krakauer discusses the Mountain Meadows Massacre of 1857. This historical event has come up in many many accounts of early western history and I feel like I’d always sort of skimmed over the event until that re-reading.

Mountain Meadows was a part of the old Spanish Trail and later part of the California Trail. In 1857, a group of emigrants from Arkansas was attacked by the Mormon militia leading to the murder of 120 emigrants.

When I decided to make my trek to Washington through western Utah, one of the first non-hikes to make it onto my itinerary was a stop at Mountain Meadows (a National Historic Landmark, as of 2015).

Sprocket and I made our way to Mountain Meadows from Cedar City and walked around the cairn monument and then around the field to the west of the monument. My understanding of the event was still sort of superficial but it was still really sobering to be in a spot where over a 100 people had lost their lives.

I didn’t think to order a book focused on the massacre until too close to my departure date so I had Massacre at Mountain Meadows by Ronald W. Walker, Richard E. Turley, and Glen M. Leonard delivered to my mom’s house. I was really glad to delve into a more complete description of the events of the day than I’d had previously so I found the read worthwhile.


But.

All three authors of this account are part of the Latter Day Saints (LDS) church. The book admittedly leaves an account of the aftermath of the attack, and what some would call a coverup, “to another day.” It also seems quick to acquit Brigham Young and other church leaders in Salt Lake City.

While I tried to put my finger on what was such a let down about this book, I read through some Goodreads reviews and had to nod heartily when someone suggested that having a single non-Mormon author would have helped address the culpability of the church as a whole.

This book did, however, make me wish I had taken the time to visit the Women & Children’s Memorial Site and the Men’s Memorial Site. When I drove by, I found the separation distasteful but when I finished Massacre at Mountain Meadows, I learned that the separation was historical in nature.

In an attempt to remedy my uneasiness with Massacre at Mountain Meadows,  I ordered a copy of Juanita Brooks’s seminal 1950 book The Mountain Meadows Massacre. Juanita Brooks was also part of the LDS church, however after the publication of her book about the massacre she was estranged from the church (yet not excommunicated).

Brooks’s book feels less readable to me but also feels less willing to simply let LDS leadership off the hook and pin responsibility for the Massacre on those in the southern part of Utah. Brooks does an excellent job in sharing the source material for her research (my copy is a 4th edition) so readers can better draw their own conclusions.

The Mountain Meadows Massacre is a weird chapter in American history. It seems abundantly clear, no matter which account you read, that white people belonging to the LDS church, tried to pin the attack on Native Americans and that innocent victims (who may or may not have poked a stick at the Mormon settlements but definitely didn’t deserve what they got).

Sevier County Highpoint: Fish Lake Hightop

This hike kicked my butt. I don’t think it should have been that hard but it was.

Sprocket and I started hiking at Pelican Overlook (where we could totally have stealth camped for free, but, alas).

I tried to stick to my heart rate goals for training and it was taking us a realllllyyyy long time. The canyon wasn’t particularly interesting and just headed up through trees. Somehow, I had missed this key point from the Summit Post page: “Keep heading up the canyon, until you reach a signed junction approximately two miles into the hike. Take a right. Left still goes up to Fish Lake plateau, but goes further west than you want to go.”

That’s the Hightop wayyyy over there:

I definitely went left which lead to a long hike over the top of the plateau. The plateau itself was still pretty evenly covered in 3″ of snow with more in places. Sprocket and I pushed on to the summit area which was covered in boulders in addition to the snow making it slow going for both of us.

We finally made it but that last boulder was a bit much for Sprocket so I left him below me where he made his displeasure very clear. (My mute dog hit some pretty high pitches with that bark-whine.) I signed the trail register, took a selfie and we headed down the hill looking for that elusive right fork…

A look back up at the summit area:

We found it and went on auto pilot for the descent back to the Jeep. Thanks fo the long summer days, we headed on to other goals! Sprocket was tired but he was a champ on our 11+ mile jaunt since it was nice and cool, just like he likes it.

Summer Roadtrip Kickoff: Capitol Reef NP

When school is out, I head out of town. I did it in 2015 with Amanda for an epic Utah and Colorado road trip in Francis Sally Jeep. I begged off work for a couple days in 2016 to acknowledge the beginning of summer. In 2017, I drove to OKC for the Women’s College World Series and had some fun along the way.

This year, I piloted Ruth XJ towards Tacoma to tackle a flooring project for my mom. Since my house is completed, it was time to take care of some family duties. But first: ROADTRIP.

As I planned my route, I had an eye to hitting up some county highpoints. In the interest of expediency, I headed north through Grand Junction before merging onto I-70 and heading west … into a giant rainstorm.

Initially, I’d hoped to hike the Sevier County Highpoint on my departure day but the considering that I could see that weather system had deposited snow at elevations >10,000′, I took full advantage of the fact that I had lots of latitude to do whatever the hell I wanted to. Instead of taking the Forest Service Road cut off from UT-72 to Fish Lake, I continued south to Loa figuring I’d find a coffee shop or something to hang out in before going to make camp. I didn’t really see anything that was striking my fancy.

On top of that, when I hiked the Garfield County, Utah highpoint, Mount Ellen, I’d found myself drawn west to do the highpoint of Wayne County, Boulder Top (sometimes known as Bluebell Knoll), which left me with an eight mile stretch of UT-24 to my west I hadn’t driven. I hate leaving orphan road segments. 

When I’d done Boulder Top, I’d passed through Capitol Reef but not done any exploring so I pointed Ruth east to catch the orphan Loa-Bicknell segment and then cruised on into the Capitol Reef Visitors Center for a little visit. Storms threatened all around but that meant the weather was cool enough for me to leave Sprocket in the car for a little trail run.

I headed up Cohab Canyon for a short adventure. I’d missed the desert. Before I’d left Ridgway, I’d been trying to get out for runs and get in better shape but the going was slow. Instead of fretting about it I soaked in the red rock awesomeness.

After my trail run (or hike or whatever), I headed to Fish Lake. I briefly entertained the idea of having dinner in the adorable vintage lodge but the menu didn’t look particularly alluring (and if I’m totally honest, Utah’s revenge of no liquor license didn’t help) so I headed out to find a camp site.

Word to the wise: the entire Fish Lake area is camping in campgrounds only. I toyed with driving far enough up the basin or back out of the basin far enough to find dispersed camping but instead I decided to suck it up and pay.

It’d been quite awhile since I’d pitched the tent and I think Sprocket had kind of forgotten how cozy it can be.

Bishop Castle

This is one of the weirdest places I’ve ever been.

I was driving along, Colorado Highway 165 and suddenly the speed limit dropped to 35mph at the crest of a hill. Cars were parked along the wide shoulders. A hand-painted sign along the side of an old old truck announced this to be Bishop Castle.

Jim Bishop bought his land in 1959 for $450. He was 15.

In 1969, he built a small stone cottage to live in his wife, Phoebe. About 1971, people began to suggest that Bishop’s ever growing cottage looked a little bit like a castle and he decided to build just that, a castle.

Almost nothing about this place feels safe and everything is bananas. I’ve been on plenty of mountains and in all sorts of precarious places and I don’t usually get vertigo but on the iron pyramid atop of the highest tower in the castle (on the left in the photo below), I felt… not okay.

Cuckoo bananas is the only way I can describe this place. Nothing is finished, most of the windows lack glass, and along the back bit of the grand ballroom where the floor has been exposed to weather, there are missing… bits.

Bishop and his father had owned Bishop Ornamental Iron Works in Pubelo and while the iron work is pretty, in many places it seems a little bit less than secure.

As crazy as this place is, it’s also really cool to see someone really go after something. The Bishops lost their gift shop to a fire this spring and are currently funding the their building effort through donations. Aside from that, however, the castle is totally free to visit.

Greenhorn Mountain: Pueblo County Highpoint

As my EMT class, drew to a close, I went on a mission to have this weekend free of clinicals or of NREMT studying. Although last weekend was mostly obligation free, I did have the Love Your Valley event on the calendar for Saturday. Last weekend, there was nothing I had to do.  I plotted a trip to the east to hike the high points of Pueblo and Las Animas Counties.

Because this spring has been so dry (so dry that some Arizona National Forests and state lands are going to closures already), I didn’t even bother to check the weather. As I drove over Monarch Pass on Friday night, the skies over the Wet Mountains looked black. I was already fairly committed and the weather around Salida didn’t appear to look much better for the next day so I continued on towards Greenhorn Mountain. I headed up Ophir Creek Road about three miles when the driving rain that had started near Westcliffe turned to slushy snow. I decided the wise course of action was to sleep low in case this turned into an epic spring snow since there were 25 miles of gravel between me and the trailhead.

I woke in the morning to partially clearing skies and decided to make a go of it. The gravel road was in really great shape. Any car could make this drive. There were no ruts or large rocks, just a touch of washboard on some steeper sections. In about forty-five minutes, Sprocket and I reached the end of the road and started our hike towards Greenhorn Mountain.

Greenhorn Mountain’s name came from a Comanche warrior named Tabivo Naritgant, “dangerous man,” who was known by Spanish as Cuerno Verde. Tabivo Naritgant’s Spanish name came from the distinctive green horned headdress that he wore in battle. The warrior was killed by forces lead by Juan Bautista de Anza who had been offered the governorship of New Mexico to deal with the raiding Comanches.

With my recent reading about the history of the west percolating, I ascended the Greenhorn Trail cutting north of Greenhorn Mountain towards North Peak. Initially, I’d planned to just hike Greenhorn slowly cutting across the side of the peak but the trail felt like a much easier way to climb, even if it made the total hike a bit longer.

I know I say this frequently, but Sprocket’s joy on the trail is so sustaining for me. He is such a happy pup with new sniffs and places to explore. Every time I start to think the (old) boy is losing the spring in his step, he surprises me.

We made a quick run from the saddle up to the top of North Peak since it was only 200′ of gain from the saddle. after that, turned to navigating our way south along the ridge to Greenhorn proper. It was a pretty straightforward hike with perfect elevation practice up and downs along the way.

While we were up there, the low clouds broke to show off the southern end of the Sangre de Cristos and the Wet Mountain Valley. The clouds started to form the beginnings of baby thunderheads but nothing seemed to threatening until I was well back down the road toward pavement. Greenhorn Mountain has an elevation of 12,347′ but it’s prominence clocks in at 3,767′ thanks to its status as the high point of the Wet Mountains. (I guess their name actually comes from the amount of snow they receive in the winter not from the fact that I almost got rained out.)

Sprocket lead the final charge up to Greenhorn Mountain like a champ. This dog, man, this dog.

After a quick cuddle on the summit, we headed down to stay in front of the building clouds. We had talus filled hike down the southern face of the mountain to reach the Bartlett trail, an old road, that made for an easy walk back to the car.

Thanksgiving 2017: Montezuma Castle National Monument

This is a continuation of my adventures from Thanksgiving last year. I got distracted with moving into my house sooooo not much got blogged from the trip. 

After having visited Casa Grande National Monument, I gave into the prehistory ruins compulsion and visited Montezuma Castle National Monument in Camp Verde. By this time, I’d decided to just pay for my national parks pass and get on with it.

Montezuma Castle actually allows dogs on the trail! There is just a single paved path that goes along the base of the cliff with the structure but because it is just the one path and because of the extreme temperatures, they allow dogs! It was a touch hot for Sprocket to wait so I was super excited.

The visitors center was smaller than the one at Casa Grande and I was left with a lot of questions about just how the people further north on the Verde were related to the people who had been to their north (ancient Puebloans) and south (ancient Sonorans). This bookstore didn’t have anything I could impulse buy to bolster my knowledge of the Sinagua people so I’m currently accepting suggestions for books about ancient cultures in central Arizona.

It was a super short walk out to the Castle; the toughest part was dodging people on the trail! Apparently it’s part of the post Thanksgiving trek to the Grand Canyon.

We wandered down to Castle A. Apparently, Castle A was even larger than Montezuma Castle during its occupation. The vigas that supported beams to the rock are still visible. However, this castle’s upper floors collapsed and the structure suffered a fire after the end of its occupation.

The National Monument has a second unit at Montezuma Well but I decided to continue north because I had a breakfast date in Moab the next day and I had another few stops in mind.

Thanksgiving 2017: Casa Grande Ruins

So upon perusal of photos uploaded to this site but not attached to posts, I realized that I hadn’t finished blogging about Thanksgiving. (Something about moving into a house?) Thinking way back to my exploration of Bisbee and Tombstone and hike of Chihuahua Peak… 

After a quick stop in Tucson, I headed north towards Phoenix. Along the way I saw a sign for Casa Grande Ruins. I have no idea how many times I’ve gone past the exit near the I-10 and I-17 interchange but this time I was actually wasn’t only not on a schedule but I had some time to kill. I pulled into the visitor center parking lot with the late afternoon sunlight bathing the ruins outside.

My curiosity about these ruins was sort of piqued by having learned more about the history of Native Americans in the southwest (and in the US more generally) over the past year. I basically knew nothing about the ancient Sonoran people and their culture and it seemed like the right time to check it out.

I had a good time chatting with the Ranger inside the visitors center. He’d worked at Bent’s Fort and I’d learned a fair amount about Bent’s Old Fort when I read Blood And Thunder. It’s definitely on my “to visit” list. I spent a chunk of time in the visitors center.

I’ve spent enough time in the greater Phoenix area that maps of the Gila canals and other Hohokam sites really grabbed my attention.

Outside, I walked around the plaza surrounding the Great House and took a look at it from several angles. (The Great House is not open to the public.) Casa Grande was the first prehistoric and cultural reserve set aside in the US (it was established in 1892 by Benjamin Harrison). The Great House seems like an improbably large structure to have survived for over 600 years.

Never one to just be content with a “sort of” understanding, I meandered my way back to the visitors center to make a stop in the bookstore. I picked up some “light” reading to connect what little I knew about ancestral Puebloan people to the ancient Sonoran people.

In my last days in the shed, I read this pretty raptly considering its all academic papers from a conference about ancient cultures in the Southwest. I’m sure a lot of the information is a little bit dated as far as current archaeological info goes but I learned a lot and developed a rather burning desire to make it down to Aztec Ruins and Chaco Canyon in the very near future.

As I left, the nice ranger reminded me that if I bought an America the Beautiful pass in the next month that they’d apply my entry fee and I thanked him before heading west to find In-N-Out and a place to get some sleep.

 

The Tale of a Stubborn Dog, or a Dominguez Canyon Run

One of the best things about living in Ridgway is the access to the mountains right along side desert access. After exploring Alta, Katie and I wrapped up her trip to the Western Slope with a visit to Big Dominguez Canyon.

Big Dominguez is one of my favorite spring escapes a little more than an hour north but it is a glorious escape from lingering winter at higher elevations.

Funny story about these Sprocket photos: I tried to leave him in the car. He’d done nine miles with some elevation gain the day before so I thought I probably shouldn’t push old dog too hard. The day was definitely cool so I cracked all the windows and started to run away from the car when he totally lost his cool.

If you’ve met my dog, he’s kind of a mute. He might whine a little when he is excited but he definitely doesn’t yelp, bark, cry, and make a giant fuss. Except, apparently when you try to leave him behind when going for a run next to a river. Just like the wrapped around his paw dog mom I am, I relented and let him come. I figured if he lost steam, I’d turn around and let Katie finish the run without me.

He never lost steam. I underestimated the invigorating effects of a river bath followed by a sand roll for my old pup.

Katie, bless her heart, didn’t judge me (at least audibly) for giving in to him and commented that I’m the chillest dog mom for just letting him be dirty. What can I say, I’m a sucker for the old boy. ♥

Photos courtesy Katie Sealer. (Sprocks also made several appearances on her Instagram, including in her profile picture because he’s the best.)