[Day 2] Pyro of the Panamints

The little pyro in me has had my eye on these mountains for a long time. I’m happy to say I find myself in the Panamints; something about this desolate, striated landscape captured my heart from boyhood.

This short, rugged range forms the western wall of Death Valley and blockades Death Valley from Panamint Valley. The little resort/trailer park of Panamint Springs lies on the otherside of this enduring climb over the Panamints.

Oddly, I’ve come to a realization — and our world of people is obviously a relative scale — that I am quite “fringe” and/or “edgy.” I guess this comes on the heals of commentary from a number of folks. Now, I don’t see myself as unique at all, not do I think all too highly of myself. I’ve always sort of struggled with being contented in my endeavors and myself, evidenced by reaching a terminus to ask what’s next and who I am and why I do what I do. End of the day, I’ll just sum myself up to be a confused kid with a bit of grit. I’m not afraid to burn everything down and build it all again — whatever that might be: my career, my worldly views, my relationships, my physicality, my spirituality. If something survives the fire, then it’s likely meant to be. I am a little pyro — metaphorically and literally. And today, I find myself in the Panamints. I promise I won’t go burning anything down. But, that is partly the motivation of this hike: to take the hollow aluminum can that has been drained of its desirable sugary contents, smash it down real good, throw it in the furnace, purify it. Heck, maybe it becomes some aerospace grade aluminum. Or, perhaps I’m just recycled into another can. All part of the journey I guess.

Anyway, let’s recover from that poor analogy and get back to this excursion.

Today, started on a ridge that is a finger of the Panamint Crest. This was the steepest hiking of my life. And, slow going — like half-a-mile-per-hour slow going. I grinded gears along ridge lines, through surprisingly dense pines and junipers, switchback sliding slate fields, and griped to shrubbery on the final ascent up to the Panamint Crest. A tenth of a mile from the top of the crest (note, a tenth of a mile is taking 15-20 minutes to hike with this grade), I drop my water bottle and it fell a tenth of a mile down the mountainside. Shit. I couldn’t lose a water bottle in the middle of Death Valley. Backtracking…

Anyhow, I eventually took the beautiful Panamint Crest. What a view, 282 feet below sea level at the bottom of Death Valley to the east and the peak of Whitney at some 14,500 feet to the west. One of my favorite viewpoints I come to. And, I was amongst some of the oldest bristlecone pine trees in the world atop. I decided to skip the additional mile or so to the top of Telescope. This mission needs continual forward progress if I want a chance at Whitney.

I started following the trail along the Panamint Crest to the north, heading towards another ridge where I’d drop off trail down into Tuber Canyon. Along the way, I came across a group of women heading towards the peak of Telescope. I could barely hear them, but they asked if it got anymore windy. I said yes. They got scared and said they’d turn back. I didn’t think it was that bad… Yes, crazy windy. But, not showstopping. Again, I guess I’m fringe.

I hauled my way to get down in elevation into the canyon. I dropped pretty quick, but also beat up my legs pretty good along the way. I make it to the start of Tuber Canyon, and came upon a very light trickle of water from snow melt. Just my luck!

The start down Tuber Canyon started as a jump from side to side of a narrow, steep canyon without any trail. Eventually, it opened up into off trail wash walking, and that made it more manageable. Tuber Canyon… that canyon went forever. I removed reading about its extent. And, they did not lie. I found water along the way out, and a lot of donkey scat. But, no burros! I’m going to find those burros.

Tuber Canyon was a walk of eventually… and eventaully… I exited the mouth of the canyon, signified by a rusting car frame and out mine camp. 

From here, I used dirt roads and cross country routes to cut across the desert to Trona Wildrose Road, where I cached water for myself. When I made it, I took my dinner — a rehydrated spaghetti, downed about a gallon of water and some energy drink, and headed off further into the dark towards the rest stop Panamint Springs. Quickly, I came across a pack of eyes in the dark, lit up by my headlamp. The donkeys! The burros! Them wild burros are strong, resilient creatures. They were brought to Death Valley to haul equipment and supplies for mining camps. They were original introduced to the American southwest by Spanish explorers in the early 1800’s, but these residents are likely remaining tribes from mining logistics of the late 1800’s to mid 1900’s.

I was following some unnamed two track, and after maybe 10 miles, I decided to cut cross country more directly to Panamint Springs. This brought me across a desert playa. And, after over a 30 mile day,  I decided to call this peaceful, flat, quiet playa home for the night. A nice cowboy camp was pitched. Boy, I had no idea about the night ahead… You have to be a little pyro for this stuff.

Signing off,

Zeppelin