Blog

  • Pilot Rock – San Bernardino Mountain Range

    Pilot Rock, Pilot Knob–I’m certain there is some kind of argument going on for what the proper name is; but the operative word is ‘Pilot.’ I’ve seen this peak from the highlands way out in the desert, however, it comes plainly into view along the Mojave River southwest of Barstow. Pioneers along the Old Spanish Trail, and later, the Mormon Road to California, would use this point to guide them from the low riverbed to the top of the Cajon Pass to begin the descent to their hard-earned destination.

    Pilot Knob, Pilot Rock, San Bernardino Mountains
    Pilot Knob, San Bernardino National Forest
  • Death Valley Scotty …

    Better than True Stories of the Mojave Desert:

    Death Valley Scotty preferred mules over horses. “Mules were smart, horses were stupid,” he’d openly claim. To illustrate his point he told of one very hot summer day when he was riding a horse next to a cornfield. He’d say, “It was so hot the corn began to pop. Well, that horse was so stupid he thought it was snowing and froze to death.”

    ~ True Story!

  • Cyrena Dustin Merrill – Part II

    continued from – Part I

    Accordingly, I left home and went to reside in the family of elder Alexander Stanley, who was an old acquaintance and neighbor. He was like a father to me and there I lived until I gathered with the Saints in Missouri.

    A few nights before we started for Missouri, I went to my father’s house and I talked with all of them. My father and mother cried and begged me not to go, even until late into the night; when they found pleading was of no avail, they tried hiring me to stay, and when that also failed, father said he would follow me and have me arrested and brought back by a process of the law. We all then retired and in the morning early father went away for he could not say goodbye.

    As I was leaving the house, I turned back at the door and bore a papal testimony to the truth of the gospel; and that was the last time I ever saw any of my father’s family (except Sylvenus who passed through Utah on his way to Montana in 18__).

    I was strongly impressed that my going was not only for my own salvation before that of the family also; yet at that time I little realized in just what manner this might occur, and in fact never did thoroughly understand, until the work for the dead was revealed. It was a source of great satisfaction to me to know that I stood in a position to do a work for them which would give them the privilege of accepting in the Spirit world, the gospel which was neglected in this. In April, before starting to Psion, I, with Brother Stanley’s family, went to a Blessing meeting held at the house of brother Sears, in Randolph, Ohio, a few miles from where we then lived, and received a Patriarchal Blessing under the hands of Joseph Smith Sen. (the first one who held the office of Priesthood and Patriarch in this dispensation.)

    My blessing has been a great comfort to me in the trials which I have had to pass through and it also assisted to give me the necessary faith, courage and fortitude to make this sacrifice of leaving home and friends and to start out alone in the world to fight the battle of life among strangers. I went forth trusting in the Lord, in full faith that he would give me grace sufficient to overcome all obstacles and difficulties which might be thrown in my way, and that I might endure to the end.

    In September following we left our homes and commenced our wearisome journey – with Alexander Stanley as leader. His family, his father and family, three of his brothers in law – Sam Kent, Brother Sears and Brother Ellsworth – and their families and myself; all in one wagon.

    We started early in the morning and were fearful that father would stop us, for we had to pass his house, but as we neared home we saw the hand of the Lord in causing a dense fog to envelope the house until after we had passed; we could not see even the signboard at the street door.

    We traveled on unmolested until noon — when they stopped to rest the horses. I, being fearful of fathers overtaking us, walked on with Sister Kent, but in her haste and anxiety we got on the wrong road; after walking some distance, we inquired and found the right one — but now our minds were more anxious than ever, being afraid we would miss our friends altogether as from fresh tracks in the road we knew that they were ahead of us. We walked as fast as we could but my strength was failing and finally the worry and exertion proved too much for me, and I laid down by the roadside completely exhausted and frightened lest father would still overtake us. Sister Kent sat by me, encouraging me and comforting me and together we pray that someone might return for us, for we dreaded passing the night by ourselves.

    While we were resting the company had gone on to New Portage and unloading goods to go by water; then not finding us there, they brought back the wagon to meet us. With renewed faith because our prayers were answered we got into the wagon and went on to New Portage where we made our camp and I slept out of doors for the first time in my life.

    continued

  • Cyrena Dustin Merrill – Part I

    A Sketch in the Life of Cyrena  Dustin Merrill as Given by Herself
    (Courtesy of the descendants of Cyrena Dustin Merrill)

    I, the daughter of Seth Dustin and Betsy Redfield, was born January 6, 1817, in Genesee County, New York. My father, with his family, moved into Ohio, portage County when I was a bout a year old, where you lived until after I left home. I never had good health and was never expected to do anything around the house but all the family waited on me. I first heard the gospel when about 19 years old and believed and embraced it later, going into the waters of baptism in March 1837 – Elder James Emmett officiating.

    I am the only one of my father’s family that ever embraced the gospel; yet I know that my father believed, and had it not been for some unwise conduct in one of the Elders who my father had befriended and assisted, he probably would have been baptized at the same time I was. My brothers and sisters were greatly mortified at my joining the church and as long as I lived at home I had to endure their persecutions.

    Sometimes during the summer of 1837, I visited Kirkland and viewed the temple; the first one reared by command and under the direction of the living God in this generation. It would be difficult to describe my feelings while going through that edifice where the Savior and holy Angels had appeared to the servants of God. Truly I felt like thanking God that my mind had been enlightened and that I had been permitted to embraced the gospel and partake of its blessings.

    I remained at home during the coming winter, but the spirit of gathering seem to come upon the Saints about that time and I felt I could not be left behind and so determined to go with them to Missouri. This was a severe blow to my father, who had sympathize with me from the beginning, and when he found that I was determined to go he requested me to leave home immediately, that he might become reconciled to the separation before I left entirely; his real motive was a hope that I might become so homesick that I would give up the idea of going with the Saints and return home to stay.

    continued

  • Dirty, Thirsty and Half-Baked Hiker Conquers Death Valley

    July, 1966

    Dirty, bearded and nearly done to a turn, Jean-Pierre Marquant staggered yesterday to the end of what you might call a cooked tour — a 102 mile hike through boiling Death Valley.

    Hiker conquers Death Valley
    JEAN PIERRE MARQUANT

    “I’m happy it’s over,” said the footsore and weary Frenchman.

    He was taken to Death Valley National Monument headquarters at Furnace Creek and left shortly thereafter for Los Angeles.

    Friends who met him as he finished said he appeared in good physical condition, except for swollen, blistered feet and a mighty thirst.

    The 28th-year-old former paratrooper began his walk last Wednesday, announcing he still wanted “to show there is still adventure in the States.”

    But he lost his cool during a week of air temperatures that shimmered between 115 and 135° and ground temperatures as high as 190–so hot his shoes burned off.

    Uncounted dozens of men have died in the long, salt-bottomed Valley — the lowest, hottest, driest spot in the U.S. – since white men first found it in 1849.

    Marquant carried an umbrella and wore a 10 gallon hat. He also wore three T-shirts and three pairs of socks to preserve body moisture as much as possible, and kept his mouth filled with damp gauze to prevent it from becoming parched.

    His hiking ensemble also included blue-tinted glasses, gloves, short pants and tennis shoes, which were burned to shreds by the searing sand and rocks. He was forced to protect his feet with socks and gauze.

    Marquant was met daily by a support truck that furnished him with water, watermelon, soft drinks and clothing.

  • Moorehouse Mine

    Updated Moorehouse Talc Mine near Ibex Springs, Death Valley National Park..

    http://digital-desert.com/moorehouse-mine/

  • Ashford Mill – Death Valley

    Ashford Mill – Death Valley
    In 1910, Harold Ashford began work in the former claims of the Keys Gold Mining Company. In the mountains to the east Ashford and his brother worked the mine for four years without striking results. They leased the mine to B.W McClausland and his son Ross which led to the

    Photo of Ashford Mill, Death Valley National Park
    Ashford Mill – Death Valley
  • Maps

    I had a year to prepare but didn’t  take advantage of it–Google changed the way the interface to their maps worked.  No big deal though–there are plenty of examples for me to work from now, so it is just a matter for changing the code.  Time consuming at the worst.

    Digital Desert Maps with Satellite and Terrain Overlays
    barstow-map-screen-shot

  • John C. Fremont

    “From the ashes of his campfires have sprung cities.”
    ~ Jessie Benton Frémont:

    John Charles Fremont (1813-1890), nicknamed “the Pathfinder” in recognition of his groundbreaking expeditions to map the American West. An amazing explorer, controversial soldier, and a failure as a Civil War general, politician, and a businessman.

    Explorer John Charles Fremont
    John C. Fremont

    John Charles Frémont

  • Cloud Racing …

    Saddleback Butte State Park (from the back side)- Closed for the summer, open on weekends in the fall and winter.

    As much as I don’t care for broad daylight photography, this one is a cool bit of a memory. The cloud raced along side for the next 30 miles into Lancaster. No big deal, just a cool memory.

    photo of Saddleback Butte, California State Park
    Saddleback Butte State Park
  • Trona Pinnacles – Favorite Places

    Favorite Places – Trona Pinnacles:
    At one time, geologically speaking, not long ago, the Mojave had many large lakes fed by water from glacial melting. The Pinnacles show the most obvious evidence of this with its tufa towers extending to where the surface of the water once was.

    Photo of Trona Pinnacles, Searles Dry Lake, Trona, California
    Trona Pinnacles, Searles Dry Lake
  • The Mojave A to Z (Antelope Valley to Zion)

    The Mojave High Desert is one desert rather than a series of separate entities- That we are the same through the diversity that binds us. By becoming aware of our combined identity, we may be able to appreciate, and better understand issues affecting our Mojave Desert on a holistic level. In this presentation we meander back and forth across the Mojave Desert in photographs to illustrate this concept.

    Map of the Mojave Desert
    The Mojave – Antelope Valley to Zion

     

  • Rose Quartz & Rice Grass

    I’m not sure about the composition of the Kelso Dunes in the Mojave Preserve. The link I provide in the following states that the dunes are from different sources, stacked together. Now, I have a freind that seems more than knowledgeable about these things, and he told me the dunes were made primarily of rose quartz. That he had taken a microscope to the dunes once and examined a sample of the sand grains. He told me these grains of sand were curiously perfectly spherical, and that may account for the ‘booming’ quality of the dunes.

    Maybe they are from several different sources as the link claims. I’m not a geologist or expert in eolian forces. It’s all interesting to me, but for now I’ve chosen to run with saying the dunes are composed generally of rose quartz. Why? Well, because it sounds cool, and, because I can.

    photo of Kelso Sand Dunes
    Kelso Dunes in the Mojave National Preserve
  • Doctor Dave

    And now, a word from our sponsor …

    Doctor Dave’s Medicine Tonic and Elixir — Good for what ails you, bad for what don’t. Now available in paper bags, and, without a pesky prescription!!! Cash only. No checks, credit cards or promissory notes.

    Medicine Show wagon
    YummMMMmmmMM! Good for whatever….
  • Old Woman Springs

    in 1857 Col. H. Washington came through the Johnson Valley surveying the San Bernardino Baseline and documenting the biology of the desert. The party saw an old woman at the spring, most likely left behind with the children while the rest of the clan were in the mountains hunting game and gathering pinon nuts. By the time the surveyors made it to the spring, everyone was gone. They named the springs, Old Woman Springs.
    Photo of original Old Woman Spring in Johnson Valley, CA

  • Winnenap

    “… But there was never any but Winnenap’ who could tell and make it worth telling about Shoshone Land. And Winnenap’ will not any more. He died, as do most medicine-men of the Paiutes.
    Mary Austin, Land of Little Rain

    Where the lot falls when the campoodie chooses a medicine-man there it rests. It is an honor a man seldom seeks but must wear, an honor with a condition. When three patients die under his ministrations, the medicine-man must yield his life and his office.”

    ~ M. Austin – Land of Little Rain – Shoshone Land

  • Desert People – Bob Reynolds

    Bob Reynolds, the one-time earth sciences curator for the San Bernardino County Museum and lifelong explorer of the geology and paleontology of the Mojave Desert is the only dude I know that has had a mineral named after him–reynoldsite.

    In this shot Bob is talking about fossil deer tracks and how they may have come to be at this undisclosed location in the Mojave Desert millions of years after they were made.
    Bob Reynolds
    Geology icon immortalized with mineral:
    http://www.pe.com/articles/mineral-652961-reynolds-kampf.html

     

  • From the Journal of Jedediah Smith

    “During my absence one of my Indian guides who had been imprisoned was released by death and the other was kept in the guard house at night and at hard labor during the day having the menial service of the guard house to perform. I took a convenient opportunity to speak to the Father in his behalf he told me he would do all in his power for his release.”

    ~ Journal of Jedediah Smith – 1826

  • A Strange Effect

    Often I have spent three, four days in the desert alone, without even seeing another human being. I love the solitude, the brush with loneliness. I don’t talk to myself. I already know what I’ll say in response. The silence, and then the wind, it’s soothing, I relish it.

    And I’ll leave to return to my little civilization, anxious for an interaction with my fellow man. A word, a smile, I’ll go into a store, a matter of convenience. I fix myself a cup of coffee. go to the counter and grin like an idiot. The clerk asks, “Will there be anything else for you today?” I shake my head from side to side. I do not care for the first word out of my mouth to be “No.”

    I pay and the clerk says, “You have a nice day.”

    I’m still grinning like an idiot.

    I go to say, “Yes, thank you, and you too.”

    My lips form the first word, but nothing comes out. My vocal chords are relaxed from not being used. Nothing comes out but a small, deep rumbling building up as I continue. I finish with the word, “… too” in a dark tone, about four octaves deeper than usual.

    I still have that foolish grin on my face.

    The clerk has a puzzled look on his.

    I flash him a ‘thumbs up.’ Then with one hand I act like I’m ‘signing’ something to him.

    He still has that puzzled look.

    I still have that stupid grin.

    I go out the door–embarrased.

    I get in the truck and try to sing “Sherry” by Franki Valli, in a high voice as I’m driving down the road. It comes out bizarre and awkward. It’s like the reverse effect of helium. It cracks me up.

    And I still have that grin on my face.

    ~w

  • Hesperia, California

    Photos of Hesperia, in the Victor Valley

  • The Day I Found GOLD!

    Check this out–I think it’s gold. The piece of quartz is very heavy for its size, and it sure looks like gold to me. I doubt it’s pyrite (fool’s gold). I’ll have an expert look at it next time he comes around, or I go over there. Until proven otherwise, that’s my story.

    picyure of gold in quartz
    Quartz with streak which might be gold, might not too!

    I’ve always been a bit leery of finding gold, so I don’t pay all that much attention. I figure if I found some I’d get the ‘fever’ and be good for nothing always looking for more. I like what I do out there and would rather keep doing it than be possessed by a never-ending search for the illusive yellow metal- That’s what happens sometimes.

    So when I picked this up I brought it home and threw it in a box. That was more than a few years ago. I forgot all about it until going through the whatnot I keep in the darkest recesses of my patio.

    I dragged the box out of the corner and looked inside. There it was. I picked it up and, man, was it heavy! I blew the dust off, got it a bit wet, and could see a somewhat speckled streak through it. “That’s gold,” I thought.

    It has been so long since I found it, and I know that wherever I picked it up, it was legal for me to do so. Just can’t remember where I got it. I do remember there was plenty more of it where I found it–that stuff was laying all over the place! This was the smallest piece.

    So, somewhere out there is a tiny fortune in gold, just laying there on the dirt. Amazing. I’m glad I can’t remember where I found it though. I still would rather take pictures than look around for rocks that would eventually break my heart not being what I thought they were.

  • And So On …

    A sunny clearing in the brush; Papa Quail cautiously steps into the edge, and again to survey the surroundings for movement, for the eyes of a predator or sign of danger. Several seconds the bird is motionless. Papa chirps and sends the high sign. Then a diminished brood, what was once six, or seven, or eight, follows–charges across the clearing with Mom Quail bringing up the rear. The children rush to the edge and frantically search for seeds, small bugs, nourishment for their tiny, rapidly growing bodies. Momma carefully watches the rear. Papa scouts ahead. And so on, and so on, and so on …

    Quail in the Mojave Desert
    Quail on the march …

  • The Hibernater

    Hard Rock Shorty of Death Valley

    Hard Rock Shorty was in a talkative mood, and the dudes lolling on the leanto porch in front of the Inferno store were making the most of it. They plied him with questions and
    Shorty always had an answer that amused them.

    “The laziest man I ever know’d was slower than a sand dune on a calm day,” Hard Rock  was saying.

    “Pisgah Bill an’ me found this feller sittin’ in his old jalopy which looked as if a flock o’ 17- year locusts had nested in it fer two seasons.

    “We asked him where he wuz goin’. ‘Nowheres,’ he said. ‘Don’t need nothin’ so why should I be bustlin’ around Iookin’ fer somethin’. Got a can o’ water an’ a box o’ eggs. Yu don’t need much to eat and drink if yu don’t move much,’ he splained.

    “I seen he wuz parked right in the path o’ one o’ them marchin’ sand dunes, an’ I warned him he’d better not stay there too long ’cause a big wind storm’d bury
    him.

    ” ‘Let ‘er march,’ he says. ‘If camels and tortoises can live buried in the sand, so can a
    superior bein’ like man.’

    “Me and Pisgah figgered we’d done all we could fer the crazy galoot, and we went on an’ left him sittin’ there with his box o’ eggs. It wuz five weeks before we came back that way agin, an’ there wuz that same good-fernothin’ sittin’ in the same spot where we left him. That sand dune had marched right over him and wuz jest leavin’ an the ol’ feller wuz shakin’ the sand outta his hair.

    “He told us he wuz- glad things happened the way they did. He’d had a nice long rest. He’d proved that man is as good as them hibernatin’ things like turtles, an’ that box of eggs had hatched out the finest batch o’ fluffy little chickens yu ever seen — which wouldn’t ‘ave happened if he had et the eggs in the first place.

    ” ‘Sure beats gallopin’ around the country,’ he says.”

    – Desert Magazine – Jan. 1958

  • Milt Stark – A Flower-Watcher’s Guide to Wildflowers of the Western Mojave Desert

    I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Milt several times.  His guide was the first book I bought describing wildflowers in the Mojave.  Very simple and straight forward I also learned quite a bit about the way people perceive color differently from one another.

    Written for people with no botanical knowledge who are curious about the names of wildflowers, this book is beautifully illustrated with 214 full-color photos arranged by color of flower. Each photo refers the reader to the text description of the flower, which includes the common and botanical name, areas where it is found, and possible uses by Native Americans and pioneers. Over 187 of the most common and significant wild plants found in the western Mojave Desert and bordering foothills and canyons are included. This guide should be in the glove box of every Southern Californian who ever vowed to take a ride out to the Antelope Valley to see the wildflower blooms. (Amazon)

    If you are interested in a copy of this or other quality desert books, I recommend buying them through the Mojave River Valley Museum in Barstow, CA.  Your purchase means so much to such a worthy cause.

    MVRM Book list

    A Flower-Watcher's Guide
    Milt Stark

  • August Updates

    Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad

    The Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad (T&T) operated between 1905 and 1938 servicing mines and communities along a route which extended north from Ludlow, California…

    http://mojavedesert.net/railroads/tonopah-and-tidewater/

  • Everett Ruess

    The story of a Boy who just Disappeared one day …

    Everett Ruess was not the first human being to vanish in the grim desert wilderness—nor is it likely he will be the last. But because of the unusual character of this young man and the strange circumstances of his disappearance, there still remains after four years of fruitless search a widespread interest in this desert mystery.

    Say that I kept My Dream

     

  • Coincidence, or What?

    According to the Mojave Desert Dictionary:

    The Sam Houston No. 1 Mine: A silver mine in the Calico Mountains that was discovered  by Hugh Stevens and sold to a Mr. Johnson, who then sold it to two Frenchmen for $40,000. They changed the name to Blackfoot Consolidated No.1 Mine.

    Then, oddly enough:

    The Sam Houston No. 2 Mine: A silver mine in the Calico Mountains that was discovered  by Hugh Stevens and sold to a Mr. Johnson, who then sold it to two Frenchmen for $40,000. They changed the name to Blackfoot Consolidated No.2 Mine.

    And to further complicate matters …

    The Sam Houston No. 3 Mine: A silver mine in the Calico Mountains that was discovered  by Hugh Stevens and sold to a Mr. Johnson, who then sold it to two Frenchmen for $40,000. They changed the name to Blackfoot Consolidated No.3 Mine.

    Mysterious, or what?

     

  • Lost City

    Burrowing into the sandhills of Southern Nevada, archeologists have uncovered the homes and utensils of a thriving Indian civilization which existed 300 or 400 years before Columbus discovered America. Now the rising waters of Lake Mead are about to submerge the Lost City and remove it permanently from the field of research. But in the meantime the men of science have uncovered a wealth of interesting facts about these ancient tribesmen. The highlights of their discoveries are presented in this story by Johns Harrington, son of the archeologist in charge of the excavations.

    Lost City of the Ancients to Vanish Again in Lake Mead

  • The Desert

    The desert . . .“reveals its true character only to those who come with courage, tolerance, and understanding.

    For those, the desert holds rare gifts.”

    ~ Randall Henderson – On Desert Trails

  • Horse Party

    Buffalo Bull, sends in this Red Mountain Story.

    A horse walks into a bar - Harry Oliver's Desert Rat ScrapbookA stranger tied his horse at the rail near the window of Slim Riffle’s Owl Cafe, and left to look over the crop of tomatoes. The horse put his head through the window and asked for a martini with a dash of horseradish. The bartender mixed it and handed it to him. The horse drank it smacking his lips.

    “I suppose it strange,” said the horse, “that I should ask for a martini with horseradish in it.”

    “Hell, no, said the bartender, “I like it that way myself.”

    Harry Oliver’s Desert Rat Scrapbook