Bodie’s Notoriety

Timeline of major violent events and notorious moments in Bodie, California’s wild history — a town so lawless it earned a reputation as one of the roughest mining camps in the West:

1876 – Bodie’s Boom Begins
The Standard Mine strikes gold. Prospectors flood in, and Bodie transforms from a quiet camp into a booming town — and with it comes gambling, saloons, opium dens, and gunslingers.

1879 – Peak Population, Peak Violence
Bodie hits its peak with around 7,000–10,000 residents. That year alone, it’s said there were 30+ murders, many tied to gambling disputes and drunken shootouts. The phrase “Bad Man from Bodie” enters widespread use.

1879 – Tom Treanor Kills a Man in a Saloon
After a heated argument during a card game, Treanor guns down another miner in a crowded bar. He was arrested but later released after a murky trial. The town shrugs it off — just another night in Bodie.

1880 – Gunfight on Main Street
A broad daylight gunfight erupts between rival gamblers. Two men are killed, and several bystanders are wounded. This kind of event is common enough that locals don’t even bother locking their doors — they’re used to chaos.

1881 – James Stuart Lynched by a Mob
Caught robbing a stagecoach, Stuart is jailed in Bodie. That night, a group of vigilantes breaks in and hangs him from a telegraph pole. His body dangled for hours — a message to other would-be criminals.

1882 – Red Irwin Walks Free After Killing a Man
“Red” Irwin shoots another gambler in the back during a dispute. Witnesses testify, but the case is dismissed on a technicality. Irwin boasts about it in saloons afterward, reinforcing Bodie’s anything-goes culture.

1883 – Deputy Sheriff Shot in Line of Duty
Deputy John Kelly is killed while trying to break up a bar fight. His murder is never solved. By this point, even lawmen hesitate to enforce order in Bodie.

1884 – Town Begins to Decline
Mines starts to dry up. Many “bad men” drift elsewhere. But Bodie’s violent legend is cemented, passed down through newspapers, dime novels, and the stories of old-timers.

1915 – Bodie Officially a Ghost Town
The post office closes. Fires, neglect, and time erase most of the town — but its violent, freewheeling legacy lives on.

Opening the “Bullion Trail” (1860s–1880s)

Remi Nadeau and the Cerro Gordo Freight Road: Opening the “Bullion Trail” (1860s–1880s)

Origins of the Cerro Gordo Freight Road

The story of Remi Nadeau’s freight road begins with the rich silver strikes at Cerro Gordo in the late 1860s. Cerro Gordo (“Fat Hill” in Spanish) was a remote mining camp high in the Inyo Mountains of eastern California, overlooking Owens Lake. Rich veins of silver-lead ore were discovered there around 1866–1868, attracting investors like Mortimer Belshaw and Victor Beaudry. These mine owners faced an urgent challenge: transport heavy silver bullion (smelted silver and lead ingots) from the isolated mountaintop to the distant markets and refiners in Los Angeles. At first, only primitive trails existed. Belshaw financed and built a steep toll road down the mountain – the “Yellow Grade Road,” named for the yellowish rock it cut through – to facilitate moving ore out. Even with that local road, the journey from Cerro Gordo to Los Angeles was an arduous three-week trek by wagon. In December 1868, Belshaw and Beaudry hired a skilled freighter, Remi Nadeau, to haul their bullion to Los Angeles. Nadeau dispatched 32 mule-team wagons that carried about $50,000 of silver and lead each day (in 1868 dollars) down the Yellow Grade and across the desert.” Cerro Gordo’s mines often produced twice as much ore as freighters could move, creating a bottleneck. The situation demanded a more robust freight system.” The solution would be a dedicated freight road – eventually dubbed the “Bullion Trail” – and Nadeau’s freighting empire would make it a reality.

Remi Nadeau: From Miller to Freight Magnate

Remi Nadeau was an unlikely figure to dominate desert transportation. He emigrated to the United States in Quebec, Canada, in 1821. Nadeau worked as a miller in New England and the Midwest. In 1861, he crossed the plains to Salt Lake City, building several mills before finally moving to Los Angeles. Sensing opportunity in the underdeveloped economy of Southern California, Nadeau borrowed a few hundred dollars from Prudent Beaudry (a Los Angeles real estate man and brother of Victor) to buy wagons and mule teams, launching himself into the freighting business. His first contracts involved hauling goods on a 700-mile route between Los Angeles and Salt Lake City, a round trip that took 35 days. This routine remained profitable until the transcontinental railroad reached Utah in 1868, when it undercut wagon freight.

Nadeau then turned his attention to the booming mining camps of the Mojave Desert and Eastern Sierra, especially Cerro Gordo. In 1868–69, he began hauling silver bullion from Cerro Gordo to Los Angeles. Nadeau introduced the use of long mule teams – often 14 to 20 – to pull heavy bullion over rough terrain. He is credited as the first in California to use 20-mule teams on such a scale. By 1869, Nadeau had become the leading freighter in Southern California. The Cerro Gordo silver trade became the heart of Los Angeles’s economy in the 1870s, making up about a quarter of the city’s total exports. Los Angeles was still a sleepy town, but Nadeau’s mule trains carrying bullion to San Pedro created a wealth stream that fueled local growth.

Developing the “Bullion Trail” – A Road from Cerro Gordo to San Pedro

As freight operations expanded, the 230-mile route to the harbor necessitated improved infrastructure. In 1873, the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce and Cerro Gordo mine owners struck a deal with Nadeau to create a regular freight line. Nadeau agreed that shippers invest $150,000 to improve the route. The company used these funds to construct stations and watering stops, as well as improve roads across the desert and mountains. The organizers formally established the Cerro Gordo Freighting Company that same year. The road from Cerro Gordo to San Pedro became known as the “Bullion Trail” or “Nadeau Road.” This road was not a paved road but a network of tracks and stations that provided consistent bullion transport. Nadeau commissioned 80 heavy wagons, each capable of hauling about four tons. They were pulled by teams of 16–20 mules, making a sight over a hundred feet long. The company established a round-trip schedule of about 22 days, with one-day stretches between stations. At any time, 56 wagons were on the road while others were loaded or maintained. Nadeau’s operation soon had 100 mule teams, the first organized, large-scale freight line in the California desert.

The Route and Major Stops Along the Way

The freight route began at Cerro Gordo, descending the treacherous Yellow Grade Road to the Owens Valley floor. Wagons often had their rear wheels “rough locked” or chained to skids to control the descent. From there, bullion was sometimes ferried across Owens Lake by the steamer Bessie Brady to Cartago. Overland wagons would reconverge at Olancha and head south across the Mojave. Freighters established stations every 15–25 miles, including Coyote Holes, Red Rock Canyon, Forks-of-the-Road, Cow Holes, and Barrel Springs. These stops offered water, feed, corrals, and shelter. Red Rock Canyon provided a scenic route through the El Paso Range. Forks-of-the-Road likely sat at a major junction, and Cow Holes was a known desert watering spot. Wagons eventually entered Soledad Canyon, following the Santa Clara River past Lang Station, an important water stop. From there, they moved through Newhall Pass via Beale’s Cut into the San Fernando Valley. They followed San Fernando Road into Los Angeles. The final stretch went another 20 miles south to San Pedro Harbor. Bullion was refined and loaded onto ships bound for San Francisco and beyond.

Trials and Challenges on the Road

The Bullion Trail was grueling. Summer heat, winter snow, and rough terrain all posed threats. Freighters often had to haul water to the stations, where it was crucial. Teamsters frequently drove at night to avoid the heat. Sandstorms and steep grades were constant hazards. To descend slopes like Yellow Grade, drivers locked wheels and used skids or logs as brakes. Accidents were rare, a sign of the drivers’ skill. Bandits were another risk. Notorious outlaw Tiburcio Vásquez and his lieutenant Cleovaro Chavez robbed travelers, including a holdup at Coyote Holes in 1874. Teamsters traveled with arms, and some convoys used guards. Competition from rival freighters also arose, but Nadeau’s system was well-run and dominant. The operation required hundreds of mules, skilled blacksmithing, and careful logistics. Round trips took 22 days, ensuring a constant flow of bullion and supplies. Despite the hardships, Nadeau’s line earned a reputation for reliability — reportedly, freighters never lost a load of silver in transit.

Impact on the Mining Economy and Los Angeles

Nadeau’s freight line allowed Cerro Gordo’s mines to operate at full capacity. In the early 1870s, the mine produced up to $50,000 in daily bullion. Return trips carried goods and supplies to the miners. At its peak, Cerro Gordo had a population of around 4,000–4,700. Nadeau’s road tied the remote mining camp to the California economy. In Los Angeles, the impact was huge. With fewer than 10,000 people in 1870, the city benefited from the influx of silver. The Cerro Gordo trade accounted for approximately 25% of the city’s export revenue. Local smelters, banks, and merchants thrived, and San Pedro Harbor saw growing shipments. Nadeau himself became one of the city’s wealthiest men. In 1886, he built the Nadeau Hotel, Los Angeles’s first luxury high-rise. He also invested in land, farming, and early industry. The freight road’s success helped promote investment in infrastructure and railroads. By 1876, the Southern Pacific Railroad reached Los Angeles, roughly paralleling the Bullion Trail. In the early 1880s, the Carson & Colorado Railroad reached Keeler near Cerro Gordo, replacing the mule teams. Nadeau had anticipated the change and moved on to other freighting ventures in Arizona and Nevada. His freight company dissolved by 1882.

Decline and Legacy of Nadeau’s Freighting Enterprise

With railroads expanding and silver output declining, the era of mule-team freight faded. Still, Nadeau’s achievement in running a reliable freight line across 230 miles of desert was remarkable. Over 13 years, his wagons moved enormous amounts of freight and bullion. He helped jump-start Los Angeles’s transformation into a commercial hub. Nadeau died in 1887, remembered as a self-made man whose enterprise bridged the desert and tied remote mining to coastal commerce. Early motorists utilized parts of the old road, and wagon ruts marked the route in certain areas.

The Bullion Trail had a permanent impact on Southern California’s economy and geography. Modern highways, such as US 395 and SR 14, follow much of his pioneering route. His legacy lives on in place names, historical markers, and memories of when mules and grit built the roads that carried silver to the sea.

Railroad Across the Mojave

Initially, negotiations between the California Southern and the Southern Pacific over securing a route from Needles to the Pacific Coast proved difficult. The Southern Pacific, which held effective control over the only existing line across the Mojave Desert, was in no hurry to assist a potential rival. The Southern Pacific’s leadership, accustomed to monopolizing rail access into and across California, viewed any arrangement that would aid an eastern competitor with deep suspicion.

Faced with obstruction and unreasonable demands, the California Southern and the Atlantic and Pacific Railroads—both closely tied to eastern capital—announced a bold plan. If the Southern Pacific would not cooperate on reasonable terms, they declared they would jointly undertake the construction of an entirely new and independent railroad across the desert. This proposed line would have paralleled the Southern Pacific’s existing track but remained free of its influence, offering the first serious threat to the Southern Pacific’s dominance over desert transportation.

The announcement was not a mere bluff. Surveys were conducted, routes were studied, and eastern investors, eager to establish a competitive foothold in the California market, were prepared to finance the new line. The specter of competition alarmed the Southern Pacific. It recognized that the construction of a rival road could undermine its existing investments, dilute its control, and establish a permanent eastern presence in southern California on terms not of its choosing.

California Southern Railroad construction in Cajon Pass

To avoid a costly and unpredictable conflict, the Southern Pacific made a calculated decision. In October 1884, it agreed to sell the line between Needles and Mojave—a route built initially by its construction arm, the Pacific Improvement Company. By doing so, the Southern Pacific sidestepped a potential rival and still profited from its investment in the desert.

The transfer was a turning point. With control of the Needles-Mojave line secured, the California Southern could at last resume construction in earnest, repairing flood damage and completing its transcontinental link. By late 1885, trains could run from San Diego to Barstow, and by 1886, the California Southern itself had been acquired by the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway, effectively sealing the eastern invasion into California’s rail market.

California Southern and Atlantic and Pacific Railroad: Timeline with Notes (1880–1886)

  • October 12, 1880 – Charter Granted
    The California Southern Railroad Company is chartered to build a line from San Diego to San Bernardino, opening a new southern route to inland California.
  • May 23, 1881 – Extension Planned
    The California Southern Extension Company is chartered to extend the line northeast to connect with the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, originally aiming for a point about 80 miles from San Bernardino.
  • August 1882 – Reaches Colton
    Track completed to Colton; the line begins to make inroads into Southern Pacific territory.
  • September 13, 1883 – Main Line Opened
    Full operation begins between San Diego and San Bernardino. California Southern faces strong opposition from the Southern Pacific almost immediately.
  • Winter 1883–1884 – Severe Flood Damage
    Torrential rains devastate Temecula Canyon. Thirty miles of track are destroyed, bridges are washed away, and ties are seen floating far out to sea. The company faces ruin unless major repairs are undertaken.
  • Early 1884 – Strategic Setback
    Southern Pacific, exercising influence over the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, forces the eastern connection to be built at Needles on the Colorado River—far beyond the original plan—meaning California Southern must now cross 300 miles of mountain and desert.
  • Mid-1884 – Threat of Independent Construction
    In response, the California Southern and Atlantic and Pacific announce that if necessary, they will build a completely independent railroad across the desert to avoid using Southern Pacific lines. Surveys are ordered, and eastern backers prepare financing.
  • October 1884 – Southern Pacific Relents
    Rather than risk parallel competition, the Southern Pacific agrees to sell the Needles-to-Mojave line to the California Southern Railroad. The Pacific Improvement Company, an entity under the control of Southern Pacific, had built the track.
  • November 1885 – Line Repaired and Completed
    After extensive repairs and new construction, the California Southern opens through service from San Diego to Barstow, near the junction of the Atlantic and Pacific at Needles.
  • October 1886 – Control Transferred to Santa Fe
    The California Southern is formally absorbed into the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway system, becoming part of a major transcontinental route and ending Southern Pacific’s near-monopoly over southern California rail traffic.

The struggles and ultimate success of the California Southern Railroad marked a turning point in the history of Southern California. By securing a route independent of the Southern Pacific’s control, the California Southern, under the wing of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe, opened the region to competition, lower freight rates, and new waves of settlement and development.

No longer isolated or captive to a single powerful railroad, San Diego and the inland valleys could now connect directly to the markets of the East. The great deserts and mountains that had once seemed impassable barriers became corridors of commerce and migration. In many ways, the hard-fought efforts of the California Southern and its allies helped lay the groundwork for the explosive growth of Southern California that would follow in the decades to come. It was a victory not only of rails and capital, but of determination against monopoly and geographic hardship.

Vandalism in the Mojave

Vandalism in the Mojave Desert is a sad and serious problem — one that strikes at the heart of both the land’s natural beauty and its long history. For generations, the desert has been a place where time seems to stand still, preserving ancient petroglyphs, pioneer landmarks, and fragile ecosystems. But in recent decades, careless or malicious acts have left scars that, in some cases, can never be repaired.

Here are a few examples of what has been happening:

  • Graffiti on Rocks and Historic Sites: Ancient petroglyph sites, such as those at Cima Cinder Cones or in the foothills around Ridgecrest, have been defaced with modern spray paint. Some of these rock carvings are thousands of years old, left by Native American cultures who passed through the desert. Once modern graffiti covers them, the original markings can be almost impossible to recover without damaging the rock itself.
  • Destruction of Joshua Trees: Joshua trees, iconic symbols of the Mojave, are often cut down, burned, or knocked over by vandals or irresponsible visitors. These trees take centuries to mature, and once destroyed, they are lost for generations.
  • Abuse of Historic Structures: Old cabins, mining equipment, and stage stops — like those scattered across places such as Panamint Valley, the Old Government Road, or Route 66 — have been broken into, stripped of artifacts, or shot up for target practice. These relics tell the story of the Westward movement, ranching, mining, and early desert survival. Without proper protection and respect, these places vanish.
  • Off-Road Vehicle Damage: Although not always intentional, off-trail driving can damage delicate desert crusts, crush ancient artifacts hidden just beneath the surface, and destroy habitats for rare animals, such as the desert tortoise. Some riders even create unauthorized “tagging” spots with tire tracks or leave behind trash and broken bottles.
  • Campfire and Trash Damage: Illegal campfires scorch desert floors, and piles of garbage left behind by careless visitors mar otherwise pristine spots. Old tires, cans, and broken furniture — all of it doesn’t just look bad; it alters soil chemistry and attracts scavengers that disrupt the natural balance.

In the past, a person’s word and respect for the land meant something — it was understood that you leave no trace. To take from or harm the desert was seen as a mark of poor character, not adventure.

Many local groups today, such as High Desert Keepers, Friends of the Mojave Road, the Mojave Desert Land Trust, and various historical societies, work diligently to restore damaged sites, educate visitors, and promote the traditional values of stewardship and personal responsibility.

It is a reminder that the desert may seem rugged and unchanging, but it is fragile, and when a piece of its story is lost to vandalism, it is lost forever.

Death Valley Railroad

The Death Valley Railroad (DVRR) was a short-line narrow-gauge railroad built to support borax mining in one of the harshest and most remote regions of the American West. Though just 20 miles long, it played a major role in the borax industry during the early 20th century.

Origins and Purpose (1914):
The DVRR was built in 1914 by the Pacific Coast Borax Company, which was transitioning from using massive twenty-mule teams to more efficient rail transportation. The railroad connected the mining town of Ryan, California, located on the western slope of the Funeral Mountains, with the Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad at Death Valley Junction, just across the border in Nevada. This made it easier to haul borax out of the desert and get it to market.

Billie Mine/ Ryan

Construction and Equipment:
The line was narrow gauge (3 feet wide), which made it easier to build in the rugged terrain of Death Valley. The DVRR used two Baldwin-built 2-8-0 “Consolidation” type steam locomotives—No. 1 (built in 1914) and No. 2 (built in 1916)—which pulled ore cars loaded with borates from the mines at Ryan to Death Valley Junction. From there, the Tonopah & Tidewater carried the loads further to the mainline railroads.

Working Conditions:
Life along the DVRR wasn’t easy. The heat was intense, water was scarce, and the terrain unforgiving. Workers lived in company housing at Ryan, where the Pacific Coast Borax Company built a full company town—complete with school, post office, and even a movie theater.

Decline and Closure (1930):
By 1928, the main borax mine at Ryan was exhausted, and by 1930, the DVRR was officially shut down. The equipment, including locomotives and rolling stock, was sold to the United States Potash Company in New Mexico, where they were used in similar work until the 1950s.

Legacy:
Though it operated for only 16 years, the Death Valley Railroad represents a key transition in the desert’s industrial history—from mule teams to steam power. The railbed can still be traced in places, and some of the original structures at Ryan still stand. Today, Locomotive No. 2 is preserved at the Borax Museum in Furnace Creek, while No. 1 is on display in Carlsbad, New Mexico.

The DVRR was a brief but vital chapter in the saga of mining in Death Valley—a rugged little line that conquered heat, grade, and distance in service to the white gold of the desert.

Historical Overview of the Borate & Daggett Railroad

Introduction The Borate & Daggett Railroad, a short-lived yet pivotal narrow-gauge railway, played a crucial role in the borax mining industry in California’s Mojave Desert at the turn of the 20th century. Its impact on the industry and its transition from traditional mule team freight to an efficient rail-based network make it a significant part of mining history.

In 1898, the Pacific Coast Borax Company, led by Francis Marion “Borax” Smith, constructed a narrow-gauge line that ran approximately 11 miles from the railhead in Daggett, California, to the mining camp of Borate near Calico. This railroad aimed to haul colemanite, a borax ore, out of the Calico Mountains, replacing the famous twenty-mule team wagon transports that had carried borax across the desert in the 1890s. The Borate & Daggett Railroad transitioned from traditional mule team freight hauling to an efficient rail-based network. It became a crucial link in a broader system of borax railroads that ultimately extended to Death Valley.

In the late 19th century, miners discovered large borax deposits in California’s deserts. They valued borax for its use in detergents and industrial processes. In 1883, prospectors found a rich colemanite borax deposit in the Calico Mountains. Mining entrepreneur William Tell Coleman, known for operating borax mines in Death Valley and using 20-mule team wagons to haul borax across long desert routes, acquired the claim. Coleman later sold his borax properties to Francis Marion Smith, who formed the Pacific Coast Borax Company in 1890.

By the late 1890s, the Borate mine near Calico produced thousands of tons of ore annually. Initially, borax was transported to the railhead at Daggett by 20-mule teams, a slow and costly process. An attempt to replace the teams with a steam-powered traction engine named “Old Dinah” failed due to the desert terrain, leading to the innovative solution of building a narrow-gauge railroad. This marked a significant transition from traditional mule team freighting to a more efficient rail-based network, reducing costs and modernizing transport.

Construction of the Borate & Daggett Railroad (1898)

The railroad was completed in 1898, running 11 miles from Daggett to Borate through Mule Canyon. It used a 3-foot gauge track with steep grades and trestles to navigate the rugged terrain. Two Heisler steam locomotives, “Marion” and “Francis,” handled the ore trains. A roasting mill was built midway at a Marion site to process the ore before shipment, and a third rail allowed standard-gauge boxcars to be loaded there.

Operations and Infrastructure

The railroad regularly hauled borax ore to Daggett, where workers reloaded it into Santa Fe Railway cars for transport. The system improved efficiency, replacing the mule teams entirely and reducing costs. The mill at Marion roasted and sacked the ore, streamlining shipment by loading directly into standard-gauge cars.

Replacing the Twenty-Mule Teams

The railroad’s completion in 1898 marked the end of the mule team era for borax hauling in the Calico region. Daggett, once a hub for mule teams, evolved into a rail center. The shift to rail transport significantly increased output and reliability for the Pacific Coast Borax Company.

Expansion to Death Valley:

The Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad By 1904, ore quality at Borate declined. Smith turned to the Lila C Mine near Death Valley, discovered richer deposits, and began building the standard-gauge Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad in 1905. By 1907, the new line reached Death Valley Junction, prompting the shutdown of the Borate & Daggett line. Operators relocated all activities north, resulting in the abandonment of the narrow-gauge line.

The Death Valley Railroad, built in 1914, served the new mines at Ryan, CA. It connected to the Tonopah & Tidewater at Death Valley Junction. Equipment from the Borate & Daggett line, including its locomotives, was reused during construction. The Borate & Daggett, Tonopah & Tidewater, and Death Valley railroads formed a network supporting the borax industry across eastern California and Nevada.

Decline and Abandonment

In 1907, they abandoned the Borate & Daggett Railroad, removed the tracks, and relocated or stored the equipment. The Borate mine and camp stood deserted, while Daggett’s narrow-gauge facilities lay unused. Workers later moved a locomotive repair shop from the line to Daggett and repurposed it.

Legacy and Remnants Today

Even though the railroad has been gone for over a century, off-roaders still use the route through Mule Canyon, where you can see remnants of trestles and the old roadbed. Ruins and mine openings still mark the Borate townsite. A historic garage built from the original repair shop still stands in Daggett. Death Valley museums showcase artifacts like Old Dinah and original 20-mule team wagons.

The Borate & Daggett Railroad helped usher in a new era of borax mining, replacing animal transport with rail efficiency. Its brief life laid the groundwork for a more extensive borax rail network, which was crucial in the history of desert mining.

The Story of Garces Rock

In the spring of 1776, while revolution stirred on the East Coast, something quieter, though no less meaningful, was happening far in the West. A Spanish Franciscan missionary, Father Francisco Garces, was on his fifth and final journey into the heart of what is now California.

Guided by Native people and traveling by foot and mule, Father Garces came up through the Antelope Valley, tracing ancient indigenous trails through uncharted territory to Europeans. From there, he pressed on into the San Joaquin Valley, turned east and crossed the rugged mountains near Tehachapi, and continued into the dry interior, heading toward the Mojave River.

During this leg of the journey, near the base of Castle Butte, east of present-day California City, someone in his party left behind a quiet message. Carved into a large boulder was a simple inscription:
“Cura Garces – Abril 1776.”
A trace is left in stone to mark their passage through the high desert.

That rock sat in silence for more than 150 years. Then, around 1935, an old prospector pointed it out to a man named Mike Sanchez, but the story of the stone didn’t go far. Sanchez wasn’t much of a talker, and the tale faded.

Later, in 1963, local historian Glen Settle gave a talk at an elementary school in Lancaster. A teacher there told him about the rock. One of her students—Mike Sanchez’s son—had shared the story, and he even had a hand-drawn map.

Two years later, in 1965, Settle and several other members of the Kern Antelope Historical Society followed that map and found the rock. It had already suffered some vandalism, so the group relocated it to a safe location. They called in a local man with a truck and a sturdy A-frame hoist. With help from a few Air Force sergeants, they carefully transported the rock to the Tropico Gold Camp Museum in Rosamond.

They brought in experts to study it. One priest, an authority on early Spanish California, confirmed that the words and cross were consistent with 18th-century Franciscan markings. The weathering on the carving was old, possibly as old as Garces’ journey.

During the 1976 U.S. Bicentennial, organizers mounted the rock on a traveling display. They showed it at schools and events throughout the Antelope Valley. It was a rare, tangible link between the Mojave Desert and the very year the United States was born.

In 1979, the rock was loaned to the new East Kern Historical Museum in California City, close to where it had first rested centuries earlier.

Then, tragedy struck in the dark hours of February 4, 1981. The museum caught fire. Local fire crews responded quickly, but upon arrival, the wooden structure was already fully engulfed in flames.

At first glance, the Garces Rock seemed to have survived the blaze. But it crumbled into fragments when someone gently touched it the next morning. The heat from the fire, followed by cold water from the hoses, had cracked and fractured the boulder beyond saving—even the carved inscription dissolved into dust.

Firefighters did everything they could. There was nothing left.

What was lost that night wasn’t just a rock. It was a rare and quiet witness to a moment of deep historical significance—when a European missionary followed Native guidance across the mountains, valleys, and deserts of early California.

Father Garces didn’t live long after his desert crossing. He was killed near the Colorado River in 1781, near what is now Yuma, Arizona. But his name still lives on in places like Garces Memorial High School in Bakersfield—built near the spot he once called a “beautiful place for a mission.”

Though the rock is gone, the story remains. It’s kept alive by teachers, old-timers, maps passed down, and folks who care enough to remember. It’s proof that sometimes the desert whispers back—and if you listen closely, you can still hear the footsteps of history echoing through the sand.

Modern Mojave History

The modern history of Mojave Desert communities grew after the mining booms faded and railroads became less of a lifeline. Roughly from the 1940s to now, these places have been redefining themselves—not just surviving the desert but learning how to live with it in new ways.

Here’s how the modern community story unfolds, level by level:

1. Military and Aerospace Transformation (1940s–1960s)

World War II changed everything. The Mojave wasn’t just space—it became a strategic training and testing ground.

  • Camp Iron Mountain and Patton’s Desert Training Center trained soldiers for North Africa.
  • Pilots broke the sound barrier at Edwards Air Force Base, which grew into the heart of desert aviation.
  • China Lake and Fort Irwin brought high-tech military research to places like Ridgecrest and Barstow, drawing families and workers.

These bases turned small desert outposts into full-blown towns with schools, post offices, and diners.

2. Route 66 and the Roadside Era (1940s–1970s)

The desert became part of the great American road trip. Route 66 brought motels, neon signs, gas stations, and diners—places like Victorville, Needles, and Ludlow saw a boom in roadside business.

Families moved in, schools opened, and churches and drive-ins popped up. This was the golden age of “mom-and-pop” America in the desert.

3. Suburban Growth and Retirement Towns (1960s–1990s)

As Southern California’s population exploded, people started looking eastward for cheaper land and quieter lives.

  • Apple Valley, Hesperia, and Pahrump became bedroom communities.
  • Retirees settled in places like Yucca Valley and Desert Hot Springs, drawn by warm weather and low cost of living.
  • Victor Valley Community College, hospitals, and shopping centers brought permanence to areas that once just had a trading post or water tank.

But growth was a double-edged sword—water use soared, and the Mojave’s quiet shrank.

4. Conservation and Cultural Identity (1990s–Present)

As people realized how fragile the desert is, preservation efforts took root.

  • Mojave National Preserve was created in 1994.
  • Groups began restoring historic buildings, like the Kelso Depot and the Apple Valley Inn.
  • Indigenous communities began reclaiming space and stories, renewing ties to sacred sites.

Meanwhile, desert towns started embracing their unique character—ghost town tourism, art festivals, off-road races, and local museums began drawing visitors. The old pioneer spirit didn’t vanish; it just adapted.

5. Today: Challenges and Reinvention

Modern Mojave communities are still small, spread out, and shaped by heat, water, and distance.

Some focus on eco-tourism or renewable energy. Others wrestle with issues like poverty, declining services, or housing. But there’s pride in being from these places. Pride in the toughness it takes to make a home in the Mojave.

The modern story isn’t just one of change—it’s about finding a future while holding onto the past.

Mirages and Whispers: Sensory Isolation in the Mojave Desert

Introduction: The Desert of Illusions Dawn breaks over the Mojave Desert with a hushed reverence. The air is cool and clear, and distant mountains seem deceptively close in the sharp light of early morning. Shimmering heat waves appear on the horizon as the sun climbs, hinting at water that is not there. This land of illusions plays tricks on the eyes and ears. A lone traveler here sinks into the silence and wide-open space, and soon, the mind starts picking up signals most folks usually miss. Shadows at the edge of vision start to move. The senses sharpen. Moreover, sometimes, the line between what is real and imagined blurs.

The Vast Silence and Heightened Senses

One of the Mojave’s most striking features is its deep silence. Away from towns or traffic, the desert can be nearly soundless. In that stillness, the ears strain to find and often invent input. People in extreme quiet sometimes report hearing phantom sounds: faint music, whispers, or even voices. The Mojave is not a sealed room, but the open expanse and quiet air have a similar effect. Cut off from the usual background noise, a lone traveler here sinks into the silence and wide-open space, and soon; the mind starts picking up signals most folks usually miss. Hearing becomes hypersensitive. One may notice their heartbeat or the scrape of a boot echoing off distant rocks. Some desert wanderers describe hearing whispers on the wind—just enough to make some turn their heads.

The visual sense sharpens, too. With little to block the view, a person can see for miles. The eye picks up every flicker of movement, and peripheral vision becomes especially active. A lizard’s dart, the shift of a shadow, and even heat ripples can spark a reaction. At night, stargazers in the desert rely on this phenomenon to spot dim stars: looking slightly away from a faint object makes it more visible. However, this same sensitivity can also create illusions. Many travelers have felt watched, only to find a cactus or rock behind them. In the Mojave, the senses amplify every detail; when the brain cannot make sense of something, it fills in the gaps.

Pareidolia: Faces in the Rocks

The Mojave is a playground for pareidolia—the tendency to see faces or figures in random patterns. Among the weathered boulders of Joshua Tree or the sculpted cliffs of Red Rock Canyon, it is easy to find rocks that look like skulls, animals, or crouched figures. The mind craves familiarity, and light and shadow give just enough shape to suggest meaning. Visitors often describe seeing people in the rocks or animals in the hills, only to realize it is just how the sun hits the stone. These illusions shift throughout the day. At noon, a rock that’s nothing special might take on a ghostly presence by twilight.

The Mojave’s heat can create true optical illusions even beyond static shapes. Mirages appear across dry lakebeds and salt flats, fooling the eye with phantom water or hovering images. Early travelers chased these shimmering lakes, only to watch them vanish as they approached. The desert air plays with light, creating a shifting, surreal world where the landscape seems to breathe.

Whispers on the Wind: Auditory Hallucinations.

Silence can be just as disorienting as glare. A surreal quiet settles in when the wind is still in the Mojave. People begin to hear things that are not there. The brain, used to constant sound, invents input to fill the void. A whisper might turn out to be wind through Joshua tree branches. Footsteps creeping along could be a kangaroo rat in the brush. The wind can sound like voices when it moves through rock crevices or cactus spines.

In certain corners of the desert, the land itself finds a voice. At Kelso Dunes, when dry sand slips down the slopes just right, it releases a deep, resonant hum—a low, booming note that can hang in the air for minutes. Stumbling across it by chance might give the impression that the ground is singing. The sound is entirely natural yet out of context; it feels otherworldly. It feeds the notion that the Mojave is not just a place but a presence—alive, alert, and willing to speak to those who listen.

Desert Lore and Spiritual Thresholds

Across cultures, deserts are seen as places of vision and revelation. In the Bible, prophets went into the wilderness to confront themselves and hear the divine. Among the Mojave and Chemehuevi people, the desert is not empty but full of spirit. Every mountain and river has a voice. Sitting alone in silence is a way to hear it.

Modern wanderers sometimes have similar experiences. A desert vision might not come with trumpets or lightning but with subtle signs: a shape in a rock, a whisper of wind that feels like a message, or a sudden connection to something beyond oneself. Artists, mystics, and solo hikers often describe the Mojave as a threshold where imagination and reality touch.

Startled or Spellbound: Reactions to the Unseen

These experiences rattle some people. A shadow seen at dusk, a whisper heard at midnight, or a rock that looks too much like a figure can spark real fear. The Mojave has sent many travelers packing, spooked by the sense that something is watching.

Others embrace it. They return again and again, drawn by the mystery. For them, the strange sights and sounds are not threats but invitations to feel small, listen, and see. In this way, the Mojave becomes not just a place but a mirror. What appears in the silence may reveal more about the observer than the land itself.

Conclusion: Embracing the Mirage

In the Mojave, the line between real and imagined begins to blur. The desert does not deceive—it sharpens the senses, asking for attention. A shadow might be only a rock or open a door in the mind. A sound might be wind, or it might be the desert speaking.

Some leave shaken, others changed. One way or another, the Mojave does not simply reveal itself—it reflects what the traveler carries into the silence.

Panamint Legends

The Road, the Valley, the City, and the Range

Tucked between the Inyo Mountains and the Panamint Range in eastern California lies Panamint Valley—a vast, arid stretch of desert where stories cling to the rocks and dust. Part of the northern Mojave Desert, this remote basin has seen centuries of human presence, from Native American trade routes and outlaw hideouts to a silver mining boom and military testing. Surprise Canyon is at the heart of this tale, a rugged cut through the mountains that once served as both a refuge and a gateway to fortune.

Native Roots and Early Exploration For thousands of years, the Timbisha Shoshone and other Native American groups lived in and around Panamint Valley. They followed game, gathered plants, and knew the subtle signs of water in this harsh landscape. Early explorers and pioneers during the California Gold Rush would later follow their trails. However, few stayed long in the face of the valley heat, dryness, and isolation.

Outlaws in Surprise Canyon In early 1873, three men hiding from the law—William L. Kennedy, Robert L. Stewart, and Richard C. Jacobs—discovered silver in the steep, narrow depths of Surprise Canyon. Some say they were drawn there by rumors of the Lost Gunsight Mine. Regardless, they struck it rich. Sources differ on the exact date: Nadeau places it in January, Wilson in February, and Chalfant in April. But by June, prospectors had filed 80 claims, and the ore was assaying at thousands of dollars per ton.

Big Money and Bigger Names Enter E. P. Raines, who secured a bond on some of the most promising claims and began promoting the new district. He drew attention by hauling a half-ton block of silver ore to Los Angeles and displaying it at the Clarendon Hotel. This bold stunt brought together jewelers, bankers, and freighters, who agreed to build a wagon road to the mines. Raines continued north to San Francisco and then Washington, D.C., where he met Senator John P. Jones of Nevada, a former Comstock miner and hero of a deadly fire. Jones loaned him $15,000 and soon partnered with fellow “Silver Senator” William M. Stewart to form the Panamint Mining Company.

The senators spent over $350,000 acquiring prime claims from known Wells Fargo robbers. Senator Stewart arranged amnesty for these men, with the condition that $12,000 in profits be paid to the express company as restitution. It is believed this arrangement convinced Wells Fargo to avoid opening an office in Panamint.

The Road to the Panamint Mines The silver rush in Surprise Canyon prompted the search for a better supply route. Senator Stewart noticed Meyerstein & Co., a San Bernardino firm, was already sending goods to the region. He encouraged Caesar Meyerstein to establish a stage line. In the fall of 1874, preparations began on a road from Cottonwoods on the Mojave River to the Panamints.

The Board of Supervisors appointed Aaron Lane as road overseer of the newly formed Mojave District. Lane hired a crew of Chinese laborers under foreman Charley Craw to begin construction. Miners objected to using Chinese labor, but Lane completed the project by mid-November. He advertised the route as an “excellent” road, and the Guardian praised the veteran for his work. Lane submitted a bill for $645.61, but the county approved only $500—a modest sum for 115 miles of desert road.

This San Bernardino-Panamint Road, sometimes called the Meyerstein Road or Nadeau Cut-Off, shortened the journey to the mines by cutting across from Cajon Pass through Victorville and Hodge (Cottonwoods), connecting with the Stoddard’s Well Road. While freighter Remi Nadeau operated the Los Angeles to Panamint route via Tejon Pass, the San Bernardino route originated separately. Despite the confusion in some sources, the Chinese labor used on the San Bernardino-Panamint Road under Captain Lane should not be mistaken for labor on Nadeau’s route.

According to the San Bernardino Weekly Argus, stops along the Meyerstein route included Meyerstein to Martin’s, Fears in Cajon Pass, Huntington’s (Victorville), Cottonwoods (Hodge), Wells, Second Crossing of the Mojave, Black’s Ranch, Granite, Willow Tree Station, and finally Post Office Springs, just before reaching Panamint. These links formed a vital corridor to one of the West’s wildest boomtowns.

The Rise of Panamint City By March 1874, Panamint had around 125 residents. It had no schoolhouse, church, jail, or hospital—and it never would. To avoid robbery on the lawless route to market, the senators cast silver into 450-pound “cannonballs” that could be hauled unguarded to Los Angeles. On November 28, the Idaho Panamint Silver Mining Company was formed with $5 million in capital, followed by the Maryland of Panamint and several others with an additional $42 million by year’s end. That same month, the Panamint News began publishing—though its editor fled town within days after stealing advertising revenue.

The town boomed. The winter of 1874-75 was its peak. Two stage lines operated, the Bank of Panamint opened, and 50 buildings lined Surprise Canyon. The Oriental Saloon claimed to be the finest outside San Francisco. Mules and burros were the main form of transport. The lone wagon doubled as a meat hauler and a hearse.

By January 1875, the population hit 1,500 to 2,000. Businesses thrived. A wire tramway sent ore from the Wyoming and Hemlock mines down to the Surprise Valley Mill and Water Company’s twenty-stamp mill. Wood costs $12 per cord, and miners earn $4 to $5.50 per day. The crumbling smokestack of this mill still stands. Daniel P. Bell, the mill’s builder, later died by suicide in Salt Lake City, reportedly after being diagnosed with cancer.

Crash and Decline Disaster came quickly. The collapse of the Bank of California in August 1875 shook confidence across the state. Panamint stock crashed, speculation dried up, and the Panamint News ceased publication. By November, the population had largely disappeared, with only a few hopefuls remaining. In July 1876, a cloudburst flooded Surprise Canyon, wiping out large sections of the town.

Senator Jones, once Panamint’s champion, held on until May 1877. But a market panic forced him to shut down the mill. Despite investing nearly two million dollars, the Silver Senators saw little return.

Later, Revivals and Post Office Spring Attempts to revive Panamint followed. Richard Decker reopened the post office during 1887 and worked claims into the 1890s. The site saw minor revivals into the 1920s and again in the 1940s. 1947-48, American Silver Corporation leased multiple claims and rebuilt the Surprise Canyon road but filed for bankruptcy in 1948. Interest returned in the 1970s, though the fractured and faulted veins proved challenging to follow.

Near the city ruins, Post Office Spring played an important role. Besides being a water source, it housed a secret mail drop during Panamint’s outlaw days. A box wired to a mesquite tree held letters marked “John Doe”; a rag on a nearby branch signaled mail had arrived. At night, fugitives collected or left messages in secret.

The Panamint Range: Geology and Life The Panamint Range, separating Panamint Valley from Death Valley, rises from about 1,000 to 11,049 feet at Telescope Peak. It’s part of MLRA 29f and features Precambrian sedimentary and metamorphic bedrock, Paleozoic marine sediments (Cambrian to Carboniferous), Mesozoic granite, and Pliocene basalt. Alluvial fans spread from steep slopes into the valleys. Processes shaping the range include mass wasting, fluvial erosion, deposition, and freeze-thaw cycles.

Vegetation follows elevation, too, from creosote bush and shadscale at lower levels to pinyon, limber pine, and bristlecone forests higher up. Surface water is scarce; streams run briefly during rains and snowmelt, draining into Panamint and Death Valleys.

The Road, the Valley, the Legend The road to Panamint, first carved to bring silver to market, is now a rugged path for adventurers. Panamint Valley itself, once crossed by Native trails and mule trains, is now visited by hikers, off-roaders, and desert wanderers: the Panamint Range towers above, its silent peaks guarding the stories of a forgotten boomtown.

Panamint is more than a ghost town. It mirrors Western ambition—where silver dreams, outlaw grit, and desert extremes shaped one of the wildest chapters in California history.

Muscupiabe

Amuscupiabit

From across the Mojave and along the Mojave River, springs and other water sources shaped the trail down Cajon Canyon and into the southern California valleys. Trails from all directions met in this canyon and that in itself would possibly indicate that in the overall scheme of things some variety of trade may have taken place here where the trails cross.

Amuscupiabit – Cajon Canyon

During the winter months when snow is capping the mountains and the weather is cold the Cajon valley would have generally been warmer. With a good year, there would have been plenty to harvest and forage as well as game to hunt. Drought years may have brought little with it and the camp would have been a starvation camp with little to eat.

Rancherias

A rancheria, as the Mexicans called it, would have been a small settlement of Indians living in temporary huts while maintaining seasonal subsistence activities and trade.

It was among these rancherias … that the missions found the most fertile fields for producing laborers. Whether by trickery or physical force the villagers into the Catholic fold. Being taken to the mission was most likely the fate of the residents of the Serrano rancheria Amuscupiabit in the heart of the Cajon Pass.

The Old Spanish Trail had become increasingly used as a pack mule trail between New Mexico and California, and with this traffic came the opportunity for those to take advantage of the distant location and desperate nature of the land.

Crowder (Coyote) Canyon in the Cajon Pass north of San Bernardino
Hundreds and sometimes even thousands of stolen horses from the ranchos would burst through Coyote Canyon beginning their ‘journey of death’ across the Mojave.

California horses were beautiful creatures, and the mules were taller and stronger than those in New Mexico and they were easy to steal.  The rolling hills and plains presented clear paths to the  Cajon where numerous hidden canyons and washes were available to slip into and prepare for the furious run across the desert. Horses would be stolen in herds from many different ranchos at once. Hundreds of horses, even thousands could be commandeered and driven by just a few experienced thieves.

Chief Walkara, ‘Hawk of the Mountains ‘ and the greatest horse thief in all of history along with his band of renegade Chaguanosos, and notables such as Jim Beckwourth and Pegleg Smith would work together in this illegal trade. During one raid they were said to have coordinated the theft of 3,000-5,000 horses, driving them to Fort Bridger to trade for more horses to run to New Mexico to trade again. Horses would fall from exhaustion every mile and the local bands of Paiute would feast on the remains.

Coyote Canyon

. . . A few years later Mr. White established a camp in San Bernardino county at the mouth of Lytle creek and again started in the cattle business. Here he was joined by two other white men, who after agreeing to a plan to take up all of the valley lands deserted him before the consummation of the scheme. The Indians learning that he was alone decided that it would be a good time to make a raid and drive away the herds, and under the leadership of Chief Coyote, who was one of the craftiest and most vicious in that section, they accomplished their purpose. The next morning in company with an Indian boy of seventeen years, who was friendly to him, Mr. White started out to find the stock and overtook the thieves at the head of Cajon Pass. Here the Indians had camped and killed a horse, upon which they were feasting when Mr. White discovered them. Cleverly circling the camp he managed to get ahead of them and was endeavoring to stampede the stock when Chief Coyote saw him and started toward him. Waiting until the Indian was within forty or fifty yards of him Mr. White took steady aim and shot him dead, the report of the gun stampeding the cattle. They returned home, Mr. White and the Indian boy following and reaching the valley in safety after having killed a number of other redskins. The boy had been of great assistance to him by loading his extra gun.

When the governor heard of this affair he sent for Mr. White and ascertaining that he had no land but desired to receive a grant, application was made and surveys taken, and in a few years he received papers conveying to him thirty-two thousand acres of land.

A HISTORY of CALIFORNIA Extended History of Its Southern Coast Counties – Vol II — J. M. GUINN 1907
The rich ranchos of southern California.

In 1843 Michael White was granted one league of land at the mouth of the Cajon Pass called Rancho Muscupiabe. At a point overlooking the trails leading into and away from the canyon he was expected to thwart the raiders and horse thieves that were plaguing the Southern California ranchos. In theory, it was a good plan but in practice, it did not work so well.

Devore, ca.
From the piedmont between Devil and Cable canyons, Miguel Blanco could keep an eye out for the horse thieves entering the Cajon.

He built his home of logs and earth and constructed corrals for his stock. However, the location between Cable and Devil Canyon only served as a closer and more convenient target for the Indian thieves. His family was with him, but after six weeks until it became too dangerous. He left after nine months without any livestock and in debt.

The Old Spanish Trail went down this slope to behind Miguel Blanco’s rough-hewn homestead. Indians would watch from this forest for Miguel to leave and they would slip down and steal everything that could be stolen.

Miguel sold his property, however, Miguel had misread the grant, letting the rancho go for much less than it was worth. The land described on the grant was roughly 5 times larger than Miguel thought.  Blanco brought a suit but lost.

Muscupiabe Rancho, Michael White, Miguel Blanco
Muscupiabe Rancho

As the late 1840s and 1850s rolled by wagon roads were being developed in the canyon minimizing the effectiveness of the maze of box canyons being used to cover the escape of desperadoes on horseback. With California becoming a state frontiersmen such as Beckwourth and Peg Leg Smith would not steal from fellow Americans. Horse-thieving under U.S. law had become a crime where before it was just stealing horses from Mexicans. That was only serious if caught in the act. Americans would never extradite them. For the most part, that was the end of the horse-stealing raids.

  • end

The Coyote and the Raven: An Uneasy Brotherhood

Out in the open country—desert, forest, or plain—you’ll sometimes spot a coyote trotting with a black-feathered shadow gliding above or hopping behind. That shadow is usually a raven; believe it or not, those two critters have a working relationship. It’s not friendship or rivalry—more like a loose alliance between two clever survivors who know how to get by in a harsh world.

The raven is sharp as a tack. One of the most intelligent birds out there, it’s always watching, always thinking. It knows that a coyote’s nose is one of the best tools for sniffing out a meal. So it tags along. The coyote does the dirty work—flushing out prey, unearthing carcasses, chasing rabbits—and the raven swoops in for its share once the chase ends. Sometimes it even helps the coyote out, flying ahead and acting excited when it spots something promising. There’s evidence that coyotes pick up on this behavior and follow the raven’s lead. They’ve learned to pay attention.

For the coyote, it’s a pretty good deal, too. It might not be able to see as far as a raven can from the air, but it knows that if a raven’s hanging around, something must be going on. Ravens don’t waste energy for nothing. If they’re diving, croaking, and making a scene, there’s usually food nearby. A clever coyote watches that behavior and follows its feathered guide straight to the prize.

It’s the kind of relationship that’s been going on quietly for generations—no contract, no handshake, just two species reading each other’s cues. It brings to mind those old Native American stories where the coyote and the raven are both tricksters: wily, unpredictable, and always looking for the next angle. In the real world, the desert happens to be their stage.

But let’s not pretend it’s all rosy. These guys are not buddies. They tolerate each other because it works. And when it stops working—say, if food is scarce or one gets too bold—things can get tense. Coyotes will chase ravens off if they feel annoyed or cheated. And on the flip side, ravens are scavengers at heart. If a young coyote meets an unfortunate end, a raven won’t hesitate to peck at the remains. Nature isn’t sentimental.

Furthermore, if a coyote stumbles upon a dead raven, you can bet it’ll at least give it a sniff. Coyotes aren’t picky. They’ll chew on roadkill, fruit, old hamburger wrappers, and yes—if legend (and plenty of firsthand accounts) holds—even an old boot. So a raven carcass? That’s fair game. They might not go out of their way to chase down a healthy raven, but if one’s lying sick, twitching, and eyes rolled back, a coyote will pick through the clump a bit.

Ultimately, the relationship between the coyote and the raven is a perfect example of how survival shapes behavior. These two animals don’t need to like each other—they need to pay attention. It’s all about reading the land, knowing your neighbors, and taking chances when they come. They may come from different worlds—one with wings, the other with paws—but they’ve carved out a quiet understanding. And in the wild, that can mean the difference between a good day and an empty belly.

Owens Valley Chronology

Pre-Contact Era (Before 1800s)

  • The Nüümü (Paiute people) live in the Owens Valley, using sophisticated irrigation systems to grow native plants. They also engage in seasonal hunting and gathering throughout the region.

Owens Valley Paiute

1834 – Joseph R. Walker Enters Owens Valley

  • Joseph R. Walker, a scout and explorer leading a detachment of Bonneville’s Expedition, is credited as the first known non-Native American to travel through Owens Valley.
  • His route takes him along the eastern slope of the Sierra Nevada, likely crossing the valley while seeking a pass into California.
  • Walker’s expedition opened early paths for later settlers and explorers.

Joseph R. Walker, Owens Valley

1845 – Naming of Owens River and Lake

  • During a U.S. military survey expedition, John C. Fremont named the Owens River and Lake after his topographer, Richard Owens.

Owens Lake

1861 – Samuel A. Bishop Arrives

  • Bishop drives 500 cattle and 50 horses into the valley and establishes San Francis Ranch.
  • His actions disrupt Paiute lands and irrigation, leading to armed resistance and the Battle of San Francis Ranch in early 1862.

1861–1863 – Owens Valley Indian War

  • Conflict between settlers and Paiute bands escalates.
  • The U.S. Army was called to support settlers and forced many Paiutes to Fort Tejon in 1863.

Paiute Indian War, Fort Tejon

1862 – Camp Independence Established

  • July 4: U.S. Army establishes Camp Independence near Oak Creek to protect settlers and assert military control during the war.
  • The site later becomes part of the Fort Independence Indian Community.

Camp Independence

1860s–1880s – Expansion of Settlement

  • Settlers build farms, ranches, and towns like Lone Pine and Independence.
  • Mining in nearby Cerro Gordo spurs economic growth.

Lone Pine, Independence, Cerro Gordo

1872 – Lone Pine Earthquake

  • A devastating quake destroys much of Lone Pine, kills about 27 people, and leaves a visible fault scarp.

1883 – Carson & Colorado Railroad reaches Laws

  • A narrow-gauge rail line connects the valley to northern mining districts, bringing passengers, freight, and new economic lifelines.

Carson & Colorado RR

1900s–1910s – Southern Pacific & Standard-Gauge Rail

  • Southern Pacific Railroad acquires the Carson & Colorado.
  • A standard-gauge line is built from Mojave to Owenyo.

Southern Pacific RR, Mojave

1905–1913 – Los Angeles Aqueduct

  • LA secures land and water rights.
  • 1913: The aqueduct is completed, diverting the Owens River to Southern California.

1924 – Aqueduct Sabotage

  • Local farmers and ranchers retaliate with dynamite attacks on aqueduct facilities, protesting water loss.

1927 – Owens Lake Dries Up

  • Once a large inland sea, Owens Lake becomes a dry lakebed as diversions continue.

1960 – End of Narrow-Gauge Rail Service

  • Final train reaches Laws, marking the end of narrow-gauge railroad operations in the valley.
  • The depot is preserved as part of the Laws Railroad Museum.

1970s–1990s – Environmental Action

  • Residents and conservationists challenge LA’s dust and water practices.
  • 1991: LA is legally required to control dust on Owens Lake.

2000s–Present – Restoration and Advocacy

  • Efforts continue to restore natural flow, clean up air quality, and address the historical displacement of Native communities.

Owens Valley History

Early Inhabitants and Settlement

The valley was originally home to the Paiute people, who practiced irrigation to cultivate crops along the riverbanks. In the 19th century, American and English fur trappers and mountain men were among the first non-indigenous individuals to explore the area. The discovery of silver and lead deposits in the nearby Cerro Gordo Mines during the late 1800s led to a mining boom, attracting settlers and leading to the establishment of communities like Keeler.

Owens Valley Indian War

Tensions between settlers and the indigenous Paiute people escalated into the Owens Valley Indian War in the early 1860s. Conflicts over land and resources resulted in violent confrontations, leading to significant casualties on both sides. In March 1862, settlers attacked a Paiute camp in the Alabama Hills, resulting in the deaths of eleven Paiutes and the destruction of their food supplies. Subsequent engagements saw the involvement of military forces and further loss of life.

Water Diversion and the Owens Valley Water Wars

In the early 20th century, Los Angeles sought to secure water resources to support its growing population. The city constructed the Los Angeles Aqueduct, completed in 1913, to divert water from the Owens River to Los Angeles. This diversion had devastating effects on Owens Valley’s agriculture and led to the drying up of Owens Lake. Local farmers and residents opposed the project, leading to acts of sabotage and legal battles known as the Owens Valley Water Wars. Despite their efforts, Los Angeles maintained control over the water resources, leading to long-term economic and environmental consequences for the valley.

Manzanar Internment Camp

During World War II, the U.S. government established the Manzanar War Relocation Center in Owens Valley. From 1942 to 1945, over 10,000 Japanese Americans were forcibly relocated and incarcerated at Manzanar as part of the internment program. The harsh conditions and unjust treatment of these individuals remain a poignant chapter in American history.

Saline Valley Salt Tram

An engineering feat of the early 20th century, the Saline Valley Salt Tram was constructed between 1911 and 1913 to transport salt from the Saline Valley over the Inyo Mountains into Owens Valley. Covering a distance of 13.4 miles with steep inclines, it operated intermittently until 1935 and stands as a testament to the industrial endeavors of the era.

The history of Owens Valley reflects a tapestry of cultural heritage, resource conflicts, and resilience, offering valuable insights into the complexities of development and conservation in the American West.

Why is the Mojave Famous?

Here is a look at what the Mojave is famous for, with pioneer trails and human history front and center:

  1. Native Peoples
    Long before wagon wheels, the Mojave was home to Native tribes like the Mojave, Chemehuevi, Southern Paiute, and Serrano. These communities knew the springs, passes, and seasonal rhythms like the back of their hand, and they left trails, trade routes, rock art, and village sites throughout the region. Their knowledge of water and survival shaped later explorers’ routes.
  2. Pioneer Trails
    • Old Spanish Trail: This historic trade route linked New Mexico to California, winding through the Mojave. Traders, herders, and explorers used it to move livestock and goods—often braving vast dry stretches and rugged terrain.
    • Mojave Road (aka Government Road): Originally a Native footpath, it became a vital wagon route in the 1800s, linking the Colorado River to Southern California. Army outposts like Fort Mojave and Camp Cady were built along it to protect travelers.
    • Salt Lake Wagon Road and Bradshaw Trail: These overland trails helped connect remote mining districts and settlements, pushing westward expansion through incredibly harsh country.
    • Butterfield Overland Mail Route: This short-lived but famous stagecoach line cut through the edge of the Mojave to deliver mail between St. Louis and San Francisco.
  3. Homesteaders, Miners, and Ranchers
    Once the trails were blazed, the floodgates opened to prospectors, settlers, and ranchers. Boomtowns sprang up around gold, silver, and borax. Think Calico, Tecopa, Kelso, and Ballarat—all born of dreams and dust. Cattlemen like Albert Swarthout carved out rough but sustainable ranches, running cattle from the low desert to summer pastures in the San Bernardino Mountains.
  4. Railroads and Route 66
    The Santa Fe, Southern Pacific, and Atlantic & Pacific Railroads stitched the desert into the country’s growing infrastructure. Later, Route 66 brought travelers through towns like Barstow, Needles, and Amboy, adding roadside Americana to the desert’s legacy.
  5. Modern Tribes of the Desert
    Today, the Mojave is home to desert dwellers of all stripes—scientists, artists, loners, and communities like the Mojave Indian Tribe, who still live near the Colorado River. It also draws off-grid homesteaders and folks seeking freedom in wide open country.
  6. Endurance and Ingenuity
    Whether you’re talking about ancient foot trails, covered wagons crossing dry washes, or early aviators launching into the unknown, the Mojave has always demanded toughness and adaptability. It’s a place that doesn’t hand out easy victories—but the stories it holds are worth every blister and rattlesnake dodge.

Toll Road Controversy

The controversy over John Brown’s toll road through Cajon Pass in the mid-19th century revolved around money, fairness, and public access—a classic tension in frontier development.

Two wagons at the summit. Mormon Rocks and the San Gabriel Mountains in the distance

1. Brown’s Toll Road and Franchise Rights
In 1861, San Bernardino County granted John Brown Sr. and his partners a franchise to build a toll road through Cajon Pass, a vital route connecting San Bernardino Valley to the Mojave Desert and beyond. They improved the existing wagon trail—grading it, clearing rock, and making it more passable for wagons—and charged tolls to those using it.

2. Public Frustration
While the improvements were appreciated, some settlers and freighters grumbled about the tolls. The road served as a major conduit for travel and trade; paying a toll on what many viewed as a natural thoroughfare didn’t sit well with everyone. The sentiment grew that Brown was profiting off a public necessity.

3. Competing Routes and Free Road Advocates
As traffic increased, alternate routes began to be explored, especially by those who wanted to avoid tolls. There were also pushes from the community and local government to establish a public road that would be toll-free. Some even attempted to create alternate trails that bypassed the toll gates, fueling the controversy.

4. Political Wrangling
Brown’s toll franchise became entangled in local politics, with supporters arguing it encouraged development and opponents seeing it as a private monopoly over a public passage. This debate sometimes reached county supervisors, and there were calls to revoke or revise the franchise.

5. Toll Road Decline
Eventually, as public roads improved and more options became available, the toll road’s importance faded. It’s unclear exactly when tolls stopped, but free passage eventually became the norm, and the road was absorbed into the public road system.

In short, the controversy was over the balance between private investment and public access, a theme repeated throughout Western expansion. John Brown wasn’t alone—toll roads were common in the 1800s—but he was one of the more talked-about due to its location and importance.

also see:

The Toll Road

Toll Road Through Cajon Pass

Weather Drama

The wind howled across the dunes, a relentless force sweeping through the Mojave. Sand lifted in great plumes, twisting and spiraling like ghostly tendrils before vanishing into the storm. The dunes, usually shifting in slow, steady ripples, now churned violently under the desert sky.

Beneath the sand’s surface, life waited.

Deep in a burrow just under the dune crest, a lizard lay still, its body pressed into the cool, shifting grains. Its long, fringed toes, perfect for running atop loose sand, were now curled close. It had felt the first gusts of wind hours ago and knew better than to stay above ground. The sandstorm could last minutes or hours—there was no way to tell. It blinked once, listening to the distant hum of wind rattling through the dunes. Here, under the surface, it was safe.

Not far away, nestled in a shallow depression among the roots of a creosote bush, a rat twitched its nose, sensing the air. The burrow was snug, lined with bits of dry grass and desert fluff, a perfect refuge from the storm. It had spent the night collecting seeds, stuffing them into its cheek pouches before returning home just as the first gusts began. Now, all it could do was wait. The storm was nothing new—it had survived countless tempests before. But still, the sound of sand scouring the landscape was a reminder of the desert’s power.

A kit fox, curled in its den, lay in a nearby hollow where two dunes met. Its large ears twitched, sensing the wind’s force above. It had retreated early, sensing the storm’s approach in how the sky had turned a pale, eerie yellow. Hunting would have to wait. The fox licked a grain of sand from its nose and closed its eyes, trusting that when the wind died, the night would bring fresh tracks—signs of prey emerging from their hiding places.

Gary Nafis – CaliforniaHerps.com

Out in the open, a sidewinder lay half-buried in the sand, using its unique body shape to anchor itself against the shifting dunes. Unlike the mammals and lizards, it didn’t have a deep burrow, but it had a trick of its own—pressing against the sand and keeping its eyes barely above the surface, it could ride out the storm without being carried away. The wind whipped past, but the snake remained patient as ever.

Above, a raven battled the gusts, its wings beating against the swirling dust. It wasn’t trapped like the others—it had been caught mid-flight when the storm struck. With a sharp, knowing caw, it adjusted its course and aimed for shelter—an outcrop of rocks on the dune’s edge. There, in the lee of the wind, it could wait, its black feathers blending with the shadows, beak under its wing as if it were a villain.

The storm raged on, the dunes shifting grain by grain, reshaping the land as they had for thousands of years. But the creatures of the desert were no strangers to its fury. They had learned to listen, to watch, and to wait.

And when the storm passed, as all storms did, they would emerge once more, leaving only faint tracks in the freshly sculpted sand.

Tecopa Hot Springs:

A Geothermal Oasis in the Mojave Desert

Tecopa Hot Springs is a natural wonder in the Mojave Desert, where underground forces heat groundwater and bring it to the surface. This small desert town in Inyo County, California, has long been a retreat for those seeking mineral-rich hot water’s relaxing and therapeutic effects. But why is the water hot, and what geological processes make these springs possible? The answer lies deep beneath the surface, where a combination of geothermal activity, faulting, and groundwater circulation work together to create this desert oasis.

The heat of Tecopa Hot Springs originates from the Earth’s natural geothermal gradient, which refers to how temperature increases with depth. In most places, the Earth’s temperature rises at 25 to 30 degrees Celsius per kilometer. However, heat from the Earth’s interior reaches the surface more efficiently in regions where the Earth’s crust is thinner, such as the Basin and Range Province surrounding Tecopa. These conditions allow groundwater that seeps deep underground to become significantly warmer than at the surface.

Another key factor in Tecopa’s hot springs is faulting. Faults crisscross the region, fractures in the Earth’s crust where movement occurs. These faults act as pathways, allowing surface water to trickle downward, sometimes traveling thousands of feet below the surface. As the water moves deeper, it encounters hot rock formations, absorbing heat before being pushed back up through fractures in the rock. This process, known as hydrothermal circulation, explains why the water at Tecopa emerges at high temperatures.

While no active volcanoes exist in Tecopa today, past volcanic activity in the region also heats the groundwater. Ancient magma chambers, which once fueled eruptions and left behind hot rock masses deep underground, continue to radiate heat, warming water as it percolates downward—the mineral content of the water results from the interaction between the groundwater and the surrounding rock formations.

The Amargosa River system, though mostly underground, further contributes to the presence of hot springs. This river follows fault lines and helps recharge groundwater, maintaining a steady flow of water that moves through the region’s complex network of fractures and underground reservoirs. Over time, this slow and steady process has kept the Tecopa Hot Springs active, providing a natural source of hot water even in the arid desert environment.

The springs at Tecopa are part of a more extensive geothermal system in the Mojave Desert, where similar processes create hot springs and hydrothermal features in other areas. The combination of thin crust, tectonic activity, deep groundwater flow, and remnants of ancient volcanic heat makes Tecopa one of the most accessible geothermal spots in the region. Visitors who soak in the warm waters may not see the underground forces at work, but they are experiencing a process that has shaped the desert landscape for countless years.

Summary

Tecopa Hot Springs is a natural geothermal oasis in the Mojave Desert, where underground heat warms groundwater, bringing it to the surface. The springs result from a thin crust, active faulting, and remnants of past volcanic heat. Water seeps deep underground absorbs heat and rises through fractures. This steady hydrothermal process has sustained the springs for centuries, creating a rare desert retreat with mineral-rich, naturally heated water.

Brown – Parker Garage

The Brown-Parker Auto Company Garage in Goldfield, Nevada, is a historic structure dating back to the early 20th century, reflecting the town’s mining boom era. It was originally established by Munro Brown and Orlo Parker, becoming one of Nevada’s first Ford dealerships.

In 1917, Brown sold his share to Parker when he left to serve in World War I. The original building was destroyed in a fire in 1923 but was rebuilt in 1924. It continued to operate as an auto garage until 1989. Today, it is a notable stop on the Goldfield Historical Walking Tour, highlighting over 190 historical sites throughout the town. The garage is a reminder of Goldfield’s former prominence and the essential role that automobile services played in supporting the remote mining community.

Cactus Cooler

Don’t try this at home . . . or anywhere else.

Barrel cacti are tough desert plants that have some pretty interesting survival tricks. They come in different types, but a couple of things are true for all of them. First, the taller ones tend to lean toward the south. Second, despite what you might see in movies, you should never try to drink water from them if you’re stuck in the desert.

The reason barrel cacti tilt south is all about the sun. For most of the year, the sun is more toward the southern part of the sky. The side of the cactus that faces the sun gets blasted with heat all day, which slows its growth compared to the shadier side. Over time, this uneven growth makes the cactus lean south. Some people even call them “compass cacti” because of this. While this might seem like a handy way to figure out directions, it’s not always reliable. Wind, terrain, and other factors can also influence the way a cactus grows, so it’s not a foolproof method for finding your way.

Barrel cactus at Piute Creek, Mojave National Preserve

Another common myth is that you can drink the liquid inside a barrel cactus if you’re dying of thirst. In reality, that’s a terrible idea. First off, these cacti are covered in sharp spines and have a tough outer layer, so getting inside one is no easy task. The effort it takes to cut one open would make you sweat more, which is the last thing you want in a survival situation.

Even if you do manage to get to the liquid inside, drinking it is likely to make things worse. The juice of a barrel cactus isn’t clean water—it’s filled with bitter chemicals that can make you sick. Most people who drink it end up with horrible stomach problems, including nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. Losing fluids this way will dehydrate you even faster, which is the exact opposite of what you need in the desert. Instead of saving your life, drinking from a barrel cactus could actually make your situation more dangerous.

In short, barrel cacti are amazing desert plants, but they’re not a survival tool. Their southward lean is a cool way to see how they adapt to their environment, but it’s not a perfect compass. And no matter how thirsty you are, drinking their juice is nasty. The best way to survive in the desert is to be prepared, carry plenty of water, and know how to find sources of hydration. Appreciating the cactus for what it is—not what Hollywood says it is—can help you stay safe and respect the incredible plants of the desert.

Summary

Barrel cacti are well-adapted desert plants known for their ribbed bodies and spines. A notable trait is their tendency to lean southward, earning them the nickname “compass cactus.” While some believe barrel cacti can provide water in survival situations, this is a dangerous misconception.

Their tough exterior makes extracting liquid difficult, and the fluid inside contains harmful compounds that can cause severe dehydration through nausea and diarrhea. Unlike desert animals that can safely consume plant parts, humans cannot process its toxins. The best survival strategy is proper preparation, carrying enough water, and understanding the limits of natural resources.

from desert palms

twisting, folding, fans and fronds
bending, shaping birds of long
feathers and wildflowers to sing at dawn
fragments of words pronounced wrong

and, and, peaches, and, and, pears of the trees
odd spirits joining the red canaries
thrown wildly at shapes such as these

escaping into the gelatinous sky
wings frantically beating below clouds up high

from desert palms

Soft Solace

I have fallen asleep under my threadbare blanket
My dream begins in an austere land

Faraway, brass horns blow with the many winds
as the gold sun races by

And in the distance, slowly approaching,
the timpani drums beat louder with every breath

The clouds roll and roil in conflicting emotion

I find my feet have left the ground
I fly into the solace of being unremembered.

.

.

w.feller

Death Valley

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Death Valley Ghost Towns Volume 2

Into the Jaws of Hell – Sutak, Tom
Jefferson Hunt (1804-1879) was born in Bracken County, Kentucky, son of John Hunt and Martha Jenkins. He arrived in Utah in 1847. He was married to Celia Mounts in 1823 and Martha Jane Nease in 1846.
Geology of Death Valley: Landforms, Crustal Extension, Geologic History, Road Guides
An Unnatural History of Death Valley
Death Valley History Revealed: Proceedings of the Sixth Death Valley Conference on History and Prehistory
Death Valley in ’49: An Autobiography of a Pioneer Who Survived the California Desert

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Roy Rogers & Dale Evans

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Roy Rogers Cowboy Annual 1954 Alan Lester, Jessie Dalmar, Douglas Enefer ++ [Fair]
Roy Rogers Cowboy Annual 1952
King of the Cowboys, Queen of the West: Roy Rogers and Dale Evans (A Ray and Pat Browne Book)
The Cowboy and the Senorita : A Biography of Roy Rogers and Dale Evans
Happy Trails: A Pictorial Celebration of the Life and Times of Roy Rogers and Dale Evans
Roy Rogers: A Biography, Radio History, Television Career Chronicle, Discography, Filmography, Comicography, Merchandising and Adv
Happy Trails: The Story of Roy Rogers and Dale Evans [signed] [first edition]
Roy Rogers: A biography, radio history, tv career chronicle, discography.
Trigger : The Lives and Legend of Roy Rogers’ Palomino
Life of Roy Rogers
Gene Autry and Roy Rogers: America’s Two Favorite Singing Cowboys
Cowboy Princess: Life with My Parents Roy Rogers and Dale Evans [signed]
Roy Rogers Archives Volume 1 (v. 1)
The Best of Alex Toth and John Buscema Roy Rogers Comics
Roy Rogers And Dale Evans: It Was Always the Music
Roy Rogers: The Collected Daily and Sunday Newspaper Strips
King of the Cowboys, Queen of the West: Roy Rogers and Dale Evans (A Ray and Pat Browne Book)
Cool It or Lose It!: Dale Evans Rogers Raps With Youth
Happy Trails: The Story of Roy Rogers and Dale Evans [signed] [first edition]
Queen of the West: The Life and Times of Dale Evans
Cowboy Princess: Life with My Parents Roy Rogers and Dale Evans [signed]
Roy Rogers and Dale Evans: It Was Always the Music [first edition]

Ghost Towns of Death Valley (Images of America) Paperback

 

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Ghost Towns of Death Valley (Images of America) Paperback

$18.00 – TRADE – New

Although the Death Valley area is sparsely populated, it once was home to a good many towns, some of which not only have disappeared from the desert but also from history. Even though the name “Death Valley” itself evokes dark and foreboding images devoid of life, there was a surprising number of towns that did exist in or near the 3.4 million acres that comprise Death Valley National Park. Many had the amenities of larger cities, and some thrived before being deserted and melting back into the desert. The visual record of many of these towns and their occupants is featured in this book.

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Red Light Women of Death Valley

 

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Red Light Women of Death Valley

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From the 1870s to the turn of the century, while countless men gambled their fortunes in Death Valley’s mines, many bold women capitalized on the boom-and-bust lifestyle and established saloons and brothels. These lively ladies were clever entrepreneurs and fearless adventurers but also mothers, wives and respected members of their communities. Madam Lola Travis was one of the wealthiest single women in Inyo County in the 1870s. Known as “Diamond Tooth Lil,” Evelyn Hildegard was a poor immigrant girl who became a western legend. Local author and historian Robin Flinchum chronicles the lives of these women and many others who were unafraid to live outside the bounds of polite society and risk everything for a better future in the forbidding Death Valley desert.

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Red Light Women of Death Valley Paperback

 

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Red Light Women of Death Valley Paperback

$18.05 – TEXTBOOK – New

From the 1870s to the turn of the century, while countless men gambled their fortunes in Death Valley’s mines, many bold women capitalized on the boom-and-bust lifestyle and established saloons and brothels. These lively ladies were clever entrepreneurs and fearless adventurers but also mothers, wives and respected members of their communities. Madam Lola Travis was one of the wealthiest single women in Inyo County in the 1870s. Known as “Diamond Tooth Lil,” Evelyn Hildegard was a poor immigrant girl who became a western legend. Local author and historian Robin Flinchum chronicles the lives of these women and many others who were unafraid to live outside the bounds of polite society and risk everything for a better future in the forbidding Death Valley desert.

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Geology of Death Valley: Landforms, Crustal Extension, Geologic History, Road Guides

 

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Geology of Death Valley: Landforms, Crustal Extension, Geologic History, Road Guides

$22.33 – TRADE – Used

3rd Edition Available!Get to know Death Valley National Park in a unique way through amazing photographs and detailed descriptions of its world class geology. New to this third edition are many new photographs and updated information from the latest geologic research in Death Valley. Discover where to go in the park to see specific results of geologic activity. Geologists and non-geologists alike will be impressed by the incredible variety of geologic features and the fascinating history behind the landscape we know today as Death Valley.Geology of Death Valley National Park is a must for field trips and for those who want to get the most from their visit to this beautiful park.

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Geology of Death Valley: Landforms, Crustal Extension, Geologic History, Road Guides

 

Book -- AbeBooks affiliate - Desert Gazette

Geology of Death Valley: Landforms, Crustal Extension, Geologic History, Road Guides

$26.70 – TRADE – New

3rd Edition Available!Get to know Death Valley National Park in a unique way through amazing photographs and detailed descriptions of its world class geology. New to this third edition are many new photographs and updated information from the latest geologic research in Death Valley. Discover where to go in the park to see specific results of geologic activity. Geologists and non-geologists alike will be impressed by the incredible variety of geologic features and the fascinating history behind the landscape we know today as Death Valley.Geology of Death Valley National Park is a must for field trips and for those who want to get the most from their visit to this beautiful park.

AbeBooks.com — affiliates.abebooks.com/mgQQLX