Death Valley - Part II

The Keane Wonder Mine

Most gold mines in Death Valley were miserable failures. The Keane Wonder Mine stands in stark contrast as the extensive, complex structures that were built in the Funeral Mountains over a century ago provide evidence of its past riches. It produced a steady output of gold for five years and was the second largest gold producer by the time they closed up shop in 1942.

I couldn't help think about what a cruel lot it must have been for the miners of the Keane Wonder Mine. The work environment in a turn-of-the-20th Century mine wasn't exactly known for sophisticated safety measures, workman compensation plans, and a focus on the improvement of personal health for employees. Unfortunately, someone up in the Cosmos has a sick sense of humor and thought it would be amusing to add to their misery by making these poor saps climb 2,000 feet in 100-plus degree weather to sit in a stinky hole in the earth that could collapse on them at any time digging gold for someone else.

At least they had hell to look forward to.

So, driving across the desert in my AWD across the dirt road purposely fishtailing and skidding across, I was beeming from ear to ear. For some reason I knew this would be special. We begin the ascent up the the ridge to the mine. 2,000 feet later, we'd reach the main mining complex.

Here are some shots of the ruins from the "glory days" past:

Tramway in front of the mine.

Main entrance to the mine.

Plus, we found a couple of frightening beings lurking in the caves. Some people call them "people." I call them "people who need to learn to match their clothes." I tried to lure it out with some peanut M&Ms, but it just threw rocks and swore at me like a sailor.

Ok, so let me give you some insight on being an adventurous person (aka an a-hole). Hiking up the to the top of the mine would only be a 2-mile (although practically vertical) trip. Looking at the topo map and reading the guidebook, I knew that there was more adventure to be had up there. There was a place called the Chloride Cliffs, along with another mine (Bell Mine) another 1,500 feet above us. It looked super groovy, but logistically, it wasn't exactly a day hike.

Here is what the Michel Digonnet, in Hiking Death Valley: A Guide to Its Natural Wonders & Mining Past, says:

Route Description: Mine to Chloride Cliff

This segment of the hike ranks high on scenic appeal, and it will spike your curiosity with two interesting mine sites. The only difficulty is that hte two logical routes are both problematic.

The first route is up the canyon from the spur raod to the mine. Here the wash is gouged into a succession of shallow, narrow troughs in striking greenish or golad schists. Sprinkled with short falls and clogged with large boulders, this is the most chaotic and intriguing part of this canyon. The problem is the the impassable 80-120 ft fall about .04 mile from the spur. It can be bypassed up the very steep talus on the north side, but it is one long and strenuous climb, and the nearly vertical rocky ledge at the rim takes some doing...

The other logical route is the mining road. Past the tramway upper terminal it climbs as a foot trail to the main mining area, visible on the cliff up behind the terminal. It takes a little effort to find the trail, but the real problem is that little "No Trespassing" sign posted just past the terminal by the NPS. The reason for the restriction is that the trail soon goes right by a small open pit and partly caved-in mines that are threatening to collapse. You can try a cross-country route around the steep cliff, but in my opinion, this is much less safe. To be on the right side of the law, ask the NPS for permission to use the trail. (emphasis mine)

I'm not exactly keen on falling down a mine shaft in some remote area of Death Valley. There are worse ways to die (getting eaten by a shark would suck), but not many. Looks like option one wins by default.

Most general guidebooks are written for the masses, and tend to assume that everyone reading it is a complete wussy with the IQ of a demented jellyfish. I usually ignore "caution points" in these books because I know the author is just covering his ass in case Bubby-the-Numnuts decides he wants to cross an ankle-deep river and his beer gut causes him to lose balance, fall into the water with a broken ankle, and then suffocate on his own three-packs-a-day mucus.

This guidebook, however, is the best guidebook in the history of guidebooks. When this guy says that something "takes some doing" it means that if you are a class 5 climber, you need to freakin' be careful. The author definitely has a technical climbing background, and his book is full of off-trail routes that was written by a man who, like me, cannot get rid of his inner 8 year-old and feels that it isn't enough just to "hike" somewhere. It is way better to climb and scramble up something so that you can see and explore areas that no one else will. When he says "easy scramble" in other places he means, "you don't need climbing shoes." When he says "challenging," it would be advisable to lace 'em up.

So, how does this all make me an a-hole? Well, my traveling companion hasn't had much outdoor experience camping, let alone climbing anything. I've taken her to the climbing gym before, but when you aren't in a controlled environment, the fear factor tends to multiply. At this point, I hadn't learned that the author of the guidebook was a complete badass who threw caution to the wind, but just in case, I felt that we should give the scrambling around the 100-foot fall a try. Not wanting to "unnecessarily" scare her, I decided to keep the cautionary tales to myself in case "be careful" meant what it usually does in other guidebooks.

So, we found the fork where the trail continues, and the wash begins. We weaved in and out of the large boulders that sat at the bottom of the wash until we hit the massive 100-foot wall. Looking up to the left, there was a slope full of talus with some inviting rocks at the top that looked good for scrambling. We scraped our way to the top and started to scramble the sediment.

The impassable 80-120 falls.

The talused filled route to the left. Looks passable from here.

The rock quality was simply awful--it was like climbing an onion-skin. You had to check and double-check each hold you either grabbed or stepped on to make sure that it wasn't going to peel off the mountain. No big deal, as a fall wouldn't do anything more than give you a couple of scrapes. But, try and communicate that to someone who's never done it before while they are looking into the valley a thousand feet below them.

My friend did great. She had a great attitude and way too much trust placed in someone who had turned our tent into an accordian 14 hours earlier. For someone who had never done anything like this before, she was a champ. However, about 3/4 of the way up, it started to get incredibly sketchy and even I got a bit freaked out. It would be much smarter to turn around. I was super-bummed, as I had been thinking about hitting the Cloride Cliffs since I read about them the night before, and I absolutely loathe having to turn around. But, the most important thing is that you are able to comeback another day. As you can see from the pictures below, the route up to the ridge isn't exactly one for the weary.

This is the part that "takes some doing." We got about halfway up those cliffs before turning around.

But, regardless of goals left unacheived, how can one complain when looking at view like this:

A couple more shots of the view from various vantages points on the way back down:

I absolutely loved this place. I can't wait to go back and try the lip again. Interestingly, after this was all said and done, we still had 1/2 a day left to play.

Most importantly though, I experienced firsthand that author Michel Diconnet is a true adventurer, and not some nanny-like handholder that wants to sell guide books to those driving from park to park in an RV. Michel, you are pretty close to becoming my hero.

Anyway, the next installment will feature the second half of the day, and will fit in with the end of our trip (which was extended another day). The theme there being that California is a place of drastic contrasts, vast expanses and frighteningly beautiful geography. Clearly, even modern man can be put in his rightful place as an insignificant speck of dust in the universe.

Enjoy.

Posted by 10 fingers 6 strings at May 10, 2006 08:38 AM | TrackBack