A Highway 50 Series

I've been working on a Highway 50 roadside geology series for quite a long time, and have managed to get a few posts in every now and then, but have many more to go before I really consider it complete (could it ever be complete?). The entire Highway 50 Series as listed below includes posts that reference Highway 50, stories about or revolving around Highway 50, and roadside geology some distance off Highway 50 (but not too far). The part of 50 that I'm considering as "mine" right now is really the stretch that runs through Nevada, from Stateline, Nevada, at Lake Tahoe to the Utah state line near Baker, Nevada. The Loneliest Road in America is considered to run from Fernley to the Utah state line near Baker, NV. Fernley is on Alt 50, which leaves 50 at Silver Springs, goes north to Fernley and then east toward Fallon. It rejoins 50 some few miles west of Fallon (I'm not sure whether to include Alt 50 as part of this series). I often access Highway 50 by driving through the canyon of the Truckee River from Reno to Fernley on I-80, but I won't include any of that with the Highway 50 Series.

I'm going to go ahead and list some things I haven't yet posted about that I consider part of this series. I have an intent to post about these areas; when or whether I get to them remains to be seen. So, from west to east:

1. Locations color coded plain black (and not bolded) - I don't have photos for posts (though I might link to a photo in another post not entirely about Highway 50).
2. Locations color coded red - I have photos but haven't written a post .
3. Locations coded blue have a link to an existing post.

Additionally, I've listed some general Highway 50 road trip posts at the end of the main list; these go from one area on the road to some other area on the road. Some of these could be consolidated into location specific roadside posts, but so far haven't been.

CA Border to Hazen
Death Valley Trip, Getting There: Wave Clouds beyond the Sierra

Hazen to Sand Springs:
Dipping beds near Hazen
Soda Lake maar
Old barite mill (or not, location in question)
Grimes Point archaeology - petroglyphs in basalt
Salt Wells
Dust and Deflation (Fernley to Hazen to Fourmile Flat to Middlegate Junction)
Dust Devil Links (Eightmile Flat and Fourmile Flat)
Huck Salt Mine
Pink Playa Phenomenon (Fourmile Flat)
Lake Lahontan shorelines near Sand Mountain (on 80, on 95)
Sand Mountain for Sand Dune Week
Four Years Ago: Spencer Hot Springs, Kingston Summit, to Fallon
Spencer Hot Springs, Then and Now (a bit o' history)
Two Years Ago Today: The Loneliest Phone
Dikes near Sand Springs
Sand Springs (photo)

Sand Springs to West Gate:
Frenchman (for now, see Fairview Peak, Nevada)
Fairview Peak (photo)
Where in the West - March (Fairview Peak)
Fairview Peak, Nevada
Friday Fault Photos #6 (Fairview Peak)
Friday Fault Photos: Fault Scarp at Fairview Peak, Nevada
Friday Fault Photo: Fairview Peak, NV, Fault Line
Chalk Mountain (photos)
Things You Find in the Field: Stingaree Valley
West Gate geology
Friday from the Road: West Gate
Friday from the Road: West Gate Windmill
Lizards of the Day: Blue Bellies (at West Gate Windmill)
Windmill Down! (West Gate)

West Gate to Eastgate (old Highway 50):
Middlegate Junction (one sign photo)
Friday from the Road: Middlegate Station, central Nevada
Views from Middlegate
Friday - Back from the Road (Middlegate Station)
Backroads: Ophir and Out (Middlegate Station)
Xmas Greetings from Nevada! (Middlegate Station)
Clan Alpine Mountains (photo)
Geology on the Road: Flow-Banded Rhyolite with Breccia (Clan Alpine Mountains)
Geology on the Road: Breccia with Flow-Banded Rhyolite
Geology off the Road: a bit of Tuff, Fossil Leaves, and EarthScope
RIP Middlegate Shoe Tree
Ash-flow tuff near The Shoe Tree

Old 50 Turnoff to Reese River Valley:
Desatoya Mountains (west side photos, photo)
Back from Alaska (hike to Cold Springs Pony Express Station - CSPES)
Recent Hike: Water in the Desert (another hike to CSPES)
Cold Springs Pony Express Station (there's more!!)
Desert Critters: Horned Lizards (Cold Springs area in the Desatoya Mountains)
Signs of Fire (Edwards Creek Valley)
New Pass Canyon western roadcuts
Friday Fault Photos #4 (New Pass Canyon)
Shoshone Mountains (photo)
Columnar jointing in tuff near Mt. Airy Summit
Flash Flood on Highway 50 (Mt. Airy Summit, Mt. Airy Mesa)
Flash flood, sheet wash deposits, and erosion from 2008, with tuff

Reese River Valley to Big Smoky Valley:
Reese River Ravens
Reese River Valley (looking south photo, looking west photo)
Toiyabe Range (photo, photo, photo)
Stokes Castle
Friday from the Road: Austin, NV (Reese River, Austin)
Geology on the Road: Austin, NV (powder cache door, quartz monzonite, dikes)
Things to do in Austin, NV
Austin: Is it Time to Leave Yet?
West to Southwest of Center: Beers and Roads and Folds and Things
Things You Find in the Field: Speed Traps
Geology on the Road: Highway 50 #2 (ash-flow tuff & granite, Austin Summit)
Geology on the Road: Highway 50 #1 (ash-flow tuff, Austin Summit)
Austin pass geology, granite, faults
Bob Scott Summit granite, contact
Field Trip Day 1: Getting There (flowers, Bob Scott Summit)

Big Smoky Valley to Hickison and Pete's Summits:
Big Smoky Valley (photo looking north)
A Saturday Drive (Big Smoky Valley)
A Road Trip to the Hot Springs (Spencer's Hot Springs)
A Soak at Spencer Hot Springs
Four Years Ago: Spencer Hot Springs, Kingston Summit, to Fallon
Spencer's Hot Springs (also mentioned here)
Linka Mine skarn
Memories: First Trip on Highway 50 (Pete's Summit, Lone Mountain, Cortez)
Pete's Summit petroglyphs, graptolites (mentioned here)

Big Smoky Valley Area and Monitor Valley
SW to SWxS of Center: West Northumberland Canyon
SWxS to SSW of Center: The West Northumberland Canyon Springs and Northumberland Pass
South by West of Center: Monitor Valley Salt Flat or Dry Lake
Backroads: Too Cold to Change a Flat, and other Considerations
South of Center: Potts Ranch Hot Springs
The Geographic Center

Hickison Summit to Lone Mountain:
Hickison Summit ash-flow tuff, faults, base surge?
Hickison Summit petroglyphs in ash-flow tuff
Gold mines near Gold Bar up the 3 Bar Road
Three Bar Ranch Road

Lone Mountain to Eureka:
Eureka! It's Lone Mountain!
Lone Mountain: Intro to Stratigraphy
Lone Mountain Stratigraphy in Brief
Tweeting the Eureka Quartzite
The Eureka Quartzite at Lone Mountain
Antelope Range (photo)
What Dust Hazard? (Roberts Creek Rd, Slough Creek, east side of Lone Mountain)
ENE of Center: Breccia at Devils Gate
Coarse-Grained Calcite in the Devils Gate Breccia
More about Devils Gate: limestone, horst, sill (?)
Speaking of Slag and Silver (Eureka)

Eureka to Newark Valley:
Eureka Summit hoodoos in poorly welded tuff
Eureka Pass contact of tuff against limestone?
A Fan Weekend - Nevada Style (alluvial fan in Newark Valley)
Three Years Ago Today: Newark Valley Geology at 70 Miles Per Hour
Pancake Summit (mentioned here)
Newark Valley (looking west photo)

Newark Valley to Ely:
Busy Days! (Ruth to Jakes Valley)
Geology on the Road: Ely Limestone Panorama (near Illipah Reservoir)
Springtime in the Egan Range (north of the Thirty Mile turnoff)
Garnet Hill
Friday Fault Photos (Keystone Junction, Ely Limestone, fault and folds)
Geology on the Road: Highway 50 #3 (Keystone Junction continued)
Today's Hike: Trees, Wildflowers, Stratigraphy, and Faults (stratigraphy near Ely)
The Lincoln Highway: Quotes and Links
Friday Field Photo: Cannonball Chert
Falling Rock (rock slide near Ely)
Pronunciation... (Ely)
Signs of Spring: Ravens (Squaw Peak quartzite)
Tweeting the Eureka Quartzite (Squaw Peak photo)
The Eureka Quartzite on Squaw Peak


Ely to the Utah border:
Two Years Ago: Trips to the Ovens (Ward Ovens)
Cave Lake
A Change in Weather: Fall becomes Winter? (Duck Creek Range, Success Summit, mylonite, contact)
Success Summit view
TheTail(s) of Thirty or Forty Antelope (Steptoe Valley)
Geology on the Road: Slate near Connors Pass, Highway 50
Friday Field Finds: An Old Trommel (Spring Valley)
Snake Range detachment fault (mentioned, photo, photo, photo, photo, and header photo above)
Friday Fault Photos #9 (Snake Range detachment)

On and near Wheeler Peak:
Alpenglow and Tentglow
Hiking in the Mountains
Where in the West: Wheeler Peak
Our Campsite on Wheeler Peak
Bristlecone Pines
My First Geology Tool
Rock Glacier: The First View
Rock Glacier: Closer and Closer
Rock Glacier: Higher and Higher
Rock Glacier: Near the Top
Rock Glacier: View from Above!
Rock Glacier: History and Links
Friday Field Photos: Wheeler Peak
A Snowshoe Trip
More Snowshoeing
Wheeler Peak Photo Sets, Spring and Summer 2006-2009
Friday Field Photos: Tarn It! (Teresa and Stella Lakes)
Friday Field Photos: Looking down on some Alluvial Fans
The Trail to 10,800 Feet
The Trail to 11,600 Feet
The Trail to 12,100 feet
The Trail to 12,350 feet (Or so)
Plants and Birds and Rocks and Things: Another Trip to Wheeler Peak
A Quick Note (Teresa Lake)

General Highway 50 Road Trip posts:
Spring Snow Squall in Central Nevada (Middlegate to Mt. Airy Summit)
Back Again - At Least for Now (Clan Alpine Mountains, Shoshone Mountains)
This is (More or Less) a Test (Eureka to Fourmile Flat)
Friday from the Road: There & Back Again (Edwards Creek Valley, Big Smoky Valley, Antelope Valley)
Through the Rain (Clouds: eastern and central Nevada, West Gate, and beyond Reno)

Also see: Highway 50 Links; posts tagged Highway 50

Last updated 17Jun2016.

Four Years Ago: Spencer Hot Springs, Kingston Summit, to Fallon

I'm going to depart a little from my usual "X Years Ago Today" format and go with this post, a few days late, which follows on from my 9-21 Newark Valley post of last year. That way, I don't have to wait one more year!
9-21-2007: After driving south from Highway 50 east of Austin onto old Highway 8A, now Nevada S.R. 367, we stopped at Spencer Hot Springs and soaked briefly in a lower tub, one just below and west of the main spring. It’s a tub that MOH and I hadn't been to before, although it’s possible that I camped next to it a number of years ago while at the springs with NJ&O. The tub was well set up and was at a good temperature.

From Spencer, we drove to old Highway 8A and then south to Kingston Canyon.

View of the Toquima Range from Highway 8A.

We're looking across Big Smoky Valley toward the Northumberland caldera, with the wide, flat-topped mountain in the far right being Mount Jefferson, the sixth highest peak in Nevada, with the third highest prominence.
We wound through the small village of Kingston, driving by the rundown cabin I lived in back in '79 and '80, and by the land-uphill, takeoff-downhill dirt airstrip. The road meanders through town and then into Kingston Canyon.

The Kingston Canyon road, a good graveled road, then goes through and under willows and cottonwoods, past a small lake or two, past a campground, a couple fishermen, and an old ranger station.

Up ahead, the road switchabacks up to the pass.

Just past the ranger station, the road crosses Kingston Creek, shortly thereafter making a broad turn to the northeast. After the turn, the road abruptly steepens to switchback through a rocky section, 4WD usually (always?) required, to the 8660-foot pass between Kingston Canyon and Big Creek Canyon.

View northward from the pass between Kingston and Big Creek Canyons.

The road then descends less abruptly and with gentler turns into the southern high reaches of Big Creek Canyon—a long, north-south canyon full of aspens, scattered quartz boulders, abundant sagebrush, steep slopes, and a creek stocked with trout.

Quartz-vein boulders littering the west slopes of the 11,000-foot-plus Toiyabe Range ridgeline.

One of the larger quartz-vein boulders.

Old ore bin in upper Big Creek Canyon.

After passing Big Creek Campground, we drove out of the canyon onto the western slope of the Toiyabe Range above upper Reese River Valley.

Sand Mountain.

We then drove forthwith to Fallon, stopping only at Middlegate Junction to get a soda and snack. Middlegate Junction, as is often the case, was suffering a horrendous dust storm due to strong winds coming north up the valley from Gabbs. Wind was blasting Highway 50 at a perfect 90º angle. Farther on, sand was spraying from Sand Mountain, making life miserable in the RV city sitting at its base.

We got a room in Fallon that night, then went for a fine Mexican dinner at a little cantina south of the main drag (Highway 50). The chips and salsa were excellent; the waiters and waitresses were dressed in black and white outfits like tuxedos. We had first dined there many years ago after retreating from a subzero winter trip to Spencer Hot Springs. The temperature in Big Smoky Valley had been -18º F, and amidst unknown electrical problems, a moonless darkness, and a foot of snow, the heater in the camper wouldn't kick on. Fallon was the closest place for repairs on that earlier trip; it was a welcome stopping point four years ago.

Three Years Ago Today: Newark Valley Geology at 70 Miles Per Hour

Photo of part of the east side of the Diamond Mountains, looking northwest from Highway 50.

I realized a while back, while going through old blog posts looking for specific reports and specific photos, that I really haven't done much of a post about Spencer's Hot Springs (a bit of one here). So, I started writing a post about a trip to Spencer's Hot Springs that MOH and I went on three years ago, describing the trip (briefly, of course), and this is where it went.

To get to Spencer's, we drove west on Highway 50, through Newark Valley, where I saw this part of the local stratigraphy on the east side of the Diamond Mountains (Google Maps location). I wrote some notes about what I thought I was looking at, locating the ever-present, widely recognized Mississippian Joana Limestone near the top of Newark Mountain, the cliffy limestone on the right side of the photo. From there, of course, the Pilot Shale would have to occupy the slope-forming part of the hill below the Joana, the Mississippian Chainman Shale would fill Tollhouse Canyon, the valley behind Newark Mountain, and the Pennsylvanian Ely Limestone would make up the hill behind the valley on the left side of the photo, with Fusulina Peak just beyond that Pennsylvanian horizon (MSRMaps). I thought I had the stratigraphy figured from the road, while passing by at 70 miles per hour.

Same photo as above, with approximate contact lines.

Here's the real stratigraphy, according to the White Pine County report: the cliffy limestone is the Devonian Devil's Gate Formation, a Guilmette Formation equivalent, the valley is composed of the Pilot Shale, Joana Limestone, and Chainman Shale, and the hill beyond is capped by the Ely Limestone (well, I got that one right, anyway!).

I was conducting what has been called x-mph geology, where x is the miles per hour one is driving; this time I was doing 70-mph geology. Geology at seventy miles per hour (or 70-mph geology) is generally much less detailed and often less accurate than geology at 20 miles per hour (20-mph geology). And it turns out that if you slow down to about 5 mph or less, you can almost complete a rock report on whatever iron-stained jasperoid or copper-stained porphyry you happen to be driving by, and the speed is almost slow enough for the geo-type in the passenger side of the truck to lean out and grab a sample.

The speed-geology terminology, along with an unrelated warp speed terminology, was invented by myself and another thermally altered geo-type back in the 1980s, probably while bouncing up and down some excessively rocky road in the Mojave Desert. Warp speed terminology is appropriate when gauging speed rather than geology: Warp 1 is 10 mph, a speed indicating that one is probably going steeply uphill or traversing one of those terribly rocky roads. Warp 2 (20 mph) is much preferred to Warp 1, but that still isn't much. If Scotty will give it all she's got, maybe you can get your speed up to Warp 4 or 5 on a dirt road, which is heaven, unless the washboard causes "She's breakin' up, Captain," in which case Scotty will have to wind the engines down to a more comfortable Warp 3 or 4. Also, Warp 4.5 to 5 on a dirt road can result in extreme turbulence when one comes over a hill and then bottoms into some unexpected washout on the other side. Scotty might then decide that, "She's comin' apart, Captain," which isn't a good thing no matter what warp you happen to be doing. Scotty has already resorted to, "I'm giving her all she's got, Captain!" Since that hasn't worked, you might then have to stop to regenerate your dilithium crystals (or have lunch or some other refreshment). Trees are in scarce supply in the Mojave, so the shade of your truck might be all you'll have for the precious dilithium to regenerate in.

I suppose I'll get into "thermal alteration" later; just know for now that it is more common in places where the hydro part of hydrothermal is in much lower supply than the thermal part, and that it can affect rocks, geologists, and prospectors alike. As for a Spencer's Hot Springs road trip, I guess that will have to wait for some other time: 70 mph geology took us from central Nevada into southern California!

Spencer Hot Springs, Then and Now

I first came to Spencer hot springs in the mid to late 1970s, certainly by the summer of 1980. In the 70s and early 80s, the lower main hot spring (as opposed to the upper main hot spring) was inside a small cabin. Back then, you — or you and no more than one of your friends — could sit neck high in a large, rectangular, poured-concrete bathtub sitting in the southeast corner of the cabin. Hot water too hot to soak in was piped down to the cabin from the northern spring; the water came to the cement tub through a small hole in the wall. If the water was too hot in the bathtub, you moved the pipe aside or turned off a valve. If it was too cold, you did the opposite.

Spencer Hot Springs as seen from Highway 50, looking south, Toquima Range in the background. Photo taken May, 2008. MSRMaps location.

The cabin was partially divided into two rooms: the bathing room and the changing room. The thing to do upon arriving was to drive up and check for vehicles in front of the cabin. If one or more vehicles were parked nearby, you drove by slowly and parked off a ways, and waited for the bathers to exit. Then you moved your vehicle into place in front of the cabin and soaked. It was considered good hot-spring etiquette not to stay too long after another vehicle had arrived, unless you had just arrived.

Spencer Hot Springs as seen from the junction of Highway 50 with Highway 8A, now S.R. 376, looking east, also from May, 2008. The dirt road goes to Pete's Summit.

People carved, painted, and wrote graffiti — mostly of the “I’ve-been-here-and-when” variety — on the inside wood and metal walls of the cabin. Some of the writings were witty, some were a little racy or vulgar, depending on your point of view. Someone, or a group of people offended by the coarser graffiti, had already, by 1980 or so, started marking over any drawings or words they didn’t like, using red paint or markers. They also added some of their own writings; these were usually puritanical comments stating or implying that the authors whose words they had marked out should get religion and change their ways, or they would soon be going to some disagreeable hell — presumably a hell without hot springs, but hopefully, at least, a hell without the censorship of their red paint.

In 1981, two geologists from Northern Exploration Company — one contract geologist and one summer temp — wrote a poem commemorating the company, the mineral exploration we were doing, some of the key players, and the hot springs itself. They used nicknames when they referred to any of the head honchos, signed their names cryptically, and dated their contribution to the cabin wall. Within a few months to a year, the red-paint people had crossed out one of the NEC geologist’s nicknames, “Asshole,” because it was on their list of bad words. I doubt they knew, or would have cared, that it was an appropriate and self-chosen nickname: he wore a baseball cap and carried a coffee cup with that name, and lived up to his designation admirably.

Shortly after the poets wrote and the censors painted, a non-NEC geologist passing by to use the hot springs recognized the historical relevance of the poem and took a picture of it for me. C, who is still an exploration and development geologist, and S, who later became a Quaternary or soil geologist, had perhaps expected a little more anonymity when the signed their names “Chuckles” and “Susie (Mud).” (I guess she already planned on becoming a soil geologist.) Within a few months of the photo-taking event, someone — we always thought it was the red-paint people — burned the cabin to the ground.

Alignment of the old pipeline from the north spring wellhead to the cabin site, looking straight toward Austin Summit; November, 2006.

At the cabin site, you can vaguely discern the outline of the cabin on the ground by discovering, like an archaeologist, the roughly square patch of charcoal-rich blackish dirt, a burned and blackened mattress springs, and pieces of odd artifacts like rusted nails and bits of broken glass and pottery. The jagged, heat-tanned remnant of the concrete tub, assorted pieces of rusted pipes, and the pipeline coming down the hill from this spring all attest to the main former use of the cabin.

A section of the old pipeline as it dives under the road toward the remains of the old bathtub; November, 2006.

Remains of the bathtub, looking southwest toward the Toiyabe Range; November, 2006. Kingston Canyon is just left of the photo in the distance.

Bits of glass, charcoal, and the bathtub, looking south toward the upper main spring (whitish, steamy area on the horizon), with the Toquima Range in the background; November, 2006.

Nowadays there are usually at least three main pools available for soaking. Two of the three soaking tubs consist of metal barrels; the main upper spring is a spacious and rock-lined hole in the ground with wooden deck. MOH and I have camped many times at the northern spring, the one that used to supply water to the concrete tub in the then-standing cabin. The northern spring is our favorite, mostly because it's usually more private than the larger main spring.

Water coming out of the metal pipe at the north tub, Toiyabe Range in the background; April, 2008. The yellow stake near the spring wellhead is there to ward off accidental drivethroughs and to block the scenery.

A lower tub as it looked in September, 2007, looking northwest toward Austin Summit.

The water at the former-cabin spring is too hot to soak in without cooling; it measured 130° F at the wellhead source on April 18, 2001. That same day, the water coming to the tub through a metal pipe measured 120° F.

A look inside the covered wellhead source of the north spring. Photo still from a movie by MOH; December, 2006.

To achieve and maintain a suitable soaking temperature, you have to move the metal pipe in or out of the tub, or turn a valve on or off if one happens to be attached. The desirable set up depends on variations in water temperature, air temperature, wind speed and wind chill factor, amount and kind of precipitation, and personal preference. You can let too-cool water out of the tub through a hole near the downstream end, and can then block the hole with a tennis ball, sock, or other item, so the tub can be re-filled with hot water. Other springs in the area have similar mechanisms for reaching and maintaining good soaking temps.

This large pipe at one of the lower springs had written directions, a temperature measurement, and political commentary; September, 2007.

Sunset at the north tub; November, 2006.

Spencer hot springs shows different aspects depending on time of day, time of year, and weather. I have no pictures from it's snow-covered and snowstorm mode, and no pictures of the incredible dust storms that can pass through. We once arrived after dark, parked near one of the main roads in drifting snow, found the outdoor temperature to be -18° F (it had been +18° F on top of Austin Summit), couldn't get the camper heating system going, and had to drive back to Fallon for repairs.

Another sunset view from November, 2006.

Snow squall days can be most amazing, with hot-spring goers often few and far between. A herd of donkeys with one horse will often pass through camp, and coyotes will be heard in the snowy distance.

A Soak at Spencer Hot Springs

It was just a week ago. MOH and I were heading home from holidays travels, and we had stopped in Austin, NV, making it there for Serbian Xmas. We had driven my truck over the mountain into Big Smoky Valley, down old Highway 8A, and across the valley on the Northumberland Mine road where we were looking for a long lost spot from a 1978 adventure. After roughing it over various relatively unused and poorly maintained dirt roads, we crossed the valley to get back on 8A, headed north, and crossed the valley again to have a soak at Spencer Hot Springs.
We ended up at the main hot spring, the one with the large pool, interior sitting stones that form a circle, and exterior deck. You can see a couple of the large sitting stones below water level on the right side of the pool; these form a nearly complete circle, although they are partly caved in on the far side. They get reset every now and then. You can also see the edge of a dark metal contraption just on the far left of the photo.
This metal framework has been put in place sometime in the last year and a half, to keep people (and dogs) out of the very hot source pool that has formed around the pipe that taps the hot water. It's quite ugly, and makes the springs look a bit smaller, blocking what view there is to the south.

Yes, the water is hot. That's rather the point, isn't it?

It's likely that the 165 written on the pipe indicates the temperature in Fahrenheit of water coming out of the well. Various temperatures have been reported for the main spring: 144°F was reported in 1917; a higher temperature of 162°F was reported in 1974 (two sources from Garside and Schilling, 1979).

Temperature of the geothermal reservoir at Spencer was estimated at 216°F in 1981 by the Nevada Department of Energy, and at 253°F in 1974 by Mariner and others (the latter also in Garside and Schilling, 1979).
Water from the source well flows through a pipe into the main soaking pond.
Temperature of the soaking pond can be regulated with this valve. While we were there, the water was bearably hot, hot enough for us to feel comfortable after getting out into the chilling and persistent wind.
After our fairly short soak, we took the main dirt road from the spring northwestward toward the site of the old Frontier and the junction of old 8A with Highway 50, thence over Bob Scott and Austin Summits back to Austin.

In this YouTube video from June 2010, by davidsquall351, you can see the way the main hot spring looked prior to the metal contraption being placed over the source well. You can also hear the gurgling of the water, and the braying of wild burros. The local burro herd make an appearance in the latter half of the video.

The burro herd typically has one mule or horse tagging along with it. We didn't see them while we were there last week, but do see them fairly routinely. Pictures of a couple of them are included in this trip report. They roam at least as far the north as Highway 50, which is only four miles away. We've seen them at least six miles from the springs.

Too Much to Possibly Post About

Sometimes I get a kind of writing block that has to do with too many possibilities: too many photos, too many things I've seen and could or could have posted about, too many ideas. I've got photos of things of interest going back at least into early December (actually, even earlier than that); some of these potential posts could be quite short and sweet, and yet that doesn't make it easier for me to consider posting them. Many are no longer timely the way they would have been had I posted them within a week of the events, hikes, etc., many could be posted any time, really, whether or not time has passed.

I also have gotten into a kind of mode where I think I'm too busy to post (and I have been, for various reasons, but may not really be right at the moment), and it also seems nice just to relax and really not do much of anything.

Things:
More photos from Jarbidge,
An owl in the field,
The so-called alaskite at Devils Gate near Eureka,
✓Beer mug from hospitality suite at Northwest,
✓A blogger meet up in Seattle,
Another hike to the Pony Express Station,
✓Photos from a Serbian Xmas in Austin,
Northumberland caldera photos and a related post alluded to elsewhere (can I really figure out the location?),
✓Recent pics from Spencer Hot Springs,
✓A neat breccia from Devils Gate near Eureka,
✓Bones of a sheep in the field,
Something else seen in the field, surely,
✓Stop SOPA,
Miscellaneous links and posts in draft, and

...I'm pretty sure there are more.

Where to start? That is the question.

Above possibilities listed in order of posting:
Stop Censorship Header | Stop SOPA Links
A Soak at Spencer Hot Springs
Yes, We Met in SeaTac
Can You Believe We Are Still Doing This?!
West to Southwest of Center: Beers and Roads and Folds and Things
ENE of Center: Breccia at Devils Gate
Coarse-Grained Calcite in the Devils Gate Breccia
Things You Find in the Field: Skull and Bones

Last updated 15Feb2012 at 8:31 a.m. PST

West to Southwest of Center: Beers and Roads and Folds and Things

I thought I'd back up to a time a week before our stop at The Geographic Center of Nevada, a time just prior to our soak at Spencer Hot Springs. MOH and I had gone out to Austin, Nevada, and we had aimed, successfully, to arrive in time for Serbian Christmas.

Serbian Christmas is celebrated yearly at the International Cafe & Bar, and we've happened in once before without knowing that we were arriving on that celebrated date. This time, we postponed our already scheduled trip to Austin by one or two days in order to arrive on the 7th of January, which corresponds to December 25th on the Julian calendar.
By perfect celebratory standards, we got there just a wee bit late, but still in time to get a room with overrated free wi-fi (terrible bandwith, poor broadcasting) at the Mountain Motel, and time to sit in the bar for a drink or two — including some traditional plum brandy from Serbia — before moving to our table in the cafe. The Christmas dinner of pit-roasted pig served with various and sundry dishes and desserts begins at around 2 or 3 in the afternoon (or maybe as early as noon). I think we sat down just before 6:00 and the food was still coming. The meal is free (unless you order off the pizza menu), the experience is more than worth the price, and the cuisine is the best for miles around.

We spent much of the next day trying to find a certain locality in the Northumberland caldera, and at one point we came close to taking the right road.

The right road.
I somehow didn't manage to take a picture of the wrong road.

We found a nice Z fold in Ordovician cherts of the Vinnini Formation just a couple miles southeast of the turnoff to the right road. The Z fold was part of a larger fold or fold complex that was difficult to photograph with straight-down-sun lighting. You can barely make out the Z fold near the main fold axis, just to the right of the prominent, though thin, black chert band in the right hand part of the photo.
Here's a better look at the Z fold with my boot for scale
And here's the Z fold rotated into a Z postion. I'll leave it to all the diehard structural types in the audience to tell me which direction is up in the photo showing the whole fold.

Not knowing that we hadn't made it to our sought-after spot in the Northumberland caldera, we returned to Austin after partaking of the waters at Spencer Hot Springs. We had another beer or two at the bar before eating dinner at the International, and the next day we continued our journey.

View Northumberland in a larger map

Road Trip to the Hot Springs

We didn't know it, as we headed across Big Smoky Valley in central Nevada, that we would soon be at the barely visible hot springs - seen above in the distance across the valley as the white, horizontal line to the left of the Pete's Summit dirt road.

We didn't know it, because we weren't planning on going there. It was our first time taking the new-ish Prius onto a dirt road. MOH gingerly drove the Prius onto the gravelly, washboardy dirt road, and almost turned around before deciding that we could make it, albeit at 15 to 20 mph, a road perhaps more commonly taken at 35 to 45 mph. [MOH had the good fortunate and great sense to trade in his diesel pickup for the Prius a couple months ago, and he has been driving it ever since. His mileage average has been over 50 mph for about 3000 miles.]

Spencer's Hot Springs (above, a photo of the "northern" spring, the one that used to feed the main cabin, which was burned down before the end of the 1980's) is one of the "destination" spots for travelers of the Nevada section of Highway 50. The spring was a favorite of locals and geologists alike long before the stretch of highway between Fernley and Ely was designated "The Loneliest Road" [in America] by Life Magazine in their July, 1986 issue. Their article doesn't say much - one very short paragraph in which they quote "an AAA counselor" or "AAA rep," who said, "It's totally empty.... There are no points of interest. We don't recommend it," and "We warn all motorists not to drive there unless they're confident of their survival skills." This was said at a time when I would see someone I knew every single time I drove through Austin, NV.

A view from the northern spring, looking southward toward Kingston Canyon in the Toiyabe Range, which forms the western side of Big Smoky Valley. A view from the same spring, looking eastward toward Pete's Summit in the Toquima Range, which forms the eastern side of Big Smoky Valley. Almost sunset above the Toiyabe Range to the west of Spencer's Hot Springs, with the low area on the right side of the photo being Bob Scott Summit and Austin Summit, the pass on Highway 50 west into Austin.

The Prius at the hot springs, Toiyabe Range in the background. As you can see, it was a dark and stormy afternoon and evening, with verga all around and rain or snow hitting the tops of the high peaks in places.

When we left, after our restful soak, we passed by the group (herd?) of burros that we have often seen while camped at the northern spring. Often a group of 5 to 8 burros, sometimes with one wild horse, walks by the spring in the late evening. As we left that afternoon, we saw 6 or 7 burros, kind of widely scattered, grazing. Above is a burro colt to the left of the mama (?) burro.

Above is old "white nose," a burro we have seen at the springs several times. Although no other burros were close by, he stood facing us, the way wild stallions often do, the entire time we drove by (it took awhile, especially what with stopping to get non-blurry photos). It was as though he was single-handedly protecting the rest of the burros from us.

And last, as we approached Highway 50, we saw one antelope in the darkening distance. It turned and stared as we drove by, also watching us carefully.

Memories: First Trip on Highway 50

Toquima Range and Big Smoky Valley in a dust storm.

There are stories, and then there are stories. There are the stories already written, filed away in computer drives and manilla folders, and there are the stories that come to me out of the blue while I’m driving down some road, often Highway 50 where I seem to do most of my on-pavement travel these days. When I look north and south from Highway 50, down the great basins like Big Smoky Valley or along the great mountain ranges like the Toiyabe Range, I see memories as far as I can see—sometimes farther than I can see—often all the way to the next major east-west highway like I-80 to the north and Route 6 to the south. I'm not sure if all those memories should count as belonging to Highway 50 in particular, but some of them clearly do.

It starts this way, whether driving or riding in the passenger seat: I'll spot some familiar canyon or notice a particular bend in a dirt road, ahead of me or way off in the distance, and suddenly I'm part way up that canyon or around that bend, seeing the place the way I saw it the first time. And as I drive by these places—many of them tens of miles from pavement, some of them nearly a hundred, all of them hazy with the time and distance, many of them not quite visible through mountains or over the curvature of the earth—the times and places begin to overlap, and I can see all the times for a particular place and see all the places for some particular time.

Toquima Range and Big Smoky Valley on a clear day.

I've thought of writing up these memories of Highway 50: it’s the highway with the widest reach across my past and across central Nevada, and I've been thinking about this during at least the last four trips. I could start at one end of the state and work my way to the other end—either end being possibly less rich in memories than the middle—or I could start somewhere in time, like the first time, working my way forward into the present, or at least into the 1980s when travel down that road became less and less frequent, until travel became more frequent again sometime after the 1990s.

Having to start somewhere, I’ll start with my first trip on Highway 50, a geology field trip taken with a required graduate class entitiled Geology of Nevada, a semester-long class with three weekend (or weekend plus) field trips. This was our first trip, and for some of us—for non-Nevadans like me—it was our first real foray into Nevada. What do I remember most about Highway 50 and environs from that trip?

Shadows on mountains in central Nevada.

First off, I remember the breathtaking vastness and the unexpected clarity of the views across central Nevada’s basins and ranges. It was fall, and the light was low on the horizon, the shadows were deep, the clouds came and went, casting shadows of their own, changing and adding to the deep browns and bluish purple hues of late September, or was it early October?

I remember looking for graptolites in the brown-weathering shales of the Ordovician Vinini Formation, finding them on moderately steep slopes under a thin piñon and juniper canopy in the early morning of the second day. Did we have breakfast? Or beer the night before? I don’t remember the food or drink; I remember the graptolites and the cool morning, I remember the sun rising and heating up the hills slowly, rising and finally hitting our fossiliferous field stop.

Petes Summit Road, heading toward the pass, passing Spencer Hot Spring.

Petes Summit it was, a low pass over the Monitor Range just east of Spencer Hot Springs, on a dirt road that I’ve since passed over countless times. We had camped there the first night, after a stop at Bob Scott Summit east of Austin. I know we stopped at Bob Scott, though I don’t remember why, but the summit names Austin, Bob Scott, and Pete’s were forever mapped into the topography of my mind.

At the time, I knew nothing about Nevada's cool fall nights, and had bought a mummy bag to replace the thin, rectangular bag I had brought with me from the east coast, where summer nights were often warmer than wanted, usually muggy and humid, maybe cooling if you stayed up late enough. I had sought out a down sleeping bag at the local Army surplus store on 4th Street, as other grad students had recommended. The guy there sold me a clean, used, fluffy bag that was supposed to be "good to 20 degrees," which seemed unfathomably cold to me, surely good enough to for my field trip needs.

It wasn't. I found out later that I had purchased a sleeping bag filled with feathers, not down. No wonder it was so cold that first night under the stars and trees on Pete’s Summit. Weather Underground puts the lows in nearby Austin, NV at 39 to 40 F in late September, down below freezing in early October, and as low as 17 F in late October. I’m not sure what the date was—it was probably late September, but even with the temps just down to 40 F or so, I shivered all night. I bought a space blanket shortly thereafter, and upgraded to real down within a couple years.

Diamond Mountains on the eastern horizon, as seen from near Lone Mountain.

Other memories from that trip come harder, but are also within the range of my views from Highway 50: the old mills at Cortez (at the time, pronounced COR-tehz by the locals, run that last syllable quickly), my first view of Gold Acres across the valley from Cortez, and the triangular facets in Crescent Valley (the latter being closer to I-80 than to Highway 50, but around a viewable corner, visible from a Highway 50 field trip).

Oh, and then there was the spectacular arm waving from a hill just outside Eureka, with arms waving toward and beyond the Diamond Mountains, then back toward the Roberts Creek Mountains, then back to Diamond Peak: waving at and pointing out the overlap terrane of Mississippian Diamond Peak Formation reportedly sitting on both the eastern and western assemblages of the nearly unimaginably huge Roberts Mountains Thrust. Can you see it? Just over there?

Lone Mountain north of Highway 50, near Eureka, NV.

And Lone Mountain. I took a picture of it from the dirt road heading south into Antelope Valley, one of the better viewing spots for the mountain and for the Eureka Quartzite on its west side. I later drew the formations, Op through Srm through Dd, on one of the printed photos I glued into the field trip report I wrote for class. I think of that first time at Lone Mountain anytime I stop to take a picture, anytime I look deeply into the Eureka Quartzite while driving by.

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Yes, those are my first memories of Highway 50: late September or early October, 1975.