Showing posts with label bars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bars. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 26, 2019

Winnemucca to Hwy 395 north of Susanville, Part 3

Black Rock Desert
Well, here we are again, traveling from Winnemucca, NV, to Highway 395 north of Susanville, CA, and we’ve just made it to the west end of the Jungo Road where it intersects with NV S.R. 447 (formerly S.R. 34) just south of Gerlach. You’ve probably noticed that I haven't been blogging much recently. I'm not really sure why. Sometimes the work I do takes the writing right out of me, partly because I do enough writing many days that I'm totally done with that by the end of the day; also, I don't really have much time after work before I have to do dinner, then get ready for bed—at least if I want to get enough sleep, which I do want (I don't always succeed). Another thing contributing to the recent spate of sparse blogging—besides taking care of personal things that have been taking a lot out of my energy during my days off—is that my writing effort during the fall and winter months has been going toward writing bits of fiction (a novel?), which I've been working on intermittently during the last two years.

Anyway, all of that—work, trying to get enough sleep, personal issues, and writing fictional to non-fictional stories—has placed blogging low on the list.

Now I'll upload the photos for this post, and we'll go from there. Just like a real journey, we’ll see how far we get!
Smoke Creek Desert
At the end of the last post, we'd driven quickly through Gerlach and had reached the northwest side of the Smoke Creek Desert. I hadn't taken any photos while zipping through Gerlach, but I often stop, and I've even stayed overnight at least twice. So let's backtrack before moving on.
Gerlach is a small town that brags of several mottoes, including "Center of the Known Universe," "Where the Pavement Ends and the West Begins" and "The Time That Town Forgot." More can be seen on the town sign, above, or in this nicely enlarged version of the sign by the RGJ. As indicated by the sign, Gerlach is technically pronounced Grr-lack rather than the Grr-lock one hears so commonly these days. I shot these photos of Gerlach on a trip that FMOH and I took back in the spring of 2014. Like the June, 2018, trip that we—you and I—are reprising, he and I had just come into town from Winnemucca on the Jungo Road. We were bringing the motorcycle back from Nevada, mirroring this trip taking it out to Nevada.
While in town, we did the usual thing of stopping to eat at Bruno's Country Club, probably getting Bruno's Famous Homemade Ravioli. By 2014, Bruno was no longer making his ravs personally, so I don't think they were quite as authentic, nor were they quite as good.
Unlike many trips, this time we stopped at the bar for a couple beers; we weren't driving on that afternoon or evening, but were, rather, staying at Bruno's Motel. Bruno Selmi, the Basque owner of the cafe, bar, motel, and only gas station in town, died in May of 2017—he can be seen in the photo above the bar (the older man on the right).
After checking in to our room at the motel—and after duly going back to the bar to get a second room when the first smelled either of gas or dead mouse—we wandered out onto the far western edge of the Black Rock Desert, where we had a view somewhat atypical of most views of the desert. This section of the Black Rock is a section you don’t want to drive into: it’s usually muddy, and it’s very possible that you’ll get stuck. The getting stuck part typically happens at night when an unsuspecting traveler, one who is already out on the desert somewhere to the east, decides to get off the desert—and instead of driving to the usual take-out spot north of town, sets their sights on the lights of Gerlach and makes a beeline for town. The next thing our unsuspecting—or willfully ignorant—traveler knows, they are stuck, possibly axle deep, in the mud at the west end of the main section of the Black Rock Desert. Fortunately for them, they aren’t far from Bruno’s gas station. Maybe someone will risk a vehicle to come and pull them out!
It’s possible one could wend their way through the merely salty white section of desert to the pavement on the east edge of Gerlach, at least in the drier years, but I don’t recommend trying it. I personally know at least one person who tried this one night back in the 1980s; the getting stuck was epic.
The next morning after breakfast, FMOH and I headed west.

Now let’s get back to my June 2018 trip, which I was taking all by myself (cue pint-sized pity party). I had just made it to the northwest side of the Smoke Creek Desert and had taken the photo seen earlier and in my last post.
A ways farther down the west side of the Smoke Creek Desert, I pulled over for a quick examination of some tufa. There are many spots to see tufa domes, mounds, and hills along the west side of the Smoke Creek Desert; this mound, Hill 4081, was a new one to me.
I climbed up through the cheatgrass and scattered tansy-mustard tumbleweed and looked around. Here we’re looking off to the northeast, more or less back toward the Junction of C.R. 447 and the Smoke Creek Desert Road. The Granite Range, unsurprisingly underlain by granite, rises steeply beyond the distant Smoke Creek Desert playa. The foreground is green because...water. It’s a wet part of the basin, possibly because of the entry of perennial Smoke Creek into the desert just south of where we’re standing. It’s also more elevated than the playa, and covered with grass (at least cheat grass) and various scrub.
I love tufa mounds, so I stood looking around for a few minutes, taking lots of photos. This photo looks off more to the north. The distant bluish hills just right of the tufa dome are part of the Buffalo Hills, which are underlain by a pile of volcanic rocks.
More tufa! More volcanic rocks! The hills in shadow between the tufa masses are some volcanic flows forming the eastern foothills of Burro Mountain.

From this point on Hill 4081, I got back on the Smoke Creek Desert Road, went south a short distance, and then turned west on what Washoe County considers the continuation of the Smoke Creek Desert Road, and what Google Maps refers to as the Smoke Creek Road: a dirt road that heads west up Smoke Creek.

to be continued...
Google Maps location map.

Related Posts:
Winnemucca to Hwy 395 north of Susanville, Part 2
Winnemucca to Hwy 395 north of Susanville, Part 1
Things You Find in the Field: Sulfur at Sulphur
Blue Mountain (2012)
Pulpit Rock (2012)
Smoke in the Black Rock & Smoke Creek Deserts (2102)
Where in the West: Black Rock Desert (2008)
Where in the West - June: A Second Look (2008)
Where in the West - June (2008)
Name That Place (2008)

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Finding a Thesis: Arriving at Blind Spring Hill

With Mineral Ridge in my rear-view mirror, I stopped briefly at the basalt cinder cone, The Crater, which is located right on the side of the road just a few miles north of Silver Peak. From The Crater, I set my sights on Blind Spring Hill, which was last on my list of thesis possibilities. Blind Spring Hill is a ridge-like hill or small mountain that extends southward from the road between Benton and Benton Hot Springs, CA, and which hosts a small silver mining district, Blind Spring Hill mining district. Blind Spring Hill is about 30 miles north of Bishop, CA, and not far southwest of the California-Nevada state line.It was supposed to be my last stop.

I drove north on old 47 (now S.R. 265) to Blair Junction.
Blair Junction is the intersection between S.R. 265 (old 47) and Route 6 (cosigned with U.S. 95).
I turned left...and said goodbye to Mineral Ridge.
Mineral Ridge, looking south from near Blair Junction.
The domal shape of the Mineral Ridge core complex is easily seen looking south from U.S. 95–U.S. 6 if you're driving east or west along the south end of the Monte Cristo Range between Lone Mountain and Coaldale; in fact, the best angle to see the shape of the core complex really is from right about at Blair Junction, as in the above photo, which I took in 2010 when coming back from a trip to Fish Lake Valley. The pyramidal peak at the top of the dome is upper plate sitting atop of the Mineral Ridge detachment fault, which follows along and just above or just below the overall outline of Mineral Ridge. The fainter mountains seen through a low spot at the right end of Mineral Ridge is part of the Silver Peak Range south of Red Mountain, which is hidden from view at this angle. Rhyolite Ridge, also part of the Silver Peak Range, sits at the farthest right. The low, black hill on the horizon and left of center, almost hidden in the saltbush and shadscale is not The Crater. Rather, it's hill 4833, a low hill located along a paleo-beach in the south part of Big Smoky Valley (USGS TNM location). I've never stopped to check it out., but it might be made of tufa-cemented gravel related to a Pleistocene shoreline, or it could be something within the Tertiary Esmeralda Formation, which is broadly composed of shale, siltstone, and sandstone, with some interbeds of conglomerate, tuff, and tufa.

From Blair Junction, it's a little more than 6 miles to Coaldale Junction, where Highway 95 splits off from this section of conjoined Highway 6 to head north, and Highway 6 continues west toward California.
These old buildings are part of the site of Coaldale, which was active in its day.
Colorful, volcanic hills in the north part of the Silver Peak Range overlook the highway a little west of Coaldale and Coaldale Junction. I've driven by these hills many times but have never stopped. Uranium and coal occur in the area (Albers and Stewart, 1972).
Volcanic rocks south of Highway 6 near Coaldale Junction.
At Coaldale Junction, I turned off the Highway 95-6 combo, to continue west on Highway 6. From there, it's about 19 miles to the California border.

From the NV-CA state line, just north of the north end of the White Mountains, it's 7 miles to Benton and 8.5 miles to the north terminus of Blind Spring Hill.
Here's a good view of the White Mountains, looking south from close to the state line (Google Street View).

Boundary Peak, Nevada's highest mountain at 13,140 feet (4005 m), is the snow-covered peak above treeline on the left; Montgomery Peak, at 13,441 feet (4097 m), is California's higher peak just to its right. Boundary Peak is often considered a subsidiary peak to Montgomery Peak. Without Boundary Peak, Wheeler Peak, in eastern Nevada would be Nevada's highest mountain at 13,063 feet (3982 m). As for the White Mountains, Boundary Peak is practically a low hill: farther to the south, the Whites reach the even higher height of 14,246 feet (4342 m) at White Mountain Peak.

From U.S. 6 at Benton, I took California S.R. 120 toward Mono Lake and Lee Vining. Highway 120 is the road that ultimately goes over Tioga Pass to join Highway 49 on the other side of the Sierra Nevada near Moccasin Reservoir, about 30 miles northwest of the western entrance to Yosemite National Park. If you have never taken 120 over the Sierra, you should. If you’ve taken that route, I recommend driving 120 between Benton and Lee Vining, in either direction (I most commonly drive it from east to west). The route is typically closed in winter, so you might have to wait a couple months.
The section of Highway 120 route I'm recommending (Google Maps).

This rather obscure, back-country paved road will place the White Mountains either in front of you or in your rearview mirror, depending your direction of travel. You will either begin or end on Highway 395 at the south end of Mono Lake near Lee Vining, where you'll be at the north end of the flow-dome complexes of Mono-Inyo Craters and just south of Panum Crater. No matter which direction you end up traveling, you will be in for some great views, and you will be driving through some incomparable volcanic geology.

After getting on Route 120 at Benton, on my first journey ever through the area in 1976, I drove west toward the small outpost of Benton Hot Springs, which didn't look at all inviting to me. I didn't stop. At the time, besides being focused on completing my journey, I was plagued by my usual reservations about being observed by people while in the field, and I felt out-of-place and conspicuous. Despite these feelings, I probably did enjoy a lunch or two in Benton during my intermittent stay in the area (or was that later, when doing field work and reconnaissance for Former Mining Company?).

Because of my qualms or suspicions around people, rather than turning south at Benton Hot Springs, I almost certainly drove a couple miles farther to turn onto dirt. Without a doubt that turn is the way to go into the area if coming from the west, which I did at least once, maybe twice or three times.
This is the turnoff into the area, as seen from the west (Google Street View). The prominent mountains are the White Mountains. Blind Spring Hill is the low, inconspicuous range in front of the Whites.

My campsite, 14.5 miles from the state line on the dirt road I took and about 215 miles from home, was centrally located at about the middle of the hill’s western range front. I had a smallish tent, one large enough to sit or kneel in, but not tall enough in which to stand up. I had a sleeping bag, a cook stove, a small table, and  afolding chair.

Beyond camp, the dirt road steepened, zigged or zagged a little, and began its ascent of Blind Spring Hill’s western face to the numerous old workings. My 1976, light blue Opel sedan had easily traversed the dirt road from pavement to camp, but I could see I’d better walk up the road before committing the Opel to it. It’s a good thing I did, too. A 4WD would have been able to drive partway up the road, sliding around the gullies and dodging the gigantic boulders, but the road was completely washed out right at the top of the hill, so I would have had a long way to back down, something I wan't that proficient at in those early days of field work.

I walked up and took a look around.
The spliced Benton, Casa Diablo Mountain, Glass Mountain, and White Mountain Peak 15' quads, courtesy USGS.
The main part of the area, where all those prospects are, is bifurcated by two topo quads, and less than three miles from the corner of four quads. The area is right next to two paved roads and is 35 miles from a bar. This latter means that it doesn't quite make the criteria for being a good place to "find a mine" (and maybe that's why no one has, recently), although it is less than 30 airline miles from bars at Mammoth Lakes, so maybe...just maybe. (It's also less than 25 airline miles to The Boonies bar and cafe in Nevada's Fish Lake Valley—in case you were thinking of flying over the White Mountains!)
A strangely distorted view of a bar in Dyer, NV.
Blind Spring Hill, the last area on my list, was the most intriguing of all the places I’d visited. The mines were in granitic rock, which hopefully could be mapped into distinct plutons. I could learn some of the differences between weathering effects and the alteration effects that often accompany the fluids that shoot through and infuse the rocks during a mineralizing event. I stopped and looked at a few prospects on the way up the road, I looked around a few workings on the top of the hill, and I saw some promise. I had collected a good many rocks before I made it back to my camp at the base of the hill.

Note: I would now choose Mineral Ridge and the Mary Mine hands down over all the other areas I examined, perhaps barring the Betty O’Neal mine up near Battle Mountain. I’ve always had a lingering fondness for the Betty O’Neal, but would still choose Mineral Ridge. For one thing, it’s not located near Battle Mountain!!!

Selected Reference:
Albers, J.P., and Stewart, J.H, 1972, Geology and mineral deposits of Esmeralda County, Nevada [available for sale only]: NBMG Bulletin 78, 80 p

Related Posts:
Thesis: Finding an Area
Finding a Thesis: Battle Mountain to Austin to Gabbs
Finding a Thesis: Pole Line Road
Finding a Thesis: Pole Line to Belmont
Finding a Thesis: Klondyke District
Finding a Thesis: A Joshua Tree Aside
Finding a Thesis: Into the Palmetto Mountains
Finding a Thesis: Farther into the Palmetto Mountains
Finding a Thesis: A Bit O' Geology in the Palmetto Mountains
Future Stories from the Palmetto Mountains
Lida Summit Roadcut
Finding a Thesis: Next Stop, Silver Peak!
Finding a Thesis: Coming into Clayton Valley
Finding a Thesis: On the Southern Route to Mineral Ridge
Finding a Thesis: The Northern Route onto Mineral Ridge and a Little Geology
Finding a Thesis: Up to the Millsite and Back
Finding a Thesis: Views and Geography and ... Oh, What's That?
Finding a Thesis: A Cinder Cone Aside

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Happy Holidays!

Xmas Eve greetings! Photos are all from Nevada City, CA, although I'm elsewhere at the moment. Above: the Outside Inn.
Inside the Mine Shaft.
Likewise.
Xmas cheer from inside Lefty's.

Thursday, June 25, 2015

A Watering Hole Bites the Dust: Water Hole #1

Water Hole #1 in Golconda, Nevada — a bar made famous in the late 1970s by an industrious pig, Waterhole Ike — closed sometime within the last two to three years, before I had a chance to stop by and check out their beer collection.
Water Hole #1 and attached grocery store in March, 2015.
The bar and store during better times: June, 2012.
Zooming in on the bar.
Note the boarded-up windows.
A view of part of the motel next door.
The rest of the motel.
Part of the motel in June, 2012.
Read more about Golconda and Waterhole Ike:
A Visit to Often Overlooked Golconda - Backyard Traveller, Rich Moreno
Waterhole Ike - Howard Hickson's Histories
The illustrious past of Golconda - RGJ.com
Mike's Water Hole - FB page


And, by the way, the stories about Waterhole Ike remind me of a story told by a former colleague of mine, who — back in the old days — once saw a pig walk into a bar up in northern Idaho (or maybe it was Montana? or Colorado??). The bartender or a friend of the pig grabbed a beer (can or bottle, I'm not sure which; brand, I'm not sure of that, either), opened it, and held it for the pig, who immediately guzzled it. The colleague, rather dumbfounded by the incident, asked about this phenomenon and was told that the pig saunters in to the bar about the same time every day and has a beer. (Story verified by another former colleague.)

Monday, February 25, 2013

Things You Find in the Field: Another Oasis

The Oasis at Rye Patch.
A jukebox and "I Want Brew" sign in the corner.
A pool table across the room.
Pull up a chair?
It was a wintry day when MOH and I stopped by The Oasis sometime late last year. We sat at the bar, had a burger or some such, and an Alaskan Amber. I was surprised to find anything but the Bud, Bud Light, Coors, Coors Light, or (if you're lucky) MGD that are prevalent in small bars across Nevada—but good brews are becoming more popular in the outback and are, hence, more available.

The Oasis at Rye Patch is a cozy place, overall, with a nice sign out front (see this) and good pizza inside. I recommend the pizza from a dining experience or two back in 2004, when I was working in the area for a now defunct company that was running one of the nearby mines (the mine is still running).

Friday, February 22, 2013

Things You Find in the Field: An Oasis

The Oasis in Niption, CA.
It's a decent place to get a burger, drink iced tea, hang out, and play pool.
Pool cues.
The Oasis is surrounded by trees, and has lots of historic and informational photos on the wall. We thought about staying the night, but accommodations weren't available on zero notice, so we went on to Needles (fondly known as Needless). When leaving, we had to wait for a train to pass.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Back to Midas

At long last, we're back on the Tuscarora Loop, with the turnoff to the small town of Midas just up ahead. On our loop trip, taken way back in early June, MOH and I passed Midas by, in favor of making it all the way to Tuscarora. At the time, I had been to neither place, but Tuscarora seemed more out-of-the-way, and therefore more exotic, so down the road we went.

We came back in mid-July, and instead of following the main road, old S.R. 18, to the right, we took the side road up the canyon to the left.

Signs at the turnoff to the Midas road.

Sign at the entrance to the town of Midas, and green trees.

Acme Beer sign, reportedly dating to about 1936.
I was on the lookout for a bar that had been open in 1979 or 1980, a bar I knew as Kirby's Midas Bar, a name given to me by a friend of mine, a young woman who was working as a geologist while staying in Midas in a company trailer. Seeing the old sign for Andy's Midas Bar made me somewhat hopeful about finding either Kirby's or Andy's bar, although Acme Beer dates back primarily to the early 1950s and before. Acme Beer did have a short revival in 1975 to 1979; could it have possibly been being sold in Midas while my friend was in town?

While in Midas, my friend could make or receive phone calls on one of the two phones in town, which had the phone numbers of Midas #1 and Midas #2. Phone numbers like these were fairly common in the 1970s and early to mid- or late 1980s in the small, outlying towns of Nevada. These numbers confused operators outside the state to no end. To place a call into Midas or Getchell, for example, you would dial 0 for an operator and then ask for Midas #1 or Getchell #2 as needed. If dialing in from out of state when trying to reach one of these types of numbers, one learned quickly to ask the out-of-state operator for a Nevada operator, because many outside operators didn't believe that phone numbers like that could even exist.

While I was looking for, and not finding, the bar I'd heard of long ago, MOH and I were hoping that the one known-to-be-operating establishment in Midas, the Midas Saloon and Dinner House, would be open, but it wasn't. This became a concern during a later, uphill, in-the-rain adventure of ours.

Mine dump, ore cart, and portal (?) a little ways up Midas Creek.

Old cabin, garage, or storage shed.

Road to somewhere.
After a quick pass through town, we headed up the hill to the west on this relatively innocent-looking side road. The partly cloudy weather became more and more threatening as storms to the south moved in, creating an unexpectedly muddy situation.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

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