Ranges and Routes

Nevada High Points #76: Montezuma Range and Clayton Dunes Overland

D. Craig Young · February 22, 2021 · 7 Comments

Clayton Dunes.

Montezuma Peak

8373 ft (2552 m); Gain 1624 ft

2021.01.09

It was time for the initial ‘Second Friday’ excursion in 2021. Snow squalls had come and gone during the week, so our plan was to head south into the southern Great Basin so that the daytime temperatures would be somewhat warm and snow might be less in the higher elevations. Darren and I chose Montezuma Peak for our target, and I picked the dunes of Clayton Valley for our two-night camp.

**Clayton Valley**. View from Montezuma Peak with Clayton Dunes, Silver Peak Range, and the White Mountains in the distance.

I met Darren in Carson City late on Friday morning. With a stop for fuel and a few supplies, we were soon on the straightaways of Highway 95 heading toward Tonopah, Nevada. We turn south toward Silver Peak, dropping past ‘The Crater’ and into Clayton Valley. I camped in Clayton Valley on my first Second Friday excursion in January of last year — in the before times. At the time, I had made the dunes a future destination and worthy of a look.

Clayton Dunes Collection

We arrived at the dunes at sunset. Rising prominently about a mile from the road, the dunes have no maintained access and off-road vehicle activity appears to be quiet in the winter. A sandy (obviously) two-track leads into the dune’s east side; however, I was not sure the truck and trailer would make it — a meter-deep arroyo had taken over portions of the track and small dunes rolled across others. We ditched the trailer by the turn-out and explored the two-track with the truck. It was fine and sandy. Returned for the trailer and set camp as the darkness closed in.

Winds were forecast, but at dinner we commented on the calmness and its relative warmth. A coyote sang in the distance. Watching the stars and mapping out the lights on the distant side of the valley, we noticed the lights of the evaporation ponds dimming and disappearing. The pinpricks of streetlights at Silver Peak were bright against the mountains. Slowly they, too, vanished.

We sat perplexed until a quick gust of wind rattled the table and an empty beer can. The smell of the night changed. Another gust. Dust storm!

The silt engulfed us reflecting a fog of headlamp and not much else. The vanishing lights explained. We hunkered in momentarily and then thought we should make the most of this. Let’s climb the dunes. We worked our way in our silt halos watching white-outs of sand blast from dune crests — the dunes migrating under our feet.

**Clayton Camp**. My Taxa Cricket with Darren’s tent; our common overland camp configuration.

The morning was bright, a low cloud at the horizon evaporating at sunrise. We waited for golden light on the dune, but the uplands to the east were calling. The road to Montezuma, a historic-era mining town, is well-maintained and its upper reaches access private property and modern infrastructure, but respecting the properties is easily done.

A so-called ‘pack trail’, variously marked on different maps, led to a pass that crests at the northeast ridge of Montezuma Peak. It is a simple, enjoyable hike from there. Snow patches were not deep even though we approached on north-facing slopes.

Montezuma Peak Collection

**Montezuma approach**. Leaving the pack trail we enjoy rock cross-country hike toward the rounded summit.

**Toward Mud Lake**. Summit view to the northeast toward the playa of Mud Lake.

**Summit moment**. The night’s wind brought the day’s cold — we did not linger.

Back at in the dunes we wandered, following animal tracks and composing photographs for the promising sunset. I also wanted to get the know the dunescape so we could catch the early light and the great shadow play of mid-morning sun angles on the curving dunes. I tried a few things but the cold was coming hard and fast. We prepared for dinner noticing that any liquid that hit the table froze immediately. Our hands numbed if we moved anywhere away from the stove. I turned on the trailer heater so we could lounge inside, but we kept to star-gazing and the pleasure of our well-contained campfire. It is something of a challenge to stay up in the winter-darkness, so we were relieved that the time passed quickly among our conversations about future trips, natural history, photography, and video ideas. And likely a myriad other things.

**Clayton Dunes**. Basin alluvium arranged by wind the basin bottomlands.

Because the evening shoot in the dunes did not materialize, I wanted hoped for success in the morning. I climbed the dune well before dawn, it was dramatically cold (in camp, our five gallon water jug was a solid block). The simple star dune in the midst of the dunefield provide the S-curve I wanted. I could have a play with first light against the dark of the dune shadow. The shadow area held a frost, giving it some highlights reflecting the sky, something I had not seen on a dune previously — of course, I’m not often on a dune in single-digit (F) temperatures. It was very satisfying, and I warmed quickly with my success.

**Frosted dune**. Feeling the mood of the dune at first light (three-image focus stack).

Darren was hiking his own quadrant of the dune but soon joined me for a few long moments enjoying the quiet, expansive views. This first overland of 2021 had worked out nicely; we had a fast peak and some slow time in the dunes. We had the excitement of the dust storm and the calm of the refreshed, trackless dune on the cold morning. It was, however, time to head home and plan our next overland/photo excursion.

Clayton Dunes Collection

**North dune**. A five-image pano from the dune apex, looking north across Clayton Valley.

Keep going.

Please respect the natural and cultural resources of our public lands.

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Nevada High Points #75: Trinity Range

D. Craig Young · February 21, 2021 · 1 Comment

Trinity Peak

7337 ft (2235 m); Gain 2005 ft

2021.01.03

I have a long-held goal, contrived in the early 1990s, of climbing the high points of Nevada’s named ranges. I have known a few who claim to have achieved the feat, and I do not doubt their success. Although I doubt I’ll reach the goal of every highpoint summit, the goal has always been motivation (or, an excuse) to get into the Nevada outback and experience places I might not visit otherwise.

My successes have been limited lately, but it is time to ‘re’-turn in the direction of Nevada summits, those obvious and the many obscure. Maybe this is a resolution for the New Year, and 2021 is probably a good time for a reset. Besides, the outback is the muse to my photography-geoarchaeology-trail running pursuits that form most days. Although the goal may be unobtainable — I have catalogued 352 named ranges, mountains, and stand-alone hills, and several rest behind military fences, it gets us into the landscape where the interplay of art and science is always at-hand. And, it is just plain fun; let’s keep going…

A break in the weather called for a summit day, choosing an unclimbed range within, say, a three-hour drive of StoneHeart. Trinity Peak is the high point of a volcanic range rising in generally rolling hills west of the Humboldt River. Ragged Top has some interesting craggy outcrops, but it stands a couple hundred feet lower at the southern end of the range.

We left the interstate at Lovelock, turning west on the Hwy 399 toward Trinity Pass and the Eagle Picher Mine at Seven Troughs Road. Clouds hung low over the range but it looked a good morning for a walk. The two-tracks away from the main road were slick and slimey; it was warm enough to melt but cold enough to maintain a general snowcover. I immediately realized my gaiters were still packed at home. The snow was not at all deep, but occasional steps would bring a good batch of snow and mud over the boot-tops.

Trinity Peak Collection

We climbed easily across lower slopes, intersecting drainages and then turning higher to get a snowless ridge or outcrop. We did not rush; the temperature was perfect and there was practically no wind. One of those good days in the Nevada outback.

The Trinity Range is a north-south-trending range — like most in Nevada’s Basin and Range province — that bounds the expansive Granite Springs Valley to the west and drops to broad fans and the Humboldt River to the east. It is the western most range in a cluster of small mountains and hills in the ‘Blue Wing Triangle’ south of the Black Rock Desert, east of Pyramid Lake, and north and east of the Humboldt River, where vast dry basins are cut by often steeply faulted hills. There are few springs or other water sources. Pronghorn are common, as are soaring raptors.

Today, however, it is quiet and only a few of the little brown birds accompany us. We hit one false summit at about mile two. From this outcrop the summit rose from a boulder-strewn tableland. Yellow and orange lichen decorated the way.

Trinity ridge leading from a false summit outcrop.

We skirted the snow fields to keep our feet dry and enjoyed the casual walk. Our paths split to explore minor outcrops below the summit. Darren was on top first, noting the typical survey lathes and guy-wires from historic-era mapping efforts. A brass cap marked a prominent boulder.

Darren on Trinity summit. A good time to not hurry.

Summit register, nicely not a popular stop.

We planned future excursions into the ‘Blue Wing Triangle’. This is an easy day trip and better overland excursion area where six or seven additional highpoints remain on my list. Winter excursions remain possible and it is an all-season area in general, although watching for the swift changes of any winter storm is critical. Public lands grazing is most common activity in the ‘triangle’ but encountering others is relatively rare.

Granite Springs below. West view from summit ridge of Trinity Peak, overlooking Granite Springs Valley to the Shawave Mountains under low clouds.

Toward Majuba. Sun strike on foothills of middle Trinity Range, on approach to Trinity Peak, north over Sage Valley toward Majuba Mountains.

Please remember to tread lightly and respect the resources and beauty of your public lands. Respect private lands, leave the gates as you find them. Pack it out. Nature First,

Trinity Peak Collection

A good start to 2021 and perfect for an easy Sunday morning adventure. We have plenty to look forward to. Maybe I can put a dent in the long list of high points yet to explore, one at a time, step after step.

Keep going.

Please respect the natural and cultural resources of our public lands.

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Advantage of Windshield Time — Argenta Rim 2004

D. Craig Young · January 21, 2018 · 2 Comments

I drive a lot. Moving from project to project, I might be doing a pre-project reconnaissance, meeting clients or agency specialists, visiting field teams already on-the-ground, or seeking new study localities. It is part of the job and, for me, one of the pleasures of my vocation; it seems to be a highlight of my avocations too. Any highway or backcountry road puts me in touch with landscape and creates a discipline of watching for landform changes and of searching for new routes and trails deeper in. When a project takes me across the state (or anywhere really) I almost always take time for a trail, route, or locality excursion to expand my experience, or maybe just to bag a peak, run a ridge, or photograph an outcrop–there is little difference. In April 2004, I worked on a project on the US Air Force ranges of western Utah, studying the Wildcat Dunes at the margins of the Bonneville Basin and the Great Salt Lake Desert (i.e., the West Desert from the perspective of Salt Lake City). This required several back-and-forth trips on Interstate 80. Each time, between Battle Mountain and Carlin, Nevada, Argenta Rim called out for a walk.

**The summit of Argenta Rim, a dramatic but easy ridge**

The Range Argenta Rim is a volcanic ridge that rises prominently above Interstate 80 and the Humboldt River. A northerly extension of the Shoshone Range where Mount Lewis (2950 meters) wears the crown, Argenta Rim is a relatively low, tilted fault-block separated from its parent range by Whirlwind Valley. It is a minor set of hills and scarps that gains its prominence (and ease of access for a walk) as it rises abruptly above the Humboldt River floodplain and the busy interstate travel corridor – the escarpment looks more imposing than it is. The rim and adjacent rimrock-stepped hills are not your typical highlighted range or peak-bagging target, but on my many traverses of I-80, I have always stared at its capping outcrops and I simply had to get up there.

My Route Exit 244 – Argenta – provides a jumping-off point from either direction while traveling Interstate 80. Turning south and then immediately east, a paved road heads toward the mine entrance at Mosquito Canyon; do not turn for the gate. Continue east on the highway frontage road as it changes to a maintained dirt road. This road veers sharply south as it heads for Water Canyon on its eventual path to a set of radio towers at the southern prominence of the rim. The towers sit at what is sometimes referred to as Argenta Rim West, but I am not sure where databases in Googleland collect naming information – I have not seen this on a USGS map yet. As a very simple alternative, driving the road to the towers gets you to the rim, if hiking the escarpment without much elevation gain sounds attractive. I stopped driving as soon as the road overlooked the swale of Water Canyon. A cold morning rain made the road slightly interesting and the truck’s tires were beginning to chew things up and spit muddy clods into the wheel wells. Although some clearance gives confidence, the road is an easy drive for most vehicles, when conditions allow. There are places to pull off along the road and these provide good parking, but use caution and quickly shut down your rig as, in season, the grasses can be brutally dry and fires start all too easily. But on this spring day, the rain had soaked everything.

My route basically dropped into the dry wash of Water Canyon and continued straight east to southeast, up swales and ridges toward a narrow break in the rimrock. It was still quite cold and the freeze line seemed to remain at about the 2,130-meter contour (7,000 feet) where ice draped the rocks and pogonip clutched at larger brush. The ice crystals playing in the bright yellow lichen made for a pretty hike, the scudding clouds gave it a touch of drama. I cut through a few outcrops and gained the top of the rimrock – you could pick about any spot to access the top, but there are a few natural stairways. The summit is undramatic but the views into the Humboldt River Valley and along the slopes into Whirlwind Valley are worthwhile, especially when framed by the low, moving cloud-line. A thin veneer of snow and windswept frost decorated the sloping escarpment.

After the relatively brief vertical gain of about 500 meters (~1,600 feet) from truck to summit, the drop back to Water Canyon Road was quick and easy—500 meters is my minimum rule for thinking about an ascent as a “climb”. It is an arbitrary number, but it allows a lower margin for routes to search out and consider. The point is to get out and see things, experience the pogonip, wander an escarpment, and get into the view that the windshield fleetingly provides. Argenta is worth a stop.