Trail Option

A personal geography of landscape and place, art and geo-science.

great basin

Nevada High Points #110 – Lodi Hills

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Down fold. Limestone and dolomite folded toward vertical below the high point of the Lodi Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

Lodi VABM

6526 ft (1989 m) — 1728 ft gain

2023.03.17

Occasionally, a highpoint excursion takes me into an area where our field teams are working, and this provides a good opportunity for a closer look at the landscape surrounding our project efforts. I left home early thinking I would get to the base of the Lodi Hills – my highpoint target on the day – to cover the relatively short, easy walk above Gabbs Valley in west-central Nevada; afterward I might check in with the crews to see how things are going.

In Lahontan Valley, near Fallon Naval Air Station, I came across a well-established rookery of Great Blue Herons, waking up to morning light as the first jets rumble away from the runways nearby. There is some courtship going on, while others are already nested up and awaiting an early brood.

Heron hotel. Early morning roost, a place these birds of used for years, Blue Heron, Lahontan Valley, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

I ventured southward into Gabbs Valley, turning east on the broad alluvial fan that emanates from the Lodi Hills. A good dirt road took me to the base of a shallow canyon below Victory Mine, where prospects and other mining-works mark the hillslopes to the east. I left the rig to walk a two-track road northward, climbing gradually along a sand-covered fan (Qa1). The ramping sand thickens to a sand sheet (Qd1) that has formed on the leeward side of an incised gully that cuts deeply into the fan. The gully exposes a planar surface where the alluvium (Qa2) rests on an underlying, beveled surface of volcanic bedrock, the foundation of the west-facing slopes of the Lodi Hills.  The exposure of the canyon wall is a nice example of how proximal fans form on older surfaces along the mountain front.

Curving away. A drainage cuts through a broad alluvial fan exposing the beveled pediment at the base of the Lodi Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA
Bevels. An alluvial fan of gravel and sand extends across beveled bedrock at the base of the Lodi Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

I turned eastward to climb a broad, sand-covered slope. It is difficult to map these landforms. It is your basic hillslope supported by the ancient bedrock of this segment of the Lodi Hills. So we could map it as dolomite or limestone hillslope (geologists show this on their maps), but the sand sheet (Qd1) is prominent in places, protected behind low outcrops and falling along the leeward side of deeper gullies leading to a broad canyon. I am not overly interested in the bedrock structures, though I enjoy walking through them. I focus on recent, or Holocene-age, landforms generally, so I tend to highlight the younger sand, wondering about its origin and overall mobility. As I move upward and eastward I come to what I think is evidence of the Paradise Thrust fault where older Triassic limestone has pushed eastward and up over younger, Jurassic limestones. The rock units change color, and a few areas so more conglomerate, old debris flows where rock clasts are cemented together, unlike the nearby smooth and fine-textured remnants of older ocean beds. But the thrust change could be further west, I am just not sure about this bedrock, the limestones are so similar.

The thrust. Gradually inclined beds of the Paradise Thrust lead toward the folds and outcrops of the high point ridge, Lodi Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA
Platform. Traces of mining in the folds of the Lodi Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA
Tins as tags. A mining claim in the canyons of the Lodi Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

I find some prospects where the slope steepens into a summit ridge. I had avoided hiking the two-track road to the prospects in favor of the nearby ridgeline. These historic-era features are interesting, but I need to keep moving. I climbed upward to the ridge where the rocks get interesting, even in a range as isolated as the Lodi Hills. I could see the tilted and lifted bedrock forming the foundation of the summit and enjoyed the wandering ridgeline until I finally reached the summit.

I watched a small herd of deer wandering the steep-sided gullies below the summit. I do not think they ever saw me. The summit is a cluster of bounders with a generous view in every direction – a worthwhile effort in the relatively low hills.

Followers. Mule deer traversing the slopes below the high point, Lodi Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA
Nearing the top. Exploring the light on the high point ridge, Lodi Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA
Verticals. A seabed emerges from the folds of the Lodi Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

I did not have much time to linger as I was still looking to meet our crew in the valley below. Nevertheless, I took my time, wandering a more southerly set of ridges and slopes to find another sand-filled gully to reach the truck. Glad to spend a day in the hills once again.

Keep going.

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

Nevada High Points #109 – General Thomas Hills

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Dust up. Dust rises from the basin floor of Clayton Valley, from the highpoint of the General Thomas Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

Peak 6677

6677 ft (1989 m) — 1450 ft gain

2023.02.12

The winter snows seem endless, the foothills of the Carson Range releasing the cold moisture from the lake effect that streams out of the Tahoe Basin. The Sierra snowpack is trending toward record depths, and we benefit from the overflow that has been prevalent this season. It does not look to be letting up as the atmospheric rivers remain productive. It means, however, that I must head farther south to find dry ground to explore. So, I am out early on Sunday morning – still a Second Friday weekend – and headed toward Tonopah where dirt will lead me into the General Thomas Hills, an easy-day outing.

I have lately developed a mindset, once I begin walking, that the summit is the ‘only’ goal, moving up and down with basically that purpose, hoping only secondarily that some photo opportunities might present themselves. Over the next few posts, realigning the experience and communication, I hope to introduce an emphasis on the physical geography of routes I take to reach each highpoint. Photography will remain a key component of each excursion, but I will also focus on describing the landforms I encounter, mapping and describing how and when they might have formed. You will find a new map with each post highlighting the Quaternary (2.2 million years and younger) landforms along with a few other features-of-interest to add to the story (hopefully). I do not do rocks; other than a few recent lavas from relatively isolated volcanic centers, there are not many rock-forming processes in the ‘recent’ past. I am fascinated by the natural weathering that changes rock to sediment and the processes that rearrange that sediment to form landscapes. We will be looking at alluvial fans, dunes, floodplains, and lakes – those extinct and, sadly, those becoming so – among other things, and, hopefully, making some informed guesses at how environment and process, past and present, influenced their arrangement. My hope is to develop, over time, a dictionary of Quaternary landforms for the Great Basin, adding detail to the vast ‘yellow’ space on most geological maps. This starts, of course, with a walk – camera at the ready – to get our feet and eyes onto the landforms.

Informal geologic map of recent landforms of the General Thomas Hills, NV

The General Thomas Hills rise west of Montezuma Valley with its vast alluvial basin floor leading toward the modern playa of Alkali Lake. The hills are not prominent, but they are separated from nearby (and higher) ranges of the Weepah Hills and Lone Mountain by the broad trench of Paymaster Canyon – we will get those soon. Looking back, we were here a month ago to explore the highpoint of Paymaster Ridge to the south.

Hillscape. Outcrops of Montezuma Valley below the General Thomas Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA
Weepah. Weepah Hills rise beyond Paymaster Canyon, General Thomas Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

While the uplift that formed the hills occurred relatively recently, the rocks we traverse are very old. I park along the Paymaster Canyon Road to look up at easy rolling hills with talus and low rimrock outcrops of intrusive Triassic or Jurassic rocks, easily over 100 million years old. When these rocks were deeply buried, deep movements pushed and folded even older rocks over the top of the Triassic rocks, creating a thrust fault. These Cambrian rocks (>400 million years old!) outcrop close to the summit, referring to a regional geological map (as I have said, I am not so good with rocks), so we walk back in time as we walk up the hills.

This time travel is true across any basin floor throughout the Great Basin. The young landforms are at the valley bottom or forming skirts and aprons at the valley margins, the outcrops of the mountains and hills reveal the old stuff. Here, just off the Paymaster Canyon Road, I walk into an active wash – dry most of the time – that cuts at the ends of relict alluvial fans forming the base of the General Thomas Hills. The wash (Qfp2) shows braided channels formed in flashy storm events when all drainage below Paymaster Pass focuses here; the road follows the drainage and clearly requires common maintenance to prevent it from capturing too much streamflow.

Above a low terrace riser, I walk onto the younger (Qal2) of two sets of dissected alluvial fans that emanate from gullies and rills cutting into hillslopes above. As extensional faulting lifts the older rocks to form the hillslopes, weathering and gravity take over; the hills shed sediment toward the basin floor. Driven by water and pulled by gravity the sediments debouch from the confinement of narrow gullies to spread in conical fans that bend even further basinward. When water is the dominant transport mechanism the sediment is called alluvium, so these conical landforms are alluvial fans. We are, however, in the middle of the desert – actually, the intersection of the Great Basin and Mojave deserts; there is not much water here. What water does come, it comes in high-energy pulses, but with so little input, the formation of these fans, as you might imagine, takes time.

To the basin floor. Alluvium of lower slopes, black sagebrush community, General Thomas Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA (Map Point #3)

The fan surfaces show patterns of sheetflow with small gullies and sudden debris flows, but they are mostly capped by an intricate pattern of well-sorted (about the same size) gravel. The surfaces have had time to ‘get organized’ so we can guess that these have been stable for several thousand years, at least. As I continue across the Qal2 surface, I see that the fan I am walking on cuts along the base of similar landforms to either side. This is a clear cross-cutting relationship, where the flows of one fan ate into another. We know, therefore, that the fan I am on is younger than the fan(s) it cuts into. The Qal2 is younger than the Qal1. How much younger? We do not know at this point, we would have to take a much closer look using more precise measures, but cross-cutting relationships give us a start. The fans are generally similar, so they might not be separated by more than a few thousand years, if that.

Desert slope. Black sagebrush community on the slopes of the General Thomas Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA (Map Point #2)
Stone stripes. Colluvial aprons on slopes of altered Triassic rocks of the General Thomas Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA (Map Point #1)

The wind picks up as I transition from alluvial fans to bedrock slopes that steepen noticeably. Pulling on my windbreaker, I pass a deep abandoned mine adit cut into the top of the alluvial fan. Exploratory mining, especially historic-era activities, often focus on the fan transition to quickly get to the potential ore of the mountain front without too much overburden. Above the adit, gravity takes over as the driving force moving sediment, with water becoming secondary. The sediment comes in large clasts now too. This is colluvium, sediment arranged by gravity into talus cones, aprons, and stripes. I also encounter steps as low rimrocks form ridges of resistant rocks. It is easy-going to the summit ridge, and the highpoint rolls out in a relatively level tableland making it a bit of a puzzle finding which little rock cluster hides the summit register. The wind is now piercing and cold; although the views are nice, I will not linger.

Dust rises from Clayton Valley to the southwest, where dunes race in two directions. Today, after the storm, they are likely moving south (the dust sure is!); before the storms the prevailing winds drive them north. The mosaic of evaporative mines on the basin floor adds to the airborne sediment load. These are aeolian processes, wind-driven rearrangement, where gravity is once again secondary. Water is important too, but we will visit that another time – the dunes and desert loess of Clayton Valley are distant, and I have some driving to do. It is time to head down, retreating through time, from the ancient bedrock, through the fans of yesterday, and the sandy washes of today.

We have a lot to learn from the smallest of hills. I hope you enjoyed our journey – and renewed focus – through a few of the landforms of the General Thomas Hills; I clearly did not take enough photographs today. The cold wind reminds me that I have snow to return to, and, likely, a driveway to shovel.

Keep going.

Nevada High Points #106 – Paymaster Ridge

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Canyon dune. Sand anchored on debris-flow fan, Paymaster Ridge, Great Basin Desert, NV

Joes Peak (Peak 5956′)

5956 feet (1815 meters) — 2300 ft gain

2022.12.09

We missed a month – the move is complete, finally – but are in the Great Basin outback for December. It is another small set of hills as we head to Clayton Valley, a good winter excursion, to explore Paymaster Ridge. There is a cluster of named ranges here. In some ways the ranges are arbitrary; difficult to tell whether the named divisions are based on geologic structure, topographic prominence, or simply cartographic creativity. Paymaster is separated from the General Thomas Hills by a low pass, a topographic feature that is really a partially dissected, alluvium-choked valley forming a gap in the faulting that brings both sets of hills to some prominence. To the west, the Weepah Hills and Lone Mountain loom over these small hills, attracting our attention to future excursions.

Darren and I traverse the evaporative mines of Clayton Valley along the Silver Peak Road. This road leaves US 95 just north of Goldfield and rejoins it near Coaldale, or vice versa, and is an interesting ‘long-cut’ when traveling between Las Vegas and Carson City. Although the segment through the valley bottom is improved dirt – and unattractive unless you like mining berms, the bounding hills and ranges, along with eye-catching volcanoes, make it an interesting change from the expanse of Tonopah (you will be skipping the services of Tonopah, so plan accordingly, but it is a nice change once in a while). We turn north along the western front of Paymaster Ridge, heading north toward Twin Springs and Pearl Hot Springs, the latter of which I had planned as our start point. This semi-improved track soon turns adventurous as a series of linear dunes, anchored on the topographic change that the road provides, block any quick progress. We roll over several but then encounter some coalesced dunes and sheets and decide to park and get walking – no need for intrepid driving today. I would have liked to visit the springs, but today’s goal is upward to the east.

Slip face. Active dune overtakes its parent, Paymaster Ridge, Great Basin Desert, NV
Generations. Aeolian dune migration overtakes its sand source, Paymaster Ridge, Great Basin Desert, NV

We hike to a nice dune that has settled on the undulating topography of debris flows and rock levees that emanate from an unnamed canyon. The rippled dune is crystalline in the early light with only the tracks of a kangaroo rat as evidence of life in this dry habitat. Past the dune we enter some fabulous, vertical canyons with blind turns, chockstones, and a few dry falls. The occasional summer storm must be exciting in here. No sign of water today, and yet we are surrounded by its evidence. We pick a northeast-trending opening and gain elevation quickly, weaving among outcrops, steps, and talus-filled gullies. We are soon a faulted plateau following burro tracks toward the broad hilltop that is the highpoint of Paymaster Ridge – also known as Joes Peak.

Wind runs. Barchan dune-forms in Clayton Valley, Paymaster Ridge, Great Basin Desert, NV

A small cairn marks the summit. Alkali Lake, the least imaginative and over-used, however accurate, placename in the Great Basin, dominates the basin of Montezuma Valley as it stretches toward Tonopah. The White Mountains to the west are aptly named, at least once the seasonal snows come to the western Great Basin. Boundary Peak, the highest summit in Nevada, sits lost at the northern tip of the Whites – home of the ancient bristlecone pines. Here on Paymaster, however, there are only scattered shadscale shrubs among the platy shale outcrops with juniper woodlands colonizing the Weepah Hills and Lone Mountain to the north.

Siliciosity. Reflective tilted beds in the Paymaster Ridge, Great Basin Desert, NV

It is another blazingly clear day. I need to think differently if I am going to move beyond simple documentary photography in the stark and arid landscape we inhabit on these highpoint excursions. So, three related goals for future highpoints: 1) slow down – I am out here for the experience, so being overly summit-driven impedes creativity and learning; 2) get to highpoints earlier or later in the day, stop hoping for skies to get interesting and use the morning and evening light when it is often (subjectively) at its best; and, 3) while the expansive vistas are seductive and certainly have a dramatic, often stark, beauty, look for the small details that make each walk unique. These are not mutually exclusive,  they are all generally tied to slowing down. I have noticed an obvious connection to better imagery when I camp near my chosen route, even if the route results in a fairly brief outing to the actual highpoint. I should try an occasional bivouac as part of an excursion, immersing myself in the changes the overnight brings. This might also provide opportunities for gathering and presenting other media types (planning required); so I will add that as a fourth goal. Yes, my goal for 2023 will be to slow down and reap the creative and mindful benefit of engaging deeply in the basins and ranges that are Nevada.

Paymaster Image Collection

We trace our track back into the canyons, dodging a few dry falls where steep knickpoints make for tricky downclimbing. It is early afternoon, and the temperature has not broken through the freezing mark but with no wind, the day is a pleasure. The truck sits on the sandy fan where we drop our light packs and look back at our route, now lost in the overlapping, creased stratigraphy of the west face of Paymaster Ridge. We will begin to consider our new goals as we hit the highway for our drive home.

Keep going.

Nevada High Points #105 – Sinkavata Hills

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A bajada. Coalesced alluvial fans of the western front of the Monte Cristo Mountains, Great Basin Desert, Nevada, USA

Peak 6399

6399 ft (1950 m) — 1590 ft gain

2022.10.30

Sinkavata Image Collection

Sometimes you must go to the desert.

We are in the middle of a rather drastic change. Although we may have been leaning, at least occasionally, toward simplifying what and where we call home, we had rarely considered really doing anything. And then, last month, our leanings turned into a full-on run as several coincidental details led to the sale of our Gardnerville home and purchase of a much smaller property in Carson City – if only it had been in that order, we purchased before we sold. Although we are certainly fortunate to be able to do such a thing, the stress and distraction of negotiation realty and planning a move is all-consuming. We fear we have lost touch with who we are – “Why can’t we spend a normal day together,” has become a common refrain among cheers and a few too many tears. Have we made the correct decision?

So, after a bit of closure on the move, at least as far as having a nice offer and solid moving day next month, I awoke well before sunrise and, with relief, drove east into the desert of the western Great Basin. One benefit of Nevada’s multitude of named ranges (325 on my list) is that there are many smaller sets of hills and relatively low mountains that I can save for quick approaches with relatively little planning.

Peak 6399. The Sinkavata Hills highpoint rises above Little Bell Flat, Great Basin Desert, Nevada, USA

The Sinkavata Hills are small group of volcanic bumps and outcrops north of Rawhide Flat and south of Fairview Peak in west-central Nevada. I have often forgotten about this small group of hills even as I gouged around adjacent basins. After circumventing NAS Fallon’s B-17 Range, which takes up much of Fairview Valley south of Highway 50, I turned off the pavement onto a relatively easy two-track into Little Bell Flat. The sun emerged above the Sinkavata Hills as I bounced easily along, the cold autumn sky free of clouds; it is the first morning below freezing this fall. I could feel the day warming, however, as I walked from the truck, traversing a set of alluvial fans and washes to gain a sandy drainage that originated in the outcrops above. I would follow this.

Dry washes. Looking back on the short, dry walk from Little Bell Flat, Great Basin Desert, Nevada, USA
Fairview Peak. Fairview Peak stands above the north end of the Sinkavata Hills, Great Basin Desert, Nevada, USA

I wandered among tuffaceous outcrops, banded on this west-facing slope, for a couple miles before negotiating a steep cleft in a small summit band of volcanic rocks. A barbed-wire, drift fence, likely separating grazing allotments, surprised me on the upper slope. It seems relatively new. I can drop my pack and crawl under easily enough, but I am often perplexed by these expensive and hard-earned boundaries. I do not suppose they are arbitrary – I have worked with the local agencies enough to know the difficulties of range management – but I often think these might be better-placed around springs and other sensitive habitats rather than draping the high-country ridges and summits. At least the newer fences have a barbless lower wire so that pronghorns, coyotes, and others can duck under to move about their home ranges – as I squeeze under, I also appreciate it, and, yes, I am at home here.

Strands. A drift fence in the altered wild of the Sinkavata Hills, Great Basin Desert, Nevada, USA
Summit cairn. Summit cairn and register jar at the top of Peak 6399, Sinkavata Hills, Great Basin Desert, Nevada, USA
Gabbs Valley distance. The long view to the southeast of Sinkavata Hills, Great Basin Desert, Nevada, USA

As with many of the otherwise forgotten hills, the summit views are wonderful. The larger ranges crease every horizon. The glaring sky pushes my photo compositions toward the ground but I am relatively uninspired – I need to move beyond this. This is my landscape, the altered wild with its hard sky, muted color, and elusive beauty. I can feel it in the crisp calmness of the summit rocks, how do I see and express it.

Sinkavata Image Collection

Autumn remains. A rabbit brush holds its remnant flowers and color in late October, Sinkavata Hills, Great Basin Desert, Nevada, USA

I drop quickly from the summit to the drainages below the west outcrops, volcanic flows that reach to the low hilltop summit. It is a nice walk through the sandy drainages to reach the water trough that rests in the northern reach of Little Bell Flat. It is good to be out, quietly alone, among the hills of the Great Basin. The Sinkavata Hills are not obvious on any map, they do not have prominence, but they can bring mindful quiet to an otherwise noisy and restless autumn. It is good to be out, if only briefly.

Keep going.

Nevada Highpoints #104 – Bluewing Mountains

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Foothills. Bluewing Mountains, Great Basin Desert, NV

Black Mountain

6617 ft (2017 m) – 2205 gain

2022.08.12

Bluewing Photo Collection

It’s hot. The sky is clear, and a parched blue horizon rests abruptly on the dusty brown of the Nevada desert. It is August, of course, when desert landscape photography is a challenge. It’s difficult to think about photography or exploring another high point when the heat is so seemingly relentless. It also seemed I could not escape from work today, so my departure moved later and later, and I considered turning around for home even as I approached my turn-off along the southern margin of the Black Rock Desert playa. I cannot, however, let the noise of the day-to-day get so overbearing that I can’t find rest in the wild. I turn south toward Bluewing Playa and begin to feel better – putting the scurrying activity of the pre-Burning Man busy-ness at Gerlach behind me and going into the quiet lonesome of Bluewing, a metaphor for the seemingly hectic week that was. I won’t see another vehicle until I reach the highway tomorrow afternoon.

Monsoon remnant. Bluewing Playa, Great Basin Desert, NV

I roll through beach lines of pluvial Lake Lahontan and drop into Kumiva Valley where sandy pediments and alluvial fans extend in a broad flat to the playa below Black Mountain, the high point of the Bluewing Mountains. If this basin held a pluvial lake it only filled a shallow pan before overflowing to Granite Springs Valley to the east. I need to spend some more time here when the days are not so hot.

Bluewing Playa. Limbo Range to the west, Great Basin Desert, NVq

A dusty plume follows until I turn slowly onto a bare two-track that leads to the southern margin of Bluewing Playa. There are a few puddles, surprisingly, but I remember that we had some productive monsoonal storms a few days ago and they clearly tracked across this valley. Feral donkeys stare as I pass slowly by. The playa is dry, and I set camp near the base of Black Mountain, letting the heat seep into every movement; I look toward evening for cooling respite.

Black Mountain, Bluewing Mountains, Nevada, highpoints, summits
Black Mountain. High point (#104) of the Bluewing Mountains, Great Basin Desert, NV

Black Mountain rises abruptly, reaching 2000 feet of prominence above the basin floor. Sitting in the shade of the camp-trailer I plot a steep route to the summit, mapping a sloping descent off the backside of the mountain. I’ll leave in the pre-dawn and hopefully beat the sun at the beginning of yet another scorching August day. Night falls and there is some relief, the southerly breeze stays warm but at least there is movement. I wait in perfect quiet as the moon rises, racing its own shadow along a band of light and dark that moves west to east across the playa. When it arrives at camp, the moon practically jumps above the horizon. Sleep comes surprisingly easy as I listen to the desert silence, the quiet only broken by the rare breying of a donkey far off in the valley – maybe they trail to the remnant pool of monsoon runoff on the playa’s northern margin.

Earth shadow at Bluewing Playa. Great Basin Desert, NV
Mountain shadow. Walking the southern limb above Bluewing Playa, Great Basin Desert, NV

I am awake in the darkness of early morning, brewing coffee and preparing a quick breakfast to fuel the walk. It is cross-country from the playa edge, crossing a set of silt dunes before ascending a gently sloping alluvial fan that emanates from a canyon below the steep southern backslope of Black Mountain. I don’t need my headlamp because the moon lights the way and there is little to impede forward progress on the sparsely vegetated fan. A bat flits randomly in front of me and disappears. I turn into the mountain’s rise as get due south of the summit. I worry briefly that I might encounter scree-sheets of colluvial talus that could impede upward movement, but the talus cones are inter-locked nicely and the clasts provide relatively easy steps. Hands are required occasionally but upward momentum is good, and I climb quickly. The views are splendid even if the clear skies show neither depth nor drama.

Armored talus. Black Mountain, Bluewing Mountains, Great Basin Desert, NV
Rills. Bluewing Mountains, Great Basin Desert, NV
Outcropping. Bluewing Mountains, Great Basin Desert, NV

I move from outcrop to outcrop, skirting scree and talus where I can. Preparing for the coming heat, I reward myself with a good drink of water with each outcrop. I can almost walk steady as the upper slopes begin to lay back, so I work in little switchback to reach the northwestern ridge to look over the full extent of the playa, my camp a small speck on the playa edge. I break over the summit to meet the sun with a vast panorama of hills and valleys. I can see far south toward the Virginia Range above Reno, into the eastern distance beyond the Trinity and Humboldt Ranges, and Granite Peak towers in the north – I’ve attempted Granite Peak previously only to be snowed out, its summit pulls at me once again.

Bluewing Photo Collection

The walk off the east side is gradual and an easy pleasure. I am soon back in the south-side canyon that feeds the fan above my little camp. I have timed the excursion well; the morning is still relatively cool as I return to camp and begin preparations to roll out. It is a short outing, though I will have some time to gouge around the playa margins and explore the overland tracks eastward into Granite Springs Valley. I want to retrace a route to Highway 80 via Ragged Top and Toulon. There are several additional high points to explore in ranges of the ‘Bluewing Triangle’, that vast space between the Black Rock, the Humboldt River, and the Pyramid Lake highway. It’s a lonely, desolate space, precisely why it is such a pleasure to experience. The triangle remains.

Keep going.

Heat waves. Bluewing Mountains and eastward beyond, Great Basin Desert, NV

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

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