landscape photography

Nevada High Points #79: Monte Cristo Mountains and Gabbs Valley Overland

D. Craig Young · March 7, 2021 · 6 Comments

Approaching Mount Anna.

Mount Anna

6908 ft (2106 m); 1755 ft gain

2021.02.12

(edit 2022.07.06)

It is once again ‘Second Friday’, time for an overland. Darren and I hit Highway 50 in the late morning, expecting the forecasted wind to catch up with us later in the day. A storm was forecast but from the look of the clear skies, it was somewhere to the northwest. Planning for the weather change, I had chosen Mount Anna in the Monte Cristo Mountains bounding northern Gabbs Valley as our target. Our goal this year is to explore the ranges across central Nevada and this is a rather easy start.

Mount Anna Collection

We turn south at Middlegate to traverse the low pass above Gabbs Wash and the valley expands before us. The Monte Cristos rise as a volcanic crease in the midst of Gabbs Valley, between Rawhide Flat and the hog-back of the Cobble Cuesta. It appears as a vast expanse of sagebrush and shadscale, but playas and washes connect to interesting features of incised hills and mountain fronts. We move up into the foothills to explore a possible camp in the vicinity of the historic-era Kaiser Mine.

The ground remains saturated from recent snowmelt, forcing us to avoid mud gullies and soft spots at the road margins. We back out of the mine area to find some flat ground at a trough with an old rail tanker-car as a water tank. The trough holds good water, but there are no signs of recent use. We will only be here overnight and water is easy to come by this time of season so we aren’t in long-term conflict with any critters that might rely on this water source.

We set camp quickly and engage the truck to climb along two-tracks south of our camp at the Kaiser Mine road. A muddy two-track takes us to a start-point that is gives us a three-mile hike to the summit of Mount Anna. Our route contours generally along a prominent contact between uplifted volcanic flows and ashy tuffs. A light-colored, fine-grained deposits suggests the once inter-bedded mud of a caldera-filling lake. The ground is damp but we avoid the ‘gravity-dirt’ that clings to boots and inhibits progress.

The sunny afternoon is perfect — calm and somewhat warm. We cover ground quickly to find some fantastic volcanic canyons and dry falls in the wash below the summit. Although we’ve walked a couple miles, we really haven’t gained any elevation and the mile or so of the final push is nicely steep, with great, expansive views to the east and south. Arc Dome rises in the Toiyabes, a goal for the very near future.

**A modified summit**. Darren arrives on the gravel pad at the summit.

Darren reaches the summit to find well-constructed platforms of concrete and gravel. These are likely footings for military tracking stations or, possibly, for seismic measurements. There are no clues otherwise. I follow just behind him, suprised that the summit is altered but finding the views exceptional under still clear skies. And we are not alone. An aggregation of lady bugs (Hippodamia convergens), a relatively common sight on spring-time summits, brings the rocks and low sage of the summit outcrops colorfully alive. It takes some care to not step on the swarming orange beetle blobs.

Waiting for the drying, cactus on slopes of Mount Anna.

We trek downward, retracing our cross-country routes and exploring the features of conglomerate washes and localized debris flows where linear levees of cobbles swarm along steep gullies and rills in the mountain side. We are back at camp after sunset.

The night remains calm as we ponder our target for tomorrow — maybe the low set of hills on the opposite side of the valley. But the rain starts just after we climb in for the night, and soon the near silence of snow begins to transform our surroundings. The wind never came, but we wake to a blanket of snow with a cover of wispy fog. The damp brings a chill absent until we start packing up. Another climb is out of the question, but we can traverse to East Gate and explore the cleft of Buffalo Canyon. We descend the Kaiser road slowly, with truck and trailer giving easy traction in the fresh, wet snow. We eventually leave the snow cover momentarily at Middlegate but it returns with depth in the canyon above Eastgate.

Mount Anna Collection

Camp at the stock trough and railcar tank.

We venture in and Darren soon notices a group of bighorn sheep (Ovis canadensis) high on the cliffs of the canyon’s northern margin. These are a nice gift on a snowy morning. We watch the herd for a while and explore a series of waterfalls that only exist after a wet storm. The storm comes with a power that seems a purposeful attempt to make up for the calm of the previous night. At times we hit storm bursts that seem like summer storms, but their turbulent winds drive snow mixed with the usual dust and tumbleweeds.

Buffalo Canyon Wildlife Collection

A season’s moisture at Eastgate on Buffalo Creek.

Mt Anna is not a prominent peak, but it gave us the gift of its textured slopes of volcanic rocks and badlands. It led us to a dramatic morning and a visit to the bighorn sheep of Eastgate. Even the small hills lead to big places.

Keep going.

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

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Landscape Photography: Snow Recce in Antelope Valley CA

D. Craig Young · March 4, 2021 · 1 Comment

Snow filled the valleys of the western Great Basin at the end of January, when lake-effect squalls, energized as they traversed Lake Tahoe, cycled through the valleys southeast of the lake. We approached two feet of coverage at St0neHeart, with deep drifts along fence lines and out-buildings. So early on a Sunday morning, I decided to chase the light while the snow was still fresh and deep in the fields and foothills of Antelope Valley, across the state line but not far from home.

There had been rumors of fog in the forecast, but the the pre-dawn sky was clear. As I traversed the ranch roads that crisscrossed the ranchlands of the valley bottom, little motivated me to leave the warmth of the truck, it was 18F (-8C) along the Walker River. Cattle barely noticed me, refusing to lift their heads from their early-morning feed.

I ventured into the pinyon hills of public land on the valley’s east side, but the deep snow and bunchy trees turned me back. As I regained the truck, I noticed a heron gliding along an irrigation ditch banked in snow and willows. It disappeared on wide wings, seeming to drop into the snow. I eventually found the bird patiently watching riffles in the flowing water, a slight bit of turbulence at a confluence of ditches. It made sense that any morning meal would have to pass this now-dangerous intersection with a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) in waiting.

**Waiting**. A Great Blue Heron patient in the cold.

I too waited. The heron never moved. I finally crept slowly away. Full disclosure: I never left my truck — resting my long lens in the window and sharing time with one of my favorite birds.

Antelope Valley Collection

I had basically given up for the morning and turned for home. I had the one image of the heron (or, at least, I would get one from the several I’d captured) and was happy with that. But from the highway I saw strange patterns, starting with perfect circles on the ice of Topaz Lake — still frozen at its southern shore. I’m still not sure how they form, but the simple pattern turned me around and I found a pullout above the steep drop to the lake.

**Topaz spots**. Abstractions in the ephemeral ice of Topaz Lake.

**Connection**. Some patterns are too cool to explain.

I was happy to have stopped to check the patterns. For a popular lake typically overrun with boats of all kinds, I have had some very good, quiet images from its shores. And it can be very nice that it usually presents these things as one passes on Highway 395.

Further north I caught sight of a string of mule deer (Odocoileus hemionus) moving slowly in their beaten trail. Bounding occasionally to clear obstacles I could not see. It was the spacing that caught my eye. It’s a wide image, so give it a click and get the full view (note: you can do this with all images at Trail Option, usually).

**Leading line**. A well-spaced group of mule deer on slopes of the eastern Sierra.

Antelope Valley Collection

Some times short trips, with few expectations, give the best results — all within 30 miles of home.

Keep going.

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

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Landscape Photography: Late Snow and Last Light on the Black Rock Playa, Nevada

D. Craig Young · February 27, 2021 · 1 Comment

I spent the day, having started well before sunrise, on an overland obsidian recce focused on the geomorphology and distribution of the Majuba and Seven Troughs toolstone sources. A series of dramatic snow squalls cut that effort short just as I reached the ‘High Road’ from Sulphur to Gerlach. However, as I broke out of the western margin of the storm, I could see a blanket of new snow across the dark space of the playa of the Black Rock Desert.

The playa is typically a dry, dusty basin — most experience this place in the summer and fall, with the denizens of Burning Man transforming the space annually (though the playa got a break in 2020). Snow is not typically in the playa experience. But as I dropped past Cholona, a white blanket spread before me and a long horizontal crack at the sky-horizon promised a show. I ditched the truck and climbed into the hills below Pahsupp Peak. I would wait and be ready.

**Calico snow**. The playa in its atypical blanket of white below the breaking storm.

Late Snow Collection

Traversing a series of alluvial gullies cut into lacustrine sediment of pluvial Lake Lahontan, I worked my way to a set of rocky outcrops highlighted by orange lichen dampened by the recent snow. From these rocks I could play with a variety of compositions in all directions.

I kept telling myself to go slow, pick a composition and work with the light that was building as the sun began to peak from the horizon on its way to evening. However, the receding squalls behind me — to the east — continued a shadow-play of cloud shapes and snow-fall curtains. While I concentrated on the light show in the west, I did turn for the occasional image in the darkening clouds — sometimes the two interacted and rewarded me with fantastic opportunities. This perspective called for a wide-view. Other times, I just watched in the moment. It was a special evening.

**Black Rock Playa at Trego**. As the storm receded it allowed the sunset to spread into the Black Rock Playa. (Please click for full view).

**Passing snow**. Dramatic mammatus clouds as the storm moves out of the Calico Mountains. (Please click for full view).

**Two track to Trego**. Traces in the snow hint at the old roads above the playa margin, it also makes a subtle pattern through the image.

**Shadows of Trego**. An experiment in black and white; I am happy with the compressed view of the sunset and the break in the Granite Range. The steam of hot springs rise in the mid-ground.

**Last Light at Trego**. The requisite near-far rock-to-sky scene. Not at all subtle, but this was the feeling at the close of a wonderful day.

Late Snow Collection

A long drive home remained, but everything about the day contributed to a perfect overland excursion. From obsidian maps to playa snow to the requisite afterglow, I count this among the special ones.

Keep going.

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

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Nevada High Points #77: Desert Creek Mountains

D. Craig Young · February 26, 2021 · 1 Comment

Desert Creek Peak

8969 ft (2734 m); Gain 2740 ft

2021.01.17

With the post-holiday, pandemic surge still upon us, Darren and I continue to focus on target High Points in relative close proximity to home. The Desert Creek Mountains are basically a northern extension of the Sweetwater Mountains, but the local ranges and hills take on some isolated character. These relatively low mountain groups are cloaked in pinyon woodland where thick stands and downfall makes cross-country travel difficult. There are rarely trails in these brushy hills — I have been turned back on a few occasions because route-finding can take time. We would not be turned back on Desert Creek Peak, though we had a few moments of straight-on bushwhacking.

Desert Creek Peak Gallery

The road up Desert Creek is well-traveled and it seems a longer drive than I remember — Desna and I were in here to climb the Wellington Hills in 2004 (Christmas Eve, it was, 17 years ago). Darren and I, here in January 2021, navigate the rig through a couple creek crossings and then are stopped cold, literally, by the ice-choked creek. No need to be overly adventurous, we are here to walk, so we stash the truck and set out.

**Frozen approach**. The road turned cold, deep in the shade of Desert Creek.

Beyond the frozen crossing, most of the road was dry and snow was hit and miss on north-facing slopes. Crossing directly below the summit, only a mile away, but almost 3000 feet above us, we chose the southern ridge to begin the steep hike.

**Desert Creek Peak**. We hiked the right-hand, pinyon-covered ridge to approach the summit from the south.

The weather was perfect for this outing, sunny and calm. We worked our way through pinyon, taking snow patches and frosty gullies to avoid heavy stands but otherwise following game trails in switchbacks among the pines.

**An old one**. Pinyon of the local ranges is rarely more than a century old, though trees that survived the logging of the gold and silver days, can still be found.

**Into the sun**. Darren pushing through the pinyon on the western slopes of Desert Creek Peak.

In a steady hour of climbing through the woodland, we eventually made the summit ridge, following a series of rocky steps with scattered young pinyon and bitterbrush. An antennae and the large rock cairn marked the summit just shy of 9000 feet in altitude. An amazing blue and very calm sky met us, and we soaked in the sun.

**Summit things**. Battery storage for the 1960s repeater or receiver — maybe a game-tracking station?

Steep descents of trail-less slopes pound the quads and, I could be sure, these would echo for a few days afterward. Desert Creek Peak is prominent from southern Smith Valley, and what it lacks in adventure, it makes up for in views of Sierra and the Sweetwaters. Mount Grant and the Pine Grove Hills rest under the sun to the east. It is nice to fill in this gap on the map with #77, every step worthwhile.

It is also nice that we are home in the early afternoon. Bonus points: stopping at Rosie’s in Wellington to bring home dinner!

Click on image for larger view. — **Summit view**. Antelope Valley and Silver King area of the Sierra to the west.

Desert Creek Peak Gallery

Keep going.

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