Nevada

Nevada High Points #112 – Currie Hills

D. Craig Young · November 25, 2023 · Leave a Comment

Map showing Currie Hills high point location

Currie VABM

7290 ft (2222 m) – 1480 ft gain

2023.05.13

I was on my way to the University of Utah in Salt Lake City, Utah, to join a couple colleagues for fieldwork across the Bonneville Basin, choosing a traverse of Hwy 50 as my preferred and typical route. With days getting to summertime length, however, I had time for a diversion. The Currie Hills rise easily about halfway on a south-to-north line between Ely, Nevada, and Wendover, Utah; I was due for a high point.

**The high point**. ‘Currie VABM’ rises in the distance, Currie Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

Quaternary geology map on my trail to the high point of the Currie Hills, Nevada, USA

A tight, barbed-wire gate, immediately adjacent to the White Pine-Elko county line, marked a good two-track road heading across a northern embayment of Steptoe Valley, the Currie Hills a few miles distant. I explored a few turns and detours before parking on a broad fan opening from the southeastern front of the hills.

**Blurred stripe**. Gravity works on the volocanic rocks to form stripes on local slopes, Currie Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA (#1 on map).

The Currie Hills are low, rounded hills whose eastern side is volcanic rocks overlying red-hued sedimentary rocks, generally old fans (Qa1) extend from mountain-front with small inset drainages (Qa2) leading to dusty distal fans several mile downslope, where loessic alluvium chokes the low-lying axial drainages leading to Goshute Lake in the Steptoe Basin. I traverse moderately angled slopes, transitioning from volcanic colluvium to weathered tuffs and back to steep colluvium rolling from the summits. There is a nice pinyon-juniper woodland, though some of the pinyons are suffering from drought and reduced ability to fight off beetle attacks, but others a healthy and productive.

**Pinyon tall**. A lovely single-leaf pinyon in the Currie Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA (#2 on map).

**Distance**. A pinyon snag looks out on Baldy Peak in the Antelope Range from the Currie Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA (#2 on map).

**Summit cairn**. A historic-era survey marker stands on the summit of the Currie Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

I find one false summit that points me toward another swale from which I can see the summit cairn prominent at the high point. What was once a blustery day dotted with fast-moving squalls has opened up nicely. I follow a similar path downward, shifting slightly to wander through some of the younger alluvium where the sagebrush grows deeper. Here I find a Lark Sparrow and then a Gray Gnatcatcher. The former watches proudly from a juniper while the latter flits in the brush, basically ignoring me. I am soon back at the truck for the dusty drive out. I drive into the evening to eventually reach Salt Lake City.

**Lark Sparrow**. A colorful Lark Sparrow watches me pass on the lower slopes of the Currie Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA (#3 on map).

**Gray Gnatcatcher**. Flitting low in the sagebrush, a Gray Gnatcatcher pauses momentarily. Currie Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA (#3 on map).

These small, unobtrusive ranges do not call out from the highway; their summits low, rounded, and often draped in woodland or sage. Yet, the walks never cease to bring pleasure along with unique sights and just a bit more experience traversing the variety of landforms that comprise the Great Basin landscape. I was also rewarded with ab addition to my ‘life list’; the Gnatcatcher was a new one to me. Once again, a small mountain range provides a wonderful quick diversion from a long day’s drive.

Keep going.

On the summit of the Currie Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

**Into the valley**. The start and end point of my recce in the Currie Hills, Great Basin Desert, NV, USA

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

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Nevada High Points #111 – Pahsupp Mountains

D. Craig Young · November 19, 2023 · 4 Comments

Dry Mountain

6526 ft (1989 m) — 2800 ft gain

2023.04.16

Pahsupp Collection

It took me awhile to escape Fallon, Nevada, where I attended a conference hosted by the Nevada Archaeological Association, congratulating a colleague on receiving the Silver Trowel, recognition of a career devoted to archaeology in Nevada. From the confines of the meeting rooms, I retreated, none too soon, to the splendid loneliness of a nighttime highway into the Black Rock Desert. I drove for maybe two hours.

At the ‘high road’, our colloquial name for the washboard dirt highway connecting, sort of, Gerlach and Winnemucca, I traverse the southern margin of the Black Rock playa in the dark. I am headed toward the Pahsupp Mountains, where a prominent block rises above Trego Hot Springs at the playa margin, but the range’s high point is stretched out to the south as Dry Mountain (6,526’). As I turn away from the playa, the usual landmarks having long faded into the night, my view is confined to flashy, narrow strips of rabbitbrush bright at the dusty road margins. A jackrabbit darts through the high beams on occasion; hard to tell, but I don’t think it’s the same one each time.

Map of Quaternary landforms near Dry Mountain in the Pahsupp Mountains, Black Rock Desert, Nevada

I had scouted on googleland earlier, marking a possible camp in my GPS. The waypoint appears my dashboard screen, finally, and I pull off the road. Not a camp you would write much about, just a wide spot where a two-track takes off from the main dirt. I will not see another car until I am back on the highway tomorrow, so once I climb into my tent, I can immediately forget that I am basically camped adjacent to an intersection. No traffic here.

There is a chill in the air, and wispy high clouds resolve as the white-gray of the morning sky shifts to blue. Dry Mountain leans back into the sun toward the eastern horizon. I have five miles to walk to the high point – up a long, generally smooth ramp of alluvial fans and beveled pediments to reach the rocky summit.

**Strand blowouts**. Strand lines and silt plain at the base of the Pahsupp Mountains, Black Rock Desert, NV, USA

**Subtle strands**. Low, gravelly shoreline berms mark the Jessup highstand of pluvial Lake Lahontan on the western margin of the Pahsupp Mountains, NV, USA (#1 on map).

I first traverse a set of alluvial fans where pluvial Lake Lahontan built gravel berms and beaches about 15,000 years ago. The remnant strandlines show as subtle, rounded mounds of dusty gravel stretching perpendicular to the gradual slope of the mountain-front fans. The uppermost strand cuts into the slope formed by a Pleistocene-age fan (Qa1 – older than the lake stand at 15,000 years ago), its erosional scarp formed as waves cut into the gradual slope and arranged gravel in the mounds we walk across today – it is easy to see this berm and scarp tracing its way north and south on aerial imagery just above the road. As the lakes receded, they left stringers of other off-shore bars and recessional beaches, while new alluvial fans (Qa2 and Qa3) chased the receding lake basinward. Once the lake had faded – and during its long, current absence through the Holocene (since 12,200 years ago), young alluvium (Qa4) flows in drainages; it is sometimes dammed by the older berms, coalescing at gaps where storm floods formed cuts in the berms or, in other places, it buries the former beaches altogether.

Beveled pediment. The structure of the granitic pluton is revealed below the alluvial veneer of the western slope of Pahsupp Mountain, Black Rock Desert, NV, USA (#2 on map).

I continue up the long ramp to gain the beveled slope of the granitic pediment that abuts craggy peaks nearer the summit – I’m about halfway through the gradual climb. I can look across the deeper canyons and see how the top of very old (millions of years), uplifted granite, with a fabric of nearly vertical structure, is cut and capped by a gently sloping veneer of alluvium. If I was walking across that alluvium, I might think I was on just another alluvial fan, but the sandy to cobbly veneer is thin (maybe a few meters) and the landform, as a whole, is bedrock – so we emphasize the big picture and call it a pediment, though as archaeologists we would want to be aware of the age of the alluvial veneer. Here, it is generally active and young – it is subject to common slopewash and shows very little soil development. The alluvium is Holocene; there is a lot of time missing from this generally erosional surface. This is the landform that feeds the fans below.

But onward.

**Toward the summit**. A game trail leads along a ridge to a western false summit outcrop, Pahsupp Mountains, Black Rock Desert, NV, USA (#3 on map).

I gain the steeper sections of ridges and eventually work my way past one false summit to the bouldery crags that form the steep outcrop of the Dry Mountain high point. The views in every direction are Basin and Range at its best. There is shallow lake moving across the Black Rock playa at the terminal end of the Quinn River. Dust is rising from the Smoke Creek Desert to the west, and I can sense a change in the freshening breeze; it will be gusty soon. It is time to settle into the long walk down to camp.

**Runoff remnant**. The ephemeral lake of the Black Rock Playa, Black Rock Desert, NV, USA

**Fading gully**. A narrow strip of riparian vegetation waits for spring in the reaches below Dry Mountain summit, Black Rock Desert, NV, USA

Although I cannot help delving into the pattern of landforms as I wander to any high point, I always hope to show the hard, subtle beauty of the Great Basin Desert in a series of landscape photos that go beyond the mapping of geology and geomorphology. To me, these things are inseparable. But bringing the desert to life under blue-sky, dry days is difficult, especially when a long walk means I don’t have time to look for smaller scenes – before each walk, I fantasize that some drama will unfold in front of me. On most days, however, a quiet, desert walk misses the drama of a gathering storm or the bursting gallop of a pronghorn herd – or hassled traffic and the workaday office, and I disappear into the fabric of the landforms that spread from the mountains where I wander. Portfolio pictures may come another time.

Keep going…

Pahsupp Collection

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

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Annularity 2023 – A solar eclipse somewhere in Nevada, USA

D. Craig Young · October 18, 2023 · 6 Comments

**Solar ring**. Annularity 2023 in the outcrops of Tyrone Gap, Diamond Valley, NV, USA

The forecast for Winnemucca, Nevada, where our plan was to scour the dunes north of the Humboldt River for foreground leading to annularity, was accurate if not precise — mostly cloudy to mostly sunny. What could go wrong?

Erno and I chose to head deeper into the Great Basin, settling on Diamond Valley and Tyrone Gap, north of Eureka, Nevada. We followed “America’s Loneliest Road,” which it is not, over pinyon ranges and sagebrush valleys until turning north to find Tyrone Gap, a split in low, steeply tilted limestone hills. Here, the two-lane highway leaves Diamond Valley to climb toward Roberts Mountain and Pine Valley. The gap and highway would be aligned with the rising sun and might provide some foreground interest.

I did not want the relatively simple photo of the ‘ring-of-fire’ in a featureless sky — those can be cool but are all too common. At the same time, we did not have the time to plan a compelling intersection of, say, a hiker or howling coyote (as if) against the celestial event. Unfortunate. So, we would settle for some rocks in silhouette to frame whatever gifts we were given in the morning. Our brief evening scout showed potential in the hills south of the gap; we settled on that for morning and then settled into our camp for evening.

Our camp was a small gravel pit — an easy go-to whenever I traverse Nevada highways. In the growing dark, we cooked up some dinner and marveled at the revealing canopy of stars. A side benefit of solar eclipses is that they occur during the new moon, and the dark skies of central Nevada are so very nice. A coyote and a friend or two took up a chorus to sing us into the night. Splendid.

We awoke to waves of high clouds. Their spacing suggested we might get the views and images we wanted, but we generally refrained from discussing “what if?” It would work.

After fueling with a sunrise coffee, we drove the short distance to the break in the fence where we could hike into the hills above Tyrone Gap. We had settled on 100-500mm lenses knowing we would climb into the hills to get the ridgeline as a compressed foreground at the high angle of the sun at mid-morning, the general time of the eclipse (annularity at 9:20am). We had a variety of filters but soon settled on 10-stop ND. These seemed to work with the touch of clouds that scudded occasionally into our sightlines. I actually liked the clouds as they added atmosphere and seemed to not diminish our experience.

**Arches**. The sun and moon together in a small arch of Tyrone Gap, Annularity 2023, Diamond Valley, NV, USA

Although we waited on the shaded side of the ridge, once in a while wondering if we had missed the whole event, I could run to the low hill to our west to anticipate where the sun would breach the rocks. I had some protective solar glasses and soon noticed the sun at ‘first contact’ breaking the solar disc into an upturned crescent. To my great surprise, when I returned to my camera to see the partial eclipse appear, it revealed a small arch as its first rays broke above the ridge line. I shifted only a short distance to capture the interaction between the dual arches, one of fire and one of rock. Unplanned other than giving myself the opportunity to be here.

**Second contact**. The ring is broken, Annularity 2023, Diamond Valley, NV, USA

We were awed by three or four minutes of annularity. I had thought it would be darker, but it was more like a moment of golden hour or the passing of a thicker cloud band — I still need to experience totality (April 2024!).

**Departing**. The moon breaks the ring, Annularity 2023, Diamond Valley, NV, USA

My Departing image may be my favorite of the set. The clouds remind me of a deep-sky nebulae where stars are born or where the ghosts of stars reside — the dark and glowing dust at either end of a star’s seemingly infinite life. And here is our star, momentarily intruded upon but endlessly providing. It is a beautiful jewel, and we should take time to notice its movements; it is not infinite, but it clearly does not and will not care.

Keep going.

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

#naturefirst #keepgoing

Nevada High Points #110 – Lodi Hills

D. Craig Young · September 17, 2023 · Leave a Comment

**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

D. Craig Young · July 24, 2023 · Leave a Comment

**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

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