A Trip up Mount Washington

Ready for a road trip? We're going to head up the west side of the South Snake Range to Mt. Washington in Great Basin National Park. It's a long trip (and a long post), but it's worth it! The road goes nearly to the top of the mountain, but the road is not the easiest to drive. Think switchbacks that are so steep you have to do three-point turns to go up some of them. This is a section my dad would rather get out and walk. (Dad, you have to come visit sometime in summer so you can see for yourself!) 

The trip starts from Nevada Highway 894 (a spur off US Highway 93 in Spring Valley),  opposite from the Pickering Ranch. The unmarked gravel road goes up the bench (in other places it would be called the alluvial fan), crossing from sagebrush to pinyon and juniper. Up in the pinyon-juniper, the road starts switchbacking, but is still passable to passenger cars up to the Pole Canyon adit of the Mount Wheeler mine at 7850 feet. The adit is over a mile long. Water flows out from the entrance (see photo above), but I've heard that it contains heavy metals so isn't recommended for drinking.

This beautiful swallowtail was enjoying the coolness of the water.

Several structures still stand from when this mine was in action, in the late 1940s and 1950s. Beryllium and tungsten were the primary targets. (You can find more information in Chapter 20 of Great Basin National Park: A Guide to the Park and Surrounding Area--link in the sidebar to the right).

From the adit, the road becomes much more of an adventure. It was made as a jeep road in 1948. High clearance and four wheel drive are required. A chainsaw wouldn't be a bad idea, as we didn't get too far up the road until we found this:

We didn't have a chainsaw. Or a handsaw. Or a hatchet. But fortunately there were three of us, and through brute strength we were able to roll that tree off to the side of the road.

Then came the numerous switchbacks. I was busy driving so didn't manage to get any photos of them. I don't know if you could capture them well on photo--they are definitely an experience!

A bit further on we reached the small sign informing us that we were entering Great Basin National Park. The road crosses the park part of the time. The other time it's on private land owned by LongNow, a foundation interested in the very long perspective. (See their website for more.)

From up on the cliff we had super views of the switchbacks we had just traversed, Spring Valley, and the Schell Range.

Located along the cliff edge were bristlecone pines. Bristlecone pines are a great way to think of a longer perspective. Needles stay on the trees for 40 years. The harsher the climatic conditions, the longer the tree grows--one was found nearby that was about 5,000 years old (and then it was cut down, but that's a story for another day).

There's a lot of concern about bristlecone pines and other five-needle pines due to the combination of mountain pine beetle (MPB) and white pine blister rust.  MPB is a native beetle that has benefited from climate change. In some areas, instead of completing one life cycle in two years, it may do it in just a year. That means lots more beetles, and all those beetles need something to eat. As they eat the trees, the trees die. In normal years, a few trees die every year from MPB. When epidemics occur, and MPB beetle populations are especially high, nearly entire forests can die, although MPB generally just attacks trees greater than six inches diameter, so at least the young trees are spared.

However, the non-native white pine blister rust is spreading. It can attack trees of any age and kill them. Some trees are naturally resistant, but those trees may still be susceptible to MPB. It's a nasty one-two punch that has nearly wiped out whitebark pine (Pinus albicaulis), the predominant tree near treeline in the northern Rockies. In some areas, more than 90% of the population has been decimated, and the tree was petitioned for listing under the Endangered Species Act. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declared it warranted but precluded in 2011, meaning that it deserves protection but that the staff and money don't exist to do that. In Canada, it's been listed as endangered.

What about the bristlecone pine? Could it suffer such a fate? That's not known. For now, some proactive measures are being taken. A number of seeds were collected several years ago and are being tested for white pine blister rust resistance at the Dorena Genetic Resource Center. The main test takes seven years. If the tree shows resistance, more seeds can be collected to protect the genetic material, and if needed, help restore populations. But what happens if mountain pine beetle attacks the tree during those seven years, and the tree's not around to produce more resistant seeds? That's where our trip came in. We were putting pheromone pouches containing the chemical verbenone on the selected trees. Verbenone is what the mountain pine beetles send out to tell other beetles that the tree is full. It basically is the "Stay out, we're full," signal. If MPB populations aren't too high, the beetles are tricked and stay away. If they are high, nothing can really be done. But we do what we can, in the hopes that we can help this majestic species.

The trees we were visiting were scattered, which meant we had more higher up the mountain.

Further up the road, we took a side trip to some historic cabins. These were made by miners. Guess what trees they used. If you guessed bristlecones, you're right! These bristlecones are taller than the really old ones, mostly due to a gentler climate--not as much wind.

You can tell that the cabins are really old by the construction style. They didn't use nails to put these logs together--they built these cabins lincoln-log style.

Oops, I got distracted by a pretty penstemon with a pollinator in it.

Did the miners get distracted by the flowers? It must have been quite a hard life to get up there and then mine at such a high elevation. Then they had to get the ore off the mountain. One account says that they waited for winter and used toboggans to get the ore down.


Near the cabins is a thick metal cable. It goes down into the canyon. I decided to see what it was connected to up on the mountain.

First I found a huge pulley, probably ten inches in diameter, up high in a bristlecone. The chain holding the pulley in place is starting to get overgrown in the tree. This pulley appeared to help get the cable up high in the air.

Further uphill was the attachment point, the cable running around the base of a bristlecone. It's been there so long the cable is part of the tree now. I feel a little bad for the tree.

We got back in the truck and headed up higher.

Our next stop was to look at the Nevada Climate-Ecohydrological Assesment Network (NevCAN) weather station. This is a network that goes across the Snake Range and up one side of the Sheep Range in Nevada. You can look at real-time data and photos from the cameras at the link above.

The views kept getting better and better as we ascended. Finally we reached the end of the road and had to travel the last part of the way up to the summit of Mount Washington on foot. It was good going on foot, we had time to absorb the beauty around us.

These dainty Erigeron looked bright and cheerful with their yellow and white coloring.

A knob of wind-eroded wood made me consider the bristlecones that used to grow at this elevation, which is now above treelike.

The Colorado Columbine (Aquilegia caerulea) made a striking appearance.

I wasn't the only one being held captive by the diminutive but colorful flowers!

Soon we could see north towards Wheeler Peak. It's so interesting how the colors change. Wheeler , Jeff Davis, and Baker Peaks are all made of metamorphic rock, the Prospect Mountain Quartzite. Closer we start getting into granites, and then closest, with the grey rock is limestone.

We had to pause for a few photos.

Aileen's first visit to the summit of Mt. Washington.

Looking northeast towards Steve, with a view of the Snake Creek drainage and Eagle Peak behind him (another limestone area with bristlecones).

Looking west towards me, with Spring Valley and the Schell Range in the background.

The view to the east takes in the North Fork Big Wash. The day was a bit hazy, so we couldn't see Snake Valley or the next mountain ranges very well.

Then it was time to head down the mountain.

We paused to check out some trees that had burned during the 1999 fire. The fire had burned up into bristlecones. We're not certain what the effect might be to the bristlecone community, but the fire certainly has opened up a lot of habitat to bighorn sheep, which are being tracked periodically with collars.

The afternoon light was magical, and I couldn't help but take a few more photos.

I noticed a younger bristlecone tree. Here's the next generation!

This striking three-foot tall plant with four-petaled green flowers is green gentian or elkweed (Frasera speciosa).

In contrast, here's the tiny dwarf alpine paintbrush (Castilleja nana), with a bee pollinating it. Note the orange pollen on the hind legs of the bee. This has been a busy bee!

The stunning sego lily (Calachortus nuttalli) with a pollinator. 

It's a long drive back down the mountain, but with great views along the way.

It's worth the trip!

Comparison of Ungulate Pellets

I took a hike last week in a place used by three different species of ungulates. I didn't see any of them. So how did I know three species had been there? By their pellets, or scat, that they left behind.
I'm going to show you the photos and give you some clues. You see if you can figure out which three species left the following scat.

The first scat I examined closely looked just slightly larger than rabbit scat, but instead of being brown and totally round, it was black and slightly pointed at one end. The pellets were in a group, but rather scattered within the group.

What's your guess? If you said bighorn sheep, you are correct!

Scat Number Two:
I came across a place where the gravel had been cleared away. Adjacent it to it were two big piles of scat, along with a smaller pile and a wet area from urine in the cleared area. I surmised that this was a favorite ungulate hangout.

A close-up look at one of the piles of scat:

A close-up of the pellets, brownish-black, slightly dimpled, one end (or sometimes two) narrowed.

And your guess? If you said deer, you are correct! We have mule deer out here, a LOT of them. Deer scat is about the size of a raisin, although not quite as wrinkly. I'm not sure if I should admit this, but I have a fun prank that deals with deer scat. (If you're a long-time reader of this blog, you read about it here.) I've given talks about scat to school kids. I like to have samples of various scat with me (in Ziploc bags--in reality, handling scat with your bare hands is not the best idea and can lead to nasty diseases, so don't do what I'm doing.) Anyway, I show the kids the deer scat and ask them how they can figure out how old it is. After I hear their more reasonable guesses, I tell them that the best way to do it is to do a taste test. I pretend to take a pellet out of the bag, while palming a Raisinet instead. I pop the Raisinet in my mouth, bite down on it slowly, and make an appropriately theatrical expression. While the kids look on, faces frozen in horror, I declare the age of the deer scat.

It's an awesome prank.

I may have scarred some kids for life. Probably not. But they may never look at scat the same way again.

Okay, last ungulate scat of the day:

This scat is also black and in pellet form like the other two, but is noticeably larger. Here's a close-up:

Your guess? Elk is the correct answer. They are bigger animals, so it only makes sense that they leave behind bigger poo.

Although all these three ungulate scats look similar, it doesn't take too much detective work to tell them apart. And the more practice, the easier it gets.

Thanks for joining me in this little soiree into the leftover matters of life.

In Search of Newhouse

 On Saturday on the way to town (town meaning any place with more than 200 people), I decided I wanted to go find Newhouse, a ghost town. I knew that some of the first settlers in the area where I live had gotten off the train at Newhouse and continued by wagon over the mountain ranges and basins. I was recently reminded of Newhouse when I discovered the book Utah Ghost Rails by Stephen Carr and Robert Edwards. I found it at the Utah DNR Bookstore, one of my favorite places to browse for local publications. In the book, I found information about the railroad tracks extending from Frisco, a rowdy ghost town near Milford, Utah, to Newhouse. I had seen remnants of those tracks from Highway 21, but hadn't thought much about them. With Desert Boy's love of trains, I figured it was time to make the journey.

 I thought I knew which road led to Newhouse. When we saw the above mining remains, I figured we were on the right track. The hole in the ground intrigued me, so I got out and found that it went deeper than I could see. Scary!

The good road continued, but we didn't see more old mining structures. Instead, we saw this:

 Modern equipment and fresh piles of rock. Had someone started reworking the old mines near Newhouse? Or were these new ones?

The road was gated and no one was around, so we didn't have our questions answered. We turned around and headed up a little two-track road.

We didn't get far. We found another gate and a sign saying that the area was owned by Horn Silver Mines, Inc. I recognized the name from the Frisco side.

I saw a couple of adits on the hillside.

We still didn't know where Newhouse was, and the roads were a little too rocky for the van, so we parked and started hiking.

Desert Girl wanted me to take a picture of her.

We hiked for a bit, but the kids quickly decide that wasn't what they really wanted to do. They wanted to go back to the van. On the way, though, they found a distraction.

It was time to rock climb!

Desert Boy made it to the top and was happy. We headed back to the highway, with a detour down another two track road. We encountered some other people who were also looking for Newhouse but couldn't find it.

So we headed to Milford and got directions at the tourist information in the caboose. We needed to go back down in the valley more. So after running a bunch of errands and enjoying the Minersville swimming pool, we headed back towards Newhouse. This time we found it, with a turnoff from Highway 21 near mile marker 57. (One book says the road used to be marked, but it certainly isn't now. However, if you look off into the distance, you can see some of the buildings from the highway--something I had never noticed before.)

Out among the cactus and cheatgrass, we found some old buildings.

We found quite a few old foundations.

The kids had a great time looking for lizards.

The Cactus Mine was started in 1870, before the mine in Frisco. But it didn't have many investors and little was mined until 1900, when Samuel Newhouse came from Salt Lake City. He had previously invested in the copper mines up Bingham Canyon, which proved quite successful. With his capital, plus investments from England and France, the Cactus Mine was worked more and proved to be profitable. A town developed on Newhouse's land around the mine, called Tent-town due to the temporary nature of the "buildings".

A few years later, the mine was still going strong, and some permanent buildings were erected. The town became known as Newhouse and included a cafe, library, livery stable, hospital, several stores, and a hotel. It even had an opera house and dance hall. Water was not available right there, so it was piped in from Wah Wah Springs five miles west, and an electrical system was installed. Water not used for mining and culinary purposes irrigated the city park. The saloon and red light district were relegated to a mile outside of town, off of Newhouse's property. The town was orderly in contrast to Frisco around the hill, which at its heydey had 23 saloons and was known as the wildest town in the Great Basin (from Stephen Carr's Utah Ghost Towns).

Hmm...opera house vs. 23 saloons...

The Utah Southern Extension Railroad built a depot at the end of the Frisco Branch.  In addition to the Frisco Branch, a separate standard gauge railroad named the Newhouse, Copper Gulch & Sevier Lake was built between the Cactus Mine and the Cactus Mill.

The ore didn't last forever, though. It didn't even last for long. About five years after the town was settled, the Cactus Mine gave out, after producing $3.5 million worth of ore.  Other mines in the area weren't big producers, so the town, like most mining towns, quickly quieted. Many buildings were moved into Milford. The cafe continued, serving sheep and cattlemen and a few miner, until 1921 when it burned down. The tracks were pulled up to Frisco in 1927, and then the track from Frisco to Milford was taken up by August 1943.

Although most of the town had disappeared, I was surprised by how many remnants we could still see.

We were short on time, so only got a quick glimpse of some of the structures and foundations.

We found that the road followed part of the old railroad bed. It started getting a little too rocky for our van so we had to turn around. But we'll be back to explore more of this neat old ghost town.