New Exhibits in Great Basin Visitor Center

In 2006, a new visitor center opened at Great Basin National Park, down in the town of Baker. The old visitor center, up at Lehman Caves, is still open, but focuses on caves, while the new one looks at the entire Great Basin region. It took time and money to get the exhibits, but they've finally arrived and are really neat.

The visitor center is the building on the right, and the resource center, which includes a classroom, lab, office space, and a small library, on the left. Jeff Davis Peak, part of Great Basin National Park, is in the background.

One of the first things you see when you enter the exhibit area is this life-like bristlecone pine tree. It looks very much like the old-growth bristlecone pines found up near the Wheeler cirque and rock glacier at over 10,000 feet high. These trees are known to live over 4,000 years, but only in harsh conditions. In addition, only a small part of the tree is alive, like the exhibit shows.

There's a wall with cultural exhibits, looking at how the Fremont and Shoshone cultures lived. There is also this sheep camp exhibit, complete with the border collie lying underneath it. Kids love looking at the dog.

Another wall has exhibits about the different life zones that are found from the valley floor all the way up to the mountain tops.

Desert Boy was fascinated with the stream exhibit, which was down at his level and had fish. He can say "fish," which probably was part of the reason he liked it so much. I have to admit, having a small child made me look at exhibits in a totally different way. 

This rattlesnake made a few people jump. It stayed put, though.

There were some cutaways that showed what lives in the ground, which in the desert is quite a lot. The sagebrush vole is one of the creatures that hides from the temperature extremes in a burrow.

Here are some gigantic ants that look a little creepy.

Each exhibit has birds included with it. There's so much more to see, but I figure if I show it all, then you won't have an excuse to go and see it for yourself! To find out when the Great Basin Visitor Center is open, call 775-234-7331.

And if you have a little one, ask where the toy drawer is. They have puppets of all different sizes that don't even mind someone riding them.

Herding Sheep

As I was driving down the highway, I noticed something out of the ordinary--hundreds of white objects moving on the hillside. As I got closer, I saw it was a herd of sheep. This is sheep country out here, and every winter sheepherders bring thousands of sheep. The sheep are good at using the snow for moisture (unlike cattle, which need water). Thus  the sheep can survive in remote places in the desert, far from water as long as there is some snow. 

This big white dog is a sheep dog (sometimes referred to as a livestock guardian dog). The most common types of sheep dog in this area are the Pyrenees or Akbash. They are strong and loyal, and they always stay with the sheep, protecting them from predators like coyotes. They also protect them from strange humans, so it's never a good idea to get out of your car near a big sheep dog--you're liable to get bitten because you're seen as a threat.

Here's the sheepherder on his horse at the back of the herd. With him are several border collies. They are extremely helpful moving the sheep, with their herding instinct kicking in. The border collies stay with the sheepherder, returning to his camp at night. They are loyal to him, doing what he says.

If you look closely at the sheep, you'll notice they aren't all white. A brown sheep is put in for every 25 or 50 sheep (depending on the herd). The brown sheep allow for the sheepherder to quickly count the herd by counting them and then multiplying by 25 or 50.

The sheep are moved every couple of days so they don't overgraze any one area. Often the sheep are ready to move on, making it a bit easier to move them. 

They graze on the way, their thick winter coats protecting them from the elements. They will be sheared in April by sheep shearers that come all the way from New Zealand and Australia. (I will try to have a post about that when they come.)

Being a sheepherder is a lonely, but relatively peaceful life. It definitely involves lots of fresh air and sunshine. Most of the sheepherding is done far from roads, requiring the old-style skills of managing a horse and dogs. I admire the sheepherders--I don't think I could do that job for even one day.

Sheepherder's Party

This weekend we went to the Sheepherder's Party out on the Utah/Nevada stateline. This area, generally called the West Desert, has been a big winter sheepherding area for over a century. This party is put on to encourage sheepherders, sheep owners, and others involved in the sheep industry to celebrate their heritage and to take a break from the mundane routines of winter.

Denys Koyle, owner of the Border Inn, organized the event, which went from Friday evening to the wee hours of Saturday night. Friday night was a dinner and sheepherder's stories; Saturday was a pancake breakfast, presentation by Sour Dough Slim, a dinner, and the sheepherder's ball, with lots of good music to kick up your heels to. 

Nevada Governor Jim Gibbons opened the program Friday evening with remarks.

Some of the actual sheepherders came. There aren't so many of them anymore as transportation has improved. Nevertheless, they still do a lot of the sheepherding the old-fashioned way, living in small sheep camps, riding horses to move the sheep, and having only their border collies and sheep dogs for company most of the time. At one point most of the sheepherders were Basque, but today they are all from Peru. 

Sourdough Slim showed off his excellent musical abilities and sense of humor.

The program included those of all ages, including young Melanie singing a pretty song in her pink cowgirl hat.

This gentleman showed off a quilt his made. He explained that he wore the elbows out of his wool shirts, and they would mysteriously disappear from the closet. He wanted his wife just to cut the sleeves off to make short-sleeved summer shirts, but she used them to make this beautiful quilt--her 100th quilt!

The emcee was the hilarious Hank Vogler. His son got up to take his turn at filling the room with hot air.

No program is complete without a little cowboy poetry. Here is the Sheepherder's Lament by Jack Ingram, about the difficulties of getting a wife while herding sheep:

And then came something new for me: cowboy yodeling. I really enjoyed it. If you want to hear more, Sourdough Slim will be performing at the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada the end of January, or you can get CDs from his website.

Desert Destination: Ibex Practice Rocks

About an hour west of Delta, Utah, steep cliffs descend to a dry lakebed called the Tule Hardpan. Over the last couple decades, these cliffs have been "discovered" by rock climbers as an excellent place to climb without crowds. About two miles to the northwest is a smaller rock outcropping, known (at least by me) as the Practice Rocks.

These Practice Rocks are sedimentary rocks called Eureka and Watson Ranch Quartzites. Fossils are rare, but occasionally found. The name Watson Ranch refers to Jack Watson, who moved to the southern end of the big Ibex crags in 1911. He developed a ranch and operated a small store for sheep herders and anyone else wandering around the West Desert for about 20 years. Nowadays, no one lives out here. In fact no one lives for at least 40 miles in any direction.

Because the practice rocks are so much smaller than the main crags, they don't get much attention. But there is a campfire ring, and after scrambling around on the rocks for twenty minutes, I decided I'd like to make use of it sometime. There is plenty to see and do to make camping a good option.

Many of the rocks are parallel to each other, allowing hallways, and in some cases, tunnels, to get between them. There are easy and difficult ways to move about the rocks, and it would be an awesome place to play hide and seek. (I can't help it, scrambling on rocks brings out the kid in me. In fact, I kept thinking how fun it would be to bring a bunch of kids out here and play--but I would give each one a whistle because the area is big enough it might be hard to hear a shout.)

The views are spectacular, with distant mountain ranges appearing in all directions. Notch Peak is to the north, which is a fun climb I'll cover someday in a separate post.

One of the surprises at the Practice Rocks is the corral, which was built using the rocks themselves on one side to help keep the sheep in place. The corral is in pretty good shape, so I expect it may still be used once in awhile.

The Practice Rocks are only about two miles south of Highway 50, and they're worth the detour to scramble around and take in the outstanding views. It's always fun to stop and find something is more than it seemed while passing it at 65 mph on the highway!

Sheep Camp

November is the month when sheep usually come into our valley for winter grazing. In the old days, it was a rush to bring sheep from more populated areas along the Wasatch Front in Utah out to our isolated valley. There would be one or two sheepherders for each 2,000 sheep. A sheepherder would live out of his wagon, going to a rural store every few weeks to get supplies. Otherwise, it was him, the sheep, his horse, and his dogs. A pretty solitary life.

Today it's still a fairly solitary life for sheepherders. Not many people want to do it, and sheep operators often have to recruit men from other countries to be sheep herders. We see quite a few Peruvians come to this area, spending a year or two watching sheep before they go back to see their families.

Our ranch doesn't raise sheep anymore and hasn't for quite awhile, but we still have this old sheep wagon. The other day I decided to take a peek at it to try to get some insight into what it was like being a sheep herder.

The interior is sort of like an ultra-mini-RV. There's a bed, folding tables, and built in seats with storage space underneath.

One big difference from today's RVs is the presence of this coal/wood burning stove. Because sheep herders are out in these wagons on the desert valleys in the winter, it can get really cold. Sometimes they even get trapped by blizzards for days at a time.

Here's a wider view of the "kitchen/living area" of the sheep wagon. A sheep herder really doesn't have room for a lot of extra stuff.

There are some compartments on the outside of the sheep wagon, like this one for coal. There's a big one under the bed for spare tires, fuel, and other equipment. Often a separate wagon is left next to the sheep wagon carrying hay for the horse.

The wagons are simply built. A back window is a bit of a luxury. There are no shocks on the chassis, so everything has to be well secured before moving the wagon to a new location. Nowadays, the wagon is moved every week or two as the sheep continue moving to graze available forage.

The wagon above is obviously old, and you're probably wondering if sheep herders still live so primitively.

The answer is no. This is a newer sheep wagon. It still has small windows, a small shape, lots of storage compartments, and a wood burning stove. But it also has solar panels. 

A Little Detour

A couple weeks ago I took Desert Boy to town to go to the dentist. Town in this case was over two hours away by paved roads. Perhaps it was all the city traffic, or maybe it was the stoplights, or perchance it was just so many stores and bright lights to look at. Whatever it was, on the way home I decided to take a detour and get off the civilized paved road. I knew I could turn off the highway by a ranch, head up the valley, go across the pass, and in a while I would end up at home. Had I ever taken this route before? No. But I knew it would work out, and I had a truck full of groceries, so we had plenty to eat and drink.

One of the first signs we saw were these Stay Out tires along the post. It made us feel very welcome as we drove along. Actually, the Stay Out tires cracked me up, because everything on the other side of the fence pretty much looked like what was on our side of the fence. We obeyed, though, and stayed on our side.

Our side consisted of this long, long gravel road, stretching out as far as the eye could see. If you look really hard, you can see some mountains at the end of the road. I figured we'd have to drive nearly to those mountains before we made our turn to go over the pass. So we drove and drove. Desert Boy woke up from his nap and we sang songs. There wasn't much to point out to him except mountains and desert plants because we didn't pass a single vehicle. It was a blissful afternoon in the desert.

We came to a couple intersections and I headed in the direction I knew we needed to go. The only problem was that the roads didn't keep going in the direction they started out, and eventually I determined that we were disoriented. That's right, we were not lost. Someone once told me that as long as you enjoy where you are, you're not lost, just disoriented. Plus, it wasn't like we could just pull over to the nearest convenience store and ask for directions, so it was better just to enjoy it. After driving a bit further, the sun started getting a little lower in the afternoon sky and I decided it might be better to backtrack and try a different set of two-track roads. On the way back I got a picture of this neat sheep corral. I wouldn't have seen it if we hadn't gotten lost--oops, I mean disoriented.

We finally reached a more traveled road that led to a white-colored mountain called Crystal Peak. I had been to this peak before and felt good that I could find my way home from it. We stopped to admire the volcanic rock, which really stands out against the darker surrounding rock and conifers. Desert Boy needed a diaper change and the back of the truck was full of groceries leaving no space, so I pulled the diaper bag out of the truck and we went a little ways off the side of the road. After changing him, I thought it might be fun to walk around a little and stretch our legs.

I also enjoyed looking at some of the neat plants like this rock spiraea (Petrophytum caespitosum). It grows in mats on the rock and puts up these pretty flowers.

The mountain is quite large, and the volcanic tuff has lots of interesting pockets in it. There's a ponderosa pine tree at the bottom of the picture to give you some perspective. 

Well, after enjoying our break, we got back into the truck and went home, tired but happy. It was a bit of a chore unloading all the groceries, but the cold stuff had stayed cold in the coolers and the bread wasn't too smashed. I told my dear husband about our little adventure, we ate dinner, and we went to bed.

Two days later, I needed the diaper bag. I searched all over the house and couldn't find it. I made my husband look all over, and he couldn't find it either. Finally it dawned on me that I had left the diaper bag at Crystal Peak, along the side of the road. I could have rushed out there, but it was more convenient to go in the afternoon, and I figured if it had been out there for two days, a few more hours wouldn't hurt.

In the afternoon, I loaded Desert Boy into the truck and we drove nearly an hour to get to Crystal Peak. My heart started pounding hard as we got close to where we had stopped before. Would it still be there? My wallet was in the diaper bag, and I hate losing my wallet. I didn't want to have to get a new driver's license, insurance card, credit card, bank card, hotel frequent stayer card, grocery store card. I had left a dirty diaper next to the diaper bag, and surely that would have attracted a coyote, who would have grabbed the bag and ran off with it.

I parked and went around the truck to get Desert Boy out. We started heading towards where I remembered changing him. I made myself walk slowly to make sure I wouldn't miss it. I didn't see it, so I looked around, thinking about which way a coyote might have gone. I didn't really want to consider the possibility that someone might have been driving by and just picked it up and took off with it. We walked a bit further, around some bushes, on the white rock, over a little gully. And then I saw it, right where I had left it. The top was unzipped with the wallet right on top. The dirty diaper was wrapped neatly next to the bag. I quickly thanked God and all the angels and saints and picked up the bag and took it right to the truck. I figured only out in the rural desert could I leave an open diaper bag with a wallet practically hanging out of it and it would be fine days later.

And then Desert Boy and I went hiking. We had driven this far, so we figured we might as well enjoy it!