Another try for Piute Gorge

I feel privileged to be free enough from the cares of life, to allow three weeks of soirées to desert places.  And even more privileged, after failing an anticipated venture, to have the time to try again.  You may remember this picture from October 8, where I wanted to get into Piute Gorge, but turned back because I was afraid the falling rain might make the creek-crossings impassible on return.

A book describing places to visit in the Mojave National Preserve describes Piute Gorge as having the “only year-round stream in the East Mojave Desert,” and “a spectacular mile-long gorge for the geologist.”  The book advises that it is not easy to get to the trailhead for Piute Gorge, “a four-wheel-drive vehicle is necessary,” and the rough road is ten miles long.  It further says that from the trailhead, there is a “use trail” which is often hard to find, and some scrambling is required.  A website shows these pictures, from someone who made it into the gorge. With that enticement, and time on my hands, how could I not make a second attempt. 

I drove from Las Vegas to Searchlight, Nevada, crossed the line into California, and again found the unmarked dirt road 5.5 miles south of the border.  I won’t tell you again about the deep sand and explain that four-wheel-drive truly is needed.

 I drove eight miles in an hour-and-a-half and made it to within two miles of the trailhead.  There, I looked at a steep rocky jeep trail proceeding into the mountains.  This is the way roads were before they were graded, graveled and even paved.  I had made it close to the trailhead and could make it all the way, even if I had to walk.  I had done it!  These were my growing thoughts as I parked the jeep in the hot sunbaked hills west of Highway 95. 

I can’t say that driving a jeep on roads like this is fun.  Some people think it is, but for me it’s just a necessity for wilderness experience.  I decided that walking would be just as fast and might avoid damaging my almost-new jeep.  And nice walk it was.  I was finally and thrillingly isolated from all humanity and fully on my own.  

The trail started out along a hillside overlooking Piute gorge.  I didn’t see the promised running water, but the green cottonwoods in these pictures are sure indicators of plentiful water.

The trail petered out after a mile, and I spent an hour looking for it.  Surely it would drop into the gorge, so I scrambled down a little dry-wash into the Piute Gorge, hoping to find the trail in the bottom.  A small trickle of water was flowing among the trees, just as the book said.  But the underbrush was so thick I could not proceed upstream.  So I climbed back up the side to look again for the trail.  

I proceeded parallel to the gorge, along the mountainside, looking for a trail.  Soon the slope became too steep to continue.  I climbed higher, looking for a passable route, but found none. I sat down to think.  My thinking seemed all grainy and sluggish from hard walking and from having slipped on the loose rubble a few times.  I was not injured, but considered the consequences if I were.  How frail the human body is against all that is sharp and hard.  If there was a trail into the gorge, I could not find it.  If I had hoped to prove my independence, I had done just the opposite.  These pictures are from the end of my ability go further.  I looked into Piute Gorge from far above, but could not find a way in. 

Having made my way bumpily, into this remote place, I made it bumpily back out.  I drove back to Searchlight and bought a breakfast of poached eggs and toast, a celebration of being alive, and having tried.

Back at the motel, a sunset outlining peaks.