Perseids on the Playa 2019 (Pershing County, Nevada)

Annually, the Friends of Black Rock gather on the smooth, lifeless playa surface of the Black Rock Desert to view the climax of the Perseid Meteor Shower in the vast darkness of this uninhabited region, far from the pollution of city lights. This year is my fourth year taking part with them in this adventure, and I'm joined by my friends Gen, Josh, and Lacey this time.

Originally, we had planned on driving the two or so hours to the playa on Friday evening, but with a combination of clouds and delays in packing our respective vehicles, we decided to delay going out until Saturday afternoon. Gen and I each drive our respective vehicles, while Josh and Lacey, pull a small camper they recently purchased behind their 4-runner. We met near the Wadsworth exit a few miles east of Reno on I-80 and then caravaned up NV-447 towards Gerlach, NV where we will depart the highway and drive out onto the white surface commonly known as the playa. Nearing Gerlach, we encounter some rain. We pull over, discuss our plan, and decide to head on out into the desert, as Doppler radar indicates this is the tail end of the storm system.

As we down 12-Mile "Road", we pass along the border fence of Black Rock City, which in about three weeks will contain the amazing counter-culture event known as Burning Man. I was lucky enough to attend last year, and Gen and Lacey will be going this year. It's also worth mentioning the pure freedom of driving on the playa. Many years ago when I first moved to this region, I took my truck out onto the playa, accelerated up to 100 mph, closed my eyes, and took my hands off the steering wheel. It was a exhilarating experience and while we won't be doing that today, I still remember the absolute freedom I felt that day.

Arriving at the provided coordinates, the four of use find a vacant area among the camp of about seventy-five people. The sky still has a lot of clouds and a moderately strong wind is blowing. We decide to crack open some of the craft beer we brought out to share with each other. This is a fairly common activity among many of my friends. Most of us travel to some extent and share a love of great craft beer. We make it a point to collect unique beers in our travels and then share them when we come together. 

When the winds die down, I start to set up my tent and bedding. Lacey and Josh will sleep in their camper, Gen in her car, and I will relax under my backpacking quilt on top of a couple of sleeping pads. We stay up for a little while and enjoy more beer before deciding to turn in and wait for the moon to set, which should be about 1:40 AM. I set my alarm, but when I open my eyes another layer of thick cloud cover has moved in and obscures our view of the vast star-field. I fall back asleep, but awaken to Lacey stirring nearby about an hour later. Some of the clouds have departed and a large patch of open night sky appears to the northwest. The four of us wake and pull some chairs out to await the show.

During the hour or so, we see a dozen or so shooting stars. A thin layer of clouds seems to partially block our view. It's unfortunate, but it seems this will not be a great year for seeing the meteor shower. Eventually, we all agree to wind down and head back to our respective sleeping arrangements. I quickly fall asleep and awaken with the sunrise. Breaking camp and wishing my friends well, I head back to Reno to start the day.

Scorpion Hunt at Washoe Lake (Washoe County, Nevada)

*Photo courtesy of Washoe Lake State Park

The Nevada State Park system is a big believer in education and often hosts outings. One in particular caught my attention and I decided to check it out. Starting about 8:30, just after sunset, park rangers were planning to lead participants, including many children out into the sage brush and sand in search of scorpions, which apparently fairly populous here. 

I met up with my friend, Kendall, from a wine education group, which I lead, and her co-worker, M. The three of us listened as the seventy or so participants gathered round a picnic awning and the rangers described the plan for the evening. They even brought out a captured scorpion for the children to see. These desert arachnids glow under black light, and the rangers had suggested in the event description that we should bring any personal black-lights we might have available. Luckily, my wife had one and loaned it to me for the search. Kendall also very thoughtfully brought some bendable glow-sticks that we could easily shape into necklaces. This was helpful in find each other in the darkness.

After the briefing, we wondered out into the sage brush, eyes looking downward a the purplish light cast by our black-lights scanning for the reclusive scorpions. The large group fanned out over a large area as we made our way towards the lake. The really are no trails through here. It's more of just finding the best path that doesn't get one caught up in sagebrush. I found the leg of a deceased deer and a number of rabbit parts, probably dinner for a mountain lion or pack of coyote, but the pincered little demons remained elusive.

We searched for nearly an hour in the darkness, but never found one of the little guys. Finally, about 9:30 PM we turned back and headed for the cars. Talking with some other participants on the way back, it seems there were some scorpions out here, we just didn't find any. That said though, we got in two-miles or so of bushwhacking. So, that counts for something. I may come out and try this again at some point. It would be pretty cool to see the little guys glow under the light.

Truckee Half-Marathon (Nevada County, California)

I've been on a streak so far this year of running at least one half-marathon each month (I ran two in May), but not wanting to end the situation, I started looking for a nearby run for the month of August. Originally, I was considering running the ET Midnight Half along the Extraterrestrial Highway in central Nevada, near Rachel. As I write this, I'm undecided on whether or not, I will run that one. However, I decided cover my bases by registering for the Truckee Half-Marathon, when I saw my friend Miranda had signed up for. Our mutual friend Chris had cautioned about the route being exceptionally hilly and running a bit long, but it didn't deter us.

The morning of the race, Miranda picked me up at my home around 5:45AM and we headed over the hill. Another friend, Sarah, was suppose to run, but she was having some issues with a new puppy she had adopted. Also, Chris was registered for the race, but thought he might have his kids with him and opted to drive separately. It's only about a thirty minute drive between Reno and Truckee, but we needed to pick up our bib's. Additionally, Sarah had asked us to leave earlier to allow her plenty of time to warm-up prior to the race. Sarah and Chris are both extremely capable and competitive runners, often placing or even winning various distances. Miranda and I, while taking our running pretty seriously, aren't quite on the same level and at least speaking for myself, have little desire to be. Though Sarah cancelled on is, we decided to keep our meeting time and so with the crack of dawn, we were headed over the Sierra Nevada.

Arriving at Alibi Aleworks (one of the race's sponsors and the start and finish line) in downtown Truckee, we paid our parking meter, grabbed our bibs and proceeded back to the car. Truckee sits a couple of thousand feet higher in elevation that Reno and its cold up here this morning. In fact, my phone shows the temperature at 47 degrees. Good running weather, but a little brisk to be standing outside for long in running shorts. As the start time approaches, more an more people begin to show up. Luckily, we beat the crowds and got a nice parking spot. A 5k is also being hosted and between the two events, I would estimate about three hundred runners. Not a bad turn out for a small mountain town.

Just a few minutes before the start time at 7:30AM, we hop out of the car and find Chris near the starting line. We chat for a couple of minutes, get stretched, and then await the countdown. One of the race officials tells the crowd that he is just waiting on confirmation of the roads being closed. The delay is nearly ten minutes, but with a countdown from ten, we're off.

As expected Chris is leading the pack out of the gate and for nearly the first two miles. Miranda and I leap-frog each other a bit, especially on some of the early hills, but eventually she pulls away from me. Though I hadn't reviewed the route and elevation profile in great detail, I knew the first part included a fair amount of trail. We had also been warned at the pre-race briefing of a single-file bridge over a seasonal creek. When I finally arrived at the "bridge", I found it was nothing more than two 2x8" planks placed end to end and supported by a log in the middle. Single-file? I'm not sure there was another choice. 

Other than some steep uphills, I feel pretty strong as we proceed through the campground on the eastern end of Donner Lake, but some of the inclines are steep enough that I'm forced to walk up them. The problem with walking is that it gives my mind the time and energy to think and thinking is the enemy right now. Just one week ago, one of my very best friends took his own life and those dark thoughts of loss weigh heavily on me. Perhaps my music choices along the trail aren't helping, but all of this in combination has the effect of slowing me down considerably going into the second third of the course.

As I reach the highest point on the song side of the long alpine lake that, I look out over the water and realize that Miranda is gone and its doubtful if I will be able to catch her at this point. Oh well, I'm here for me and honestly, the stress-relief that running brings is something that I am in desperate need of right now. The loss of my friend will not be easy to get over. Luckily, the road starts heading downhill towards lake level and I'm able to gain some time back. I can start to feel some twinges in my right knee though, especially on the impact of downhill steps.

Rounding the western side of the lake, the course flattens out and will remain so almost the entire northern side of the lake. We are afforded some very nice views from here. The water is still pretty cold, but as we are entering the dog days of summer, the temperatures are getting just to a point that people will dare swim in the clear waters. A number of people are out on the lake on paddle boards, while others sun themselves on the public piers. It's a pretty view and I kind of wish I could join them, but no, I must push on and finish the race.

After reaching the eastern end of the lake, the route breaks away and heads up Donner Pass Road and into Truckee proper. There is a lot of construction going on and combined with the congestion caused by the race, traffic is backed up a bit. I make my way through the small shops until finally reaching the point I have most dreaded. Before me rises a three-hundred foot hill that I must run up. On the elevation profile chart, this particular hill appears as almost a vertical line. This is going to be a challenge for my already-straining knee. I make the turn and begin my ascent. After only a short distance, I'm forced to walk again. I'm not alone though, everyone runner in site has suddenly become a walker for this physical challenge.

Finally reaching the top, I know the course is only a couple more miles and most of it is downhill. That will be good for my time, but not so good for my knee. The pain has gotten worse and it aches with every impact. The trail here is a paved walkway/bike-way through what appears to be a regional park (I'm unsure of the name), but it is a pleasant space and I pass a number of families enjoying a leisurely stroll along the way. Making the left turn, I pass underneath Interstate 80, which I had crossed over the top of before entering Truckee proper. Just ahead, the finish line. Miranda is there waiting for me and cheering me in as I make the final push.

I'm in pain and exhausted both physically and mentally, but what I'm not is stressed. Physical exhaustion has a way of clearing the head, at least for me, and I have been in desperate need of this for a week now. We take a few minutes to hydrate and then head in to enjoy our complimentary beer and some Mexican corn nachos. My track shows the route at about 13.55 miles. Chris was correct. My finishing time was 2:45:15, which is not great, but I wasn't expecting much today. Miranda made her goal and finished with a 2:28. Chris, unfortunately, had to end his race after only about 3.5 miles due to his achilles acting up. He likely would have won the race had it not been for that old injury returning to haunt him. 

Mount Rose Summit from Galena Park (Washoe County, Nevada)

Mount Rose is the jewel of the Reno horizon and the third tallest peak in the Lake Tahoe Basin, rising to 10,785 ft. I've hiked to the top of this mountain many times over the years via the standard trail approaching from the southwest. With that said, I've known another route was possible ascending the northwestern side of the mountain from Galena Park. I've always wanted to hike this route, but for reasons passing, I've never gotten around to it.

When the meetup group I often hike with posted a hike following this route, I jumped on the opportunity. I was excited in the days leading up to the planned out. Until the day before, that is. On Saturday, I received a call from life-long friend. He explained that another member of our brotherhood had passed from this life earlier that day. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. I was not prepared for such news and it weighed on me well into the next days. When Sunday morning rolled around and time to go for this hike, my wife suggested it might be good for me to get out and clear my head. 

I met up with the small group of hikers, many of whom I have hiked with before, at the Galena Park Visitor's Center and we quickly started making our way up to Church's Pond. I've also done this hike a few times before and remember it being a pretty steep and challenging uphill, but I'm feeling strong this morning and have very little difficulty with the uphill. 

Reaching the turn-off to the pond, we depart the main trail and begin bushwhacking in search of a route up to the northwestern ridge of Chocolate Mountain. It takes a couple of attempts fighting our way through the thick growth, but we eventually carve out a path through the brush and after a short distance pop out on the other side where we find a feint use trail. It seems we're on the right track.

All throughout the day though, my thoughts drift away from the trail in front of me and to distant years and events with my fallen friend. This will not be an easy loss to get over and it will not happen soon. I don't really know what to feel at this point. I'm sad and I'm angry and . . . . I suppose it doesn't matter and maybe my wife was right in sending me out here today. I need to focus on the task at hand.

As we push, we gain some elevation above the pond and are treated to a wonderful view of the small water hole from above. The trail meanders through a large scree field before hitting a higher treeline, where large patches of snow remain from the long winter. Even now, in late July, the white carpet covers sections of the this northerly-facing hillside. We make our way through the mess until we reach the steepest part of the route, which has us climbing about 400 feet of scree at a 35-40 degree incline. While challenging, this class 2 terrain is much easier than the class 3 I did last weekend.

Reaching the final ridge-line, the summit of Mount Rose comes into site. A number of other hikers sit and admire the view. I noticed them wondering where we had come from as we approached them from the completely opposite direction they must have taken to reach this high Sierra peak. No matter, we relax at the summit and enjoy some lunch before planning our return. One of party had left a car at the standard trailhead and as I have someplace to be in a couple of hours I ask if he would mind my coming down the standard trail to his car and then catching a ride back to my jeep at the park. He graciously agrees.

We bid the other members of our party, who intend on returning the way we came, goodbye and being making our way down the mountain. This route is about a mile-and-a-half shorter  and only looses about 2,500' of elevation as opposed to the 4'600 we gained coming up the way we did.

As this is by far the more popular route to the summit (and back), we encounter a number of friendly hikers on our way down. Reaching the Galena Creek Waterfall, which flowing nicely, we realize we only have a little over two more miles to go before reaching the parking lot. All of us ready to get back, we hasten our pace and reach the car a short time after passing the falls.

I check my tracker and see that this mixed route carried us about 11.5 miles total (6.5 from the park to the summit and another 5 from the summit to the trail head). We pack ourselves into the car and head back down the mountain. It was a nice hike and I'm glad to be able to check that route off of my to-do list, but it doesn't ease my soul any and the pain of loss continues to well up inside me.

Picayune Valley (Placer County, California)

 

I've hiked so much of the area around Lake Tahoe over the years, but I've never really explored the Granite Chief Wilderness on the northwestern. When I saw a hike listed on one the meetup groups I belong to pioneer a route through the Picayune Valley, I thought it would be a great chance to see this remote area.

Meeting the group on the west side of Reno, seven of us headed to the Squaw Ski Resort in Olympic Valley in four vehicles. We dropped two off and then traveled a few miles down the road to Alpine Meadows, where we met  up with two more hikers at the Five Lakes Trailhead. From here, we headed up the mountain and along Five Lakes Creek. The organizers had mentioned a report they had found last night that describes a river crossing further along part of the trail that may prove problematic. Luckily, I brought my water shoes, but some members of the group were a bit concerned with this development.

As we joined the Pacific Crest Trail for a short distance, the three hikers concerned with the river crossing decided to depart our group and make for a different destination with a little less adventure. We wish them well and continue on to our fateful exploration of this seldom visited valley. 

When we ascend the ridge, we note the hillsides covered with milkweed and mule ear, which are blooming into a marvelous yellow field. To the south, the valley carved out by Whiskey Creek opens up with gorgeous views of the Sierras. Off the north side of the ridge, the valley we intend to explore lays broad and potent. The Picayune Valley runs a few miles south to north until it abruptly ends at the Middle Fork of the American River and a steep cliff-side below Granite Chief.

While we carefully watch the track of our descent into the valley, Paul, who planned the route, remarks about their being many more fallen trees when he hiked this area last summer. Apparently, some individuals generous with their time and labor have visited since then and cross-cut many of the fallen trees to make a clean passage down the hillside and through most of the valley. In the valley itself, we pause to examine some long-abandoned pioneer cabins left to the ravages of time (though they seem to be holding up pretty well).

As we reach the area below a rock formation, the organizers refer to as the Cathedral, we pause for a short time for some pictures. I note the large quartz veins in the rocks beneath my feet. Looking up at the Cathedral above, an awesome piece of granite explodes out of the green hillside. Having vacationed in New Orleans just a couple of months ago, I'm reminded of the famous St. Louis Cathedral and the resemblance to it.

Just a short distance further down the trail, where the creek cuts carves a channel out from the stone valley floor, we decide to break for lunch. I enjoy a protein shake and some Nature's Bakery fig bars, while chatting with some of my hiking companions, John, Rob, Terry, Jim, and Paul. We rest for the better part of an hour and I explore the area just below us and the waterfall that delivers the water to it. It's a one beautiful little site in this broader expanse of beauty. 

We finish our lunch and push on until we reach the northern end of the valley and the Middle Fork of the American River. Contrary to the reports we had, the river crossing is not as terrible as we had been lead to believe. I swap over to my water shoes and with the aid of one of Paul's hiking poles, I maneuver past the large boulders and through the frigid and fast moving water to safely reach the other side. 

From there, the trail disappears and we follow the approximate track that Paul took up this hillside last summer. It's quite challenging for most of us. There is no trail and we are forced to find our way through dense bushes (mostly small manzanita), patches of pulverized granite sand, and the occasional boulder to take a hand hold on. This is certainly class 3 terrain as we are forced to use our hands for the majority of the ascent. With the sun exposure, I begin to feel light-headed and show symptoms of light heat exhaustion. I'm forced to break often as we climb. 

It's taxing and truly kicks my butt, but I finally reach the top. I tell group that I need a few minutes to recover before moving on. I take the time to hydrate myself and relax. After ten of fifteen minutes, I feel well enough to continue, but I know that I've lost the bulk of my energy on this ascent. I warn my companions that I may be slow as we continue on.

From there, the trail is relatively easy as it undulates along the ridge top making our way toward the backside of the Squaw Valley Ski Resort. I am disappointed though, when at every turn, the trail continues gently upward instead of downward, which would be much more to my liking.

Finally, we reach the resort and make our way to the gondola that will carry us down to the bottom of Olympic Valley. It's been one hell of a hike, likely the most difficult I've done this season, but I'm glad to have explored this area. We hiked 17.3 miles with a total elevation gain of around 4,500' of elevation gain, a thousand feet or so of which was the ascent of that steep wall. Paul suggests grabbing some dinner before we part ways, and my stomach being open to a meal, I and two others take him up on the idea. 

Davis Moonlight Half-Marathon (Yolo County, California)

I've been on a streak with half-marathons this year, having run at least one each month this year. Wanting to keep it going, I searched for a nearby run to participate in during the month of July. The Davis Moonlight Half-Marathon seemed as though it would fit the bill. After leaving a wine tasting with some friends in Reno, I headed over the pass towards Davis and arrived around 6:00 PM. With the race scheduled to start at 7:30 PM, I should have plenty of time, but my concern is much more focused on the heat. As I drove through Sacramento, the thermostat was registering 104 degrees . . . ugh.

As race time approached, I checked again and it was still hovering around 90, but I was set on giving it my best go. To be honest, I haven't been running much in the past couple of weeks just because of life being pretty busy, but I'm here now. With the countdown from 10, the half-marathoners were off. There appeared to be about 300 hundred of us doing this distance, which is a pretty small group for an event, but it should be fun nonetheless.

Making our way through the city trails of Davis in this heat, I quickly recognize that I shouldn't have come out of the gate at my normal half-marathon pace. I'm quickly warming up and I'm forced to walk and cool down after just a couple of miles. Reaching the first aid station, I soak my bandanna in ice cold water and put it back on my head. This helps a great deal and I'm able to get back to pace for another couple of miles.

As the sun begins to drop below the horizon, the temperatures begin to cool off to the mid-80's, which is still much hotter than what I normally run in. However, I'm more focused on another problem. I wore my sunglasses for the run, thinking between the moonlight and my headlamp, I would be able to see okay once it started getting dark. The alternative was to wear my normal glass and be blinded by the sun during the first hour and a half or so, and deal with them shaking on my face the entire race. I chose the sunglasses thinking it was the better option, but I didn't consider that much of the course is under the shade of trees, which block out the moonlight. I can choose to run with my sunglasses on and my distance vision in tact, or to remove them and be able to see the world, but in blurriness. I opt for the later. I'm forced to walk a great deal of the course to prevent my self from tripping. 

While it does circle back on itself a number of times, the course is actually pretty nice and is highlighted by running across a bicycle bridge over interstate 80 to park on the southern side of the highway. We run a couple of miles in the park and then return across the bridge to the finish line. I'm extremely disappointed in my performance, running a 2:47:50, but I didn't die of heat stroke and so there's that.

In Search of the Mountain of Hieroglyphics (Lyon County, Nevada)

About a year ago, I learned of another ancient Native American petroglyph site in northern Nevada called the Mountain of Hieroglyphics. I've spoken with a number of people about it and done a fair amount of research. From everything I've found in my research, the site is on a hill on the western side of Lahontan Reservoir directly across from Fisherman's Point. During the winter months, I did a little exploring in the Jeep trying to find some back roads leading to this remote area, but end up just running into dead end after "No Trespassing" sign after dead end. I thought I would wait for the summer months when the reservoir's water might be warmer and shallower and then float across. However with the record snow falls this past winter, the lake level is higher than ever and it would be quite a trip for a poor swimmer to get across. 

This morning, I decided to take another crack at locating the site in the jeep. Similar to last time, I ended up falling short a number of times on a several different jeep trails, but eventually, I found the right path, though a large sand bar on the route made me decide to leave the jeep behind and to continue on foot. 

I followed what I would loosely call a road for a short distance before heading uphill towards a number of large boulders that might be home to rock art. It's a hot day and I'm concerned about rattlesnakes shading under the bushes and rocks of this hillside, but luckily I don't encounter any. I continue on around along a long steep ridge, but never see any rock art. Unfortunately, I'm on a schedule today and have an event to get to and I so, I'm forced to cut my search short and I'm not able to explore the most likely area for the rock art panels.

As I start heading down the hillside, I notice an obviously man-made wall overlooking a wash below. This was likely a hunter's blind, but I don't have the expertise to be able to even take a guess at the age of this. Regardless of whether it is modern or more ancient, I can imagine hunters hiding behind this wall and laying wait for antelope or deer to pass by below in the wash. After this find, I even more encouraged that there may be more history to be found here, but it will have to wait for another day, as the 1.8 miles I've hiked will have to be my limit today.