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January 2002 Larry was off
in the high Sierras and I was curious about the condition of the Barnwell
airstrip we had camped on a few years earlier.�
I also wanted to look at the quarry in more detail.�
Originally we thought it was a gold mine because of the presence� of rhyolite.�
I also needed to update some of my pictures. So, having nothing better to do over the three day holiday
of July 3, 4, and 5 of� 1981,
I prepared my faithful 1967 Ford F-250 Camper 5:00 A.M., I pulled out of my driveway in Whittier, California,
North to Interstate 10, then East on I-10 past Redlands, Beaumont, Banning,
Cabazon, and just past Whitewater, at 7:00 A.M. to take the State 62
hiway North and East past sleepy little desert towns just beginning
to wake up to another hot day in the high desert. I enjoyed the early morning smells of the high desert.�
A faint whiff of sage brush, with it�s smell of quinine and the
damp sand of the night.� The little towns of an earlier day such as Morongo
Valley, Yucca Valley, and Joshua Tree were growing up with more houses,
roadside stores and markets. At 29 Palms I pulled into a filling station and topped
off both gas tanks, then turned North thru the town to connect with
t At Sheephole Summit, elevation 2368 feet, I pulled off
the road and parked by the Microwave towers to refresh myself with a
can of soda pop.� One could see
for miles from that tower location.�
Directly down the road toward�
Amboy, Bristol Dry Lake lay with its salt evaporating ponds along
with National Chloride Company�s flaking plant.�
Amboy Crater, a young, sleeping volcano less than 2,000 years
old was nearby to the West of� the road. Time to get going; it was all down hill for the next
4 miles to Amboy, elevation 639 feet.�
I turned my faithful truck East again and onto The National Trails
Highway. Within 5 miles the turnoff to the Kelbaker road appeared on
my left and I decided to see what new sights might be along it. It was
9:45 A.M. And 98 degrees. The Kelbaker Road ducked under the new Interstate 40
and climbed Two hours more until I reached my planned destination.�
After a short stretch of graded dirt road,�
we (the truck and I), were back on the paved road to the Union
Pacific�s Kelso depot.� At one time there were maintenance shops and
a round table to service the extra steam locomotives that were hitched
onto passenger and freight trains climbing the steep grade to Cima.� Passengers could dine in the formal dining room
while the helper engines were connected to the train.� I had eaten in the railroad employees cafe at
one end of the depot. The Kelso depot is fast becoming a ghost town.� The locomotive turntable was long gone along
with the service shops.� The modern
diesel-electric locomotives with their add-on �B� units (motor-generators
with no operating cab) have replaced the steam engines of� the past.� The�
Kelso depot is now shut down and fenced.�
Negotiations have been going on with several historical societies
to move the depot to some other location. I continued up the paved road on the East side of the
tracks heading North and watching for the Cedar Canyon Road which I
planned to take to� the Ivanpah
Road. All I can say is the Cedar Canyon road was in much need
of repair. Large sections were washed out, and since it was climbing
too, I could not make� much speed.� The �washboard� tire tracks were terrible. They
were deep enough to really shake the truck as a cat shakes a mouse!� The three miles of hellish road seemed never
to end. But at last it did at the junction with the Ivanpah Road.� We There stood Lanfair 1, an isolated telephone booth in
the desert.� The Lanfair Road
changed it�s name at the telephone box and became the Ivanpah Road.� A few more miles and I turned off the unlabled
Hart Clay Mine road, and onto the Hart Mine air strip, which I�d� once called the Barnwell airstrip. I drove slowly
up the neglected dirt runway, turned around at my camping spot and shut
off the faithful Ford truck�s engine.�
�We� were home.� The time?
12:54 P.M.� A slight 98 degree
breeze.� 4560 feet elevation. It took but a moment to fling open the camper door, grab
a chair, pop open the cooler and grab a tall frosty beer!� Sitting in the shade, sipping on a brew, this
was the life!� A 7 hour trip,
one-way, but with lots of scenery. New from last trip here by Larry and I, was the wreckage
of a small �corporate plane� splatted down upon a high hill to the West.
One wing was still attached And various bits and pieces were scattered around.�
It was too far for me check out as I didn�t bring my hiking boots
along this trip. I also checked out the �hidden�� gasoline dump of full 5-gallon cans of aircraft
fuel. It was no longer on site hidden among the dead arms of a Joshua
Tree.� In fact all the �rubbish�
in place when we last visited, was gone.�
No 3X brand beer cans lying around or cigarette packages.� So, it looked like this hidden landing field
was no longer being used by drug transporters.�
At least for now. That made me feel better.� Even so, I put out two identical rope chairs,
a small table between them, and my 12 gauge shotgun conveniently laying
across the unused chair arms.� Once
upon a time, one didn�t have to take these precautions when camping
off the beaten track.� But for
the solo explorer it was necessary now. After a bit, I rigged a tarp off the cleats I had installed
on the camper roof. Using two fifteen inch long steel cold chisels,
some plastic clothes line and a pair of collapsible metal support poles
I� soon had a very comfortable camp.� I cook and eat out of doors using some mountaineering
white-gas stoves I have living in the camper under the bunk. 100 degrees at 2:15 P.M.. Not a sound but the wind and
a bug or two.� Those 3 days were
my job therapy and stress relief.� Lots
of beer and� things to� nibble. At 4:30 P.M. the temperature was down to 94 degrees.�
Very dry air s The next two days were pretty much the same.� No visitors, peace and quiet. Sunday, July 5th dawned bright and hot.� The low temperature during the night was 76
degrees.� Twice I�d had to get
up, go out and adjust the poles holding up the tarp.�
A wind had come up and was flapping the tarp over the camper
door, both keeping me awake and shaking the camper.�
6:30 A.M. in the morning, I got up for the day.� It was already 80 degrees.� It promised to get really hot today. Some clouds
were on the Eastern horizon. The ice in the cooler was small but would
last the day. At 8:35 A.M., it was 90 degrees with a nice breeze from
the West.� My plans were to pack
up the camper for traveling, and drive on over to the Hart Clay mines,
take some pictures, turn around and head home.�
And that is what I did. The face of the quarry was 7 miles distant. It was 102 degrees and 12 Noon when I left camp on the
airstrip and headed to the clay mines. I took the pictures you see,
at that� exploratory� drive. There were two major claims there. The
Hart C-1, a very fine clay from a pit on the bottom of the quarry.� The� other
claim you see is the P.S.Hart mine. It is 70 feet from the floor of
the quarry to the top of the hill.� There
is a history of gold mining within this area. Rhyolite breaks down into
a fine clay over millions of years, releasing any gold and becoming
clay. By 1:05 P.M., I was at the working face of� the P.S.Hart mine. On an earlier trip with Larry,
we had climbed all over the �stepped� working face, and I was now photographing
it.� I wished I could have returned
here sooner, for now the mill building was gone.� The clay from the P.S.Hart mine had a granular
feel, while the white colored clay Time to start� for
home in Whitter.� I returned to
the Los Angeles area using the same route I used getting here. As I
got near Amboy, the temperature had climbed to 120 degrees.� The long climb up the Amboy road required the
use of my truck�s hot water heater to help cool the radiator and keep
it from boiling. I refilled my gas tanks in Yucca Valley.� $l.47 a gallon. I had the windows and side vents
open to try and keep me cool.� On
the downgrade from Morongo valley, I pulled into a small offroad parking
area and fixed a sandwhich for my supper. That over, I drove past some of the huge �wind farm�
windmills.�� At last the I-10
freeway,� and home to Whittier,
arriving at 8:08 P.M.� I hope
you enjoyed this trip, see you next month. |
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