Basin & Range
Hubby and I spent the weekend in Nevada, in the big-sky, west desert country that is basin and range. This is really what most of the state of Nevada is...disconnected mountain ranges and extremely large valleys separating the ranges.
Great Basin National Park is located in the range that is home to Mount Whitney, Nevada's tallest peak. At its foot is the teeny, tiny town of Baker. If you blink driving through, you will miss it. I have a friend who is doing some seasonal park service work there, and since it is only a six hour drive, we went over. We camped up on the mountain creeks and it is amazingly beautiful, just like a regular mountain anywhere else. You would never know driving through the "basin" parts...it's like the desert hides the good stuff. You have to be an adventurer to go and find it.
On day two we began a hike that started at some crazy elevation over 8,000 feet above sea level. At some point, the trail just continued to be a steady uphill trudge. This conversation ensued:
ME: Jeesuz. This hill is kicking my ass.
MY FRIEND: This is a mountain.
ME: Oh yeah.
We never got to the end of the trail, but we did get up into snow, which this late in the year is very rare. It has just been one of those wetter times here in the southwest.
We ended up in the west desert on the last day there, dipping into some warm springs that bubbled out of a rocky outcropping in the middle of nowhere, literally. The water was crystal clear blue, and there where all kinds of ferns and grasses, and it was spectacular. I felt special for having seen it, let alone being able to get into it.
On the last night, we had a private tour of Lehmann Caves. There was this long corridor that was blasted out in the 1950s as an alternate cave entrance; it had a door at each end. The acoustics were spectacular. Under pressure from friends I sang a song--Durufle's "Ubi Caritas." It sounded good; it would have been better with a whole choir, of course, but I made due. It is always so much fun to find places like that in nature, places with great acoustics, sweet spots, or natural amphitheaters. Before we left, one of the rangers slammed the door...the thud vibrated over and over down the corridor, and felt as though it reached into my soul, like a stormless thunder. The gate to Hades itself had shut. I was glad to be able to reemerge into the twilight.
Las Vegas is one of my favorite places, hands down. I've spent the bulk of my time in Nevada in Vegas; I even got married there. But now, after this latest road trip, Nevada for me will always be the lone mountains and hidden edens that rise up from desert floors.
Great Basin National Park is located in the range that is home to Mount Whitney, Nevada's tallest peak. At its foot is the teeny, tiny town of Baker. If you blink driving through, you will miss it. I have a friend who is doing some seasonal park service work there, and since it is only a six hour drive, we went over. We camped up on the mountain creeks and it is amazingly beautiful, just like a regular mountain anywhere else. You would never know driving through the "basin" parts...it's like the desert hides the good stuff. You have to be an adventurer to go and find it.
On day two we began a hike that started at some crazy elevation over 8,000 feet above sea level. At some point, the trail just continued to be a steady uphill trudge. This conversation ensued:
ME: Jeesuz. This hill is kicking my ass.
MY FRIEND: This is a mountain.
ME: Oh yeah.
We never got to the end of the trail, but we did get up into snow, which this late in the year is very rare. It has just been one of those wetter times here in the southwest.
We ended up in the west desert on the last day there, dipping into some warm springs that bubbled out of a rocky outcropping in the middle of nowhere, literally. The water was crystal clear blue, and there where all kinds of ferns and grasses, and it was spectacular. I felt special for having seen it, let alone being able to get into it.
On the last night, we had a private tour of Lehmann Caves. There was this long corridor that was blasted out in the 1950s as an alternate cave entrance; it had a door at each end. The acoustics were spectacular. Under pressure from friends I sang a song--Durufle's "Ubi Caritas." It sounded good; it would have been better with a whole choir, of course, but I made due. It is always so much fun to find places like that in nature, places with great acoustics, sweet spots, or natural amphitheaters. Before we left, one of the rangers slammed the door...the thud vibrated over and over down the corridor, and felt as though it reached into my soul, like a stormless thunder. The gate to Hades itself had shut. I was glad to be able to reemerge into the twilight.
Las Vegas is one of my favorite places, hands down. I've spent the bulk of my time in Nevada in Vegas; I even got married there. But now, after this latest road trip, Nevada for me will always be the lone mountains and hidden edens that rise up from desert floors.
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