When I tell people about the White Mountains of California, they usually give me a puzzled look and respond, “Never heard of them, where are they?” “Well, you go down 395 to Big Pine and turn left.” “Where’s Big Pine?” Ok, get out your California map. Find Bishop. It’s almost to the Nevada border on a straight line from Santa Clara and the Bay Area. Bishop sits in a huge caldera called Owens Valley. On the western side you have the majestic Sierra Nevada Range and on the eastern side, there’s the White Mountains. So, if you didn’t know where they were before, you should know now.
I began going to this mystical mountain range when a friend and I attended a UCSC Extension photography workshop in 1996, held at Crooked Creek Station.
We left my house bright and early and headed over the Sierra and then gassed up in Big Pine. Turning off 395 we started climbing up the Westgard Pass and I mean “up” literally. There’s a difference of 6,000’ between Big Pine and our destination. We arrived at the sign announcing the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, turned in and climbed some more. At Schulman Grove, the pavement ended and a jarring rut filled dirt road began. Occasionally my friend had to swerve to miss what looked to be sharp pointed rocks. As we bounced along, I began wondering if we hadn’t made a serious mistake. I thought, “This can’t be good, we’re going to get a flat, and if that doesn’t happen there’s a good chance a rock will fly up and punch a hole in the oil pan. Were doomed.” Nothing bad happened and finally nine miles later, we turned off the main road, came around a bend, crested a small hill and there they were: log buildings (!!) clustered together at 10,150 feet and nestled in a beautiful remote valley and looking so out of place. I was completely blown away (more about those buildings later).
Who would have thought that out of this trip, I would go back over and over again, not as a participant in a workshop, but as one of the instructor’s assistants?Landscape...The White Mountains have a rich mixture of scenery. There is the land above timberline that is like a moonscape. There are the lovely forests of bristlecone and limber pine. There are the fertile areas where aspen grow. There are the rugged outcroppings of shale, granite and dolomite. And there are the several places where cattle graze.
And speaking of cattle, while at Crooked Creek, it was not uncommon to see cowboys pushing a herd of cattle pass the station. They were probably heading up from Deep Springs Cow Camp. We went down there often to photograph. The bull skull hangs over the door of one of the cowboy huts and the outhouse is located in the middle of granite rocks. In the picture below, there's a corral in amongst those rocks where the cowboys park their horses while they're at the camp.
Climate... Most of the time the air is pretty dry, so dry that a ringing wet cloth will dry out in a couple hours. In fact on a typical summer day the amount of precipitous moisture in the air is lower than any other place on earth. That’s hard to believe, but apparently it’s true. The water that does fall on the Whites comes in the winter as snow. The Sierra Nevada, the next-door neighbor, causes the dry conditions. That range steals most of the moisture before it ever gets to the Whites. However the range is not entirely dry, there are some places where springs flow and trees like the aspen grow.
Speaking of Trees...I have four favorites: aspen, cottonwood, mountain mahogany, and bristlecone pine. Three of the four can be found in the Whites.
Picture #1 Bristlecone pine... The combination of dry climate, the altitude and outcroppings of dolomite make for ideal conditions for the beautiful, ancient bristlecone pines that have been growing in these mountains for thousands of years. That’s right. The oldest one, called “Methuselah,” is over 4800 years old. The U.S. Forest Service keeps its location a secret, fearing that some vandal might do harm to it.
Picture #2 Aspen... At all times of the year there is magic in the aspen. The green leaves twist and turn in the breeze making them “flash,” which gives rise to their name, “quaking aspen.” Then in the autumn the trees do their magic and the leaves turn gold, red or amber and when they’re backlight, they glow. The leaves all by themselves are wonderful, but there’s something about that white bark that puts a crowning touch on these beauties. 
Picture #3 Mountain mahogany...If you’re looking for hard wood it doesn’t get much harder that the wood from these trees. Cut through a large branch and look at the ends. The wood is so dense that it’s almost impossible to detect any grain. It looks like chocolate fudge.White Mountain Research Station (WMRS)... For over 60 years WMRS has used the White Mountains as an ideal place for scientific research, such as high altitude effects on human physiology. WMRS is actually a group of facilities. They are part of the University of California-wide network of field stations. Under the aegis of the university, laboratories were established at elevation 10,150’ (Crooked Creek Station), 12,470’ (Barcoft Station), 14,250’ (Summit Laboratory) and a base station in Bishop (4,050’), the biggest city in Owens Valley. At these stations scientists conduct field studies in botany, physiology, biology, and whole bunch of other ologies.
Crooked Creek Station...The station’s history began with the U.S. Navy. In 1948, the Navy built a small frame building and began conducting classified and unclassified research in such areas as; astronomy, atmospheric physics, cosmic rays, and the field testing of heat seeking missiles. Two years later the Navy finished their research and agreed to transfer the facility to UC. In addition to scientific research, UC allows educational groups to use the facility.
Crooked Creek has been my summer home-away-from-home for fifteen trips. I went there knowing about the scientific research, so I naturally thought, “The facilities probably have drafty old buildings that smell like high school chemistry labs.” Well, they’re far from that. The history of these buildings is one where Yankee ingenuity, luck, and a whole lot of sweat came together. One of the directors happened to be in downtown Los Angeles when the city was about to tear down a hamburger stand and a small office building. The director jumped in, bargained with the city and instead of blowing them up, he arranged to have them dismantled and truck up to Crooked Creek. No easy job! They were reassembled and today serve at the core of the facility. They are the two story buildings in the picture seen above. Over time other buildings have been added that serve as labs and dormitories.
(Note: Here’s one of our groups hard at work on a photography exercise.)
Campito...There is a wild horse that spends the summer near Crooked Creek. At one time there was two of them, but many years ago the wild horse’s companion disappeared. It’s unusual for a horse, a herd animal, to live a solitary life, but it seems this one is a devout bachelor, or perhaps a maverick rogue stallion who was driven out of the herd by an alpha male. That’s a little on the dramatic side, but I guess it’s possible. He’s been christened “Campito,” which is the name of a nearby mountain peak. My colleagues who have taught at Crooked Creek for years told me of their encounters with this lone stallion, so it was with great anticipation that I awaited my turn. That came when I spotted him one day in his favorite spot, a meadow at the base of Campito Peak. He was quietly chomping grass that grows between the sagebrush. I parked my truck and the moment I stepped into his meadow, he never took his eyes off me. I got just as close to him as he would allow. With my every step he’d moved farther away. It became obvious Campito had played this game before. He finally grew tired of it and with what I imagined to be disgust, Campito tossed his head and galloped off. Being a loner must agree with him because he looked very healthy. In 2008 his age was estimated to be somewhere around 15 years. I haven’t been back since 2008 and I can’t help thinking that Campito has died or perhaps he’s too old to climb the mountain from his winter home somewhere at lower elevation. In any case, it was a privilege to have known him and the White Mountain experience won’t be quite the same without him.
Conclusion...I’ve come to look upon my trips to the Whites as pilgrimages. To be there is a profound experience. When I sit on a rock and listen to the silence, or walk among the ancient bristlecone pine, that grow under such harsh conditions, or view the majestic snowcapped Sierra Crest on the other side of Owens Valley, I marvel at the awesome power that created these mountains and those trees and I am dumbfounded by it all.Q
