Cave Lake

Nevada’s Cave Lake is a very popular state park for people who love outdoor recreation. The 32-acre reservoir sits at 7,300

feet and has an average depth of 25 feet and 60 feet at the deepest. The last time I was there it was in early March and the lake was still frozen over. I arrived too late to see the annual White Pine Fire and Ice Show, which features ice and snow sculpturing. But there were ice fishermen hard at work, plying the water for trout. I didn't see any of them catch any fish, but they seemed to be pretty content anyway. As of 2006, Cave Lake holds the record for the largest German brown trout, weighing more than twenty-seven pounds. If you like crayfish, fresh water cousins to lobsters, well there’s a large population of them that’s pretty easy to spot along the shoreline.

    Some people consider Cave Lake State Park to be the most beautifully situated parks in Nevada. Richard Moreno, author of Backyard Traveler says, “The dark emerald lake is situated in a scenic niche in the mountains, surrounded by forests of pinyon and juniper. Above the lake is a small yawning cave—the namesake of the lake—and ridges of rough, crumbling granite peaks weathered by countless centuries of icy winters and hot summers.”

    In 2012 Recreational Boating & Fishing Foundation, a national organization, invited Facebook subscribers to help determine the top eight natural "waterparks" or state parks, for boating and fishing in America. There were 24 nominees and after eight weeks of voting Cave Lake State Park wound up as one of the top eight for fishing, boating and family fun.

    There's a pretty good campground adjacent to the lake. It offers the usual camping sites. If you decide not to pitch a tent or park your RV, you could stay in one of the yurts. I just might do that some day.

Cave Lake State Park is located in White Pine County, Nevada 15 miles southeast of Ely.

Note: Nomads in the steppes (grassland plains) of Central Asia traditionally built yurts as dwellings. They were well insulated, weatherproofed and above all portable. The first written evidence of them dates back to 484 BC when the Scythians, a horse riding-nomadic nation used them. Yurts were designed in such a way that they could be dismantled and then loaded onto camel or yaks and transported to the next location. It took an experienced nomad about two hours to build one. The yurt at Cave Lake has a wood lattice frame, plywood floor and canvas wall and ceiling.

Alabama Hills, California

Return with me now to the thrilling days of yesteryear when out of the West rode: Tom Mix, Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, Gene Autry, the Durango Kid and many others too numerous to mention. In each of their movies they chased the bad guys past rock formations that became legendary in the annals of western movie making. These potato-shaped, weathered granite boulders are the Alabama Hills. They sit under the shadow of the Sierra just as they have for millions of years. In the early days of movie making, Hollywood directors and producers discovered these rocks and made them famous. Over 400 movies and about a dozen TV shows have been produced in this location.

    When Gunga Din (Sam Jaffe) blew his bugle to warn the regiment of an ambush in what was suppose to be the Khyber Pass, it was really Alabama Hills

    When the gladiator, Russel Crowe, rode his horse in what was suppose to be Spain, it was really Alabama Hills.

    When rangers were ambushed and all except one survived, later known as the Lone Ranger, it was really Alabama Hills.

    When Major Kearny (Gary Cooper) hunted for the gang of jayhawkers and Confederate soldiers who stole Union army horses, it was really Alabama Hills.

    When the star-studded cast of How the West Was Won drove their wagons through mountain country, it was Alabama Hills.

    And when I looked for an interesting spot to expose some film, it was, you guess it, Alabama Hills.

    If or when you decide to visit this hallow ground of movie nostalgia, make sure you first stop in Lone Pine and investigate the Beverly and Jim Rogers Museum. They have a collection of old movie memorabilia that covers all the movies ever produced in the area. The collection includes costumes, cars, props, posters and a whole bunch of fun stuff. While you there glom onto the Self Guided Tour of Movie Road and you’ll be set for a fun trip. Failing that, Google it and see what you missed.

                        Note: Mount Whitney is just right of center at the top of the photograph.

Sand Mountain

About twenty miles east of Fallon on US-50, The Loneliest Road in America, there’s a very large dune called appropriately Sand Mountain. The dune is two miles long and stands 600 feet high. Where did all that sand come from? This giant sand pile sits at the edge of prehistoric Lake Lahontan. When that ancient lake dried up, about 9,000 years ago, it left behind sand. The wind piled most of that sand in one spot.

    Sand Mountain is a singing sand dune. Here’s why… Dunes are capable of producing sound; the sound has been described as either singing, whistling or barking. In order for there to be any sound, certain conditions must exist: the sand grains must be round and under a millimeter in size, the sand must contain silica, and the air must have a certain humidity. If all of those conditions are met, then the sound can be caused by the wind passing over the surface, or simply walking on the sand.

    Today, Sand Mountain is a recreational area managed by the Bureau of Land Management. It’s open to off-highway vehicles. But those ATVs have to be careful, not only for safety reasons, but also because the area is home to the Sand Mountain Blue Butterfly and it’s their only home, because unlike other butterflies, the Mountain Blue doesn’t migrate. The larva will only eat Kearney buckwheat, which grows on the dune. The BLM has closed several off-road trails in order to protect the species. There are strict rules and users must pay either a weekly or yearly fee.

    You can go there to test your dune buggy driving skills, observe butterflies, and/or walk the dune listening for singing silica. Whatever the reason, it’s still worth a stop just to see up close one colossal pile of sand.

Paradise Valley, Nevada

The old mercantile is long closed.

This is the heart of downtown Paradise Valley on a typically quiet day.

North of Winnemucca, Nevada you can find paradise, Paradise Valley that is. With a name like that, there’s a lot to live up to. I haven’t spent enough time there to say yea or nay, but I do know it’s a very peaceful place. And that is definitely on my list of requirements for a paradise. It’s a sleepy, backwater hamlet that I suspect few outside of Nevada know about and I have a feeling the people who live there like it that way.

    Besides farming and ranching, its other claim to fame is that Edna Purviance (Purr VYE ance) was born there. Her name probably doesn’t ring a bell. That’s because you’d have to be a silent movie aficionado in order to recognize it. She appeared in 33 of Charlie Chapin’s productions, including the trail blazing “The Kid” that made Jackie Coogan a major child star and was the very first feature length film to combine comedy and drama.

A three-story hotel once stood on this site. All that

is left is its red water tower. That's the Santa Rosa

snowcapped mountain range in the background.

    Fifty-five years before Edna was born a lot had already happened in the valley. The founder of the community, a man by the name of W.M. Gregg was searching for a mining claim in the nearby Santa Rosa Mountains in the mid 1860s, but he changed his mind when he realized that all the land in the valley at the base of the mountains was rich, fertile soil. So he gave up on mining, traded in his shovel and bought a plow and went into the hay business. Others, however, made a number of mining strikes in them thar hills and they really helped Paradise City to become prosperous.

This architecture of this church 

fits perfectly with the surroundings.

    Paradise Valley wasn’t always so peaceful. Soon after Gregg founded Paradise City and the mines opened, trouble with the local Indians began.  There were several bands in the area made up of Paiute, Shosone and Bannock. They tried to stop the white man from plowing up the land they considered to be theirs and to bring to an end the contamination of streams by the mining operations. It was never a full fledge war, but there were some pretty bad skirmishes. The military presence at newly established Fort Winfield Scott, located near the valley, quickly ended any further threats. With the threat of attacks gone farmers, ranchers and miners could continue their work without fear.

    After extracting close to $3,000,000 in silver, the mines petered out and the town’s population took a nosedive. It quietly went to sleep and Paradise City never really regained its former prosperity. The old saloon closed its doors, as did most of the other businesses. Paradise City was on the verge of becoming a ghost town, but the valley would soon come alive again, but this time with cattle ranching and farming. Somewhere along the way it acquired a slight change in its name, adopting the name of the valley.

This is Nevada's famous Micca House. 

    There’s a story that has circulated for years concerning a lost mine. It’s sometimes hard to tell fact from fiction, but nevertheless this is what supposedly happened in the Santa Rosa Mountains at a peak called Buckskin. It seems two Idaho prospectors were poking around and somewhere on the southern slopes, near a small spring, they came across an outcrop of “curious strange-looking” ore. The two were not impressed by what they found, but just to be on the safe side they had an ore sample assayed. And sure enough the ore was exceedingly rich. The prospectors raced back to where they thought they had found the ore. They searched and searched, but never found that small spring. So is the rich strike still up there? Who knows, could be?

The old weathered barn is photographed as often asthe Micca House. It just hasn't 

been published as often.

    It’s difficult to establish the exact date when the Micca House first opened its doors. It was built in stages beginning with an adobe section in 1871. Over the years the building was added onto. It then housed shops, small businesses, apartments, a restaurant, a barbershop and a saloon. I guess you could say it was probably Nevada’s first mall. In 1910 the flexible building contained the offices of the Justice of the Peace, two physicians and the CCC. I’ve heard the building’s name pronounced two ways, so I’m not sure whether it’s MY-cuh, or MIC-cuh. The Micca Saloon closed long ago. however it continues to be a popular subject and I can see why. Its image appears in many Nevada oriented ads and magazines.

    Apparently the residents don’t care to be referred to as a living ghost town, even though there are some wonderful abandoned buildings from the time when mining was the order of business. Those mines were replaced with fat cows grazing on rich grass, alongside acres planted in alfalfa. There’s even a grape vineyard. The residents would argue that Paradise Valley is very much alive and that the only ghosts might be found over in the Micca House.

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Fly Geyser

Fly Geyser is a rainbow of color: reds, greens, yellows and brown and an amazing sight to behold.

    It’s not all together a natural phenomenon. Seems it was created quite by accident in 1964.  Drillers were searching for geothermal energy and when they had finished exploring, they left the site and evidently they either didn't do a good enough job of capping the well, or they simply didn’t cap it at all. Dissolved minerals began rising up. The scalding hot water spews out of the geyser bringing with it calcium carbonate, which forms the visible portion. The brilliant colors come from thermophilic algae that thrive in the extreme heat. Over time the calcium carbonate has created a travertine mound with the peculiar shaped geyser sitting on top of it. It continues to grow several inches each year.

    The equally peculiar name comes from the Fly Ranch, upon which it sits. Unfortunately, the ranch is not open to the public, although the landowner has in the past allowed a few folks each year to come through his gate and photograph this truly marvelous geyser.

    But all that has recently changed. The Burning Man Project acquired the property and is in the preliminary stages of development. They hope to create an artistic and ecological community, founded on the Ten Principles of Burning Man. The organization states the following, “... this 4,000 acre site contains an abundance of natural resources and wonders that will serve as a world class ecological heritage site and living arts community.”

   

    I wondered how the geyser would look in black and white, so with the a little computer magic here’s the answer. Hmmmm?

    By the way, I’ve never seen Fly Geyser up close and personal, so I did what any enterprising blogger might do I pulled the photograph from the Internet. Before any of you get all hot and bothered because you think I might have violated copyright privileges, this photograph is in the public domain, so it’s free from all that legal stuff.

    Fly Geyser is located in northern Nevada on Fly Ranch, 21 miles north of Gerlach.

   

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Austin, Nevada, a lonely town on the loneliest road

On one memorable trip, I headed to Austin and instead of starting out in Fallon, I began in Battle Mountain, motoring south through the Reese River Valley, along State Route 305, another lonely Nevada byway. According to the web, the valley has only one person per square mile. I believe it; I didn’t see a single person, but there were quite a few cattle grazing among the sage. It’s a pleasant, peaceful 88-mile drive.

    If you like having the feeling of being alone in the world and still have a few people around you, then Austen is the place for you. It’s one of Nevada’s most isolated towns, but it’s still easy to find. One author put it this way, “'Like an Easter egg hidden on a billiard table, Austin is hard not to find. All motorists traversing U.S. Highway 50, the 'loneliest-road-in-America,' eventually have to drive down the 'main street' of Austin, whether they want to or not.'” 

    History tells us that Austin began in 1862 when Will Talcott’s pony express horse supposedly kicked over a rock laden with silver and gold.

The news got out and the rush was on. It became the biggest stampede since the Comstock Lode strike in 1859. In less than a year 10,000 people populated the Reese River Mining District and eventually Austin was in the heart of it. By the time the ore played out close to $50,000,000 worth of gold and silver had come out the mines.

    I’ve never been in Austin in June. Some day I want to go there to check the accuracy of an article I read on the town’s name. According to the author “there’s hardly a place in town that isn’t graced with yellow rose bushes and they undoubtedly come from Texas,” and Austin claims to be named after Austin, Texas. I put two and two together and came up with this possibility: “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” a song written in 1858 may have been the inspiration for all the roses. Perhaps one of the founding fathers was from Texas? Could be. I’ve tried to find out for sure, but I haven’t yet...still looking.

    Today, there are only 340 hardly souls living in Austin. The last time I was there a couple gas stations, three motels, four churches and a hardware store were still in business. The nearest supermarkets and shopping mall are over a hundred miles away, so if you live in Austin, you better be well organized, know how to take care of yourself, and like long drives.

   

There’s a story that has circulated for years about the Reese River. Seems back in the early days of Austin, a grand scheme was hatched which involved using the river to transport loads of ore from Austin north to the mills in Battle Mountain, which would take advantage of the fact that the river, unlike most rivers, flows south to north. So The Reese River Navigation Company (RRNC) was established and stock was sold to investors who had never seen the river, except for a line on a map. But it would have been impossible then as it is now to float anything larger then an inner tube down the Reese and even that would be problematic. For much of the year the river is a series of puddles connected together by land, so it turns out it was all a hoax. The story first appeared in Nevada newspapers in 1946. There’s no evidence that the RRNC ever existed or that stock was ever sold. People nevertheless believe the story, because it continues to be repeated. 

    I had breakfast at the International Cafe, not bad.

The building is part metal, part wood, which is typical of the architecture during those early mining days. They used whatever was available. The food may not be sensational, the service may not be the greatest, but the old building and it ambiance is well worth a visit.

    When I found out that there was a castle nearby, I immediately thought of knights and moats. Well, it turned out to be not like any castle I’d ever seen. This castle was patterned after one in Italy. Around 1896 a man named Anson P. Stokes built what became Stokes Castle. It’s basically a square three-story tower made of hand hewn granite stones, cemented together with rock wedging and clay mortar. Stokes was a mine developer, railroad magnate and a banker, probably a man with deep pockets. Stokes wanted a summer home with a view of the Reese River Valley.

The design had a kitchen and dining room on the first floor, a living room on the second floor, sleeping quarters on the third floor and a battlement terrace on the roof. Each floor had a fireplace and plate glass windows. The two top floors each had balconies. Stokes and his family abandoned their summer home after only spending a short time there. They sold all of their holdings and left, never to return. Stokes Castle never saw another owner. In 2003, it was placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

    Austin's oldest church is also the oldest Catholic Church in Nevada. St. Augustine was constructed in 1868. Ringing the church bells, located in the 75-foot tower, calls for the bell ringer to go into the men’s restroom. That's where the rope is located. Odd but true.

    OK, so Austin isn’t what you call a destination, but nevertheless as long as you have to pass through it you might as well stop and have a look around. Besides you’ll probably be either out of gas or hungry by the time you get there. Never can tell what you might find.

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