I am off to the central Oregon desert to explore a series of canyons in the hills above the Imperial valley. From the imagery, I had deduced that these narrow canyons were remnants of a series of volcanic vents. As mentioned in my previous post, I had read about the vents in the lava plateau region of Oregon and thought these were an example. At the location, I found that they are not vents. However, I found other even more exciting things.
The area here is beautiful and marked with the stories of a nearly lost history. For at least a millennium, these hills sheltered and sustained the Numu peoples. During the Snake Wars they sought refuge here from the depredations of the American settlers. The tangled canyons complete with shelter and food were perfect for escaping the new residents.
After the wild peoples were tamed and moved to reservations, the cattle, horse, and sheep men moved in, fighting over access to water and grass. Once their battles ended, the area returned to its peaceful, if somewhat harsh state.
At the close of the 19th century a series of wet years resulted in many areas of standing water. The availability of water, attracted more people, which brought more farming, and more ranching. During the wet years of the 1890’s and 1900’s, whole towns were established. These towns thrived in the area only as long as the unusual rains lasted. When the climate returned to its more typical dry state, towns closed down and ranches were abandoned.
For almost a decade, the canyons were left to the play of the Deer and Antelope; until the Prohibition, that is. These canyons were a semi-remote location filled with trees, game, hiding places, and rough terrain; wonderful for hiding illicit operations as well as they hid the Numu.
The canyon’s hot weather, combined with extensive supplies of wood for fuel, Deer, Elk and Antelope for food, lacked only water. Bring your own, and it is a perfect environment for producing alcohol on the sly. The scattering of rimrock boulders created built-in escape routes so small that horses can’t pass through them. And when you get through them, some of the ridges are strewn with rough boulders and rocks, making pursuit difficult; unless you know the trails.
If the Feds ever get too close, just drop everything and slip away into the tangles of rocks and sagebrush. A few casks of water stashed in strategic locations will give you a huge advantage. The steep rimrock cliffs and their rocks are a complex barrier to transportation favoring local knowledge, as ready to shelter a Moonshiner as a Numu.
After the repeal, it made more sense to move the stills closer to the rivers and let the canyons lapse into silence again. In season cattle fill the canyons. They compete with the native wildlife for forage, but the ranchers bring more summer water to support their herds.
I was here to look at the geologic history, specifically, how were these canyons formed and, as always, to walk in the steps of the indigenous people.
The canyons
For the past few years, I’ve sat with my back against the rimrock on Ram Lake’s western shore and wondered what was hidden in the hills to the east. Few roads lead into them from this side. On this trip, I followed one them as it snaked between boulders fallen from the rimrock into this small canyon lands.
Parallel canyons separate narrow plateaus, and to my untrained eye, looked from the air as if lava had surged out of a series of long breaks, building small hills between them. But on the ground, it’s easy to see this is not the story of these canyons.
The top of the rimrock is built from a series of basalt flows but the walls are made from ash flows. If these canyons had been formed as a result of an eruption the walls would be basalt all the way down. No these canyons were splits in the lava covering compressed ash below.
In this photo you can see the cap rock in this location is formed from at least two major lava flows. The tuff below is formed from numerous deposits of volcanic ash, each only about an inch thick.
In places the tuff has inclusions of rock blown from what ever volcano created the ash fall.
This means the canyons must be the result of other forces. I had previously discarded the idea that they were formed on the surface of a bubble that pushed the entire area up from the surrounding desert floor. Kind of like the cracks in a bread loaf that rises in the oven before the crust hardens. My expectation was that cracks formed in that way would not be parallel but curved around the apex of the bubble; but perhaps not. I’ll have to gather more information and opinions.
Moonshiner’s camp
Tucked up against the rimrock overlooking my camp site, I found the remains of a Moonshiner’s camp. The ground was littered with barrel bands, a few mash tubs, and the remains of a stove. Perhaps this site represents one where the Feds got too close and burned the stash. Or maybe, just the remains of the stuff someone didn’t want to haul out when they left the country.
When I come upon these sites, I have mixed feelings. My first desire is to collect up all of the debris and return the area to anonymity. In my mind, this is just trash, but alas it’s protected trash. The US government has decreed that on these lands everything over 50 years of age is protected, and I am forbidden from removing it. At age 50, trash magically becomes history. I wonder if that’s the same with people.
As history, these remains are afforded the same protections as those given to the trash left by the Numu. I suppose that in a one size fits all universe there is some sense in this, but it doesn’t resonate very deeply with me. So, with a bit of sadness, I’ll leave these remains undisturbed, to be found by the next wanderer. All the while, thinking that in a few years the used baby wipes, plastic bottles, and beer cans I fail to pick up will attain the same protections.
A Cow Camp
On the first morning of the trip, I walked down the Moonshiner’s canyon. It was very quiet and I wanted to bask in the early morning sunshine. On each of my trips, this is the hard time. I must consciously transition from the frantic pace of my life to the slower pace of the desert. At first, I have to concentrate on placing my feet closer together, holding my hands still, and moving my eyes before my head. After an hour or two it sinks in and I don’t have to think about it anymore; at least until something breaks the spell. A morning walk is good for attaining this state of mind.
I’m still not very good at remembering to pick up my technology, I tend to leave the cameras and phone in the truck when I wander off; after all I’ll not be gone that long. One big gulp of water and I’m good for a quick jaunt into the sagebrush. This morning was no different.
After walking a couple miles and poking my head into many small caves and depressions in the tuff walls, I came upon a door frame in the distance.
Somebody had built a roof between two boulders. The roof had at one time been timbered, then covered with a canvas tarp, then a plastic tarp, and finally scavenged sheet metal. I’ve no idea how old it is, but its still in use. This site is on state rangeland, not federal, so the rules are different. It’s possible that the lease holder uses this for active cattle operations.
The most amazing thing about this find is that I recognized the structure from a video I had watched a few weeks prior. The videographer camped in this very spot, meeting with friends and exploring for signs of old homesteads.
I had no idea that the video had been shot in this area. But now that I knew, I was excited because in this video the leader of the trip takes his friends to a pictograph site! I didn’t remember the details, I was pretty sure they had driven to the pictograph site, but just didn’t remember. Regardless, the recollection fueled a desire to search even more caves and depressions for signs of the Numu. It also broke the spell of the desert.
I was moving out of time with the desert again. My mind racing to find a road I could drive my truck from where I had camped, to here. Not having my phone, I couldn’t mark the location nor consult the imagery for potential paths. I started off back up the canyon to my truck. It wasn’t too far before I caught myself and settled back into the pace of the desert. There was time to consider alternatives after this walk. Slow down, enjoy the morning. I stopped and listened to a raven couple chortle off into the forest. I heard the call of a flicker, and a few quail. I slowed down, renewing my search among the boulders tumbled from the caprock as I made my way back to the truck.
On the Hunt
I searched the imagery and followed a few roads that seemed to lead in promising directions, but there was no direct route to the cow camp. It was so close yet inaccessible. I knew how the feds must have felt searching for the Moonshiners. After a few hours of fruitless searching, I decided to return to plan and proceed to my next camp site. The weather forecast called for rain in the evening turning to snow overnight. I wanted to get my camp setup before the rains.
The new site was located at a major canyon’s head waters. I hoped to find a sheltered location from which to explore the canyon walls and the ridges between. If this was truly the cow camp from the video then there might be evidence of the people in these canyons.
On a previous trip I had spotted a road leading north onto the caprock from a desert waterhole. This road led upslope into the Juniper forest. The crossing from the slope to the cap is very rough. I had confirmed through imagery that the road met another east-west track that crossed between the canyons.
This east-west road had the only technical portion of the drive. A steep, off camber, 4-foot drop, that if approached wrong could easily tip a vehicle on its side. On seeing the drop, I got out of the truck and walked this section of the road to make sure that I had enough clearance to make the drop. It would not be good to get stuck half way. Especially alone. Going down looked much easier than coming back up, particularly in the rain or snow.
As I approach the gate between state managed property and BLM managed property, I recognized the landscape from my morning walk. A short drive around a jumble of rocks and I had arrived at the Cow Camp I’d found in the morning.
I decided to setup camp and leave the planned exploration of the adjacent canyon to the following day. I strung my tarp between a Juniper and my truck and set off to explore the rimrock for pictographs. I know that pictographs tend to be found on basalt so that meant they would be on the shorter cliffs. I spent the rest of the afternoon weaving between boulders and poking my head into crevasses, to no avail.
I tried recording a few stories next to my campfire, but I lost light before I got a good recording. I’m amazed at how difficult it’s proving to be to replicate my first naive success. I have to learn how to edit video with voice-overs.
The next morning, I continued my explorations. If I was going to visit the last place on my list, I was going to have to remain mindful of the weather. Rain had fallen over night and the weather was predicted to transition to snow during the day. I wanted to transition my camp to the new site before the snow set in. I gave myself the morning to explore the immediate area.
I found a place between large boulders where one rock was undercut. An old Juniper shaded the open side creating an intimate sheltered area about the size of a small bedroom. The space where the boulders came together was smoke stained. However, there were no signs of recent fires. Fallen juniper leaves covered the floor to a depth of at least three inches.
Who sheltered here? When? I didn’t clear the area in a search for the trash left by whomever sheltered in this location; that might actually be illegal, I’m not sure. I marked the location on my portable GPS and left the site for future examination.
The morning passed and it was time to find the last site. I was unsure of the location of the pictographs, so I stuck to plan and moved my camp. I spent the day walking the walls of the canyon and the surrounding high ground. I found a few herds of deer and many wildlife trails.
I also managed to spend a few hours tracking coyotes. It’s easier for me to stay focussed on the trail despite my excitement. While I didn’t hear any coyotes, judging by their tracks, they are common in the area. I’ve no doubt they watched me bumble along through their territory. I left their trail as the wind increased and the rain turned to sleet. I was very glad to return to camp where I had set aside firewood out of the weather. I spent the evening drying my clothes by the fire and experiencing the desert.
After dark I was startled to see headlights in the distance. I felt a moment of panic at the thought of having to deal with other people. But the lights never came closer. I watched, and through the trees I could see the main highway through Oregon in the far distance.
It was my moment of panic that held my thoughts. Although at times I feel guilty about it, I enjoy the solitude. I like the silence and the feeling of being the only human in tens of square miles. I seek out these experiences of being alone in places that I’m arguably not at the top of the food chain. Having a loving wife into whose arms I will retreat in a few hours, is likely part of the peacefulness; as is the lack of real predators.
There are no leopards, tigers, polar bears, grizzlies, or lions here (at least that I know of 🙀). A few cougars, maybe a wolf or two, rattlesnakes, and poisonous Buck Moth caterpillars are all I have to fear from the local wildlife. Well, them, a few slavers, and whatever the drug cartels put out here. Happily, all of those are still rare in this country. I am so grateful that I have these lands to explore, and the means to do so. I do not forget, that in all of human history, that combination is exceedingly rare.
I plan to return to these canyons in a month to continue my search. I’ve watched the video a few more times and while none of the video shots are conclusive, I’ve a better idea of where to concentrate my search.