Listen to “Ecstasy of Gold” by Ennion Morricone from the movie “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” while you read this post for an enhanced experience. I know, kind of corny.

1 mile. Facing east before crossing a wash in Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada

1.1 miles. Bulge of Sandstone

1.5 miles. Creosote, Spiny Menodora, Bursage, Rock and Sand in Valley of Fire

1.8 miles. A vista towards the Northeast reveals the hint of a rainbow.

Thar’s drawings in them thar hills.  Of which, I stumbled across quite by accident!  Y’all will get some clues as to where, but in respect to those who came before us and the sensitive nature of the petroglyphs, I would rather leave this to be somewhat of a challenge to locate.  To the observant, however, the map and pictures would surely not lead them astray.  The footsteps mark the path, the wagon the parking area and the small bit of road at the bottom of the map is paved and within Valley of Fire State Park.  The topography on the map is accurate and the “spiral” marks the approximate location of the petroglyphs.  Should you find yourself in the region, this remarkably well preserved and little known parcel of the past would make a distinctive foray.  It is roughly 3 miles round trip if you head straight for the petroglyphs and is not on any marked trail.

For your travels, here are some codes of the west…

If you pass someone on the trail, don’t look back at them. It implies you don’t trust them.

 Never order anything weaker than whiskey.

It’s alright to cuss, but only around men, horses and cows.

Always drink your whiskey with your gun hand, to show your friendly intentions.

Never try on another man’s hat

As stubborn as my dog is, this is a lucky shot!

2 miles. About the spot I turned west. This is looking out towards the Lake Mead RCA.

2.5 miles. Bursage and Creosote creep towards the sandstone hills.

2.7 miles. To what and where is none of my concern, only that it is there.

3 miles. An enchanting area of standing rock.

3.5 miles. Now within the "Courtyard of the Ancients". A perch overlooking an obvious camp is littered with some of the best quality petroglyphs I have ever seen.

Courtyard of the Ancients

An unofficial designation “Courtyard of the Ancients” was nominated by me personally, as I could find no other for this fascinating locale.  It is an open fairly flat patch of desert, perhaps 2 to 3 acres in size, surrounded by stately walls of sandstone.  Once inside it is hard not to sense that this was a unique and meaningful place for the native peoples that inhabited this area in the distant past.

Should you enter the courtyard from the Southeast, look to the walls on the right or east side of the courtyard.  A small petroglyph man is carved into the rock marking the point at which you should climb to the ledge.  This is quite obviously an instruction, which is the first petroglyph I have found that has a very direct and evident meaning.  The climb up to the ledge is an easy class 4 of about 30 feet.  Up there, one can see how the artist or journalist of the ancients would gaze out over their people and chisel in the stories of the hunt, where to find water or testaments to their Gods.

The ledge in the Courtyard of the Ancients.

A well preserved Bighorn from up on the ledge. Looking Southeast.

Over the expanse of effortless centuries, the immensity of storms bound with thunder and filled with rain tear apart the ground, providing a sequel of sorts to each of its predecessor.  It is hard in this country to gather raindrops into streams, much less streams into rivers.  Most go unnoticed, torn from the land and pulled down into the realm of the roots.

3.7 miles. A burst of rain on my walk out of the Courtyard of the Ancients.

3.8 miles. Looking back after the rain cloud passed, one of the main walls inside the courtyard was beautifully lit. I could not get my camera out fast enough!

4 miles. A pedestal of rock passed as exiting the Courtyard.

4.5 miles. Old wooden structure of unknown use.

Vast, extent and ornate are the layers of sky, horizon and earth.  This park out yonder, in its wild extravagance, exceeds all of the cathedrals of man.  The fable of cowboy and injun echo among the rock and ruin.  Old wood, patient carvings and used up camps still permeate the west.  Holding testament to the proud, the bold and the foolish who set boot or moccasin on the soil of legends.

Sky, Horizon and Earth

5 miles. Approaching the end of the trek as a forbidding storm cloud pushes overhead.

Having inhaled in the redolent of creosote on so many occasions, I am reminded of a multitude of adventures when among it.  In turbid skies, so it seems, does the essence of the desert rise and waft through the air. Ever waiting, ever still until the after effects of far away places bring in the blessed moisture. Standing here on the final leg of the journey, I can wait until the last second as the storm barrels and rolls its way across the region. Drenching the parched landscape, reinventing the desert into a respite of life and good fortune.

End Desert Begin City…

.

From limestone to sandstone like pepper to salt, beneath us was changing to the Keystone Thrust Fault.  Rocky and sandy all in one place, the vista and sunshine and the smile on our face.  Up here in a high place and the home of the clouds is a far place from people and the blah of the crowds.

All twisted and gnarly, all chiseled with spunk were the ghostly leftovers of the dead trees one trunk.

On the summit, the apex, the capstone or peak, the height of the mountain, the achievement of feet. All wrapped up in color from sundowns sunlight, not a breath was a blowing, not enough for a kite. To the signing and writing of names with delight, on the paper, the saver of times out of sight.

So down to the lowlands, down with a frown, from leaving the polished and glamorous crown. And then from the distance came a great shine, the sun on the mountains all jagged with spines.

All was not over, though close to the end. Through a gap in the red rock I saw a good friend.

The pictures have ended, the battery done, the moon has now taken the place of the sun. On down to the auto, on down in the dark, on down to the comfort, the car out of park.

Windy Peak is located within the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. Follow this link for detailed information about the hike.

Alright, now that the cheesy line is out of the way, just enjoy a couple pictures and some video from the desert after the only storm so far this winter.

The Arnight Trail is a 1.7 mile segment of the longer Escarpment Trail that runs along the cliffs of Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.  It connects the Oak Creek Drainage with the Pine Creek Drainage and is an ideal hike to avoid the crowded weekends.  Due to it starting at the last parking area on the Loop and down a dirt road, few visitors stop and begin hikes at this location.  This hike is best done in fall, winter and spring.

Here is the first “Terra Bit Edition” video.  Soft moments spent intimately with one form of nature or another.  Think Sunrise Earth in an easily digestible format.

End Desert Begin City

This unattended place is located just beyond the backyards of a rural neighborhood called Calico Basin.  It is just outside Las Vegas, NV off of Hwy 159.  To get there, head towards Red Rock Canyon but turn right onto Calico Basin Rd about a mile and a half before the entrance station.   Follow the road as it heads all the way back to the Northwest corner of the neighborhood.  There you will find a dirt road that serves as a parking area for the trailhead.  

From a locals perspective the desert around Calico Basin boasts the perfect mix of accessibility and adventure.  It’s just far enough to get away from it all and close enough to do something spontaneous after work.   Come here and roam.  Preferably in loops, heading up, over and down the dry dusty ridges and summits that remain unnamed and unnoticed by the crowds of “tourons”.  ”Touron” is a hybrid word that combines tourist with moron.  If you don’t get it, you are one, sorry.  I know, I’m an asshole.

So onto the part in which our boots leave signatures in the trail.  Onto the part in which the bullshit of city life is substituted by the red dirt and rock, white bursage and rabbitbush that lay siege and stunted upon the ground.

Shade and shadow are heavy as we begin and the play of the sun against the torn edges of the mountains has already begun.  It is brisk, touching the high 30′s with a suspicion of snow gathering on the horizon.  All seems to be of what I would call a perfectly fine day for a hike.

Our presumptions for snow were confirmed.  From the ridge we could see the fleecy thin vales of powder.  I welcome the weather.  An adjustment to the never ending days of sunshine and happiness.   As if snow were not novel enough in and of itself, it also provides an odd contrast to the droughty juiceless wild that surrounds in the Mojave Desert. 

Heading west along the still rising ridge the summit was soon to come to view.  This is a good thing to see, mainly because it is the highest point of the hike.  It also happens to be a wonderful place to break the seal on a bottle of Jim Beam and pluck the views from the skyline.

A pocket-sized fire to fix the chill was prepared.  A brumal day such as this calls for it.  Dig a modest hole and gather a few dead shrubs.  It should be  just enough to warm the fingers and spirits.  When done, bury it with the removed dirt and a large rock.  No one will ever know it was there.  Speaking of spirits, a healthy buzz was put on and the feeling of well being was delightful.  Back to the views.

Looking towards Red Rock Canyon Recreation Area

Calico Basin

Las Vegas

The sharp temperature and biting wind, while enchanting to the soul, was not so obliging to the body.  It persuaded us with its relentless unsteady bursts of boreal breath to make a retreat from our lofty perch.  An unsteady eye was then placed to the gritty wash buried in the red rocks below.  With a half a bottle of bourbon left, we stumbled toward the formidable cliffs, peering out over the edge with the belief that a logical route to the bottom did exist.

After a down climb of a short class 4 section, we made our way by bumble stumbling down the unstable broken rock.  Arms all a flail, sidestepping across the now comical landscapes with bellies a sloshin’.

After a concluding climb down through some jagged and misplaced chunks of earth, we now stood in gravel.  Able to look back up and contemplate the foolish acts of down climbing a class 4 section while intoxicated.  Once again, I never proclaimed myself not to be a fool.

As with every wash, it is the power of water the defines the place in which we now stand and in fitting form we decide to defy nature and go against the current.  Up the dry falls and chalk stones we go, walking with a quiet resonating rhythm.

The darkening skies bring about a sense of strangeness in the wilderness, albeit not much of one here, it still beckons the mind to think stranger thoughts.  With the whiskey almost gone though, the thought of food now creeps into play.

Shadows now gone, the climate stark and frigid, it is the persistence of place that strikes me as bold.  The turmoil of night is such that it resembles an unchangeable channel.  A removal of choice that is played out not with cruelty, but with lack of emotion.  Those caught out in it must not be taken by its lack of, but rather rejoice in it as a reminder of what is to come and what just was.

5 miles, 3 hours and 1 bottle of Jim Beam later we arrive at the truck, happy and sober enough to drive

End Desert Begin City

View towards Red Mtn Overlook

How could a mountain range this dry and devoid of vegetation sport a name that hints at the possibility of water, much less rivers?  Maybe some smart ass frontiersman or cartographer took a look at the surroundings and in a moment of many lulz decided to pass along the sarcasm to generations of thirsty desert dwellers.  My best guess however, is that since this mountain range actually separates the Las Vegas Watershed from the Lake Mead Watershed, its most important feature is not what is held within it but what it defines outside of it.  So think of it instead as the Mountains That Define Rivers.

The area we romped in is called Bootleg Canyon Recreation Area(BCRA).  It is on approx. 2400 acres of land owned by Boulder City, NV and lays host to hiking, epic mountain biking and zip lining.  On this particularly warm November Saturday afternoon we choose to hike up to Red Mtn. Overlook and then down to the main parking area.  We took two vehicles so we could shuttle the family to the top and enjoy a leisurely downhill stroll.  A good guess at mileage would be around 4 miles.

Gayle the Red Shoe'd Grandeer

Miles are nothing however, if you got a pair of these shit kickin’ stompers!  Just one look could leave an unsuspecting Gila monster flipping over premature to the bite, presumably from embarrassment or laughter, with the latter being on par with most living creatures.   Nickname possibility: Gayle the Red Shoe’d Grandeer, Mrs. Trailablaze,  Luminescent Loafer or Fire Feet.

The hike from the upper parking lot is very straight forward and can be seen almost in its entirety all the way to the overlook.  It is well maintained and clearly marked.  At a little under a mile to the top it is a great hike for children and Red Shoe’d Grandeers. Caution is advised at the top however, as there is a formidable cliff on the south side of the summit.

Trail to the top.

View of the west end of Boulder City.

Mini Trekkers

Once on the summit, vistas of Lake Mead, Boulder City and Las Vegas dominate the horizon.  Views can also be had of the Spring Mountains, La Madre Mountains, Rainbow Mountains, El Dorado Mountains and the Black Canyon Area including a section of the new Hoover Dam bypass bridge.

A view of Las Vegas from Red Mtn Overlook

My son Ash and Boulder City in the background.

Pops with Lake Mead in the distance.

It really is a good spot, this little blip on the map.  You could head up here just before sunset and share a bottle of wine with someone or maybe come up before sunrise and then head down to Boulder City for breakfast.  I’ve even come up here for a meteor shower and an after midnight midsummer night hike on a full moon.  The light of which played on the waters of Lake Mead as it broke the horizon of the distant desert peaks.  This little desert pimple will not disappoint, I promise.

With the views soaked in and the little bellies temporarily satisfied we stumbled on down the trail, confident in our ability to navigate in the fading light as long as we had Fire Feet in the lead.  An important thing to remember when going downhill is to let your feet and legs flail around limply while staring at everything except the trail.  At least this is what anyone under 10 will tell you.  So in defense of certain disaster I grabbed my youngest by the hand and started running, swinging him through the air at each switchback.  The thrill of it was enough to have him laughing at full blast. Good times.

MY EYEEEESSSS!

Dads shoulders gives you wings!

We went down there.

See

After a weird apocalyptic like scene from a movie which involved several people running past us through the desert, not on the trail, we weaved our way through the clay mounds that make this area so popular for mountain biking.  It is somewhat maze like, but all one has to do is head towards the zip line structures on the hilltops to the south and you will soon find yourself on the road to the lower parking area.

A bit of Lake Mead is visible below.

A moment in the fading light.

It is at these times, when the travesties of others are laid down and do not contrast against the fading light, that I am content with the outcome of things.  What things are not clearly known and can not be conveyed into proper words.  So I leave my thoughts to the darkness and feign ignorance of others plights.  I am hopeful for these moments and wish carefully that the eyes of my children can see levels of reality beyond my own.

End Desert Begin City

Red Rock Canyon is  just outside of Las Vegas, NV.  It can be reached via Hwy 159. The entrance station is 15 minutes from the city and charges a $7.00 entry fee.  It’s host to a one-way scenic loop, which is 13 miles long and takes about 30 minutes with no stops.

      

View from Rocky Gap Road

The Scenic Loop closes around dark, so leaving the truck parked after hours was out of the question. Instead, we left it at the exit and had a friend drop us off with the bikes at the Willow Springs Picnic Area.  From here, we road up Rocky Gap Road to an unmarked trailhead and stashed the bikes in the trees.  It is now 3:00pm and we have about 3 hours of daylight left.

Now I’m a fan of exercise and I think I’m in pretty good shape but the first 30 minutes of this hike makes me think otherwise.  It is nothing more than a faint climbers trail fading in and out of the Pinyons and Junipers.  Tending to a narrow ridge and preferring not to switchback, it insists on running your loaded down butt straight the fuck up.  It does this so it can giggle at your wide eyed frantic gasps for air, and I am pretty sure this results in the trembling of pine needles.  Which is akin to a cackling seizure by a preteen girl or the jiggle of Santa’s belly fat as he wishes you a Merry Fucking Christmas.

After about 45 minutes of cursing at trees and repeating the word “up” we reach the table like top of the sandstone summits that make Red Rock so popular.  It’s here that the hike starts to fill out and the interest in the view of your boots begins to diminish.  There are huge slabs of broken sandstone, wind blown trees and fresh crisp air.  There are views overlooking the entire Las Vegas Valley and all the way out to Lake Mead where a portion of the lake is visible on the clearest of days.  Vistas can also be had of the La Madre Range, Spring Mountains and Rainbow Mountains.  It is worth every breath to be up here wandering.

Looking up at the false summit.

Looking back down.

We will be returning on the same route and must consider how we will find it in the dark.  So the next step after gaining the upper most ridge was to make sure, beyond doubt, that we had the spot where we drop down marked.  It was here that if one was not sure and gambled with picking the wrong route, would risk cliffing out and have to climb back up.  The landscape was studied and a silhuoetted cairn was built. This is a cairn built up on a high spot, a boulder or hill, so one has a good chance of seeing it against the skyline at night.

Labyrinth like canyons of Red Rock.

With piece of mind and a slower heartbeat we made our way slowly and aimlessly towards the peak.  The Sun flirted with the horizon, leaving muted warm colors on the seemingly unmovable blocks of sandstone.  One only need turn there head to gain interest in something new.  Our heads were turned in step to the opening of a new vista.  A vista of concrete, asphalt and filth.  From here, however, I could tolerate it .  Its sits down there with its mouth shut for once, revealing itself as if a band-aid was just yanked off of it.  It’s now around 5:00pm.  This was about the time we started pouring whiskey.

A view of Las Vegas.

North Peak sits at 7047 feet above sea level.  It was once thought to be the highest peak in the RRCNCA(Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area) but was later determined to be 23 feet shorter than its nearby neighbor Mt. Wilson.  It is, none the less, an impressive place to spend some time.  Its east face drops an amazing 2000 feet straight down to the head of one the many narrow canyons that permeate Red Rock. This one being a tributary to Ice Box Canyon.  A popular canyon that ends in an amphitheatre like setting with a huge swimming pool size water tank and a seasonal pour over waterfall.

The last moments of the day slipped over our heads casting shadows that do literally stretch to the horizon.  Watching them slide across the city from these heights is mesmerizing and I can’t help but think of a blanket being pulled over the earth as if mother nature is tucking herself in for the night.  The summit register was opened, read and signed.  The whiskey opened, poured and sipped.  It’s only after a hard days work with a metabolism working over time that I enjoy whiskey so much.  Straight, at room temperature is a must.  No mixers, no ice.  Just pure strong bourbon.  It opens the nasal passages and brings about a sense of olfactory over stimulation.  I could not draw enough breath and must have appeared somewhat silly, sniffing the air and sipping whiskey in repeating fashion.

A stove.

Since it was a somewhat spur of the moment trip, we didn’t plan much on making anything fancy.  So we just grabbed a couple backpackers meals out of the box and made do.  Doesn’t matter, because after climbing a mountain and several cupfuls of whiskey, your appetite is sure to be aroused by the slightest morsel.  Boil the water, add the water and wait.  Easy enough.

Now with our bellies full, we watched as the lights of Vegas begin there nightly routine.  The long stretching streets can be seen clearly now, running entirely from edge to edge.  Surprisingly, traffic signals can be seen quite easily switching from green to yellow to red.  The strip in all its gambling oversexed glory is chalked full of color and the spotlight beaming from the top of the Luxor pyramid stands like a beacon of excess.

Las Vegas at twilight from the summit of North Peak.

Las Vegas at Night from the summit of North Peak.

As it got darker the buzz got stronger. To have faith in ones self to safely descend a mountain at night while intoxicated may seem foolish, but I have never proclaimed myself not to be a fool. So let’s just leave credit where credit is due. With a last gaze out over the beautiful night sky we made ready for the descent.

Creeping down and over giant slabs of sandstone, stumbling over twisted fallen tree trunks and trying not to spill the whiskey became the norm now.  Our eyes properly adjusted to dark, we walked in anticipation of spotting the cairn.  It was found with no trouble and the descent begin. What took us nearly an hour coming up was over in roughly 20 minutes.  At the bottom we fooled around in the trees for a bit, laughing at ourselves for not properly planning on finding the bikes.  We did in good time, however, find them and on we went down Rocky Gap Road.  The road was dirt and somewhat tough to navigate at night, but we found ourselves on the smooth asphalt of the Scenic Loop in no time.  It is from here, entirely downhill to the truck.  So we coasted effortlessly for miles on a moonless night with cool air and solitude.  And with the feeling of doing something unique,  a reassuring fact is brought to the surface that it is these moments I strive to find.  We arrived at the truck around 1am.

End Desert, Begin City.

The Route