The list of what we didn't have time to do . . .

. . . is longer than the list of what we did manage to squeeze in while we were camped at Pioche.  We fully intend to return there; the señor wanted to do it in July, but we've opted for Utah then, my choice, and leaving Lincoln County for next fall perhaps.  One week was sufficient only to whet our appetites; there is much more to enjoy in the area.

We did get in three days of fishing, and enjoyed our time doing just that at Eagle Valley and Echo Canyon lakes.  Our catches included rainbow and tiger trout - tiger trout are a hybrid that is produced and stocked there, although why the powers that be would want to stock hybrids is beyond me.

We had hesitated because of the cost of licenses, having only a choice of one-year or one-day non-resident, but discovered the purchase of a one-day license allowed for a discount on consecutive days, slightly easier on the pocketbook.

 

 

 

 

 

While fishing, of course we were aware of the diverse avian life we found on the waters and overhead.  One treat was a pair of golden eagles gliding lazily above us.  I first noticed them when a raven was noisily diving at one of them.  Interesting to watch when the eagle kept rolling over to turn its talons toward the bird attacking it from above.  

Other birds we added to the trip list there included osprey, eared grebe, ring-necked duck, ring-billed gull, tern (probably Forster's), spotted sandpiper and a surprising life bird for us: red-breasted merganser.

A surprise . . . 

On one of our drives, we called a halt on the road to convince a very large bull snake not to remain on the pavement where it was sure to meet its demise.  It was quite cross with our efforts, displaying said displeasure with plenty of hissing and striking.

 

 

In the process of halting traffic for the snake, we met the local fish & game ranger who later told us that she patrols seven reservoirs.  Because I only knew about two in the area, I questioned her, discovering that five more are at a distance on the White River.

 

Although it involved a longish drive, curiosity required satisfaction, so we were off and gone to see what was to be seen.  We located the lakes strung one after the other on the river alright.  Fishing access on the reed-infested waters was limited to the dikes, but with fierce winds coming right at us, it was not feasible.  We did see large flocks of yellow-headed blackbirds there, having been surprised not to see any at the other lakes.  An unexpected bird flew up right in front of us from the marsh in which it had been secreted: a white-faced ibis.  We also saw the only great-tailed grackle of the trip.

 

Never mind, though, that fishing can be for another time.  The prize we found was when we saw a small sign for Hot Creek Spring, a definite attention-getter.  As it turns out, the name was a bit over the top, but the place was an absolute delight - the highlight of the week without a doubt.

So . . . Hot Creek's water is a temperate temperature - incredibly clear aqua-tinted.  One look was all it took: we were suited up in a flash and immersed up to our necks in the pristine stream.

 

One fellow bather was a young Chinese fellow who has evidently been wandering homeless for some time, but who was an interesting quiet companion.  Frank had walked upstream to the main spring pool.  When he told us about it, we three decided to go there in a more watery way.  The creek's depth varied from knee to hip depth; in order to remain warmly immersed and out of the wind, we adopted our own versions of pulling ourselves forward with our hands and/or a sort of crouch walk.  It was just lovely being in that crystal creek moving slowly upstream around sparse growths of reeds and occasional floating islands of vegetation.  

Hot Creek is home to an endangered fish, the tiny Moorman White River springfish.  Evidently, those pretty little fish exist in only three places in the world: Hot Creek, where we swam, and two other Nevada springs.

I simply could not stop laughing as we made our way upstream, actually something of a workout, as the striped minnows seemed completely unperturbed by our presence.

 

 

 

The pool surrounding the origin spring is about 40 feet across.  Its depth allowed me to stand with water up to my neck; in the center where the spring burbles out of the earth, it is closer to 15-20 feet deep.  The señor dove into it for a look-see and said the cavern has overhanging sides all around.  The color is a deep brilliant turquoise there - positively gorgeous!

My very big regret is that I did not take more photos there, and none of the spring pool.  Below is the lower pond, all of it beautiful.  We will definitely return to spend more time.

 

In true Nevada fashion, there is another warm spring pool nearer to where we camped, pictured below.  It is not in as pristine location, but we nevertheless intended to sample its bathing water also.  Unpleasantly cool winds dogged us for most of the week, and in the end, we ran out of time for that activity.

We did meet a nice family who were just finishing their swim despite the wind.  They said it was lovely until they emerged wet in the wind.  They were from Saskatchewan, originally natives of the Czech Republic - a couple with a sweet daughter aged 11 months and 27 days.

 

During our week, we saw lots of elk, lots of deer, and exactly two pronghorn.

Nevada's open range laws allow cattle to freely roam across roadways.  This cow was completely unmooooved by our wish to get on down the road.

 

 

Of the many things we would have liked to do but didn't manage was to take an on-foot tour of the historic buildings extant in Pioche itself.  One interesting and surprising survivor of the old silver mining days is an ore car tramway that sits still exactly as it was when last used long years ago.  It transported ore from the mines on Treasure Hill above town to the smelter just below.

 

 

 

Home today, to see how our gardens are faring and hope the little bunny that had found its way into the yard has not eaten up our flowers.  While we have plenty of reptiles residing back there, I have never seen a black lizard such as we saw in Nevada.

Cliff rose and mallow were in full bloom while we were in our neighboring state, but little else.

 

Lincoln County explores

Pioche is putting on quite a show for us: so much to explore throughout the region, and a performance by the resident birds right outside the Wolf Pup's window.  Word quickly spread via avian news that a free breakfast/lunch/dinner/snack was available at the Wuehrmann's mobile casa, and the rush was on.

Bullock's orioles are actively tussling with each other for a turn at the nectar feeder a la hummingbird behavior: no, it will never do to allow multiple birds at the same time at multiple ports.  No indeed, a bird must sip sweet nectar while simultaneously fighting off others who arrive noisily and hungrily.  And then there's the matter of hummingbirds - black-chinned and broad-tailed  - for whom the feeder was intended.  They are required to get what they can in between oriole repasts.  The hordes are consuming about a cup of nectar per day!

Then there's the seed feeder which is equally popular.  The optimistic jays continue to attempt to land on it despite it being impossible for them to fit.  Their antics include diving at it, clinging to the tree trunk next to it and stretching as far as they can but never quite getting there, and hopping from branch to branch above it in their quest for the mother lode.  They are reduced to squawking and finding seeds on the ground below, raucously pushing aside other ground feeders: house sparrows, house finches, brown-headed cowbirds, lesser goldfinches, mourning doves, black-headed grosbeaks, collared doves, and then there was the Wilson's warbler that stopped by to see what all the fuss was about.

A cathedral of sorts . . .

Not having found any sort of literature that purports to be a guide to interesting sites hereabouts, we mostly take note of signage and maps with interesting names and track them down.  One stupendous stop was at Cathedral Gorge.

Millennia ago, the place was a vast lake that accumulated such silt-bottom depth that the water eventually broke out to drain downstream, leaving the sediment high and dry to erode over the years.  The result is a series of deep convoluted chasms - cliffsides that have been deeply etched by water and wind with hoodoos of every size and shape.

Viewing from the overlook might have been sufficient, but no, we had to slip 'n slide our way down (even where steps were provided, they were undercut) to the bottom and then hike the length of it.  There's a four-mile hike in another section; that will be our route another day..

We identified a sage thrasher while on that walk.

Charcoal kilns . . .

A side trip (aren't they all?!) took us to three beehive-shaped charcoal kilns and surrounding ghost town remains.

We saw mine tailings on the side slope of the next hill.  The kilns no doubt were to produce charcoal that was needed in the smeltering process.  This appears to be the back wall of the smelter.

Only the ruins of a couple of cabins are still standing . . .

. . . plus a bit of other rubbley remnants of undetermined usage. . .

. . . and the kilns that are approaching rubblehood.

Rainbow Canyon . . .

is a bit of a misnomer, in my opinion.  Yes, it is a canyon, and yes, it has a few russet-hued cliff walls, but I'm thinking it's just enough to dub it 3% Rainbow Canyon.  The other 97% consists of your usual everyday rock layers, albeit in interesting layers and contortions.

For me, the real attraction there was the riparian area created by a long series of beaver dams and the pools and backwaters that result.  That is yet another section of Meadow Valley Wash, although I'm still wondering why Nevada decided to name a perfectly good perennial stream a "wash" instead of giving it a more fitting name like "creek".  To my way of thinking, a wash is a waterway that is mostly dry except during storm flooding.  Sigh . . . if I were queen, I would take care of these things.

There is a 600-or-so-acre place for sale in there that clearly has my name on it.  All in all, the "wash" is a miraculous absolutely beautiful and intriguing ribbon of garden-like greenery in stark contrast to Nevada's vast sere desert.

While we were looking the place over, we even spotted a muskrat busily scurrying about its business as it scampered from one beaver pond to another.

A few ranchers reside through the area; others have moved on and left their various marks in the form of abandoned rock cabins, old school houses and various other detritus we humans tend to leave in our wake.

Wild game is in abundance in that Eden-like corridor; one deer herd we saw numbered 15 or more.  Most of them are so gentle that besides a few alerted ears turned my way, they didn't even bother to rise from their noon-time siesta spot.

More birds for the trip list: northern flicker, ash-throated flycatcher, yellow warbler, black phoebe, Gambel's quail and a smashing summer tanager.

The gargantuan size of this and other cottonwoods attests to the abundance of water.

Condor Canyon . . .

. . . is another that may be misnamed.  I suspect that no birds of that species are in the vicinity, but it did not stop us from seeing what we could see.  The dirt road that provides vehicle access between those very precipitous walls was at one time a railroad route.  Now it scarcely allows a truck to squeeze through the vegetation brushing up again our extended side-view mirrors.

Shortly after we passed the gargantuan cave the señor is perusing in the next pic, we arrived at a steep stream crossing that Ruby would have easily maneuvered, but we decided Taco was not quite up to the task, so we turned back.  Supposedly, a waterfall is splashing away somewhere back in there out of our reach, but we were in awe of that narrow deep canyon, at any rate.

A Mt. Wilson escape . . .

Not that it has been staying very warm at lower elevations (we're staying at over 6,000 feet elevation), the señor decided we ought to drive a high loop road around Mt. Wilson so we could get a little chillier.  We had the long dirt road to ourselves the entire way.  There are just not very many humans in this part of the country, so running across other people whilst we are exploring is the exception rather than the rule.

We were treated to some very nice distant views as we tootled along . . .

. . . and got a look at snow-speckled Wheeler Peak (it rises at the edge of the Great Basin, and is a place we hiked last summer after enjoying Lehman Caves) . . .

. . . and snow in the far-off Schell Creek Range, too.

We nixed the idea of a walk up to a summit; that slope looked plenty steep from my vantage point, and Taco could not have made the grade.

Our journey may have been peopleless, but we did see quite a more than trees, rocks and chaparral.  Sightings included one squirrel, one young coyote, a herd of more than 20 elk, wild horses, and one bull snake slithering, but not very quickly.