the

Survivor
The quarterly journal of Desert Survivors • Experience, Share, Protect • Winter 2002
Letter from the Editor
By Jessica Rothhaar, Communications Director

T
his issue, we continue our "deserts of the world" series with articles by two DS members who have traveled in the deserts of
Namibia and Morocco, and a review of a recent book about Africa. In the next issue, we plan to have some articles about the
Atacama desert in Chile, by DS members who have lived and traveled there. If you’ve traveled through foreign deserts (Gobi
or Takla Makan, anyone?) and would like to write about your experience for the Survivor, or share your photographs with us, please
let us know.

This issue also highlights the increasing pressure being placed on desert water by population growth in Southern California, with two
articles about Cadiz and the Mojave River. The authors of these carefully researched and well-written pieces, Li Miao and Joe
Pendleton, will both speak at the first Desert Survivors Annual Conference on October 26. Li will lead a focus group to discover
how we can do a better job of involving members in desert issues and advocacy, and Joe will give a short presentation on the effects
of suburban sprawl in southern California.

I am in a bit of a time warp; as I write this, we are preparing for the first Annual Conference in a few weeks. We will hold publication
of the Survivor until after the Conference, however, in order to include a report on the Conference. We hope and expect that this
first Annual Conference will be a terrific success. The Board’s goals are for at least 50 members to attend, and for those in attendance
to feel educated and inspired by the program. I have to wait, but you don’t, to see whether we achieved those goals.

How to reach us:

Managing Editor: Jessica Rothhaar……..... (510) 525-4921, JesseRoth@aol.com
Art Director: Hall Newbegin………... (510) 845-1418, hall@juniperridge.com
Membership Inquiries: Steve Tabor……............. (510) 769-1706, StevTabor@aol.com
DS on the web: www.desert-survivors.org

Submissions and Letters for Next Survivor

Deadline for submissions for the Spring 2003 issue is February 1. Articles are subject to editing; please read the Submission
Guidelines at www.desert-survivors.org before submitting your article. Letters to the Editor should be 200 words or less and are
subject to editing. Articles and letters should be emailed to JesseRoth@aol.com; please include your full name, city and state of
residence and phone number. Photos, maps and line drawings should be emailed or snail mailed to Hall Newbegin,
Hall@JuniperRidge.com, 3032 Tremont Street, Berkeley, CA 94703; hard copy will be returned to you if you include your name

Cover photo: trip leader Craig Deutsche at Font’s Point in Anza-Borrego state park, February 2002
photo by Eric Rorer

2 The Survivor Fall 2002

 and will not share, trade or sell our mem-
Short Takes bers e-mail addresses to any other organiza-
tion.
Congratulations!
Desert Survivor members Spencer Berman
and Lois Grunwald were married May 22
of this year in a small campground in the
Owens Valley. Spencer and Lois met on a
Desert Survivor three-day backpack led by
Steve Tabor in the Marble Mountains in the
spring of 1998 and, by chance, met up
again on another Desert Survivor hike in
Joshua Tree on Thanksgiving that same
year. Spencer and Lois, who lived at oppo-
site ends of the state, spent the next year
commuting to the desert and the Central
Coast for weekend hikes, including several
on the Desert Trail. They now reside
together in Ventura County.

Web Master
Wanted
Desert Survivors urgently needs a web
master to take charge of our website. A
redesign of the website is in the works and,
with luck, will be final by the time you read
this. But we need someone to put in 10-20
hours every month to keep the website
content updated, to "webbify" the trip
schedules and selected articles and illustra-
tions from the Survivor – in short, to bring
DS into the 21st century! Ideally, this
would be someone with experience in both
web design and content. But we’ll take
anyone who knows how to webbify text
and images and wants to put in the time,
working closely with the board and other
interested members. A number of board
members would be quite interested in
working with the webmaster to create a
really useful, up-to-the-minute issues sec-
tion. You’ll learn a lot, have something to
put on your resume, and gain enormous
satisfaction. We’ll finally have a website
worth publicizing. What a deal.

[Box Ad]

Policy wonk? Gear head? Want to get

more involved with desert protection? Join
the hardcore: sign-up for the Desert
Survivors listserv and join the in-crowd.
To subscribe, or for more information,
send an e-mail to tortoise@desert-sur-
vivors.org. Please Note: Desert Survivors
has adopted a formal e-mail privacy policy

The Survivor Summer 2002 3

F E AT U R E S
Namibia: The Other Promised Land
By Judith L. Kendall, Berkeley, CA
Country Overview
Namibia, called South West Africa prior to 1968, shares borders with
Angola and Zimbabwe to the north, Botswana to the east, and South Africa
to the south. It is a country double the size of California, with a population
of just 1.6 million. The Khoisan-speaking tribes now called the San
(Bushmen), the Damara, and the Nama (Hottentot) were once its sole inhabi-
tants. Their rock paintings in the northwestern stretch of the country date
their presence back 20,000 years. These were, and some still are, hunters and
gatherers. They are small people, most standing only a little over 5 feet tall, a
feature that cost them in their many battles for the rule of more fertile lands.
They now represent only about 15% of the population, grossly outnumbered
by the taller and heavier Bantu-speaking tribes: the Owambo (50%), Kavango
(10%), Herero (8%), Caprivian (4%), and Himba (1%). The Bantu
migrated from the northeastern reaches of the African continent and arrived
in Namibia only about 500 years ago.
In 1884, a German investor named Luderitz bought up much of the south-
ern coastal lands and later sold it to his countrymen for colonization under the
name of South West Africa. Diamonds were discovered in 1908 while a
railway was being built, and the boom hit. After World War I, South Africa
administered the country under a mandate from the League of Nations but
ignored instructions by the UN in the late 1940s to relinquish control and
grant South West Africa its independence. In 1966 the South West African
Peoples’ Organization (SWAPO) began its fight for freedom. In 1968 the
UN declared the South African occupation illegal and accepted the name
Namibia in place of the one that had implied annexation. Namibia formally
4 The Survivor Fall 2002
gained its independence on March 21, 1990.
Nevertheless, Namibia remains very much dependent on South Africa for its
resources. Indeed, the South African currency, the Rand, is used interchange-
ably with Namibia’s own Dollar and the currency value matches the Rand.
The country is rich in minerals (25% of the GDP comes from mining inter-
ests) and 60% of its labor resources is committed to agriculture, but because of
water constraints, most of the agricultural product is allocated to subsistence
farming.
For a country as youthful as is Namibia, one would never suspect a thriving,
smooth running government to be in power. In fact, Namibia’s government is
considered a model democracy. It offers its citizens freedom of speech, freedom
of the press, the right of association and religious affiliation. It has a bicam-
eral Westminster-style parliament, regular elections for the House of
Parliament and National Assembly, and, until recently, a two-term limit for
the presidency. Approximately 89% of school-aged children attend school and
the country’s literacy rate is a healthy 40% - impressive given the sparse rural
population and the challenging cross-tribal issues. English is the country’s offi-
cial language, so all scholastic and tertiary instruction is conducted in English,
although German is primarily spoken in Windhoek and Swakopmund, and
Afrikaans is the dominant language for the older generations. Many of the
tribal people remain grateful to Christian missionaries, who provided them
with food, clothing and shelter while they attended mission schools and learned
to read. Between 80% and 90% of the country is Christian or a mottled
blend of it coupled with a tribal religion.
I arrived in Namibia for the first time in April of 1999 with an

F E AT U R E S
American music-teaching colleague, with whom I worked in South
Africa as a counselor at the international school. We joined up
with one other traveler, a young Swiss welder, and our intrepid
guide, Andrew Holmboe, at the Chameleon Backpackers’ Lodge,
for an 8-day private tour of Kaokoland, the northwestern region,
by Land Rover. Little did I know then that Kaokoland would
become the new love of my life, and that I would cast aside all
plans of returning to the US in favor of a grandiose plan to immi-
grate to Namibia. From November 1999 to July 2000, I lived an
itinerant life in Namibia in a vain attempt to obtain a work permit.
Though I could not obtain one and eventually had to leave, I
became more and more enchanted with what I saw of this remote
jewel of a country tucked away on the other side of existence.

South from Windhoek

Namibia’s central plateau runs longitudinally along the spine of the

country and is flanked by deserts: the Namib Desert along the
Atlantic coast and the Kalahari Desert, which Namibia shares with
Botswana and South Africa, along the eastern border. The Namib
Desert competes with the Atacama Desert of South America for
the title of being the oldest desert on the planet. It covers an
enormous expanse (50,000 sq kms), the size of Maryland and New
Jersey combined. Its scenery varies from gray gravel moonscape
to lone mountains projecting up from hundreds of miles of bisque
flats, to elegant drapes of ruby-lipped apricot dunes that peak at a
magnificent 800 feet. The southern portion of the Namib Desert
is a highly restricted area. It is owned by Consolidated Diamond
Mines (CDM), a powerful Southern African mining company.
Entering these "forbidden zones" without a permit is a sure way to
end one’s life, and obtaining a permit is just shy of impossible. In
the early part of the 20th century, beachcombers could become
wealthy in a day, as diamonds were strewn everywhere along the
sandy shores of the Atlantic Coast. Don’t book your ticket yet,
surface allows for virtually no water to be retained. Even so, the
though: CDM tidied that mess long ago.
Kalahari’s sand dunes are vegetated and offer nourishment to an
Two prominent coastal towns mark the Namib-Naukluft National unusual collection of creatures. The gemsbok, or oryx, is specially
Park’s northern and southern boundaries. Swakopmund, to the adapted to survive the desert heat. Its skull carries an insulating
north, feels like a beach town with cafes and restaurants, B&Bs layer of water that protects the brain from being cooked by soar-
and hotels, and an adventure shop that will take the young and ing temperatures of 120 degrees. Some of the Kalahari reptiles
restless sandboarding in the park. Although I didn’t get the can be found nowhere else in the world.
opportunity to venture out on the boards, videos assure the adven-
Southern Namibia has another fascinating geological wonder: the
turous a grand time of mouthfuls and bottoms-full of the pulver-
Fish River Canyon. This canyon is purported to be the second
ous stuff. Instead, I ventured off to Cape Cross Seal Colony to be
largest in the world, second only to our very own Grand. As hik-
awestruck by 50,000 seals barking and crying about territories or
ers descend toward the Fish River at the canyon’s base, they walk
lost young ones, and by the stench of those young who never did
back in geological time, passing periods of erosion, faults, glaciers,
reunite with their mothers.
fractures in conglomerates of limestone and other sediments
Luderitz, on the southern edge of the park (about 250 miles from deposited by a sea, metamorphic rock that had been heated and
Swakopmund), is a quirky but charming little German town that compressed more than a billion years ago, and finally to the bowels
seems completely unaware of the tourists who contribute hand- of Namibian earth, where lava, shale, and sandstone date back to
somely to its fishing-dependent economy. A half-hour’s drive 1.8 billion years.
inland is a ghost mining town called Kolmanskop that was the cen-
Climbing down to the canyon’s bottom, wading in its cool river
ter of the 1908-1915 diamond boom, that today has been all but
and climbing back out is a full day’s excursion, but most opt to
swallowed up by the sands of the Namib.
hike a 5-day route along the canyon floor. I’ve heard harrowing
The Kalahari Desert commences due east of the central plateau, at stories of those who took this route in the middle of summer,
an elevation of 1,000 meters. The Kalahari is a desert not because when temperatures reach 120 degrees, and barely survived. I’ve
of its annual rainfall, which is over 100mm, but because its sandy also heard flip-side stories of those who found frozen water bot-

The Survivor Fall 2002 5


F E AT U R E S
tles at their sides as they awakened from a semi-hardened state
themselves. The Fish River Canyon backpack/hike is challenging,
but wonderfully rewarding.
North from Windhoek
Driving north from Windhoek along the central plateau’s veldt, a
first overnight spot after a 4-hour drive might be the 250-meter-
high Waterberg Plateau. This is a lovely mecca of birds (I spotted
my first pair of Meyers Parrots right in the campground), flora
(from lush fig tree forests to acacia bush, to grasslands), and
wildlife (hyenas, rhinos, kudu and even leopards inhabit the plateau
itself, while a pair of nearly tame, greyhound-sized duikers tip-toe
around the wooded campground on their dainty hooves, giving coy
blinks with their enormous black eyes and long frilly eyelashes).
The campground is situated at the base of the plateau and is a per-
fect embarkation point for a 5-day safari hike onto the plateau, or
for brief day-hikes to the face of the plateau. I will always
6 The Survivor Fall 2002
remember the discovery of the south-facing plateau
walls, coated with the vibrant colors of over 150 dif-
ferent types of lichen that flourish from moisture
seeping through the porous sandstone to the grounds
below. Every 20 feet I was awestruck by another bril-
liant work of nature’s art.
A few hours further north is the entrance to one of
the three best wildlife parks in the whole of Africa:
Etosha National Park (the others being Kruger
National Park in South Africa and the Serengeti
Plains of Tanzania and Kenya). The defining feature
of Etosha Park is the expansive Etosha Pan.
Measuring approximately 40 miles long by 65 miles
wide, this salty pan is the remnant of a dried lake that
evaporated 12 million years ago, when a continental
shift altered the slope of the land and the direction of
its contributing rivers’ flow. The pan now holds
water only for a few months after the December-
March rainy season. Then a collection of contact
springs, water-level springs, and artesian springs
quench the thirsts of the region’s lions, giraffes, hye-
nas, cheetahs, elephants, zebras, black rhino, several
species of antelope and over 340 species of birds.
After many months of dry, parching heat, the water-
ing holes are the central marketplace for the wild. A
visitor cannot walk or hike in Etosha Park for safety
reasons, but sitting in a car at a water hole is suffi-
cient to view all of Etosha’s proliferation of wildlife.
After a day’s viewing, spectators sitting around the
campfire tell many tales of death and survival wit-
nessed at the holes. You’ll leave Etosha with buckets
full of film rolls, a heavy coating of white salty pan
dust, and an expression of deep wonder on your face.
To the north and west of Etosha lies the land I fell in
love with, Kaokoland, one of the most exquisite and
remote reaches of Southern Africa. Kaokoland is
hostile to civilization: it fights every way we mortals
attempt to leash it. This hostility is Kaokoland’s sav-
ior, and its fragility is its beauty.
Beautiful
• Pretty yellow wildflowers blanket the white rocky ground
• The Kunene River flows ever so serenely within its banks.
• The jungle life along the Kunene’s banks is beautifully lush.
• You’re free to travel anywhere you like: there are no fences,
walls, or trespassing laws.
• The mopane trees have lovely butterfly-shaped pairs of leaves.
• Mopane worms are edible to the Himba and quite nutritious.
Hostile
• That yellow wildflower is called Devil’s Thorn. It’s not edible
 even to goats.
• The Kunene is filled with crocodiles.
• Malaria
• The quicksand here can swallow an entire car. Flash floods
wash out the roads and leave behind boulders and axle-
crunching, oil-pan-punching rocks.
• Mopane trees bring mopane worms, two inches long and half
an inch thick.
• Mopane worms bring snakes with deadly neurotoxic venoms.
If a snake out here bites you, you’ll die. There are no doctors
or hospitals for hours or even days.
The Himba people of Kaokoland are striking. They’re still living
with their tribal traditions as they have for hundreds or thousands
of years. They’ve only been exposed to modern society since the
1980’s, and still used stone tools until recently. The Himba still
wear their traditional dress. The women have beautiful, ornately
braided extensions and decorative cowhide hairpieces; they adorn
themselves with lovely, handmade ostrich-shell jewelry and for
clothing they wear merely a leather skirt. They coat their bodies
with ochre paste that tints their skin a glowing orange. Sadly, the
tribal leaders believe that they will be the last generation to live by
their customs. Many of the young Himba are leaving for jobs and
the excitement of the cities. Lighter, cooler Western fabrics are
replacing the leather skirts.
For three months, I lived and worked south of Kaokoland and
east of Etosha, at Etendeka Mountain Camp in Northern
Damaraland. This land is capped with one of the largest stretches
of lava in the world, from eruptions 300 million years ago. As far
as the eye can see, from mountaintops and escarpments to low
plains, the terrain is covered with oxidized, highly ferrous (and
therefore red) rock. Ferocious seasonal winds from the southeast
blow away any dust, soil, or chips from the larger volcanic rocks,
leaving behind densely scattered, stumbling stones that twist the
heartiest of hikers’ ankles and force all two-legged creatures to
stick to the beaten paths. Low rainfall, coupled with this inhos-
pitable soil, prevent grasses and other less hearty vegetation from
taking root here. Instead, the landscape is dotted with with pale,
dusty-green Euphorbia Damarana bushes that provide stark con-
trast to the burgundy magma. These large, dense bushes, perhaps
2 meters high by 4 meters wide, are wonderful safe havens for
smaller desert life like honey badgers, monitor lizards and desert
hares. Their spiny stems, when snapped off, ooze with a poiso-
nous sticky milk that is inedible to all but kudu and black rhino. A
half-crushed Euphorbia bush is an instant giveaway that either a
rhino or an elephant softened its night’s sleep with it; how recent a
sleep it was can be determined by the freshness of the milky sap at
the tips of the broken branches. The desert elephants will travel
up to 70 kms to reach a water source and are a special treat to spot
during dry seasons.
The "elephant" of flora is the renowned Welwitschia Mirabilis
plant found in some hidden spots around Damaraland. These
plants are ancient beasts of 1000 years or more. They are not in
the aloe or cactus families as might be suspected, but of the
conifer family. Thumbnail-sized charcoal black cones are sprinkled
around the split between its two broad gnarled and twisted aloe-
like leaves, often 12 feet long. Survival depends on a mate nearby
The Survivor Fall 2002
providing smaller male seeds.
F E AT U R E S
One last plant holds a special place in my heart. Every evening in
the fall months at Etendeka, as I walked along the red gravel path
from my cabin to the dining area of the camp, I smelled a deli-
cious and powerful fragrance that permeated the valley. The
owner had never identified it in his 10 years there, and only
shrugged it off as the desert grasses at dusk. My persistence paid
off. On my way from cabin to dinner one night, I caught a sniff
of the lovely mystery perfume. I stopped dead in my tracks and
insisted that my flashlight reveal the source of such delight.
There, in the midst of nowhere-and-nothing, was a single wispy
foot-high thread of a plant with about three quarter-inch wide
beige blossoms, much like baby’s breath. When I bent down to
interrogate it with my nose, it announced with full-trumpeted sym-
phony that IT was the source of the glorious desert perfume!
Monsonia, that wonderful little ugly duckling, turned into desert
glory. Monsonia, I’ll forever love its fragrance at Etendeka,
Damaraland.
I have many tales to tell around the campfire from my time at
Etendeka, from surviving elephant and black rhino attacks, to fol-
lowing the first migration of lions to the camp in 10 years; from
tracking collared lions by microlight to the death of my best friend
there.
The African desert is the Biblical wilderness, the wilderness of
Moses, of Isaac, of Jesus. That wilderness brought me back to the
essence of my purpose on this planet: the wilder-ness. There I
found a loneliness that felt more robust and alive than any of my
happiest moments in the "civilized" world. That wilderness is the
birthplace of creation. There I could really hear, could really
breathe in my presence on Earth and my connection with life.
Nothing is senseless or meaningless or cruel there; it all has a life-
giving purpose. There is order in wilderness, the order of nature.
It is still alive…in A-FRI-CA….
Judy Kendall will be leading a private 2_ week tour of Namibia in
April, 2003, dates to be determined with participants. Interested
parties may e-mail her at jkendallinafrica@yahoo.com or phone
her at (510)612-8710. Space is limited, but preference will be given
to Desert Survivors members.
7
F E AT U R E S
Five Days in the Moroccan Desert
By Ron Cohen, San Francisco, CA
T
he share taxi was to leave in about ten minutes for the four
hour ride to the very small town of Zagora, the entrance to
the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. Here we would spend
five days trekking in the desert, a desert very similar in appearance
and character to the Mojave of California. The Atlas Mountains
eventually merge with the enormous, majestic, barren dunes of the
Sahara. From Zagora, one could embark on a journey all the way
to Timbuktu , in the country of Mali, many hundreds of miles
from here.
This desert trek had not been on our itinerary but, with indepen-
dent travel, the unexpected arrives. Jan met the owners of a
trekking company in a café while I was out looking for our night’s
lodging. On my return, I was informed of the impending trip,
which would begin in two days. That night we went to town to
purchase provisions such as fuel, flour, fruit, vegetables, cookies,
sugar, mint leaves for tea and, most importantly, water.
The next morning at 6 a.m., we meet our three camels and guide
Zayaid. Zayaid had the most beautiful dark skin, with wrinkles of
life on his face, each one with a tale of his nomadic existence.
During the next five days we would realize how kind, caring and
gentle his soul was, rare amongst humans. Born in a family of
nomadic travelers, the desert was his home, and he knew its topog-
raphy, its bends and curves, better than anyone. We needed no
compasses or topo maps, just Zayaid’s knowledge and his special
connection to the desert.
We mounted the camels, our desert taxis for the next five days.
Adorned with saddlebags carrying all we needed for survival, we
began to ride. After one mile our camel riding days were over, now
only forty-nine miles left to walk. The motion of riding made us
sea sick, where no ocean was to be found. Zayaid was astonished
that we wanted to walk. I forgot to mention that Zayaid did not
communicate in any language that could be understood by Jan or
I. Over the next five days we would become very articulate in the
silent language of pantomime.
On our first day, we walked a total of 6 miles in an easterly direc-
tion, from 7 a.m. to 11 a.m. The heat of the sun and sand seared
our souls, and we stopped for a long siesta. We rested in what little
shade we could find created by small trees and brush. At about
8 The Survivor Fall 2002
three p.m. we started to walk again, and walked until 6 p.m. The
sun was setting and the air felt cool and dry on our parched skin.
We had completed a day’s journey, about 10 miles. The terrain was
typical Mojavian in appearance, smooth substrate in some areas,
rocky and erratic in others, but it was flat. There were no washes,
alluvial fans or bajadas, and few animals or plants, but it was still
beautiful, tranquil and romantic.
In our camp in the middle of nowhere, Zayaid prepared a wonder-
ful dinner, complete with Moroccan mint tea. The tea ritual was
fascinating. Skillful preparation produced a delicious but very
sweet tea. Zayaid adjusted the flavor four times before he was sat-
isfied that the correct balance of sweetness and mint flavor had
been achieved.
It was time to put a glorious day to rest. Overhead, millions of
stars filled the heavens. No tent, no sounds, no bugs, no airplanes:
pure silence. By the light of the moon, I could see the camels
reclining on their haunches to enjoy their rest in the tranquility of
the desert night.
Our third day proved to be the most interesting and challenging
for us. We were very low on water and had, at most, one day’s
water left. Running out of water in this dry, hot desert would be a
disaster. Our inability to communicate with Zayaid now seemed to
threaten our survival, and we had to trust him. In about two
miles, Zayaid led us to a true desert oasis, complete with trees for
shade and a well for water -- we were saved! However, when we
drew the water from the well, we found it was extremely cloudy
and had particulate matter floating in it. Zayaid filled four 5-gallon
bottles with this water. We motioned to him that we could not
drink this water, that it would make us extremely ill. He did not
seem to understand and I thought we were finished. I wanted to
pour out the water to make a statement, something to convince
Zayaid of our dilemma. We deliberated what to do, but we did not
want to anger him because we needed him, and we also needed
clear water to drink. We continued to walk and, after another mile,
came to another group of trees with another well. Out of the
ground we drew crystal clear water. Zayaid had known all the time,
we realized: he knew what we had been trying to communicate
and he also knew that we would find this liquid gold of the desert
just one mile ahead. I again showed Zayaid that the water in the
old bottles would make us sick and he started to laugh, and laugh
hard. Then he showed us that the dirty water was for washing the
camels, not to drink. I am sure he thought us ignorant, two people
with no idea of where they were going next. Re-stocked with plen-
ty of water to finish the trip, we made camp a few hours later, now
relaxed and feeling secure.
The scenery on days four and five was delightfully picturesque,
with panoramic views. As the trip came to an end and we saw our
home in the distance, we realized we had become enamored with
the desert and our guide. Five days in a beautiful barren land and
yet, as we all know, the desert is really very lush. It is amazing how
the desert has the ability to invade your soul with its silence,
expansive space, majestic mountains and mystery.
The memories of those five days are eight years old, yet they con-
tinue to excite me. I know I will never forget that journey.
 degrees F. all year round. Below, we could see the white ice across
Lava Beds Carcamp

TRIP REPORTS
the bottom. A twelve-foot wide hole had melted in the center.
June 28-30, 2002, Tulelake, Northeastern CA Park officials measure the changes from year to year, but can really
do nothing to stop the melting. It was thought that too frequent
By Steve Tabor, Alameda, CA visitation may have done some of the damage, so now only a cou-
ple of tours are conducted each week. Also interesting were stains

W
ith twenty participants, the Lava Beds Carcamp was
another popular trip to a popular place. We did several high above near the ceiling, marks left by the ice when it once
hikes in the National Monument, then spent the third filled the cave to its brim, probably during the "Little Ice Age"
day in higher country near Medicine Lake. The air was hot, but from
not unbearably so, and cool breezes helped quite a bit in mid-after-
noon. 1600 to 1840 A.D.

We met at the Visitor Center near the main caves loop, then did
short hikes in the well-lit caves nearby: Mushpot Cave and Indian
Well. Mushpot exhibited most of the elements of lava tubes in the
park, all within a very short distance. We saw "frozen" lava spat-
ters (cooled in place), sweeping lava flow marks along the walls,
dripstone on the ceiling, and rubble rafted along on the bottom,
now solid. We followed the curving tube to its end,
where the lava had ponded behind a roof cave-in, then
disappeared down a hole. No way to follow it, so we
turned back.
On the second day, we set up a car shuttle at Hospital Rock at the
north end of the Monument, then drove back to Skull Cave for a
9.4 mile hike across the plateau in the Monument's vast eastern
Wilderness Area. The whole group was involved in this, and we
quickly split up into a fast faction intent on lots of hiking, and a
slow group interested in photography and wildflowers. I led the
slow group. The first group got to the end by 1:00 pm. The rest

Indian Well Cave across the road was a giant window,

opened out by a cave-in. Its bottom was a jumble of
rock. We could have followed into it, but we were slat-
ed to do a ranger-led walk a few minutes later. The
mouth of the cave was populated with some very fra-
grant specimens of "desert sweet," a white-flowered
shrub with pungent leaflets loaded with volatile oils.
Wildflowers were blooming in the open.

We then drove to Skull Cave Road and joined a volun-

teer ranger on a hike to two more caves: Big Painted
Cave and Symbol Bridge. The ranger filled us in on the
common names for many of the plants and explained
the Monument's volcanic history. Both caves had
Indian pictographs on the walls, mostly abstract design.
They were likely used in ceremonies, though their sig-
nificance has been lost. It is even possible that they
had been painted by tribes other than those living in
the area when Europeans invaded.

In the afternoon, we drove to Merrill Ice Cave for a

ranger-led tour. Unfortunately, we had not signed up at
the Visitor Center, but the ranger graciously allowed
some of our group in while I led the rest on a two-
hour jaunt on the Whitney Butte Trail. The trail gave
us a good look at the sagebrush-juniper ecosystem that
currently prevails on top of the rolling lava plateau.
Occasional lava rims poked through, most more than
50,000 years old. Hiking these trails on the open
plateau gives one a feeling of space and possibility.

When we returned to Merrill Cave, the ranger did a

special tour for those of us who remained. Merrill is
an ice cave that has lost a great deal of its ice in the
past few years, and no one seems to know why. A
winding staircase leads down into the cave, which is
very deep. The temperature hovers around 32-34

The Survivor Fall 2002 9

 of us arrived at
F E AT U R E S
5:30 pm. Which group of hikers enjoyed themselves more is a
subjective question.
As the six or eight of us lollygagged along on the trail, we noted
many wildflowers, including various buckwheats, various
Pentstemons and Phacelias, locoweeds, pincushion flowers,
lupines, and the rarest of all, Mariposa lilies. The latter were strik-
ingly beautiful! Also nice were the grasses: native bunchgrasses
like needlegrass and grama, and good stands of foxtail grass.
Junipers gave ample shade when we needed it. Open views were
inspiring at all times. With temperatures in the high 70s F. and a
stiff breeze, who could ask for more?
In the early evening, a small group of us headed for Schonchin
Butte, a nearby cinder cone, for a long view out over the
Monument's center. Schonchin is isolated and elevated, and has a
lookout cabin on top. From the top, you can see the anatomy of
the eruption below, where fresh basalt lava emitted from the base
of the cone in two places and spread out over the landscape. We
were late enough to see and photograph long shadows over the
lava rims to the north and west, but too early for the sunset, which
some of the group interpreted as an oversight in planning. Later,
other hikers did Schonchin at sunset and enjoyed a colorful sky
show.
The next day, some of the hikers went back home. The rest of us
packed up, got in the cars, and headed toward Medicine Lake on
the forested plateau to the south. At 6000-7000 feet in elevation,
this plateau would be cooler than where we'd been so far. It also
exhibited its own volcanic features to explore. We stopped at the
north end of the Medicine Lake lava flow, actually a plug dome of
black and grey rhyolite, some of it glassy obsidian. We climbed
around on the rock awhile, noting the huge trees growing on it,
most from cracks in the rock. Western white pine and lodgepole
pine were the main trees, with some ponderosa also. Mountain
shrubs like chinquapin, cinquefoil and mountain spray grew in the
rocks, along with a different kind of Penstemon and other wild-
flowers. From the top of the flow, we had a view out over the
lake to the south and to forested crests all around its small basin.
The rest of the flow was too blocky and unstable for further hikes,
so we went back to the cars and drove to Medicine Lake for lunch.
At the lakeshore, we ate lunch and enjoyed the ambience: deep
green trees, wide blue water, a bluer sky above. After lunch we
swam awhile in the lake. The water was warm and quite refresh-
ing. My car mates and I started back early, though others drove
further to the east and investigated another rhyolite-obsidian flow,
Glass Mountain.
Lava Beds is a good place for car campers who like their exploring
laid-back and easy. The campground is open most all of the year,
and birding is reputed to be good at Tule Lake to the north in
mid-winter. The Visitor Center offers so much information that
you can plan your own ambience, and you can skip the Happy
Hour disputations.
10
Waucoba Peak Backpack
July 4-7, 2002, Inyo Mountains, CA
By Paul Menkes, Berkeley, CA
B
ristlecone Pines, steep and rough mountains and awesome
vistas were the main pleasures on this trip to the Inyo
Mountains, led by David Halligan. Eight Survivors enjoyed
what turned out to be a moderately paced four-day trip.
We met high up on the Badger Flat plateau in the Inyo. It was very
dry. From Badger Flat we hiked east into Tamarack Canyon, fol-
lowing the remains of an old four wheel drive road. We hiked
slowly, pausing often to look at plants. One small tree excited a lot
of interest. Grant thought it might be a ribes of some sort, as did
Dave M. Dina later did some research and concluded it was a
mountain maple (acer glabrum var. diffsum). We also started look-
ing at the first examples of bristlecone and limber pines. We would
be spending the next four days amidst their splendor.
Eventually we left the canyon and started trending south-south-
east. The track here gets faint to non-existent. But we did not have
to think about where were heading, thanks to Grant, who was very
familiar with the route. He got us right on track to a canyon where
there is a ruined log cabin. It is not marked on the 7.5-minute map
(though it is marked on the old 15-minute map).
We kept hiking until we reached a saddle at the head of Waucoba
Canyon. There we camped in the bristlecone pines, near an old
cow camp. We had plenty of flat spots and lots of bristle duff,
which made for lovely sleeping, and had easy access to many lovely
vistas, both east towards Waucoba Peak and Waucoba Canyon, and
west looking at the steep bristlecone woodlands.
The next morning we hiked up to Waucoba Peak. The mountain
lies east of the main crest. We followed another old road (this one
in much better shape) along the ridgeline towards the peak. Along
the way we passed by many lovely stands of mountain mahogany.
We saw mountain bluebirds and pinyon jays. And we saw cows.
While Waucoba lies in designated wilderness, it still has a substan-
tial grazing allotment within it.
The top of the peak is spectacular. It is a large, broad hump with
bristlecones at the edges. Mathilde, a brand-new member from
Paris, France, on her first desert trip, was especially excited by the
summit views. We could see the Eureka and Saline mountains, up
and down the spine of the White-Inyo range, the Sierra Nevada,
and more besides. We spent a long time on the summit before
heading back.
Back at the saddle by Waucoba Canyon, we took a detour down to
Sidehill Spring, which is a 700-foot descent. After getting water, we
hauled ourselves back up to camp and enjoyed our dinner.
The next day everybody but me headed south along the crest to
Blue Peak. I went back to Waucoba Peak to recover my camera left
on the summit. Even though I had just hiked it the day before it
was an interesting walk. The peak was quiet and lovely. An added
bonus was seeing three bighorn near the summit.
The Survivor Fall 2002
After the rest of the group visited Blue Peak, David H. and
Mathilde headed back to camp, while Greg, Dina, Bob, Grant, and
Dave M. continued south on the ridgeline. They came across a
long ridge that is unnamed on the maps and heavily wooded with
bristlecones. At the highpoint they found a summit register with a
few names in it. The informal name is Paradise Peak and, from all
reports, it is quite wonderful, with great views and a lovely bristle-
cone forest. The enthusiasm of everyone who went made three of
us plan to come back again next year and explore the eastside
canyons and visit the peak.
That evening we headed down to the saddle to watch the sunset
over the Sierra Nevada. I have personally never seen a sunset so
over the top as that one. After the sun sank behind clouds, then
behind Mt. Humphreys on the Sierra Crest, rays shot in an arc
upward, as if it were a gigantic laser show, and the gray clouds
became yellow and pink. The entire group spent 30 minutes ooh-
ing and ahh-ing until the last bit of color left the sky.
Our trip ended the next day by heading back via Tamarack
Canyon. We had all connected or reconnected to the Inyo, the
spiritual home to Desert Survivors and a very special place.
Rhyolite Ridge Carcamp
July 26-28, 2002, Western NV
By Steve Tabor, Alameda, CA
T
his three-day carcamp to the Silver Peak Range east of
Yosemite was a hot one. Hot air drained our energy
throughout, especially on the first day, when we enjoyed
only meager shade. The warm pools at Fish Lake Hot Spring pro-
vided welcome relief when we needed it, and
old trails from yesteryear made for intriguing route-finding, tweak-
ing my curiosity for more visitation in the years to come.
I had long been intrigued by the colorful volcanic rock west of
Emigrant Peak, which is visible from a long way off. On the first
day, we met on U.S. Route 6 north of Fish Lake Valley, then drove
on a dirt road west of the north end of the range. We parked by
the side of the road, then took off across the fan in a northerly
direction. It was two and one-half miles to the base of the hills,
The Survivor Fall 2002
and we lost no time getting started.
F E AT U R E S
On this first part of day one, we were walking away from the sun.
The greenery in the vegetation convinced me that a thunderstorm
had passed this way recently. In a normal year, the brush would be
dry this late in the season and would have lost its leaves, but even
the greasewood was bright green. We found traces of human set-
tlement in odd places on the fan, probably left over from some
gold rush or other.
We rested at the base of the hills, then hiked farther in, choosing a
gulch that drained the west side of Emigrant. By now, we were
feeling the heat. Nobody had much energy for a peak climb. In
fact, we were frantically looking for a shady place to cool our
heels. In doing so, we hiked up into and out of several gulches in
colorful mudhills. The hills were dominated by a rich rust-red
color, but there were also black, grey, brown and cream-colored
hills. The color was even better than I'd expected. Getting on top
for a view, we saw a blocky outcrop with a narrow shade strip
below a vertical cliff. We headed for it quickly, intent on a drink, a
bite and a snooze. We enjoyed all three, and none too soon either!
After lunch, we hiked around to the south side of the outcrop and
dropped down the red shale slope behind to the gulch below.
That gulch and the fan beyond comprised our route back to the
cars. In the bottom, we hiked through volcanic rock into lime-
stone and shale, passing a band of curious crystalline rock, felsite
or granite, below the sedimentaries. Soon we were out in the
open, hiking southwest into the sun. It was hot on our bodies,
and got hotter as we descended the fan. We hiked quickly, intend-
ing to spend as little time in the sunshine as possible. I walked
with my thermometer out. The temperature fluctuated between
96 and 104 degrees F. It was hard to tell which was accurate; if it
was 104 F., that would be a record for my trips. It certainly felt
that hot. By the time we reached the cars, the pretty red volcanic
outcrops were a distant memory, replaced by a desire for shade
and coolness.
We drove as rapidly as possible to Fish Lake Hot Springs for a dip.
I was really looking forward to it. The air temperature was 96 F.
The hot pool, the one with the concrete tub, was 106 F. The two
ponds adjacent were 95 F. and 83 F. respectively. The lower pools
collect runoff from the hot pool and are subject to cooling from
the air, so the water temperatures fluctuate with the seasons. We
spent most of our time in the cooler pools, with their populations
of bright orange carp and razor sharp water weeds that made
swimming difficult.
Refreshed and cooled, we drove southeast across the valley on the
graded dirt Mineral Ridge Road. On the way, we passed wild hors-
es grazing out in the saltgrass. The road led us into Cave Spring
Canyon on a pleasant drive, no problem even for passenger cars.
Ten miles from the hot tub, we came to Cave Spring Cowcamp. It
was an intriguing place for a camp, barren of vegetation due to
intensive cattle grazing, stripped of all edible plants and covered
over with pulverized dried cow manure. Still, it was interesting for
its old stone cabin, dynamic cliff rock, and flowing spring. The
camp was right in the blazing sun, without even a single tree for
shade, but a quick reconnaissance upstream had produced nothing
better.
11
 We hid behind the vehicles for shade, then cooked dinner. The
F E AT U R E S
sun finally set, but by that time nobody felt like a campfire. We
needed the cool air of night, not the warmth of flames. We sat
around candle lanterns and retired early. Tomorrow would be a
long day.
In the morning, we began a circumnavigation of Rhyolite Ridge by
climbing a high bank to the east. We ended up in a narrow defile
ending at a series of high cliffs peeling off the top of the ridge.
There was no spring despite the map's allegation, so we continued
across the base of the ridge to the next drainage, a huge trench
cutting back into the ridge with willows and wild roses in two
places. We bypassed this and headed farther along to the main
wash that led east.
These first two hours, we were in deep shade. Now, as the sun
rose, we were in trouble. It was hot hiking in loose sand and peb-
bles. We stopped for a rest, then hiked farther up, taking an early
lunch under a huge juniper. Here near the head of the canyon, we
were in Utah-style
terrain, surrounded by red and black and cream-colored outcrops
draped with dark green junipers and pinyon. We turned up the
right fork, passing a beautiful cream and yellow buttress that
looked for all the world like the Navajo Sandstone, complete with
green trees growing in cracks and exfoliating rinds of rock peeling
off rounded surfaces. Following the drainage, we achieved the
canyon head with a view down off the east side of the range to
12
Big Smoky Valley below. And smoky it was! Visibility was poor,
less than twenty miles, partly from California fires and partly from
a curious temperature inversion that made the air murky and
heavy. We rested here for more than an hour, exhausted by the
heat and the sun's rays. It was good to lay down.
Later, we hiked south around the next rock knob and obtained a
view of the ridges to the southeast and south. I pointed out an
old jeep trail that would take us back to Cave Spring, but when we
started in that direction, I saw an old trail at the base of Rhyolite
Ridge that led
around to the southwest. I said, "Let's take it! Let's see where it
goes!" If it didn't pan out, we could modify our route to go the
other way.
We were not disappointed. This was a great trail, put in probably
by prospectors or the Army in the 1800s, kept open since by deer
and wild horses. The trail led under a magnificent arch, then
across terraces and hillsides, into gulches and back out. We lost it
once, then regained it. It stayed high above the base of the
mountain, where we had excellent views. While on the trail, we
looked down and saw a couple of four-wheel-drives on the jeep
trail. What a boring plod that would have been, compared to our
current brush with history! We were in the tracks of the old ones
and the wild horses now, much superior to the jeep track showing
on the map.
The Survivor Fall 2002
We followed the trail through the trees and brush. It led, as I sus-
pected, right to the next water source, North Spring, halfway down
off the mountain at 7100'. The spring supported a small meadow.
Water ran from a pipe into a small wooden trough. A couple of
us sampled the water and it was good. Wild horse tracks were all
over the place. I noted it on the map, possibly for a future back-
pack trip. It would be especially good if this trail linked up with
another that I suspect runs (or ran) right across the valley to the
opposite rim.
From North Spring, we had a long view across the open inner val-
ley at the head of Cave Spring Creek. Red Mountain (8957')
anchors the ridge to the south. A long ridge runs along the east
side culminating in a peak at elevation 8380'. The valley is a rec-
tangle roughly two miles on a side. Only Mineral Ridge Road and
a couple of spurs running through it mar the sense of open wild-
ness, and most persons driving through don't even get out of their
cars. The view of Red Mountain, sticking way up, is especially
impressive.
The hike after North Spring was an anti-climax. We went back to
the cars as fast as we pleased, knowing it was all downhill, and tak-
ing our shade where we could. The north side of Rhyolite Ridge
along the road was photogenic also, with the same Utah-esque
landforms, with colorful yellow, lavender and grey rhyolite in place
of sandstone. Rock layers were horizontal, stacked on top of one
other, extending out into the canyon in rounded buttresses, punc-
tuated by sharp cliffs and deep clefts interrupted by little dry falls.
This day's hike made me nostalgic for Utah in its early days, before
the off-roaders took over, before the hordes of hikers brought on
by Michael Kelsey and his never-ending series of saturation-level
hiking guides.
We headed for higher country on the last day, as we had done on
the Lava Beds trip. Some of the hikers left. The rest of us drove
to Coyote Summit on Mineral Ridge Road for a climb of Red
Mountain. We started up the ridge on the south side of the peak,
but soon ran out of energy. There was little enthusiasm for a
long, tough hike after the previous day's exertions so, when we
found a trail cutting across the peak's west side, we took it. This
was another old trail with brush and mature trees growing across
and even in it. It almost assuredly belonged to the 19th century,
and I couldn't help thinking that it may have been the continuation
of the trail we had been on as we skirted Rhyolite Ridge. That
would be a treat, to connect the two up someday.
We struggled through dense trees, losing the trail, then regaining it.
At one point, we became separated, and had to call for each other
through the trees. We came upon a lovely little rattlesnake in the
woods, curled around a stump. It even rattled, a rarity nowadays.
At 8200', it was one of the highest elevation rattlers I've encoun-
tered. We found many cut stumps from the old mining days, when
wood was used in the mining camps for heating and for the
smelters. We reached timberline on the ridge just below the huge
bulk of Red Mountain. We were above the trees in Nevada's
upper sagebrush community, windblown and barren, too dry for
ponderosa pine and too cold for pinyons. We stopped for a short
lunch and enjoyed the view across the inner valley toward Rhyolite
Ridge. Craig King decided to go back to the cars by climbing the
The Survivor Fall 2002
peak; he was fresh and strong, not having done the thirteen-mile
TRIP REPORTS
hike of the previous day. The rest of us retraced our tracks to the
cars.
On the way out, we stopped at the hot springs again for a swim, as
refreshing as ever. Then we headed home, enjoying fresh air blow-
ing over us through the car windows. We'd experienced enough
heat for the weekend.
The Silver Peak Range offers lots of hiking opportunities. Most
of it is good even in summer because of the ample shade. The
Desert Trail passes through the western half, but this eastern half
also has its charms. Someday I'll be back to do the mystery trails
on a backpack, to see where they go. There is ample water at sev-
eral of the springs, which makes even midsummer backpacking
easier. On the topos I can see a long looping route that passes
through North
Spring and over the windswept ridges west of Piper Peak, right
along the crestline. I think I'll get out my map measurer and cal-
culator to find out just how feasible it is, how many ups and
downs, and how long. As for the views from the ridgeline, it's
futile to try measuring
those, except in units of inspiration.
Bodie Ghost Town
August 16-18, 2002, Bodie, CA
By Jessica A. Ward
N
ine Desert Survivors met in the Bodie parking lot and
waited patiently for our trip leader, Bob, to show up. Ten
minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty, and finally forty.
The Survivors who were there -- Allan and his daughter Angela,
Kelly, Loretta, and Loretta’s grandchildren Cody, Denver, Lil' Jess,
Warren and me, were wondering where Bob was and whether or
not to start without him. Finally, we spotted Bob’s Volkswagen
Bus and the trip officially started.
We debated whether we should explore the ghost town or find a
campsite first. We decided that we would find our campsite first
due to the fact that a large group of historical preservationists,
nicknamed the Red Shirts, were also in Bodie and we didn't want
our spot taken. We drove about two and a half miles on the road
to Mesonic and then took the first left turn up a dirt road. We had
to get up a sandy hill, which was difficult for some of the cars.
After we all got up the hill, we had to drive over a rocky area,
which also didn't agree with some of the vehicles. We marked our
territory by parking the cars and setting up a tent.
After that we ate lunch and Bob talked to everyone about rat-
tlesnakes, ticks, and other dangers. Bob then asked who would be
taking notes to write the trip description, and Loretta volunteered
me. Around 1:30, when everyone was finished eating and every-
thing was put up and away, we drove back to Bodie to explore the
town. We went off in a couple different groups and observed the
aged buildings. Although none of us went, there was also a tour to
Paul Menkes taking a break in Ash Meadows
13
 explore a stamp mill. When everyone met up again, we drove back
TRIP REPORTS
to the campsite where it was decided that we would go on a small
three-mile hike to a river.
Bob and Mari drove the Bus to the river while the rest of us
walked along the dirt road. When we were almost there, Bob and
Mari drove back and told us they couldn't find any water. So we all
piled into the bus and rode back to the campsite. The kids rock
climbed for a while and then a fire was started and the kids sat
around it and told scary (disturbing and grotesque) stories, while
eating dinner. The adults then took over the campfire and talked
about several different things when the kids went to sleep. They
dispersed at about 10:30 when they began to get tired.
Getting up the next morning was very slow and it took everyone
awhile to get their food, water, and everything else together for the
hike. When everyone was ready, a couple of us walked down the
hill and waited for everyone else to come down in Bob’s bus.
When they didn't come down, Warren and Loretta went ahead,
while Alan, Angie, Kelly and I waited a little longer for the bus.
After a couple minutes cloud of dust was seen and Bob's
Volkswagen started down the hill. They picked up those who had
waited at the bottom of the hill, and then proceeded to pick up
Warren and Loretta.
Trying to find the trailhead, Bob drove down a somewhat steep
incline and Loretta started to panic. It wasn't until we got down
the incline that Bob realized it wasn't the right road, and turned
around to go back up. Loretta was terrified as the bus started back
up and, when it got stuck, she flung herself out of the vehicle.
The Volkswagen got up without mishap and, leaving Angie and
Loretta who wanted to walk, drove further up the road. Bob and
Mari dropped the rest of us off there and then went to park the
Volkswagen further up the road.
Those of us who had gotten dropped off waited for Loretta and
Angie. When they caught up, we all proceeded down a hill, where
we were supposed to meet Bob and Mari. When we got there, we
waited for a while thinking that Bob and Mari hadn't gotten there
yet. After about twenty minutes we decided to go on ahead. About
a mile up the trail, we ran into Bob who had just started back to
look for us. He took us back to where Mari was waiting, and after
a quick break we continued on our way.
We walked until we found a nice spot by the stream where we ate
lunch and some of the hikers dipped their feet in the water. The
trail and lunch stop were very dusty and bug infested. After we fin-
ished eating we continued walking. As we went on, we began to
see paw prints on the trail. It took us awhile to figure it out, but
we (mainly Bob) came to the conclusion that it was a bear print,
unusual for that area. As we neared the point where we were sup-
posed to make the loop back around, we spotted an old cabin and
went to explore it. The cabin was in bad shape, the wood was rot-
ted and one of the walls had fallen apart. Outside the cabin, there
were a couple trees with writing carved into the bark; we came to
the assumption that it was a sheepherder's shack.
We went on ahead but, after we'd climbed down a rocky incline
and walked alongside the water, we realized the underbrush was
too thick to continue. We decided that it was best to turn around
14
and go the way we'd come. The trip back was less eventful and the
dust and heat were something of a torture to a few of us. As we
neared the Volkswagen, a couple people began to get low on
water, but we made it back without anyone keeling over from
dehydration.
Everyone rode in the Volkswagen back to camp, where some of
the adults rested, some talked, and the kids played on the rocks
again. That night was pretty much the same; the kids went to bed
after dinner, and the adults talked around the campfire. They chat-
ted, once more, about many different things, until Bob fell asleep
at the fire. The next morning consisted of everyone packing his or
her things and getting ready to leave, and saying goodbye.
Jessica Ward, 14, has been on half a dozen DS trips with her
grandmother, Loretta Bauer. This is her first contribution to the
Survivor.
Lunar Crater Carcamp
August 31-September 1, 2002, Central NV
By Steve Tabor
T
his carcamp to an exotic terrain in Central Nevada was a
showcase of volcanic geology. We witnessed two genera-
tions of eruptions: an early rhyolite sequence, now much
cut by basin and range faults, and a more recent sequence of
explosion pits ("maars") and cinder cones with basalt lava. A pair
of geology maps and a short monograph helped with the interpre-
tation. Benign weather also helped; the intense heat of summer
was largely gone.
We did our first hike up a gentle trail to the rim of Easy Chair.
The crater was about one-third of a mile wide, and had a flat floor
with a small clay pan in the center. The interior was fairly steep,
but only a little bit cliffy. There was no lava at the base, nor were
their any cinders on the sides. These are characteristics of maars,
which are formed during steam explosions, not traditional erup-
tions. The theory is that hot gasses rise on fissures into a moist
subsurface, causing steam to form and vent explosively.
In the case of both Easy Chair and Lunar, the explosions tore
through the valley floor and lava beds just beneath, showering the
surrounding area with debris derived from the older flows. Once
the steam is vented, the event has ended. The only lava exposed is
The Survivor Fall 2002
what shows in the sides of the pit from the previous eruption. rim, was off to the southwest, where a gulch had formed due to

TRIP REPORTS
Both craters are aligned along fissures and are backed by cinder flood waters breaking through both the black basalt and the pink
cones aligned on the same fissures. At Easy Chair, we hiked up rhyolite underneath. The maar explosion had blown all the way
the cinder cone adjoining the west rim and climbed to the top, through both. We headed there to find a way out, and also to get
where we had a great view of the volcanic field to the east, south into the shade of the cool vertical walls drained by the gulch. We
and west. Both east and west were long linear ridges of 25-mil- rested in the shade partway up the wall, enjoying conversation and
lion-year-old rhyolite, separated by faults that are parallel to the fis- the cool water we'd brought. A half hour later, we started up the
sures aligning the cindercones and maars, roughly at 40 degrees sides, aiming for a ledge cutting across the next to topmost layer.
east of north. Also to the east, we could see the bright white It was a huffer and puffer for me I took short steps and rested
expanse of Lunar Lake, which would later be the site of our camp. frequently. The crux of the climb was the narrow two foot wide
To the west was Palisade Mesa, where we would hike two days ledge near the top. Once past that, we were okay. On the last rise,
hence. Directly south was Lunar Crater, at the base of another I climbed over the rim, stumbled, and put my left hand right into
cinder cone. Its rim could just barely be seen. one of the few small cacti present. Ten minutes later, I had gotten
out most of the thirty spines embedded in my hand, using tweez-
After gazing at the scenery to the south, we walked north along ers. The rest are still there three weeks later, festering under tiny
the ridge for a short distance to look out over the plain. On the calluses. At the rim, 430 feet from the bottom, we rested awhile,
other side of Route 6 was a fresher basalt flow and cone, probably then hiked around the rim to our cars on the north side. As we
only a few thousand years old. We could also see the northern did so, some antelope passed by in the valley to our left. Other
part of the Pancake Range, the site of my late September fossil hikers had seen them in the bottom of the crater. Along the way,
hunt in the limestones. In late morning, we hiked down off the we found obsidian shards on the rim and many fragments of pink
cinder cone onto the east rim of Easy Chair. It was a steep bear rhyolite blown out of the crater from the throat of the pit below.
to descend. We were slipping and sliding on loose cinders, round It must have been quite an explosion! The geological monograph
volcanic bombs and rubble. tells of a fragment of granite found here also, probably from sev-
eral thousand feet down.
When we reached the cars, we drove back out to the main graded
road and headed south to Lunar Crater. We ate lunch on the rim, In late afternoon, we drove eastward toward The Wall, our hiking
right out in the sun without trying to hide from it. The tempera- destination the following day. Farther on, we turned a corner to
ture was a balmy 86 F. at an elevation of 6002'. In the afternoon, go north on the graded road. Soon after, we ran into a dust pit
we hiked down into the crater on a rough route discovered by hik- occupying the entire width of the road. It was seemingly bottom-
ers Bob Wallace and Alan Brown. They'd dived right into the
crater without eating
lunch. Afterward, most
of the rest of us followed
them. The route went
down through a loose and
rubbly crack in the main
flow around the rim,
dropping over short rock
cliffs and loose talus. We
had to be careful, moving
through one at a time. At
length, we got to easier
terrain and dropped to
the bottom, which was
occupied by a mud flat
grown to a healthy stand
of four-wing saltbush. It
was good to be on stable
ground. It was an eerie
feeling to be at the bot-
tom of the crater, which
was completely enclosed
and rimmed round by
basalt cliffs in almost a
perfect circle. The cliff
was broken in only a few
places; I began to look
for ways out. The most
likely exit, and the most
interesting part of the

The Survivor Fall 2002 15

 less and we were submerged in billowing clouds of dust that cas-
TRIP REPORTS
caded down all the windows. We were driving through an extend-
ed part of the bed of Lunar Lake without even knowing it! I
prayed that we would not hit a rock or bust a wheel rim in an
unseen hole, but there was nothing for it but to continue. If we
stopped, we might run aground or get stuck in the soft stuff. An
eighth of a mile later (it seemed longer), we hit hard dirt again,
and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I saw a short road on a beach berm that led to Lunar Lake. I got
out at the lake shore and tested the surface of the playa, which
looked wet. It was okay, so this would be our camp. Nearby was a
little pool of water! It must have rained sometime in the summer,
probably the same rain that had greened up the greasewood in the
Silver Peak Range in July. Fresh coyote, kit fox and antelope tracks
were impressed in the soft mud. This was a true, if temporary,
desert oasis!. As we were leaving the next morning, four antelope
came down to drink at the pool. It was a good sendoff.
The Saturday hike, to the top of The Wall and along its crest, was
a long convoluted one that lasted all day and into the night. We
hiked up a canyon that led to the rim of The Wall, diving behind
rocks for shade from time to time. It felt hotter because we were
hiking directly into the sun. Early morning is always the worst
time to be in the desert when you're traveling east. We got to the
crest and spent the rest of the day on it, with great views in all
directions. Up at this level, above 6500', we had plenty of trees for
shade, but the hike was overlong, drawn-out, and too stressful for
some of the hikers. The farthest point at the south end of the
ridge was too difficult to get to, and we had to give it up, as we ran
out of time in the afternoon. As it was, some of us didn't make it
back until after dark (a practice not unknown on DS hikes in the
winter, but rarer in the summer when the days are fourteen hours
long).
I remember much about the hike: the great views, looking down
on the slanted and fault-cut mesas to the north and southwest,
beautiful stands of junipers on the plateau top, isolated specimens
of Mojave mound cactus scattered here and there in the rocks,
standing on top of cliff faces trying to figure out the intricate
courses of canyons that may or may not go through. At one
point, we were forced down between giant fins of rhyolite and
around bulbous masses of rock heavily cut by fissures. Both the
top and sides of the rim had been eroded into fantastic shapes.
The place reminded me of Arches National Park with its sand-
stone fins, dry falls, domes and pinnacles. Many of the plants we
saw would be more at home in the higher mountains to the north,
in the Park or Hot Creek Ranges. At one point, we found a single
mountain ball cactus. It looked like a baseball, 7/8ths buried in
the dirt and covered with short spines.
Once I'd decided to return to the cars, we hiked as fast as we
could to get off the rim. Being out all day, some of us had taken
on a lot of heat and sun. Hikers were slowing down, and we had
to wait for them. It was sunset before we emerged from the last
canyon, and a merciful sunset it was! Partway down, I'd sent the
faster hikers ahead to see if we'd be stopped by dry falls. They
never came back, so I surmised that they'd made it through. That
group made it back to the cars early, and one of them came back
with his car to pick up the rest of us. By that time, we'd hiked
16
thirteen and one-half miles; they'd hiked sixteen. A weary group
of hikers sat down to eat that night.
On the last day, we drove to Palisade Mesa for a half day hike to
Sandy Summit Spring. This misnamed spring is actually four miles
from Sandy Summit, which is on the highway. We hiked a mile to
the spring, which was located in a narrow cleft cut into the mesa.
It was a healthy jaunt, mostly on animal trail, to the lower spring,
marked by a swatch of willows. Farther up was another spring
with a larger willow patch, where water bubbled out of the
ground. The drainage had been swept over by a flashflood that
summer. We hiked another half mile up onto the rim, where we
had a great view back down the cleft and out over the desert. The
top of the plateau was a hardscrabble surface of bare rock with
juniper trees growing out of fissures. Across the cleft, huge fins
and convoluted erosional forms bend down to the edge, the tops
of pinnacles resembling the "beehive" erosional form of Utah
sandstone, like those on The Wall. In her zeal for exploration, one
of the hikers, 15-year-old Dafna Bitton, strayed into difficult ter-
rain, testing her climbing skills as she rose higher. By the time
we'd reached the top, she looked very small amidst all the fins and
cliff faces. When we started back, she came down to meet us,
reporting on her adventure. Partway up was a cave with owl drop-
pings and bones. The climbing had not been that difficult, she
said. After watching Dafna, both I and her mother were glad that
her 11-year-old sister had stayed with the group. The younger girl,
Ayelet, had been with us through the length of the previous day,
on the thirteen-miler. The 600-foot climb this last day was, there-
fore, no big deal for her. Both girls had lots of energy. I'm
already lobbying them to become trip leaders.
In our three days, we witnessed most of the elements of the Lunar
Crater Geological Area. It's a great place for a car camp. The
roads are in pretty good shape: we encountered difficulty only at
the dust pit. Both The Wall and Palisade Mesa are Wilderness
Study Areas, as are the many square miles of mesas to the south.
A through road, rough in spots, divides the two. There is plenty
of room to explore. Even the BLM recommends both for
Wilderness, probably because the rock is all volcanic and has "no
mineral potential."
For information, call or write the Bureau of Land Management,
PO Box 911, Tonopah, NV 89049-0911, tel: (775) 482-7800. The
geology maps are U.S.G.S. Maps I-700 and I-719. There is an
excellent monograph, U.S.G.S. Professional Paper 599-I.
A Tale of Two (Nevada)
Springs
By Bill Johansson, Stockton, CA
T
he very first desert spring I "discovered" was Pigeon
Spring, west of Lida, Nevada in Esmeralda County. Since
then I have hiked to several other springs, including Indian
Spring, which is near Pigeon Spring, and Daylight Spring in
California. It is a fascinating hobby, shared I’m sure by other
The Survivor Fall 2002
desert lovers.

TRIP REPORTS
The highlights of my latest trip to Nevada were two springs,
Powell Canyon Spring and Double Spring.

In the driest part of summer, in the month of September, my

friend Louie and I headed through the sagebrush of southern
Mineral County in the Nevada desert to find Powell Canyon
Spring. The area we explored is in the Humboldt-Toiyabe National
Forest, south of Hawthorne. We knew we had found the spring
when we saw the lush vegetation. We could not see water, but
there might have been some hidden in the brambles. We hiked up
the main canyon for a while, then we followed a tributary. On the
way back I tried again to find water at the surface, to no avail. The
sun broke out for a while, then partly hid behind the clouds.

We later went to find Double Spring, located in Douglas County,

Nevada, south of Gardnerville. Despite the name, there are actual-
ly three small springs almost right next to each other. The area was
trampled by cows, but there was water! I took a sample from the
middle spring. There is a Nevada Historical Marker just south of
the springs.

The Survivor Fall 2002 17

TRIP REPORTS
ISSUES WATCH
By Janet Johnson, Hayward, CA and Bob Ellis, Berkeley, CA
In an atmosphere of concern for national security and calls for
pre-emptive attack, threats to the desert ecosystem remain very
real. While the Bush administration actively works to protect the
"homeland," it continues to undermine the protection of its public
lands, national parks and wilderness regions. Under this adminis-
tration, environmental protections and review processes have been
weakened or eliminated altogether. Riding on an approval rating
of 70 percent, President Bush has recently announced his inten-
tion to revisit the issue of oil exploration within the Arctic
Reserve. When our elected representatives consider opposition to
be unpatriotic and political suicide, who will fight to protect the
environment?
Water Issues: Cadiz
Water Grab Project
On August 26th the Department of the Interior signed the Record
of Decision approving the BLM’s granting of a right-of-way of
over 35 miles of desert for the pipeline and powerline to take
water to and from the Cadiz project site. Last November Desert
Survivors filed a protest in regard to the right-of-way analysis.
Despite federal regulations requiring prompt notification of
protest decisions in regard to records of decision, Desert
Survivors has not to date been informed about the dismissal of
our protest. Task force leader Bob Ellis discovered that the map
that the BLM used to depict the approved pipeline alignment was
significantly different that the Final EIR alignment map. Both the
BLM and Metropolitan Water District (MWD) have stated that this
was merely an "illustration" error. Both deny that any change was
made from the Final. They also deny that the alignment depicted
on the released map was even studied.
Despite this development, the project is not a sure thing. MWD
has not yet given its final approval. Public hearings are scheduled
for October and the coalition of environmental groups opposing
Cadiz, which includes Desert Survivors, will testify. Political pres-
sure has made the MWD back off somewhat from their earlier
support of this project. It is significant that the issue has received
national media attention, most recently in the national pages of
the New York Times on August 31st. In addition, Senator Dianne
Feinstein has inserted language into the Senate version of the
appropriations bill prohibiting the BLM from spending any money
on the Cadiz project in the fiscal year beginning in October.
Letters to Senator Feinstein supporting her actions can only help
her to stand tough in the face of her opponents in the Senate. All
delays can be beneficial. Cadiz, Inc. is financially weak and, with
luck, will go bankrupt before it can implement this disastrous
scheme. [See also "Cadiz Project Awaits Final Decision" by Li
Miao, this issue – Ed.]
18
Other Water Issues
Southern California’s need for more and more water impacts
many regions in the state. California is required under the terms
of a 1999 multistate agreement to reduce its overuse of Colorado
River water. California currently exceeds its allocation by 20 per-
cent. Neighboring states like Nevada and Arizona are now using
the allocations they once allowed to flow downstream. The City
of San Diego, on behalf of its urban users, is considering a pro-
posal to pay tens of millions of dollars to farmers in the Imperial
Valley to buy up their Colorado River water rights. This deal is
complicated by concerns about environmental damage to the
Salton Sea, which depends on agricultural runoff. However, San
Diego has sweetened the pot, and increased pressure, by offering
an additional $165 million over 15 years if farmers agree to take 10
percent of their land out of production. The Center for
Biological Diversity, Sierra Club and the Cabazon Band of Mission
Indians joined together to file a lawsuit on September 4th against
Secretary of the Interior Gale Norton to protect the Salton Sea
from over-salinization. As California’s wetlands have disappeared,
the Salton Sea has become increasingly important as habitat for
hundreds of species of migratory waterfowl and other birds on
the Pacific Flyway.
Also in jeopardy is a plan to restore 61 miles of the lower Owens
River. This stretch has been mostly dry since 1913, when nearly its
entire flow was diverted into the (then new) Los Angeles
Aqueduct. The story of the Owens River is the classic case of
water robbery at its worst. Los Angeles was given the water it
needed to grow into a modern metropolis and a green, fertile
region of the state disappeared when the lower river was killed,
causing Owens Lake to dry up. Under the terms of a 1997 agree-
ment, the restored Owens River was supposed to flow again in
2003. Now the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power is
stalling to keep Owens Valley water for the city. [See also "The
Life of the Mojave River," by Joseph Pendleton, this issue –Ed.]
Desert Mines: Briggs
Mine Expansion
Desert Survivors submitted comments on the Briggs Mine explo-
ration in early August. If permitted, the Briggs operators would
be allowed to bulldoze over 22 miles of new roads in a relatively
pristine area of the Panamints, six miles north of the current mine
and up to 4,000 feet on the mountainside. In our comments, we
said the potential damage to the viewshed should require a com-
plete Environmental Impact Study (EIS), and that no activity
should be permitted until a full assessment is done; this was the
message from the Sierra Club as well as other commenters. The
BLM’s Environmental Assessment failed to sufficiently address air
The Survivor Fall 2002
pollution, reclamation and visual impact issues. In addition, the
Timbisha Tribe has declared the Panamints to be sacred lands to
their tribe and have opposed any mining. Legislation pending at
both the state and federal levels favors stronger protection for
Native American sacred lands. The state bill would amend both
CEQA and the Surface Mining and Reclamation Act of 1975 to
assure that a measure of respect be accorded to sites sacred to
Native Americans. Passage of these bills would also help the
Quechan Tribe in its battle against the Glamis Gold Mine. We
don't expect that BLM will follow our advice, and we expect a
decision soon that will allow Briggs to go ahead and plow new
roads. If support can be found, a lawsuit against the BLM to
attempt to force an EIS is a possibility; DS would be asked to sign
on to this lawsuit as a co-plaintiff. This would be a precedent-set-
ting action as no mining exploration up to now has required an
EIS at this level. Supporters believe there is some chance of a
lawsuit succeeding, however, because of the national importance
and world-class status of the Death Valley region.
Off Road Vehicles:
Surprise Canyon and
Utah’s Red Rock
On behalf of Desert Survivors, Dave McMullen submitted official
comments to the BLM to support the temporary closure of
Surprise Canyon to off road vehicles (ORVs). Dave’s comment
letter further supported amending the California Desert
Conservation Area Plan to make the closure permanent.
Destruction of habitat, noise pollution, endangered species protec-
tion, and protection of cultural sites were among the arguments
advanced for denying any future access to ORVs. Damage inflict-
ed by trucks being winched up dry waterfalls, stains from ruptured
oil pans and gasoline spills near water sources are just a few of the
reasons to support the closure of Surprise Canyon to any motor-
ized activity. In a related ruling, the Tenth Circuit Court of
Appeals in Denver, Colorado issued a decision on August 29th
that the BLM can be held accountable for its failure to protect
Utah’s red rock country from ORV damage. The Tenth Circuit’s
decision overturned a Utah federal district judge’s December 2000
ruling which had dismissed claims by conservationists that the
Utah BLM was permitting rampant ORV use to damage fragile
southern Utah landscapes. The BLM has been placed on notice
that they must take responsibility for the management of public
lands.
Eagle Mountain Landfill
The Center for Biological Diversity recently announced plans to
file a lawsuit in federal court to block the landfill at Eagle
Mountain. Environmental groups led by the Center and the Sierra
Club, along with local landowners Donna and Larry Charpied,
intend to sue the landfill operators along with the BLM, US Fish
and Wildlife Service and the Department of the Interior. At issue
The Survivor Fall 2002
is the defendants’ failure to maintain tunnels and ballasts that are
TRIP REPORTS
meant to allow desert tortoises to safely move over and under the
tracks of the railroad, which transports the trash to the dump site.
A previous suit is attempting to void the previous BLM land trans-
fer, as well as enforce the reversion of certain of the lands to pub-
lic ownership. Opposition to the proposed landfill, situated on the
eastern edge of Joshua Tree National Park, has successfully
blocked the project for several years.
Wilderness
September 3rd was the protest deadline for the BLM’s NECO
(Northern and Eastern Colorado desert, south of I-40 and east of
Joshua Tree) plan. Desert Survivors signed on to a group protest
headed by the California Wilderness Coalition, which focused on
the BLM’s intent to install 22 new bighorn sheep guzzlers in
wilderness areas in the desert. In addition, the Desert Tortoise
Preserve Committee filed a protest concerning the lack of an alter-
native implementing the 1994 tortoise recovery plan. ORV groups
are also believed to have submitted protests. The BLM will
attempt to resolve the protests by early October and come out
with a Record of Decision in late October on this plan. This
record will be signed at the Department of the Interior level and
appeal to the IBLA will not be possible. Also in September, a
group of "wilderness interested folks" re-visited the five proposed
wilderness areas in the bill sponsored by Senator Barbara Boxer.
They were updating survey data and looking for roads or any other
conflicts. Senator Dianne Feinstein still has not signed on as a
cosponsor of Boxer’s wilderness bill.
Steve Tabor submitted comments, on behalf of Desert Survivors,
on several wilderness related issues. Desert Survivors opposes the
construction of an exceedingly expensive fence inside the Owens
Peak Wilderness to protect the burned part of Sand Canyon from
grazing cattle. This is not allowed under the Wilderness Act. As
an alternative to building the fence, Steve proposed moving the
cattle out of the wilderness. Steve also proposed a "No Grazing"
alternative for the Pine Forest Grazing Allotment, which straddles
two WSAs and one Wilderness Area (Black Rock Desert). In
response to a BLM proposal to use chemical herbicides to kill
tamarisk infestations in the Dead Mountains and elsewhere, Steve
wrote and demanded that herbicides not be used around water.
Daniel Peterson of the Center for Biological Diversity has put out
a request for volunteers. The Center needs help monitoring for
cattle in excluded desert tortoise habitat in November, mainly in
the Barstow and Needles field office areas. People are also needed
to participate in BLM weekend overflights of the Algodones Sand
Dunes to monitor for off road violations in closed areas. The
Saturday flights will begin in mid-October. If interested please
contact Daniel at (909) 659-6053 x306 or
www.biologicaldiversity.org.
19
 CADIZ
TRIP REPORTS

20 The Survivor Fall 2002

Cadiz Project Awaits Final Decision million dollar debt coming to term in January, it stands to benefit

by Li Miao, San Francisco, CA
The controversial Cadiz project to sell Mojave Desert water to
Southern California faces a vote by the Metropolitan Water
District board as early as November, and possibly in January.
After years of exceeding its allocation of Colorado River water,
the MWD of Southern California must come up with plans by
Dec. 31st to cut its excess usage. MWD’s joint project with Cadiz
Inc. would extract native groundwater from beneath Cadiz’ San
Bernadino County holdings, as well as store water from the
Colorado River in surplus years.
TRIP REPORTS
from the deal. CEO Keith Brackpool is a major financial contribu-
tor to Governor Gray Davis, who has put Brackpool on at least
two advisory panels concerning the state’s water resources.
With a year-end deadline to reduce dependency on Colorado River
water, the MWD is also looking at other plans that may be more
cost-effective than the Cadiz proposal. While the board’s vote on
the Cadiz project is pending, Feinstein’s budgetary move to kill the
deal presents a wild card. After years of public debate, the fate of
Southern California’s water supply could be determined in the
weeks ahead.
[Hall, can you put the following text in a box, please, to highlight?]

The proposed purchase of municipal water from a private corpo-
ration is unprecedented in California. But this water would come
from more than private holdings. The aquifer under Cadiz’s prop-
erty drains 1.7 million acres of public land, including five BLM
wilderness areas and the Mojave National Preserve. These provide
habitat for the desert bighorn and threatened desert tortoise.
For more information, visit the BLM weekly update of published
articles and reports:
www.ca.blm.gov/news/newsbytes/2002 and click on a recent link.
To take action:

Concerns have been raised about the feasibility of the project, and Sign the National Parks Conservation Association petition oppos-
the potential damage to the desert ecosystem. Both Senator ing the Cadiz project at: www.thepetitionsite.com
Dianne Feinstein and Representative Jerry Lewis expressed opposi-
tion on the grounds of creating another Owens Valley debacle, Attend a public hearing scheduled by the MWD; for project
which generated huge dust storms and subsequent lawsuits. updates and schedule see
Feinstein is attempting to block funding for the Cadiz Project in www.mwd.dst.ca.us/mwdh2o/pages/news/cadiz01.html
this year’s spending bill for the Department of the Interior.
Thank Dianne Feinstein for her support in protecting the desert;
But the deal has already cleared several hurdles this year. In for contact information visit http://feinstein.senate.gov/contact
August, the Department of the Interior granted a right-of-way for
the construction of a 35-mile pipeline and power facilities con-
necting the MWD’s Colorado River aqueduct to the aquifer
beneath Cadiz Inc.’s property. Desert Survivor’s formal protest of
the final EIR was summarily denied, on the same day that the
agency signed the Record of Decision allowing the construction
on BLM lands.

Officials at the Interior Department and Cadiz Inc. said that the
management plan is based on scientific scrutiny and careful moni-
toring. But scientists from the Interior Department’s own US
Geological Survey (USGS) and the Pacific Institute have ques-
tioned the amount of native water that can be extracted, and the
costs of such a project. According to the USGS, the desert aquifer
cannot give up as much water as the MWD and Cadiz had claimed
in their projections. The recharge rates projected in the draft
EIS/EIR were 5 to 25 times greater than what USGS found in
their calculations.

Cost projections done by MWD consultants also don’t seem to

hold water. An economic report from the Pacific Institute cited
water costs of $850 per acre-foot, 45% above MWD estimates.
Southern California residents currently pay around $400 per acre-
foot for wholesale water.

"The Cadiz project doesn’t make much economic sense," said

economist Gary Wolff in a Pacific Institute press release, noting
cheaper alternatives. "Unless, of course, you are a stockholder in
Cadiz, Inc." But Cadiz is financially on the rocks, and with a $64

The Survivor Fall 2002 21

 3
TRIP REPORTS

22 The Survivor Fall 2002

 TRIP REPORTS

The Survivor Fall 2002 23

BOOK REVIEWS

Attending A Salute to American Authors

at the White House
By Cathy Luchetti, Berkeley, CA once been raw planks and a dirt floor. The presidential succession,

T
he invitation read, "Laura Bush requests the pleasure of whether faulty and onerous or heroic and inspiring, was still freely
your company at a breakfast reception and White House in place. And my thank-you letter to Laura would have another
Symposium on ‘Women of the West," Tuesday, September request for an interview.
17, 2002, part of her Salute to American Authors series."
Surprised, I tried to figure out the reason for the invitation. My
first book was titled Women of the West, and I had grown up in
the same hometown as George and Laura Bush. Moreover, I had
asked them for an interview for a current book I was writing. Her
secretary informed me that the
interview was "under consider-
ation." Then came the invita- At the break I fought
my way around Millie,
tion.
the White House dog, to finally speak to
The symposium subject would Laura Bush. She was gracious and smiling.
be three women writers who I introduced myself. She said something
are often overlooked today: like, "um hum" and smiled, graciously
Willa Cather, Edna Ferber and
Laura Ingalls Wilder. Yet each
had embraced the frontier, its rolling plains, starry skies, back-
woods and deserts. What better setting to promote today’s envi-
ronmental concerns? At the heavily-barricaded entrance to the
East Wing, I reviewed my position: mention Desert Survivors,
wonder aloud what Archbishop Latour, of Willa Cather’s Death
Comes to the Archbishop, would have thought about Yucca
Mountain? Muse that Little House on the Prairie’s Pa would have
nowhere else to move today if he got nervous about civilization.
And, what wild grasses would now wave for Willa?!

I joined a group of 30 or so women milling around the guard

house at the East Entrance of the White House. ID’s were
checked, and the huge gates unraveled and lifted up, part Star
Wars, part King Arthur. Once inside, we were carefully escorted
through a series of ornate rooms to a long table covered with pas-
tries. I nibbled and drank coffee, meeting historians, museum
directors, and authors. None of us knew what was happening—
who was part of the "symposium?" Were we going to speak?
Contribute? Discuss? And where was Laura?

The military guys nudged us toward an even more ornate room.

Finally, the first lady! Petite and quite lovely, with one eyebrow
cocked quizzically high, she introduced the program: six speakers
who would inform us about the lives of these authors, with time at
the end for discussion.

At the break I fought my way around Millie, the White House dog,
to finally speak to Laura Bush. She was gracious and smiling. I
introduced myself. She said something like, "um hum" and smiled,
graciously. Military men suddenly appeared and it was time to
reenter the symposium even though I still had much left to say.

The "Salute to American Authors" was different than what I’d

envisioned but still, an altogether awesome and impressive event.
As a historian, I felt the weight of time settle around me. The
library that gleamed with oiled leather and polished wood had

24 The Survivor Fall 2002


Wildflowers of the
Eastern Sierra and adjoin-
ing Mojave Desert and
Great Basin
by Laird R. Blackwell, Lone Pine Publishing, 2002
Reviewed by Tamia Marg, Berkeley, CA
T
his flower guide is organized around four zones: Mojave
Desert Scrub (to 4500 feet), Great Basin Sagebrush Steppe
(4500-7500 feet, including pinyon-juniper forest), Mixed
Conifer Forest (7500-11,500 feet, including subalpine forest), and
Alpine (above 11,500 feet). A few pages describe each environ-
mental zone and, most importantly, where and when to see the
flowers there. As the title suggests, the focus of the book is the
eastern escarpment of the Sierras, including its interface with the
Mojave and Great Basin.
The plants of each zone are organized by the color of their flow-
ers — white, yellow, pink or red, blue or purple, or other (greenish
or multi-colored). The photos usually include both close-up and
midrange shots, capturing identifying details as well as the general
habit. For identification at a glance, the salient points are highlight-
ed in the descriptive paragraph, and the specific color, number of
petals, and months of bloom are in bold along the bottom of each
selection. A sentence or two describes the etymology of the Latin
name and mentions other common names. Where the plant is
found is noted by terrain type, county, and elevation, with exam-
ples of areas, roads, or trails and what month flowers are bloom-
ing in those places. If there are any related species, those are com-
pared and contrasted. A quick key to the 366 species — more than
a dozen pages of thumbnails of flower shots, sorted by color —
The Survivor Fall 2002
acts as a pictorial index in the front of the book. My only gripe
TRIP REPORTS
with this otherwise excellent guide is that, while the descriptions
are thorough, any historical, cultural, or ecological facts about the
individual plants are sparse.
Tying the wildflowers into place makes this one of the best
thought-out guides I have seen. Its clear organization, layout, and
even the binding make it a pleasure to use, and the author’s pas-
sion for his subject make you want to get out there and use it.
The Shadow of the Sun
by Ryszard Kapuscinski
Reviewed by Janet Johnson, Hayward, CA
R
yszard Kapuscinski has been a foreign correspondent for
the Polish news for over four decades. He has reported on
Asia, Latin America, and Africa, and befriended Che
Guevara, Salvador Allende and Patrice Lumumba. According to
his biography, he has witnessed twenty-seven coups and revolu-
tions and was sentenced to death four times. But of all the places
he experienced, Africa held his heart. He first arrived there in
1957 and, as he puts it, The Shadow of the Sun is "the record of a
forty-year marriage."
Kapuscinski has a vividly descriptive and poetic writing style that
translates the passion he feels for the African continent. In the
first story of the book, "The Beginning: Collision, Ghana, 1958,"
the author captures the moment of stepping off a plane which
began its journey in northern Europe and has ended in the tropics.
The wonders of the sights, the smells, the blazing light and the
heat are described in a way that not only share them, but make you
want to experience them for yourself.
The stories told in The Shadow of the Sun span a period from
1958 to the nineties. They take place in many different African
countries, and cover many difference experiences. Some of the
tales carry the adventure of being a foreign correspondent trying
to place himself in the middle of revolutions and military coups.
Others give you insights to the culture of a region or tribe,
describing something as simple as a village’s morning rituals. And
then there’s the story "Salim." Hitching a ride across the Sahara in
Mauritania, Kapuscinski has no idea where he’s heading and can-
not communicate with the driver who’s offered him a ride in his
truck. It seemed like a good way to get out of the oasis he’s been
stranded in. That is until the truck breaks down. "A sudden
silence awoke me. The engine had stopped, the truck stood still. .
. . I stepped down from the cab. All around us, as far as the eye
could see, was desert. . . . A moonscape, delineated by a level hori-
zon line: the earth ends, and then there’s nothing but sky and
more sky. No hills. No sand dunes. Not a single leaf. And, of
course, no water."
The Shadow of the Sun could have been a book of adventure
tales, but it becomes something more because of the profound
respect that Kapuscinski has for the peoples and cultures of
Africa. In particular he tries to educate the reader about the cul-
ture of desert peoples and their relationship to their environment.
This above all is the beauty of the book and the poetry of its sto-
25

POETRY
Surprise Way
By Sam Moorman, September 2002
The others hike Fly Creek Canyon
while one stays behind to soak a sore ankle
in the hot spring called Catherine
and lounges around Black Rock Desert
sketching flowers
to i.d. later in the Jepson guide.
Gingerly he tries a small trek in flip-flops
heading without water into low creosote
toward something he quickly names
Nipple Peak for its shape.
With one glance back he sights a line
through camp to Snowtop Mountain
to orient a safe return.
Over this ridge should be another hot spring,
yes, and another camp where last night
they’d heard gunfire. Warily he moves inside
the deserted tent circle
to secure a wind-blown canvas awning—
then heads back; it’s time.
But halfway to the goal he halts—
like we do at a big junction in life,
because he spots a faint cross-trail
and has nothing to do in this place, this day,
but wonder where it goes…
The detour eventually contours
near his campsite where
Pat and Ralph are busy, staking a flapping tent fly.
He hails and hollers into the hot wind,
26
but none call back
louder than his pointless burro track
where stacks of clods as regular as cairns
carelessly respond, Don’t all trails lead somewhere
and all end much the same?
But I used to want my life to mean something,
a remnant of his soul replies, to go somewhere,
not just fade into a clump of sage.
Otherwise, what’s the use?
What’s the sense of it all?
Yet his dusty boots plod on. Oh, there’s a jeep-track,
quick route back—but he’s just
named his little path Surprise Way,
and now is bound to see it’s end.
He moves across the rutted road
and down
into a warm stream hollow
where he pauses, panting, hands on knees,
while his distant drip of life’s mirage
is sucked like dew into the sand’s burnt craw.
Then it happens! Next to him
a sleek jackrabbit flashes
from her hiding bush and bounds away.
"Oh, beautiful!" he cries, and it’s suddenly
Clear, where we are in this vast wilderness,
clear, why he stands here listening
to warm water mutter
about sun medallions playing over its dark ripples
like fireflies swarming in the river of night—
until his dry body’s glow
lets him know it’s time
to follow this warm stream home.
Sam Moorman is a graduate of SFSU’s Creative Writing program.
He lives in Oakland and has been a DS member for over 10 years.
The Survivor Fall 2002
Mojave River

POETRY
By Albert Geiser, Newark, DE

Crossing the Colorado, valuable things

there,
We knew all along the results
Would be ugly. The delta we didn't notice
Waters were not on the surface to see.

River aware of our weakness for rapids, she

Knew all along men's attention
Would be seeking source, some exposed water
And some comfort in the least shade.

She knew all along that greasewood and creosote,

Their diving roots whispering to
Her their fears, would be strongest against tide
Rising of these peoples' hard trails

Knew all along the red hills and dark thick trees
Would elude the arts of an era
And people would name for science a cheesebush;
A Mormon tea, a prickly cactus pear

Knew all along naming would be after their own,

Spurge and milk vetch, rubberweek,
And sandpaper plant, cord grass and seepweek
Panic grass, mule's fat and beard tongue.

She learned it all from seashell sediments where

Her water is kept in small drops
Because she heard it from the earth to listen;
Not to any tribe of people, but to wind.

Men then came to collect the pelts, later did

The mining and put together
Government geology, method of river runs
Crews of science passing by the playas.

Are claiming back before anyone lived there

Silt down her Mojave's banks
Eroded feldspar shaping a past peoples' art
Resting magnetite under our war training bases.

She knew all along there would be sightseers

At Kelso, and howeowners to be in
Their trucks around Ridgecrest and those blind
Pursuits for the tortoise and chuckwalla

She knew all along their names would be put

On poles, and one called Cadiz,
Would get the chance to poke around disturbing
The shyest roots, seeking her water to sell.

Albert Geiser has been a Desert Survivors member for 10

years. He currently lives in Delaware, and is looking forward
to returning to live west of the Rockies soon.

The Survivor Fall 2002 27

 DS Business
PROTECTING THE DESERT

[Story on AGM – Steve or Jess, photos from Janet w/ Dave M’s

camera – pls hold a 2-page spread for this]

28 The Survivor Fall 2002

 PROTECTING THE DESERT

The Survivor Fall 2002 29

PROTECTING THE DESERT

Giant Rattlesnake Spotted at Solano

By David I. Barr, Oakland, CA original home in that mystical city and described the important
Travel with Servas International role they had played in the history of the region.

by Enid Pollack, San Rafael, CA
Want to be an "ambassador of peace" on your next overseas trip?
Does a cross-cultural homestay sound like the way you would like
to experience your foreign adventure? Perhaps you are not plan-
ning such travel, but would like to open your own home to a trav-
eler?
As a member of United States Servas, you can do all of these.
For more than 50 years, dedicated volunteers have developed the
worldwide hospitality network known as Servas (meaning "we
serve" in Esperanto).
U.S. Servas counts
over 2,000 host indi-
viduals and families.
They open their
homes to travelers
from around the
world, sharing a day or
two, their language,
interests, and culture.
Travelers are inter-
viewed to ensure their
understanding of the
cross-cultural intent of
the program, and
carry a letter of intro-
duction with pertinent
information about
themselves. After
travelers register with
Servas, they receive a
directory of Servas
hosts in the country or area the plan to visit. Then, through
phone, letter or email, they arrange a two-night homestay or day
visit with a Servas host.
After having been a host for about 10 years, I finally had an
opportunity to be a Servas traveler in 2000. During my three-week
visit to my daughter who was studying in Jerusalem, I was able to
arrange three different homestays. The two Jerusalem hosts,
although Americans, had lived in Israel for many years and offered
me breakfast along with my own room, valuable tourist advice, and
a different perspective than I might have been able to see as an
ordinary tourist. My third Servas host lived on a kibbutz in the
northern Galilee area of Israel. In fact, it was Israel’s second old-
est kibbutz, Deganya Bet, established in 1920. My host and her
parents had been born right on that kibbutz, and Servas provided
a kind of armchair travel experience for her and her teenage chil-
dren. In the town of Sfat, I spent some hours with a Servas day-
host who enjoyed meeting travelers but was unable to provide
overnight accommodations. She was the granddaughter of one of
Sfat’s early civic and religious leaders. She took me to her family’s
On my return to the Bay Area, I stopped for a weekend in Zurich,
Switzerland, and was hosted by a couple, both social workers, who
had traveled and hosted extensively through Servas. They took me
to their two-hundred year old restored farmhouse about 90 min-
utes out of the city, where I discovered the joys of that low-tech
sleep-comfort device, the hot water bottle.
As a Servas host, I have had an opportunity to meet travelers from
Denmark, Germany, Switzerland, Japan, Australia, New Zealand,
England, and Belgium. Some had one or two children with them,
while one was a 70-
year old woman trav-
eling alone on an
around-the-world
adventure. Each
Servas experience,
without exception,
was educational, enter-
taining, and a lot of
fun!
If you would like to
help build peace
through understanding
among Servas’ more
than 14,000 hosts
world-wide, more
information is avail-
able at
www.servas.org, or
you can contact me at
enidcpollack@excite.com.
Desert Survivors traditionally has a booth at the fair, as it is a great
venue to get out the word about the beauty of the desert, let peo-
ple know who we are, and hopefully attract new members. For the
last two years, Desert Survivors has also entered the parade down
Solano Avenue that kicks off the Stroll. Desert Survivors of an
artistic bent got together two years ago to create a giant rattlesnake
that could be carried in parades such as at the Solano Stroll and
Earth Day, in order to make us more visible as an organization.
The result of their effort is Seymour Desert, our 18 foot long rat-
tlesnake. And a darn good looking snake he is, too.
Seymour was a huge hit at this year’s Parade. Many thanks to the
Desert Survivor volunteers who showed up to help us bring
Seymour to life for the parade: Lawrence Wilson, Suzanne
Courteau, Craig King, Dan Seneres, Jessica Rothaar, Steve Tabor,
Cassie Beals, Merle Norman, Janet Newman and Paul Menkes.
Many thanks also to Vic Quarello, who staffed the booth while we
were slithering Seymour in the parade, and gave us a nice cheer as

30 The Survivor Fall 2002

 we went by.
Admiration for Seymour started right at the beginning of the
parade. I heard several parade monitors say, "wow that’s cool,"
when we stretched Seymour out to his full length. [I heard a cou-
ple of people call out, "Best float in the parade!" as we passed –
Ed.] Both sides of Solano Avenue were packed with people for the
parade. Steve and Suzanne lead the way carrying the Desert
Survivors banner. Seymour followed along behind, with Lawrence
working the all-important head. There were lots of little kids and
they really liked Seymour. We snaked from one side of the street
to the other along the parade route and the kids were fascinated by
Seymour. It was interesting watching their reactions. They
seemed totally oblivious to the people carrying Seymour and
focused entirely on Seymour’s face. He does have big eyes and
impressive looking fangs, and a long shiny black tongue. The adult
spectators liked Seymour as well and we got lots of cheers and
applause as we went by. Great pictures of Seymour were in the
Berkeley Voice and the West Contra Costa County Times the next
day, accompanying their articles on the Stroll. The photo captions
Steve Perry
identified us as "The Desert Survivors, a nonprofit desert conser-
The Survivor Fall 2002
vation organization." Good visibility for us as an organization. If
POETRY
you haven’t seen Seymour yet, come on out to one of the events
where we parade him around. You’ll be impressed at the talent of
the Survivors who made him.
After the parade was over we draped Seymour over the top of the
Desert Survivors booth. The booth attracted a lot of people. We
had a nice display of maps and photos of the desert, including a
map of the California section of the desert trail. Our box of
bones, rocks, fossils, and a tortoise shell attracted attention too.
We had literature to give out such as trip schedules and informa-
tion on joining Desert Survivors. We sold $190 worth of stuff,
more than ever before, and gave out 100 trip schedules, so hope-
fully we’ll get some new members through interest in our desert
trips.
All in all, the Solano Stroll was a lot of fun for the Survivors who
helped out with the parade and the booth. We will be there again
next year, so keep an eye out for a call for volunteers. Helping out
with the parade and booth is a great way to participate in, and
enjoy, one of the best street fairs anywhere.
31
 Non-Profit
Desert Survivors Organization
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P.O. Box 20991 • Oakland, CA 94620-0991 PAID

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Join Desert Survivors Today!

Desert Survivors members become part of a nation-wide network of savvy desert hikers and activists. Benefits include:
• Four quarterly issues of the Survivor

• Over 40 free trips per year in varying locations and difficulties. Trips are open to members only.

• Social events including potluck parties, picnics and slide shows

• Opportunities to get involved in all aspects of Desert Survivors, including preservation campaigns, hands-on desert
conservation projects, and running the organization.

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Mail this form to: Desert Survivors, PO Box 20991, Oakland, CA 94620-0991. Desert Survivors is a 501©3 organization; dues
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For a copy of our current trip schedule, call (510) 769-1706 or go to www.desert-survivors.org

Experiencing, sharing and protecting the desert since 1978