This canoe event took place sometime around the Spring or early Summer of 1981 or 1982.  I was about 38 years old, Danny was about 10 or 11 years old, and Mikey was about 2 or 3 years old.

The race sign-in point was on the South side of Rte. 27, South Main Street, Medfield, MA where the Charles River runs under the road.  I parked the van (yes, the same 1970 Ford E-300 Econoline van we had on the trip in Death Valley) and Danny helped me untie and unload the 14′ Coleman Ram-X canoe from the roof of the van, while Mikey carefully watched the cooler and the bags of food.

14' Coleman Ram-X Canoe

This picture is not our canoe, but a newer version.  As you can see, it is not meant to be a racer, but more of a tugboat to haul people and supplies, and have fun.  It has a wide stem and stern to accomodate flotation zones. 

Danny and I had gone out on several training exercises in preparation for this race, fully aware that we would be taking Mikey along for moral support and additional ballast to keep the boat low and, alas, slow(er) in the water.  But we had entered the race not to win so much as to enjoy nature, the weather and surroundings, the friendship and good humor of our fellow racers, and, of course, each other.

One of those training sessions was on Lake Massapoag, about 1 mile from our home in Sharon, MA.  We were paddling around the lake when a severe thunderstorm sprang forth, causing us to hug the shoreline and hope we didn’t get struck by lightning!  It was a bit scarey to say the least, what with the thunder crashing all around us, and our canoe being braced with aluminum and the paddles had aluminum shafts!

The big race was broken up into different classes/groups based on the paddlers.  We fell into the ‘Father-and-Son’ class, and I think there were actually 3 or 4 different groups in this class. 

The competitors were eyeing us and our equipment as we carried the canoe down to the water.  I left Danny and Mikey there to go back to the van for the rest of our ‘necessities’, such as cooler, waterproof bags of food and snacks, and a waterproof bag with a change of clothes for each of us, including diapers for ‘you-know-who’.  When I got the supplies down to the canoe staging area, I went back up to the road to park the van in a field across the street. 

Now, I know some of our competitors saw our racing equipment and knew that we had no chance of winning against their long, pointy racing canoes with the bent-pole wooden paddles.  That, and the fact that there were 3 of us plus a load of supplies probably weighing around 30 lbs. by itself.  But this did not deter us in any way, even noticing the occassional smirk or sneer from some of them. 

We knew we had a secret weapon to help us.  Our goal was simply to get to the take-out point and enjoy the free bar-b-que!  The secret weapon was the knowledge that we knew in advance that we wouldn’t be finishing first, so the pressure was off us and we could enjoy the day!  Other teams were obviously intent on ‘the win’ and were snacking on power bars and drinks and practicing their paddling form, etc.  The boys and I had smiles and waves to any who looked at us.

Well, the time came to line up in our heat and get going.  The starter blew his air horn to signal our group to begin, and we started our pre-planned easy paddle stroke to let the anxious and energetic racers get their fast start mixed in with the traffic jam under the bridge.  We hugged the shore to get by this jam of canoes, and kept up our paddling for a while as more and more of the other racers got their paddling in sync and started pulling ahead of us.

Before too long the next group of racers came into view behind us, and soon caught and passed us as they paddled furiously by.

In the meantime, Mikey kept up a running discourse on just about anything that came to his mind, especially what snack he could have next.  He was known far and wide for his non-stop conversations, and we took this in stride as we paddled along, calling attention to this bird or that tree or that leaf floating on the water.  Danny paddled well and kept the canoe moving when I shipped paddle to fetch another snack for Mikey.

Also, at this time, I was dealing with a nerve problem in my arms, which sometimes caused weakness and pain.  Of course whatever it was decided to bother me at this point in the race, so I had all I could do to just steer the canoe around bends and obstacles.  I could barely hold the paddle with my left hand, so I cradled it under my arm to steer and give the occassional stroke to help Danny keep us moving for the rest of the 2.6 mile race.

Well, as luck would have it, the rain didn’t last too very long, just about 45 minutes or so, at which time Mikey poked his head out from under the tarp keeping him relatively dry, and close to the snack supplies.

The passers-by finally stopped passing us by, telling us that we were actually the very last canoe on the river.  They were all friendly and smiling and waving, and we smiled and waved back at them, having a lot of fun.

When the take-out point finally came into view, we felt great relief as we hauled the canoe out onto the river bank to the applause of a crowd of racers and onlookers!  We were guided over to the award booth where we were presented with a certificate stating that we had succeeded in being the last canoe to finish the race, and we were SO happy and excited!  Really!!

We enjoyed a cold drink and a cheeseburger, and then I had to find my way back to the van somehow.  I instructed Danny to stay with Mikey, sitting right in the canoe that was pulled on shore, and don’t get out for any reason.  I got a ride back to the starting point with a family that had brought 2 cars for just this purpose.  By road, it was probably about 5 miles back to the van, and I drove right back to find Danny and Mikey sitting almost completely alone in the little grove where the bar-b-que was held.

We loaded the canoe onto the van and piled inside for the 20 minute trip home, each of us with big, happy grins on our tired faces for having such a great, fun day together!

So, as I said at the start of this story, Last Place is not always bad!

==========================================

Thanks to the The Charles River Watershed Association

I will be looking for pictures of this amazing race, but I don’t recall if I ever took any, although there is a small chance I did use my Kodak disk camera on that day.  The problem is, there are several large boxes of photos and negatives in the garage, and none are in any particular order, but I think the disk photos are all in one shoe box.  That remains to be seen.  I will be keeping my eyes open for maybe finding the Award Certificate, too!

 =======================================

1939 Plymouth Business Coupe

The Car was built around 71 years ago, but was a mere 23 years old when I bought it from a classmate of mine at Cornwall Academy, a private prep-school in Great Barrington, Massachusetts back around November, 1962 for 4 monthly payments of $25.00.  I didn’t have quite enough credits to go to college right from high school, so I was sent there to the post-graduate class.  I don’t recall the kid’s name now, the school burned down years ago and was never rebuilt, and the car is just a fond memory and a saved gearshift knob (it’s around here somewhere!).  The one picture I had of the car is now long-gone.

Ah!  …found the gearshift knob:  

1939 Plymouth Floor Gearshift Knob

Part # 111/113.711.141

I have always been mechanically adept, thanks to my Dad’s influence, so at the tender and know-it-all age of 18, I figured I could get this really cool-looking car running on my own, get the interior tuck-and-roll Naugahyde covered, including the HUGE trunk, with maybe some switches and gauges on the roof interior, similar to the Studebaker Avanti.  The spare tire and jack was stored behind the driver’s seat, and there was a door behind the passenger seat that opened into the trunk, which was about 6 feet long!  I imagined being able to slip into the leather-paneled, neon-lighted trunk with my date, right from the cab of the car!     *woo-HOO!*    I was 18, remember?

I knew it had a dead engine and no brakes when I bought it, but I had already made a connection with my math teacher to buy a 1952 Dodge 6-cylinder engine that would fit it exactly, and the cost was only $25.00, so I made the deal with the kid I bought the car from that I could use his small box of Craftsman tools on weekends to get the car running.

We pushed the car down behind the school’s maintenance shed, out of sight of the main building, where no one would bother it.  I parked it under a stout, almost horizontal limb of an oak tree so I could use it to pull the engine, then did what it really needed most; I polished the dashboard!

Oh, part of my deal for the tool-use was that I could borrow the 6-volt battery from his ’56 Ford while I worked, so I could listen to the radio and eventually test the electrical circuits once I had swapped the engine.  I spent many Saturday nights sitting in that car, listening to the radio, thinking about how I would customize her and dreaming of the cruising I would be doing once I got her running!  That is… once I got permission from my Dad to even HAVE a car!

Now, my math teacher, whose name I have forgotten, played an integral part of my ownership experience.  I have somehow lost the school yearbook that would have his name, and because the school no-longer exists, there is no record of it online to do any search for the info.  I did have contact with a local newspaper editor who gave me the info about the school burning down, and the headmaster/owner having passed away not long afterwards.  So this being the case, I will give the name of  ‘Mr. Curtis’ to the math teacher, using poetic license, also to protect him from any connection to the matter even all these years later.

Mr. Curtis had the ’52 Dodge engine stashed at a farm somewhere around 20 miles from the school, and he took me and a friend there to pick it up.  We went in his 1950-ish Dodge station wagon.  Well, the engine was carefully wrapped in a canvas tarp, and we loaded it into the back of his wagon and brought it back to the school, placing it on the ground next to the ’39.

I must say here that the extent of my automotive ‘mechanical know-how’ to this point had been cleaning the spark plugs and adjusting the idle of my Mom’s ’53 Buick Roadmaster, along with changing the tires when they got a flat.

(Is this story starting to sound like a version of John Carpenter’s ‘Christine’  [a red 1958 Plymouth Fury] movie from 1983, starring Keith Gordon and Robert Prosky, written by Stephen King?)

During the following days/weeks, I un-wired and unbolted everything I could from the ’39 engine compartment, carefully laying out the wires so the bends and curves didn’t change when I put them in the trunk, so I could later (maybe) figure out where they went after the engine swap.  …no clue what a regulator or a coil did!

I (ahem) ‘borrowed’ the knotted 2″ x 15′ rope that was meant to be the fire escape method from the 2nd-floor 8-student bedroom I was in, to use for pulling out the engine.  I do recall struggling to come up with a way to pull out the engine without a chain-fall or any pulleys, and finally used a system similar to a Spanish windlass.  This was done by tossing the rope over the branch, then securing the ends to 2 points on the engine, then putting a strong pole through the space between the 2 ropes coming down from the branch, and twisting them with the pole for leverage, causing them to shorten up a little each time, then blocking up the engine and shortening the rope over and over, until it swung free of the engine compartment so I could push the car back from under the engine.

Then I did the reverse with the ‘new’ engine.  It was a very long and slow process, and I had to jam branches under the engine to hold it in place while I altered the rope, and also when I left it for the night so I could return the ‘fire escape’ to its proper place in the room.  The only time the escape rope was put to actual use was when one of us would sneak out after lights-out and push someone’s car down the driveway so he could go to town and do a ‘Friendlies run’ for us and some of our friends in other rooms.  This was usually done by the guy who had a ’61 Chevy Corvair Monza (…light to push, and relatively quiet).  I can still taste the ‘Big Beef’ and fries and chocolate ‘Awful-Awful’ thick shake (‘awful thick and awful good’).

I didn’t even take a peek at the clutch or throwout bearing, not ever having been this deep into a drivetrain before.  Ignorance IS bliss!  I was a happy puppy working on my car!

I got the new engine in somehow, and then connected the wires as best I could. They were the old cloth-covered variety, with (now) hardened rubber insulation that would crack if bent at all.

Then I tackled the no-brakes situation by spotting the broken brake line down near the rear wheel.  I couldn’t afford a new brake line, so I kinked and crimped the old one and poured in some new brake fluid, and it actually held!  I also freed up the emergency brake, which was wrapped around the drive shaft, with its own brake drum  just behind the tranny.  Oh, the tranny was a floor-shift 3-speed, so I was told.

Well, lights worked, radio worked, horn worked, don’t recall that there were directional signals (doubt it), and wipers were vacuum-controlled, so they would only work when the engine was running.  So I stepped on the clutch and hit the starter, and the car jumped forward!!  Of COURSE the clutch was rusted in place, so I would have to pop it somehow.

I got my Buddy with the ’56 Ford to give me a push, once I had replaced his battery, and we made a few fruitless runs on this dirt trail down near the athletic field, to no avail.  The clutch wouldn’t cooperate, and the brakes didn’t really work, because who knew about bleeding them?

Well, time really does fly when you’re having fun, and graduation was upon us, and I finally told the Headmaster, Mr. Moran, about the car, and I promised that I would come and remove it from school property within a few weeks after graduation.  He agreed, and the pressure was off me until it was time to go get the car in early July, 1963.

I called Mr. Curtis and made arrangements with him to pull the ’39 to his house, where I would come out as often as I could to get it running and finally drive it home to Boston.  I got my buddy Jay to go with me to get the car moved to Mr. Curtis’ house, and we set out in my Mom’s ’53 Buick with about $10 between us.  Now, gas was maybe 22¢/gal at that time, and the big straight-8 engine (that’s right, not a V-8!) was probably getting around 6 mpg. on a good day, and we had nearly 350 miles of driving to do that day, the tank was already full when we left, so we would have just enough money for gas and we stopped and bought 6 bananas to eat, as we left before sunup, telling our parents we were going to the beach for the day.  Still hadn’t gotten ‘permission’ to have a car!

Side-notes about the ’53 Buick Roadmaster:

1953 Buick Roadmaster

• Straight-8 engine
• Dynaflo automatic transmission
• Heater under the front seat so it vented to the front AND the rear
• Hood that tipped open from side-to-side, depending on which side you unlatched
• Radio antenna mounted to the top center above the windshield and had a knob inside so you could swivel it down either way to raise or lower it
• Starter button was depressed by stomping on the gas pedal once you turned the key on
• Chrome front bumper and grill probably weighed more than a bus made today

---

We got to Mr. Curtis’ house, met his wife, and left in his Dodge wagon to get the ’39.  He had already mapped out the route we would take, pulling the ’39 over all dirt roads through the woods to avoid any paved roads where the unregistered, uninsured car might cause a problem with John-Law.

Well, things went fairly smoothly for a while.  We tied the ’39 to the rear axle of the Dodge wagon, and with me behind the wheel of my dream-car, planning to use the emergency brake to slow and stop, we pulled away from the school property and headed off into the woods of the Berkshire Mountains.  I had clamped the 2 battery cables together, fully planning to engage 3rd gear once we got rolling, hoping to get her to kick over so I could actually drive her for a bit.  The problem was that the clutch was still rusted together, so the rear wheels would only skid along and the engine didn’t turn over at all.  Oh, well…

Before too long, the Dodge started overheating, and we had to keep stopping to let her cool down after some long uphill grades.  The day wore on this way until we came to a paved road that we had to cross to continue on our merry way on the dirt roads – the ONLY piece of pavement we would see that whole trip!  All we had to do was go diagonally across the pavement, maybe a distance of about 75 feet, and be off into the woods again.

Well, guess who happened to be sitting at the side of the paved road about 1,000 feet away…!  If you guessed the ice cream man, you’d be wrong.  Too bad, ’cause we sure could’a used a nice cold popsicle about then.  Nope, it was a proud Officer of The Massachusetts State Police, who rushed right over to see if he could be of any assistance to us.

After the usual formalities of asking us to produce our licenses and registrations, and upon hearing my sad tale of having to move my precious ’39 from the school grounds or lose it to a junkyard, he ticketed Mr Curtis for towing an unregistered and uninsured car on a public way, resulting in a $35.00 fine.  He then ordered me to park the car and go to a local gas station to arrange for a tow truck to move the ’39 wherever I wanted it moved, but under no circumstances were we to move it by utilizing gravity (we were on a slight hill), pushing by hand (we hoped he would let us push it off onto the dirt road on the other side of the roadway) or by using Mr. Curtis’ wagon to move it.  *sigh*  The ‘Statey’ then drove off to chase down more bad guys.

Knowing the empty condition of my wallet, and knowing full-well that I couldn’t afford a tow to Mr. Curtis’ house, even if it cost only $20, I unscrewed the above-pictured gear shift knob, broke my pocket knife blade trying to pry off a memorial hubcap, said a sad ‘farewell’ to my beautiful ’39 Plymouth Business Coupe, and rode off onto the remaining dirt road to Mr. Curtis’ house.  It was a pretty quiet ride.

We got there around suppertime, and Mrs. Curtis had made macaroni and cheese with hot dogs mixed in, and convinced us to stay for supper before our long drive home.  It was a nice gesture, but I was truly miserable.  I assured Mr. Curtis that I would send him payment for whatever fine he had to pay, which I eventually did.  The $35 fine was just another heart-stab to me, as I was earning $110/week working for the Boston Sanitation Department as a fill-in rubbish-collector, working from about 4am to 5pm, 6 days a week, collecting trash (not garbage, that was a different department) in the Dorchester/Mattapan areas.  Yeah, $110 a week, and that was BEFORE TAXES, so I probably got about $65 a week take-home!  …and it was considered a GREAT summertime job!  I had to ride my bike (no car, remember?) to where the truck would pick me up depending on the route for that day, and I would get dropped off somewhere else at the end of the day, walk or hopefully take a bus to where my bike was stashed, then pedal home.

The trip home from Mr. Curtis’ was fun, too.  We had to take the Mass. Pike which is a toll road (of course!), and we didn’t have enough money for the toll, which was about $4.00, I think.  We hid our wallets in the car, parked at the side of the toll booth area, and went into the control building, noticing the manned police car idling at the side of the road, waiting for someone to try running through without stopping.

Inside, I fibbed to the sergeant at the desk, telling him I had lost my wallet and didn’t have any money to pay the toll.  He wrote my name and address on a form and had me sign it, explaining that I would pay the toll within 3 days or the police would come to my house and take my license from me and fine me.

I drove the remaining few miles to my neighborhood, dropped Jay off at his house, and went home.  It was probably around 10pm by then, so I said ‘Hello’ to my parents, then excused myself to go shower and go to bed, as I had to go to work in the morning.  I fell asleep clutching the only remaining item I had from my ’39 except the sweet and sad memories of the experience.

About a year later, I happened to be driving in that area of the Berkshires and passed a junk yard, and thought I spotted the ’39 in a pile of old cars, but I couldn’t stop at that time, and have only thought about her from time-to-time since then.

Another case of  ‘should’a, could’a, would’a…   *sigh*

***************************************

Charlie Manson and Me – part 7

~Striped Butte Valley~

===========================

 Once we got down into the Valley, and the trail leveled out, the drive was much more comfortable. The view of this magnificent Butte kept us looking at it for quite a long while.

Of course, I was quietly looking around with the thought of what a nice new home this valley will be when we settle here while I build that ramp to get back up to Mengel Pass if there wasn’t a way out of here! LOL 

Striped Butte Valley - 04/04/2008

• Peak Type: Summit
• Latitude: 35.948563
• Longitude: -117.071996
• Peak Elevation: 4,744 feet
• Base to peak: I think I saw that it is about 800 feet. Not sure.

.We saw several mules, assuming them to be descendants of the 20-mule-team era.

[Okay, I was wrong about the 'mules'. They are actually feral burros (aka: donkeys. A mule is a completely different animal.). What do I know about burros? I know about Mustangs, Jaguars, Impalas, etc. I was a mechanic, after all!  I just checked a chart from 1974, and there were about 350 feral burros in Striped Butte Valley back then!  BTW... they're 'cute', but are very hard on the environment. Thanks again to David A. Wright.] 

Striped Butte Valley feral burro - 10/1976

Striped Butte Valley - 3 feral burros - 10/1976

 Sadly, the next photo is the only shot I took of this amazing monolith! 

Striped Butte - 10/1976

 

That shot, as are all my color shots from back then, are very recently scanned from 33-year-old Kodak transparencies (slides – Kodachrome and Ektachrome), and saved onto a photo-CD. I then had to reduce their size to be accepted into this blog software. So, the quality is grainy-looking. Also, I believe I was using an old Kodak Instamatic camera to shoot these color slides, so the quality would be low, anyway. Too bad I didn’t have a nice 20 mpx digital slr to use back then! Maybe I would have taken more pics! *sigh*

…similar to this one shot in July, 2008 (by someone else): 

Striped Butte - 07/14/08

See? Not much has changed in 32 years! LOL

I have found a lot of images of Striped Butte and its valley, each of which looks different from the other. And each one shows a beautiful rendition of Nature’s work.

We drove Eastward beside the Butte, passing the Geologist’s Cabin and at least one other dwelling. 

Geologist's Cabin - 04/16/2005

We didn’t stop there, and of course didn’t take any pictures. We finally left Coyote Canyon Rd., which turned into Butte Valley Rd. We did come across this important bit of guidance:

Striped Butte Valley road sign - 10/1976

The upper sign says ‘Goler Wash – 5 mi.’ 

Road sign and Striped Butte - 10/1976.

.It’s nice to be sitting here at my computer, looking at all these places we went through way back then, using nothing more than a push of an index finger to travel along the route we drove in 1976.  But the excitement and wonder and yes, fear, of what lay around the next bend that could halt our homeward progress is missing, except in our memories.   I actually recall looking around at these tall mountains surrounding us in Butte Valley and thinking, “Yup!   I could enjoy living here for a while, looking at this gorgeous scenery!   Of course, the shrieking and hollering (sorry, Barb) would be a constant disturbance, but yeah, I could enjoy the scenery!   Of course, walking out would be the most sensible thing if we could not go any farther.  After all, it’s only about 53 TRILLION miles to civilization!  LOL  ”WOW!   Lookit those mountains, Honey!”

Looking South from Striped Butte - 01/15/2007

“Yep, sure is purdy!”.

.===========================

Charlie Manson and Me – part 8

~It’s All Downhill From Here~

===========================

Charlie Manson and Me – part 2  

~Enter Goler Wash~  

=======================  

These pictures don’t show the big boulder that we were looking for at the entrance to Goler Wash because it was removed sometime in the past. No idea why.  

Goler Wash in the distance. Photo by David A. Wright – 03/17/2001

Entrance to Goler Wash - photo by Hallett Newman, 11/05/2001

 We were on Wingate Rd. and then headed East on Coyote Canyon Rd. into the mouth of Goler Wash, and I’m sure we got some people talking about us, due to the vehicle we were driving, but the trail heading in seemed completely passable, so I drove on. 

Headin' in...

 Here are some ‘treckers’ that apparently believe they need an extreme off-road vehicle for their Sunday drive!

"Is the winch cable long enough for this trip?" "Where's the GPS?" "Does AAA know about this road?" "How far to The Burger King?" "Daddy, I have to pee! Where's the next gas station?"

 I’m jes’ funnin’ here, Folks. NOW I know how lucky we were back then! Yes, God watches over children and fools! We were basically prepared, but didn’t have a CLUE about the lay of the land or how to survive in it! …or what lay ahead! But boy-oh-boy was it fun and exciting! It STILL is! 

 At this point I will apologize to those who actually know and love this area. These pictures might not be in their exact order of progression throughout this trip, as we didn’t keep a log or a chronology of our movenemts. I will call it ‘poetic license’ to get around this matter, but if someone does spot a glaring error where I have inserted a photo of a trail in Idaho or somewhere, please let me know so I can make it right(er). Remember, I collected these pics from the Web, and they were labled as ‘Goler Wash’ and that’s all.  

Western Entrance to Goler Wash - 04/16/2005

Into Goler Wash – 04/16/2005

 I recall the sound of the dual exhaust pipes bouncing off the steep walls of the wash as we drove in.  

Goler Wash near the West entrance.

Goler Wash near the West entrance.

I think I read somewhere that the walls run from about 300′ to over 600′ high! As we slowly drove forward, trying to take in all this absolutely amazing scenery, while I was managing to stay on the trail and avoid most of the rocks, it was like being in a dreamworld!  

Once in a while I would have to stop to let a rider on horseback or a dirt bike pass, mostly heading West as it was already past noon. We, of course, were planning on staying at the Newman cabin which was about 3 mi. up the Wash, so we weren’t pressed for time. I did worry that we might have needed an advance reservation to stay there, but we were self-contained, so what-the-heck!  

In places the canyon walls went almost straight up into the sky, leaving us in cool shadows. I recall spots where the trail was so narrow that I had to pull in the side mirrors for clearance. Remember, we were in a full sized extended-length van, not a short wheel-base off-road vehicle! There were absolutely no turn-around points once we got into the deep part of the Wash!  

I now know this is not Goler Wash, but it has the look of the area. Per David A. Wright, "This might be a picture of Titus Canyon, which is in the Grapevine Range northeast of Stovepipe Wells".

See description of previous picture. Goler Wash, near the West end.

===================== 

Charlie Manson & Me – part 3 

~ Newman Cabin~  

=====================

The video below shows how to say “Thank You” to someone you don’t know.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSfFYxSdKdo

.

Thank You

 *waving sadly*

Dutchess is gone…

Born around the end of October, 1993.

 
Adopted on April 29, 1994, from the Animal Rescue League shelter in Dedham, MA.

 
Laid to Rest July 13, 2009, after 15½ years of love, loyalty,  companionship and friendship.

 
She was Norwegian Elkhound / German Shepherd mix.

.

Dutchess, you will be missed.

...ever-watchful Dutchess, on the job! 05/04/2008 - 14.5 yrs. old.

Dutchess-12-06-2002-9 yrs. old

Dutchess - 2009

Charlie Manson and Me  

==================

♦◄╠═══~═══↨‡↕════~══╣►♦  

One hour of life,  

crowded to the full with glorious action,  

and filled with noble risks,  

is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum.

.

Sir Walter Scott

(1771-1832)

♦◄╠═══~═══↨‡↕════~══╣►♦

(…with apologies to those with slow connections,  as there are a lot of images in this story!)  

This is a l o n g story about an exciting adventure trip to a ghost town, haunted mountains, gold mines, borax mines, Death Valley, 20-mule teams, tarantulas, sand and much more excitement than most folks would ever consider attempting!  Our historic tale began back around June, 1976. We were living in North Hollywood, CA. An acquaintance of mine, in partial payment of a small business deal that had gone awry, drew a map for me, showing the way to a cabin in the Panamint Mountains, by way of a ghost town. The cabin was owned by a Captain of the Riverside, CA Fire Department, who didn’t mind folks using it for an overnight camp. (more about this later…)  

I convinced my wife, Barbara, that we will have a GREAT time going there with our son Danny, who was 5 years old. We planned to go for the weekend of Halloween to make visiting a ‘ghost town’ more exciting. We planned to camp there if we could.

The Explorers – 1976 – Bob (32), Barbara (29), Danny (5)

 We packed up the old ’70 Ford E300 van (1 ton, 2-wheel drive, auto trans, manual steering, manual brakes, ’2-20′ air conditioning [open 2 windows, go 20 mph]. I know, too much information, but this will become important later in the story)… 

 …with all the goodies we wanted or thought we needed, plus a mattress in the back for sleeping, an extra 5-gal. can of gas, extra oil, oil filter, spare spark plugs, points, rotor, condenser, cap, wires, tools, 2 spare tires, etc. I was a mechanic, y’see, and would ‘be prepared’ for just about ANYTHING!  I also packed my S&W .38 revolver (for protection from who knows what), my trusty ol’ Red Ryder b-b rifle (for plinking fun), CB radio (it was WAY-before cell phones were commonly available), 5-gals. of water, food, drinks, fresh fruit (gotta fend off scurvy, ya know!), munchies (yessss, m.u.n.c.h.i.e.s.! *DUH!*), and some other stuff, too! 

1970 Ford E-100 - not ours!

• This pic is NOT our van! Ours was an E-300 1-ton van with a 302 hp V-8, auto, with about 200,000 miles at this point, and not a body panel without a dent!   

 …SEE?

• It was dark green, no hubcaps, with stock 8-lug wheels and 10-ply tires. …but mechanically it was in GREAT shape! I bought it with 150,000 very rough miles on it from a newspaper-delivery company back in 1973 – with that front bumper! I liked the ‘sneer’ so much that I never replaced that bumper. I actually drove in New York City during a grid-lock in 1980, and City cabs would stop to let me pass by!!   LOL

So, on Saturday morning, quite early I’m sure, we headed off to the wilds of East-Central California, with the hand-drawn map and an old road map of the area. No GPS, no cell phone, just good ol’ ‘seat-of-the-pants’ driving fun, and a great sense of adventure!  

Me, shouting… “Is Danny heeeeere?” 

Danny, shouting… “Yeeees!” 

Me, yelling louder… “Is Mommy heeeeeeere?” 

Danny and Barbara yelling… “Yeeeeeeeesss!” 

Finally, all three of us screaming… “Is Daddy heeeeeeeeeeeere?” 

All three of us, screaming ’til our throats hurt… “Yeeeeeeeeeeesssssss!” 

This was how we always set off on our trips, with a roll-call. Louder and longer shouts. Then lots of giggles. 

We headed up Rte. 14, The Antelope Valley Freeway. (I’m using Google Earth (GE) here to retrace our journey. I sort-of mapped it out a couple of years ago.) 

Here is a GE map of our route: (the red dots are just part of the path-mapping process in GE)

N. Hollywood to Ballarat.

(…to the tune of “Route 66″ by Nat ‘King’ Cole) …past Palmdale, then Lancaster, through Mojave, still on Rte. 14, but now named Sierra Hwy. Then East on the Mojave-Barstow Hwy., meeting up with Rte. 58, through Boron, then North on Rte. 395 at Kramer Junction. This turned into the 3 Flags Hwy.
…Atolia, then Red Mountain. Then we picked up Trona Rd. between Red Mountain and Johannesburg. Trona Rd. later meets up with Rte. 178, and we turned NE, continuing on Trona Rd.
Eventually we went through Westend, then South Trona, Borosolvay, Argus, then Trona. For quite some time Searle’s Lake (dry) was on our right, to the East. We were looking for a sign somewhere along between Pioneer Point and Trona (I think) marking the dry lake.

"Welcome to Searles Valley"

Next we were looking for Ballarat Rd. We were still travelling North on Trona Wildrose Rd., Rte. 178. About 15 mi. farther we finally spotted Ballarat Rd. heading East from a sweeping left curve, so we left the pavement and turned onto a packed sand road.

Ballarat Rd. heading East towards the Ghost Town.

 We drove about 3.5 mi. over an easy graded road, arriving at Ballarat Ghost Town. No signs that I can remember, no commercial buildings, nothing but some bumps in the sand. Remember, this was 1976! As we got closer it was apparent that this was the ghost town as described on my map.   

It was cause for excitement just being off the paved road and driving toward the Panamint Mountains in the distance!   

The ghost town consisted of a group of maybe a dozen wind-worn and sand-covered foundations just barely visible, and there were 2 or 3 structures where you could see the bottom rows of stone foundations. There was one spot that had part of a wall still standing, maybe 6 feet of it, but not much else. There were a couple of wind and weather-torn cabins.

Ballarat ghost town. There were no fences when we were there.

Ballarat Ghost Town partial foundation. Are those bullet holes?

Move-In Condition!

   (note regarding images posted in this story: I found these images online during my research of our trip. They were shot much more recently than when we were there, so please keep that in mind. Places and things change over time. I will try to describe what you are seeing and what we actually saw when we were there.  I will add dates to the photos when I find them.

Back then, I had very recently become involved in photography and actually had a 35mm camera with me, using only Tri-X b/w film which I developed and printed myself. However, on this trip, due to the tremendous amount of attention to driving, safety, the enormous amount of interesting and beautiful scenery and some SCAREY roads, plus being very stupid about it, I did not take many pictures. I just found the few color slides that we took and I have had them scanned for this story. I also just found those b/w negatives and I will scan them and post them into this saga where they actually fit, like the b/w pic of our van . I will also mark them in Google Earth and post them there as well.)   

O-KAAAAY… so we looked around at these decrepit structures, saw that we wouldn’t be camping in the ghost town, and decided to move on.   

We checked the map and the lay of the land, looking for the trail to take us to Goler Wash, which was supposed to be marked by a huge boulder. We went South on Wingate Rd. which runs along the base of the Panamint Mountains. This would eventually lead us to Goler Wash on about 14 miles of graded road, meaning lots of washboard, holes and some rocks to dodge.   

As we approached the alluvial fan of Goler Wash we could see a bunch of vehicles parked in a group. There might have been 10 or more trucks, some of them with trailers attached for hauling horses or dirt bikes or 4-wheelers. There were small groups of people with these horses or vehicles going to and from the trail that headed into the mountains that loomed right beside us.   

(Alluvial fan: Sediment deposited by flowing water, as in a riverbed, flood plain, or delta.) 

 

Goler Wash alluvial fan.

 [I have to pause here to relate this moment in time to you.  Remember, it was way back in 1976 that we were there.  There have been more than a lot of miles traveled since then, so memories are a bit faded, and I don't have many photos to reinforce the memories.  *knocking myself on the head for being so stupid*  I am, however, collecting images from around the internet to help illustrate what we were seeing.    

   On the GE maps there are numerous trails apparently carved out by groups of 4-wheelers, etc.  Back when we went there, there were mostly dirt bike tracks and horse tracks, with only a few 4-wheel-drive vehicles going there. And keep in mind, our van was 2-wheel drive!   

...and lemme tell ya, I just went over the 'escape route' to get out to a paved road on the other side, and I am amazed that I'm sitting here telling you about it!  WE WERE OUT  THERE!!  *whew*]   

Now, back to our story…   

======================   

Charlie Manson and Me – part 2   

~Enter Goler Wash~   

======================   

    

    

    

    

Charlie Manson and Me -part 9

~Lunch in Death Valley~

===========================

Looking Westward to where we came out of the mountains - 10/1976

We had been driving about 1/4-mile behind that Army Engineer Corps. grader, and  I recall that when it finally disappeared in the distance and we were once again alone, it did hit us that we were actually sitting here in Death Valley!  I mean, look around us!  There is NOBODY HERE in sight, and we are ALONE IN DEATH VALLEY!!

* W O W ! *

Facing Southeast on West Side Hwy. - 10/1976

 …so what else could we do?  We parked and had some lunch!  I remember we had cold chicken and some chips and a Pepsi, with some kind of fruit for desert. (…again…  S-C-U-R-V-Y !) 

Danny, in front of the Eastern slope of the Panamint Mountains - 10/1976

As you can see, October on the floor of Death Valley can be breezy!  I remember it was warm, but not hot! 

Barbara, sipping a Pepsi after lunch - 10/1976

Once we finished our mid-day feast, we headed out for the long trail homeward.  We travelled about 8.5 mi. in Southeasterly direction, and when we came upon a left-hand fork, we crossed over to Badwater Rd., Rte. 178.

For some unknown reason we went to the left, Westward, on Badwater Rd., and drove for a couple of miles before doubting our decision.  While happily cruising along on an actual real paved road, I spotted a small lump on the road ahead.  As I aimed the van to straddle this ‘lump’, I realized what it was and hit the brakes pretty hard.  I checked the mirrors for traffic (yah, sure!) and backed up several feet to see this amazing thing!

It was a HUGE tarantula, bigger than my hand!

I grabbed my Olympus OM-1 SLR camera with the Tri-X B/W film, and jumped out of the van to get some shots of this huge spider.  At that time I had only the standard 50mm lens, so there were no long-distance shots to be had.  For close-ups I had to get up close! 

About 12" from a big tarantula - 10/1976.

I had actually laid down on the pavement, and while staring through the viewfinder I slowly crawled toward this monster while focusing, adjusting shutter-speed and aperture and taking pictures!  …no auto-anything used.  I was studying photography and this was my first SLR (Single Lens Reflex) camera and it was set to full-manual mode.

It only occurred to me later, that I think I had seen somewhere that tarantulas sometimes jump pretty far to get their prey.  Again, ‘…children and fools’!  LOL

Soooo, after calming down from this terrific encounter, and looking at the roadmap and discussing what to do, we decided to turn around and head back in the other direction to find our way out of Death Valley.

We drove Southeast through Ashford Junction, and then followed Rte. 178 onto Jubilee Pass Rd., continuing to enjoy the ease of driving on a paved road while touring through spectacular Death Valley and surrounding mountains.  I don’t think we saw more than 3 vehicles on this entire stretch of road!

After a long and enjoyable drive on Jubilee Pass Rd., it ended at the junction of Rtes. 127 and 178, which continued on to the right, so we went right.  In the town of Shoshone, Rte. 178 went Northward, and we continued on Rte. 127 to the East.

(Travellers note:  at no time did we realize how close we were to Las Vegas)

Eventually Rte. 127 turned Southward and became Death Valley Rd.  We cruised through Dumont and then Renoville, eventually coming to Baker, where Rte. 127 connects to Rte. 15.  We turned West on this 4-lane highway, got the van up to cruisin’ speed at around 70 mph, probably blasting ‘Chicago’ on the Cadillac stereo AM/FM/8-track system I had stuffed into the dash, and headed for home on the Barstow Fwy.!

We went through Dunn, Manix, Harvard, (so, technically, we ‘went to Harvard’, huh?) then Yermo and through Barstow.  We rolled through Victorville next, and then before we got to San Bernadino we swung onto the Ontario Fwy., heading Southwest.  That ran into Rte. 210, the Foothills Fwy., going West.  We stayed on that into Pasadena where we picked up Rte. 134, the Ventura Fwy. and jumped on Rte. 5, the Golden State Hwy.

Just past Sun Valley, we got off the freeway and headed South on Lankershim Blvd. down to Cohasset St., and East to our snug little home at the corner of Farmdale Ave. and Cohasset St.

…exhausted, happy, overwhelmed, exhausted, excited, hungry, exhausted, thrilled to be home!  *WOW!*

…and I do mean *  freakin- W O W ! *.

===========

The End

===========

.

~~Acknowledgments~~

‘Thanks’ to the guy who drew the map for me as partial ‘payment’ for trying to rip me off by selling me, the dumb Easterner from Bawstin, some land up on the Kern River which was actually Bureau of Land Management property (BLM), and when I showed up at his office and the crew from the store he was not paying for his rented furniture was emptying out his office, and I confronted him *ahem* with my 225 lb. Great Dane/Labradore Retriever named ‘Chopper’, …  

Chopper, Danny and 'Sportster' Bob - 1975.

…insisting on recompense and gratification for his foul deed, and he ‘allowed’ me to take his leather couch, chair and ottoman (he proved it was his by showing me the ‘Paid’ receipt),…

Danny on the couch - 1976

(It was a 60′s-era movie with a giant squid attacking a scientific-exploration group on some remote island beach, maybe a George Pal epic.)

…and gave me back my $200.00 deposit (in cash), and tried smoothing things out by giving me that map to the ghost town, so I took it!  *whew* 

Story Acknowledgements:

• Steve Greene - The Old Trailmaster – moderator of The Death Valley Journal, a terrific blog  (DVJ)
• Hallett Newman - castle19 – the current claim-holder of the Newman Mine, and owner of Newman Cabin – DVJ member
• David A. Wright - davidawright - 4wdtrips.net – DVJ member
• Tom, from Scottsdale, AZ – a ‘Jayhawker’ at DeathValley.net forum

Image Acknowledgements:

• Hal Newman
• David A. Wright
• Numerous unknown photographers of the entire area who put their images online without tagging them.  If anyone recognizes their own image, please contact me, and I will be happy to give you an acknowledgement.
  • There is no requirement for permission or compensation, whether an image is copyrighted or not, if that image is not being used to earn money.
  • Please understand that I am not using your image(s) for monetary gain, and am therefore not required to make any compensation for the use of any images, as they are posted online for the World to access and view.
  • At your written request, via email, I will remove your image from my story, if you so desire.  -  bob@nathansonweb.com
• Bob Nathanson (that’s me)  -  all my scanned pics have a tan border and photo album corners around them..

==========================================

History of the Newman Cabin:  Death Valley Journal

========================================== 

Legal Discaimer:

This story is a compilation of absolutely true events that took place in and around October, 1976.  It represents a story of facts as my wife Barbara and I remember them, aided by some photographs I took at that time.  The story is also supported by the use of maps captured with the Google Earth program, many photographs shot by other people who travelled there, and finally by a few good souls who are very familiar with the area and places of which I wrote.

If I have made any gross errors or oversights in names, locations, or whatever the reader may hold dear to them so as to cause them discomfort, stress or pain and/or suffering, then I wholeheartedly apologize to them and to all.  If you want to advise me of these problems, simply contact me by email - bob@nathansonweb.com and I will make them as right as I can.

______________________________________________

==============================================

Note:  Today is January 15, 2012. I have finally completed a slide show of images of Striped Butte. You can click the link and enjoy a compilation of images from around the Web, and some good music, too.  I hope it works well for you.  If not, please contact me at bob@nathansonweb.com

Thank you.

Charlie Manson and Me - part 8

~It’s All Downhill From Here~

===========================

Next, we drove slowly by Striped Butte, heading Northward through the valley, looking for the trail to bear to the right somewhere past the middle of this valley we were in.  We didn’t even know the name of this Valley!  As we were told, the trail would eventually take us down into Death Valley.

Butte Valley Rd. facing Southwest toward Manly Peak - 03/27/2005

Trail leading Westward back to Mengel Pass - 10/1976. Beside Striped Butte, looking Northward, the way we will head.

 There ahead, as in the picture above, the trail started curving around a mountain, heading in the direction we wanted to go, so we went!  The driving wasn’t too bad, just some washboard and some small rocks.  No biggie!  No regular grader passed through there back then, just a trail.

Then we headed in a more Easterly direction and the trail turned into pretty nasty fields of bowling-ball sized rocks.  I had to very slowly bounce over each obstacle, quietly praying that our high-mileage van would survive.  The sturdy I-beam front end was in very good shape, the shocks were fairly new, the tires were fine, and I had rebuilt the steering box about 6 months earlier.  I had also added a hydraulic steering stabilizer to help with the manual steering.  So if I just took ‘er easy, we SHOULD make it jes’ fine, I hope, I hope!

For what seemed like 800 or 1,000 agonizing miles, we bounced and toiled over those rocks, searching for smooth spots to ease the pressure on the van.  I recall that my hands were sore from their death-grip on the steering wheel.  I didn’t want to hook a finger around the wheel, as a sudden bump could have easily broken it!  All the while we were heading East and downhill, so at least we were getting somewhere, whatever THAT means!  LOL

Eventually we passed a talc mine that looked like it was being worked, and then a while later we passed another.  We didn’t stop to look around, as we were more concerned with surviving this leg of the trip into Death Valley than trespassing on someone’s mining claim.  We didn’t see any signs of life other than feral burros, or we would have stopped to make sure we were going in the right direction.

The road surface smoothed out a lot once we went by those mines, as they were heavily compacted by the regular traffic to and from the mines.

I have been looking for pictures of this stretch of our trip, but I haven’t found any but a few of the Warm Springs Mine.  I don’t recall seeing anyplace that invited our exploration, so we kept forging onward and downward toward our next ‘hurdle’, that aforementioned quicksand trap laying across the trail, keeping us from entering Death Valley proper.

Well, as luck would have it, and we obviously were being watched over that weekend, as we approached the top of the alluvial fan near the East end of Butte Valley Rd., we were much relieved to spot a big Caterpillar Grade-All! (Don’t remember if it was yellow or khaki brown.)

It was making its way to the East along the end of Butte Valley Rd. where it meets up with West Side Hwy., so our way was safe and clear.  We drove over the freshly graded trail, eyeing the 2 feet of wet sand moved aside by that wonderful grader!  We most-likely would  have fallen prey to that sand trap if we hadn’t been so kindly advised by the stranger back at the Barker Ranch.

It was nearing noontime, and rarely ever missing a meal, I drove Southeast a bit on West Side Hwy., and found an inviting spot to pull off the ‘beaten path’ and stop for lunch. (You can call me anything you like, but don’t call me late for lunch!  LOL) 

Junction of Butte Valley Rd. and West Side Hwy. - maybe? - 10/1976

 

==========================

Charlie Manson and Me - part 9

~Lunch in Death Valley~

==========================

.

Charlie Manson and Me – part 6     

~Carl Mengel Pass~     

=======================     

Well, we drove on with great hope of what we might see around the next bend.  This was the BEST thing about what we were doing and where we were!  …A D V E N T U R E !     

We drove along, still on Coyote Canyon Rd., for about 3.5 mi. before coming to our next great hurdle.  The trail was fairly smooth and sandy with only a few tracks visible; dirt-bike and horse tracks, no other 4-wheeled vehicles, as I mentioned earlier.     

It was a beautiful morning and we were soaking in this unbelievable scenery as we made our way towards the cairn that our ‘mysterious guide’ told us about.  Honestly, I wasn’t even sure what a ‘cairn’ was!  I knew it was some sort of marker, but I didn’t know it was a burial marker.     

[David A. Wright:  A cairn was often used for marking mining claims.  When a claim covered a large plot of ground, generally a cairn was built in each corner of the plot.  On smaller claims, one often sufficed.  In the case of Mengel's grave, the term is applicable, as the shape of rocks piled up into a cylindrical or conical shape is that typical of stone cairns.]     

So, (singing) ‘Merrily, we roll along, roll along, roll a-loooong…’    

Approaching Mengel Pass - 10/1976

Approaching Mengel Pass-2 - 10/1976

…and then, out of nowhere, a sign of civilization?? 

Approaching Mengel Pass-3 - 10/1976

  …get it?  …a ‘SIGN‘? 

(c’mon, Folks, these are the JOKES!  SHEESH!  What a rough crowd!) 

Here it is in b/w - nearing Mengel Pass - 10/1976.

  WOW!  Were WE surprised to see this sign out here!  Not that the words “D E A T H  V A L L E Y” didn’t give us a scare!  We knew we were close to it from looking at our roadmap, but who’da thunk WE would ever be entering Death Valley from a remote side-entrance like THIS!!  …WOW!

Mengel Pass - West side approach - 04/04/2008

So once we drove up the long and kinda steep approach to Carl Mengel’s cairn, we stopped to pay respects, and take a couple of pictures from this beautiful elevation.     

Carl Mengel cairn, looking Eastward into Striped Butte Valley - 10/1976

At Mengel Pass looking into Striped Butte Valley - 10/1976.

Of course, we didn’t have a clue who Carl Mengel was, or why he was buried here. 

"Carl Mengel - 1868 - 1944"

Years later, I read that his ashes are here, and also his wooden leg.  I don’t know if there is a meaning to the steel ring, possibly a wheel rim.  Based on more recent pictures, people have taken to placing coins on the stone plaque.     

Also, there is now a ‘parking area’ to leave your vehicle and walk over to the cairn.  There is also a trail that goes to the top of a high rise nearby, but I don’t think that was there when we were there, although it may have been just too steep and high for us to even consider attempting.      

Carl Mengel Pass – parking.

Valet parking is available from 10:00 am to 5:30 pm on weekends, only!  *wink*

So, now our attention turns Eastward again, looking toward Striped Butte Valley, mentioned earlier by our tour guide at the Barker Ranch. 

Looking East into Striped Butte Valley - 10/1976

…nice ‘bells’ there, Barb!  Remember bell-bottom pants?  Oh, wait!  They made a come-back already!  LOL  

 

 

Looking East into Striped Butte Valley - 10/1976

 

See, all you ‘Doubting Thomases’?  We WERE there, and our ol’ van DID make it!!  Notice my 35mm-slr slung across my chest, with the lens cap ON!!  I  actually did take a few pics up there!  I obviously left my ‘fro-pik’ at home!  LOL  C’mon!  It was the SEVENTIES!     

We bid a fond farewell to Mr. Mengel and continued our Eastward trek.  Just beyond the cairn the trail dropped away into Striped Butte Valley.  I slowly edged the van down over the top of the very steep and rocky decline.  Mostly, gravity urged us along, with the occasional help of the engine to climb over a boulder.      

The trail down into Striped Butte Valley - 10/1976

(Please excuse the scratches on the print.  The negative was a bit damaged.) 

In this old picture the trail down looks fairly smooth at this point, but I have seen later pictures of how it has changed since then.  It is VERY rough a bit farther down. 

About three slow and very bumpy minutes down the grade I stopped to cool and rest the brakes (4-wheel drums, no discs here!), and my nerves, and upon looking back up to where we had just started, I concluded that there was absolutely and positively (or was thatNEGATIVELY?) no way in or out of HELL that this old van could EVER get back up to the top, short of establishing a camp down below, and with the aid of my trusty shovel and prybar, construct an earthen ramp starting at the base of this incline and finishing at the top, that would end up being about 1/4-mile long, and would take about 10 years to complete! 

(How’s THAT for a run-on sentence?  LOL) 

I refrained from mentioning this new-found information to Barbara, as it would certainly add to her concerns for our safety, and also add to her questions about what we would be doing Monday morning; getting ready to go to work and school, or hunting for desert rats and snakes for breakfast stew! 

Again, *smack-my-head* no pics of my own (…’cause I was busy hanging on to the steering wheel and fighting to keep us from getting hung up on those big rocks and doing irreparable damage to the van!), but TONS of off-roading folks remark that this is a VERY rough stretch of bad road, mostly with excitement, as they can test their rock crawlers, dune buggys, tricked-out off-roaders and shiny new Hummers! 

 

Mengel Pass - East side

 That pic shows MUCH more sand filling in the gaps than there was in 1976!      

Mengel Pass - East side - 01/08/2008

Yeah, I’m guessing he’s having that same feeling I got when I looked back up that hill!  *GULP!* 

 

Mengel Pass - East side - looking West

Yup!  MUCH more sand than when we were there!  Looks easier now!  LOL  (Ya, SUUURE!)     

…did we drive down stuff like that??  Yep! 

============================     

Here is an AMAZING video of a VW Vanagon astonishing the other dune-buggy drivers with its abilities!!  It may have had a bigger engine than the stock size, but I am not sure.  Regardless, it IS impressive!     

    

.     

=========================     

Charlie Manson and Me – part 7     

~Striped Butte Valley~     

=========================     

 

 

Charlie Manson and Me – part 5

~Goler Wash to Mengel Pass~

=======================

We turned the van around and went back to where we turned off Coyote Canyon Rd. in Goler Wash.  I guess this is where this sign is today:

We went to the right, heading toward what we would later find out was the Carl Mengel cairn.

Memories have faded over the 33 years since then, but I do remember 2 spots that took a bit of nerve and a lot of luck to drive past.  They were both what I now know are called dry waterfalls,  sometimes referred to as dry falls.  They might be the places named Hubcap Falls and Oilpan Falls, but I am not sure about that.

The first challenge would be Hubcap Falls, where it was very rocky and the rise may have been about 4′ high.  Again, no pics, and faded memory.  I just proceeded slowly and managed to climb it after moving a couple of rocks.  Here is a pic of what I think might be this dryfall: 

It would have looked quite different back in 1976, with much less sand and gravel to fill in the spaces.

Or maybe this…? 

Our point of view is looking Eastward, the direction we were travelling, not coming toward the photographer, like these vehicles.

A while later we encountered what remains in my mind as a HUGE smooth boulder that filled the entire Wash from wall to wall.  It was maybe 10 feet high (…or 20 feet, or even 30 feet) and I couldn’t see what was on the other side, so I got out and climbed to the top, (it took maybe 2 minutes to climb up there  *not really!*) discovering a fairly smooth, sandy stretch beyond with an easy trail running through it.  This next pic might be the spot I am writing about, and when I recently discussed this particular hurdle with Barbara, she recalls that it was ‘only’ about 3 feet high!  Wellll, SHE wasn’t driving!  LOL 

I know…  it’s not smooth, and it certainly isn’t 30 feet high, which is exactly why I don’t believe this is the Dryfall I am talking about.  The rock (boulder, fall, whateverrrr…) that I recall was definitely smooth, with no loose stuff around it, and sitting in the van you absolutely could NOT see what was on the other side!  Barbara does agree on that!  And the boulder was at LEAST twice the length of the van from the bottom to the top!  So, to continue…

I slowly put the front wheels up on the dark gray boulder and as the van raised up, Barbara expressed her fear that the van would tip over backwards if we went any farther.

The rear wheels started spinning a bit as they reached the bottom of the boulder, so I backed down a short way to make a run at it.  For peace of mind, and safety’s sake, (…more like for quiet-sake-so-I-could-pay-attention-to-driving-sake) Barbara and Danny got out of the van to watch.

I hit the boulder at certainly under 5 mph, and climbed up and over with barely any wheel-spin. *woo-HOOO!*

I still haven’t found a picture that even closely resembles what I remember of that second big hurdle that we drove over.  I will continue ‘Googling’ and ‘Binging’ for images of Goler Wash, etc. to try and find one.  I am convinced, however, that due to time, weather, and what I have now learned about the actual NPS or BLM or Forest Service or State or County maintenance of the trail going through Goler Wash, that, coupled with people actually moving rocks and shoveling sand and gravel, etc., has changed the look of the place that we remember.  There might have even been some BLASTING done to make the way easier! *…again, slapping my forhead for not taking more pictures back then!*

Once I crested that mountainous boulder, I got out to stretch my legs a bit and settle my nerves from the climb, and give the ol’ van’s engine and tranny a short break.  We looked around a while, soaking in the amazing experience of being where we were, and then Barbara, Danny and I got back into the van to forge ahead to who-knows-what?

I seem to recall that the area right above the big boulder we had just climbed spread out into a small valley with low brush and a sandy trail.  There were a couple of dirt-bike prints, and some horseshoe prints, but we were leaving the only 4-wheel vehicle prints to be seen!  The sides of this valley sloped skyward with jagged tops, but the path was slowly angling upward as well, so they weren’t as high as when we were in the deep wash.  The feeling was as if we were on a different planet!

[I have been advised by David A. Wright that the previous  pics of the dryfalls are not as I described. "These are the dry falls in the lower part of the canyon below the Newman Cabin.  There is nothing remotely approaching the confining canyon walls on the upper canyon."  Oh, well, so much for continuity and verification!  LOL]

=========================

Good video of Goler Wash:

(Note:  I do not recall the ‘roadway’ being so well-packed and smooth as this video shows, but it gives some of the feeling of the height of the  canyon walls and the area.  We did not drive as fast as these guys because we were enjoying the scenery, and the trail was much rougher.)

=========================

Here is another good video of Goler Wash, Newman Cabin and on to Mengel Pass.

(Note:  Most of the pics and videos I have viewed of Goler Wash have had some amount of water on the trail, especially at the West end.  I do not think there was any water at all when we were there.  Also, in this video, it appears to me that the trail has been built up with sand and gravel to make it more passable, but it does show how the trail can drop off on one side while hugging the wall on the other.)

=========================

[David A. Wright advises about this section: "Yes, about 1998, Inyo County really went in and made the main canyon portion of the road much smoother and filled in the area of the falls that you named Oilpan and Hubcap.  The roadway within Death Valley National Park has changed little.  As for the water, there's almost always water running down the roadway below the Newman cabin from a spring.  Most times I've passed by, you drive through water for about a third to half mile."]

=======================

Charlie Manson and Me – part 6

~Carl Mengel Pass~

=======================

Charlie Manson and Me – part 3

~Newman Cabin~

=======================

We rounded a bend on the trail and finally spotted the Newman Cabin.  It is up on a rise on the South side of the wash, and we drove up and parked and finally got out and stretched our legs!  That was a long drive from Ballarat.

Newman Cabin pic sent to me by Hal Newman. (Yes, that's right! During my research for this story I actually connected with the son of the man who held the mining claim there!! How amazing is THAT! Hal Newman and his brother still hold the claim for this mine! The cabin is the Headquarters of the operation, as proclaimed by the sign over the door.) Newman Cabin in Goler Wash - sign over door.

 The interior was very sparse, with a barrel stove and a twin-size metal bedspring with a torn-up mattress, so we opted to sleep in the van. 

Newman Cabin interior - 04/16/2005

Newman Cabin interior - 04/16/2005

Newman Cabin - 04/16/2005.

 Notice the mattress on the right.  I doubt it is the same mattress we encountered 29 years earlier! 

Here we are getting ready for supper - 10/1976.

See how small the trees were! - 10/1976.

Looking towards the West down Goler Wash - 10/1976.

Well, we had a nice supper (Barbara is an EXCELLENT cook!), and we sat at the campfire (Kingsford Charcoal Briquettes and maybe some dead branches for effect).  I’m sure Danny and I cranked out at least a thousand b-b’s, plinking at the rocks up on the slopes.

Then we settled in for the night inside the snug and secure van.

Ready for some sleep after a very long day - 10/1976.

 Finally, a picture of the ‘Mad Explorer’!

 

One last sip of STP before settling in... - 10/1976.

 

LOL  …FOR THE ENGINE!

Then, (…as prearranged with Barbara, and keeping in mind it was Halloween) I ‘excused myself’ and stepped out of the van into the pitch black of a deep canyon night.

I went around to the back of the van to (…errrr, use your imagination), then went around to the side and…

BOOOOOOOO! - 10/1976.

…and Danny, being the tough little trooper he is…

 

Barbara was more scared than Danny was! *sigh* - 10/1976.

 

…and she was taking the pictures!!  So now it was REALLY time to settle in for the night.

…OR WAS IT!!!

Daddy's Little Skull Head! - 10/1976.

Those are straw mats we used as shades on the windows.  The van is facing West, so the morning sunlight would pour in if they weren’t covered.  That, and IF Daddy ever actually slept past 4:00 am!  LOL

===========================

Charlie Manson and Me – part 4

~Up Goler Wash To Carl Mengel Pass~

===========================

 

• Find where you are living now.
  • Mark it with a push pin
• Find where you used to live.
  • Mark it with a push pin
• Find where you were born.
  • Mark it with a push pin
• Find your schools.
  • Mark them with push pins

Getting the picture?  You can search for locations or just roam around looking for places you’ve been or places of interest, etc.  You can mark them with push pins, then you can write or copy descriptions of that place and much, much more!

Then you can set up your ‘places’ into a ‘tour’ and ‘fly’ around the World stopping at each spot!

People upload photos of thousands of places, and so can you!

You can view the bottom of the oceans!

You can soar around through Space, seeing the  stars!

You can travel around on Mars!

You can look at a location, and see how it has changed from the past.

There is free software available so you can work on a building anywhere on Earth and make it a 3D depiction of the real thing!  There are already thousands of them to view, done by individuals or groups.

You can email locations to friends!

Just so you know in advance, some of the map locations are not current, and some are much clearer than others.  My house is being shown as it was before Hurricane Wilma on 10/24/2005!  I know, because I have cut the grass since then.  *ha-ha*

At the very bottom of the map it says, “Imagery Date: Jan. 20, 2005, then the map coordinates, then the elevation – 12 ft. (above sea level), and finally the Eye alt (altimiter?) – 523 ft., which is the view if you were looking from that height.  Cool, huh?

Oh, that’s our house about in the center of the pic.  My ’98 Dodge pick-up and Barbara’s ’05 Accord are in the driveway.

Jan. 20, 2005 was a Thursday, so that is a trash barrel at the end of the driveway.  Our mailbox is the other ‘spot’ on the opposite corner of the driveway, just a bit farther back from it.

• Google Advanced Search - http://www.google.com/advanced_search?webhp?as_q=&num=100&hl=en
• Google Maps – http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&tab=wl
• Google Earth – http://earth.google.com/
• Google Chrome – http://www.google.com/chrome/index.html
• Google Friend Connect – http://www.google.com/friendconnect/
• …and on, and on, and on…!

Google Advanced Search has a TON of search options.  Try it, you’ll LOVE it!

Google Maps…  welll…  it’s almost as awesome as Google Earth!

Google Earth – I am a HUGE fan!!

Google Chrome – an open-source browser similar to Firefox and also similar to Internet Explorer, and is very smooth-running and has some handy tools for making surfing easier.

Google Friend Connect – not familiar with this, but it sounds interesting.

…and Google blah-blah-blaaaaahhhh…  ad infinitum!  There are LOADS of Googly-things to do!

I will  expound on Google Earth in my first ‘Ramble’ post…

(it should appear in the ‘My Ramblings’ links on the left)

*deep breath here*