Southern Inyo’s Malpais Mesa
in the heart of the Malpais Mesa Wilderness in Southern Inyo County, soft sand mixes with black and red volcanic pebbles. A forest of Joshua trees has found the shallow soft soil hospitable, their silhouettes pressed against the west-facing backdrop of the Sierra and its snowy peaks—Olancha, Lone Pine, Whitney, Independence, the Palisades—as far as you can see north on a clear day. Below, Owens Lake at Keeler’s edge forms a checkerboard of silvery blue water against expanses of packed alkali dust and sand dunes that touch the north end of the Coso Range.
To reach this place, my dogs and I have walked from the ruins of the Santa Rosa Mine, following an abandoned road north then northwest to a shallow gully obscured by a few inches of snow from a recent storm. Our guidebook is Desert Summits: A Climbing and Hiking Guide to California and Southern Nevada, by geologist Andy Zdon. In it, he covers an expansive area of desert and a total of 314 peaks, from the Sweetwater Mountains in Mono County to the Coyote Mountains in the Anza Borrego Desert.
Desert Summits, which we fondly refer to as the “desert rat’s bible,” is the product of twenty-five years of Andy’s personal and work-related desert exploration. Each description includes maps, driving and route instructions and a brief history or a tidbit of geologic relevance about the area. For instance, Andy notes that the old Santa Rosa Mine, at the edge of Malpais, was the eighth largest producer of lead in the state of California: 12 million pounds of lead, 490,000 pounds of copper, 4,000 pounds of zinc and 427,000 ounces of silver. Surprising numbers, Andy writes, considering that the mine site is relatively small.
Just past a toppled mining claim post, the desiccated carcass of a dead Joshua tree, uprooted by the weight of its own crown, has been reclaimed by the mesa. To the east, the ridgeline crosses the Nelson Range, dips into the north end of Panamint Valley, then travels up the massive light brown and pale purple striations of Panamint Butte. To the south, is Towne Pass, the high snow-covered ridges of Wildrose, Telescope, Sentinel and Porter peaks of the Panamint Range.
This is big country where sky and earth have equal say in the landscape’s design. It is perfectly quiet. I listen, but hear nothing, feeling the stillness. I look over at Panamint Butte and think about Jean Le Moigne. The ruins of his cabin are east in Lemoigne Canyon, miles away on the other side of the range. He died, alone, driving a wagon pulled by his two burros. He wasn’t feeling well and told his partner he was headed to the doctor in Furnace Creek. When they found him on the road between Stovepipe Wells and Salt Creek, he was curled up beneath a mesquite bush, withered dead. The two burros, tethered to the wagon, also died.
The summit of Malpais Mesa is a dark brown volcanic point, topped by three USGS benchmarks and a register can with a book inside, placed by Andy in 1989. Rosy and Watson, my two cattle dogs, enjoy sharing my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, taking in the view north to Cerro Gordo and New York Butte. We return the way we came, south into the sunlight as it reflects off the new snow at the edge of the Coso Mountains. A jet passes overhead and Rosy starts barking at the momentary disruption. When we reach the mine, it is in shadow. I hear a rock slip loose down a snowy slope behind me, then a bird calling in the volcanic cliff. I stop and listen, but it’s silent now.
Article originally published in Eastside Magazine, Spring 2009.
View from Malpais Mesa overlooking Owens Lake (Photo: ©2020 Wynne Benti)
