An Energy Bridge of Water Links Mammoth Lakes to Los Angeles, California
In the fall of 2012, El Niño and La Niña global weather systems battled to a draw. Now it is anybody’s guess if this will be a big snow season in California’s Sierra Nevada. On Monday October 22, a friend in Mammoth sent pictures of the season’s first snowfall at Mammoth Lakes. After an extreme lack of snow at Mammoth Mountain Ski Area last winter, locals like Phil are hoping that snowstorms will visit again soon.
In August 2012, I visited Mammoth Lakes for the first time since the 1990s. I was surprised to see how little the core of the town had changed. Still, rampant development of the sub-alpine meadows around the edge of town looked unsustainable to me. In 2012, the town went bankrupt. At the same time, the Los Angeles Department of Water & Power (LADWP) made plans to exert its Mammoth Creek water rights. As has happened several times before, Mammoth headed deeper into an economic recession.
During the winter of 2011-2012, Mammoth Lakes experienced the economic ripple effect of ski area layoffs. With the semi-permanent closure of June Mountain Ski Resort in 2012, it will take more than one great snow season for Mono County and its economy to rebound. Still, as the town of Mammoth Lakes goes, so goes Los Angeles. As a persistent western drought continues, few in Los Angeles stop to think how much of their water originates in Mono County.
Collectively, we spent the past fifty years moving Los Angeles to Mammoth Mountain. Now, over-development and under-supply threaten water sources for both city and town. Perhaps a good 2012 – 2013 snow season will allow us to ignore both the economic and environmental realities for yet another year. Go Sierra snow!
Mesquite, Nevada - Doomed to Live Without its History
For the past five years, my tradition has been to take both a spring and a fall trip to Moab, Utah and the Four Corner States. In 2007 and 2008, I would depart Los Angeles, travel to Phoenix, Arizona and then north to Moab. Having lived in Arizona earlier on, I liked to visit the detached suburb of Los Angeles that Phoenix had become.
In 2009, anti-immigrant rhetoric in Arizona reached a fever pitch. In April 2010, Governor Jan Brewer signed the statute known as Arizona AB 1070 into law. Although she saw an anti-immigrant bill as her ticket to higher office, I saw it as a poke in the eye of egalitarianism. Henceforth, I avoided Phoenix and all of Arizona whenever possible. With both the Grand Canyon and Old Route 66 running through the state, avoiding Arizona completely can be challenging.
After feeling repelled by Arizona politics, I needed a new way to get from Los Angeles to Moab. My new route was to be the Old Spanish Trail, now designated Interstate I-15 North and I-70 East. Although I-15 transits the northwest corner of Arizona, it does so through the Virgin River Gorge. In the gorge, there is no place to stop or spend money. Southwest of the Virgin River Gorge, and half way from Los Angeles to Moab lies Mesquite, Nevada. Each year since 2009, I have stopped overnight in Mesquite, allowing time to absorb some local culture.
On my first stop at Mesquite, I found a quaint collection of old motels and trailer courts. On West Mesquite Blvd., antique and hand-painted signs dominated the old commercial district. Although new development sprang up prior to the economic collapse of 2008, quaint reminders of Mesquite as a farming community and a later as a highway rest stop were evident.
Although permanently closed, Harley’s Garage featured a hand-painted “Ford Parts” logo sign atop its tower. Words scrawled on a front window celebrated Harley’s Garage for its fifty years as a mainstay of business in Mesquite. Likewise, the contemporary Ranch Market stood closed and empty. The market’s predecessor, a humble pole barn, stood tattered by a century of weather at the back of the same lot.
On my most recent visit, I caught sight of an old building on North Sandhill Blvd. Looking as if it had begun life as a house; it now stood stripped bare of its later business facade. With a new stucco exterior, it could have been a quaint restaurant or coffee stop. Instead, it featured “Keep Out” signs and other indications of its upcoming demolition. By the time of this writing, I assume that Mesquite has removed yet another clue to the town’s history.
The foolishness of systematically destroying all of the historical architecture and signage in Mesquite is obvious. To see a graphic example of why, look no further than Las Vegas, ninety miles south on I-15. Gambling-induced development skyrocketed there in the 1950’s. The result was an eclectic collection of iconic and nostalgic architecture. Because of its long-term popularity, old Las Vegas earned a place in the hearts of many visitors. What else explains the popularity of the old “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign that has stood at the south end of The Strip since 1959?
In recent years, a new class of casino and hotel development has prevailed In Las Vegas. With no room for expansion, developers imploded and replaced Desert Inn, The Dunes, El Rancho, The Sands and other hotel/casinos too numerous to mention. Everything in Las Vegas is bigger now, but it is a lot less fun. This recent “bigger is better” format wiped nostalgic old Las Vegas off the strip and into the dustbin of history.
I remember staying in a suite at the Desert Inn in the late 1980s. Just a few yards from the Strip, my suite overlooked a tranquil, green golf course. Maybe if I were a high roller I would care that Steve Wynn personally specified the design and materials of every mattress at his Wynn and Encore hotels. Just give me a bed on the Strip with a Magic Fingers massager under the mattress, and enough quarters to make me want to unplug it and I will be happy.
Out with the new and in with the old. Good luck to Mesquite, Nevada on its historical eradication campaign. For the sake of all who care, I hope the town runs out of redevelopment funds before it runs out of history.
Hovenweep Road Disappears & Reappears Near Hovenweep National Monument
In late April 2012, I departed Moab, Utah, heading toward Hovenweep National Monument, 120 miles southeast. My first 89 miles were on U.S. Highway 191, transiting through Monticello and Blanding, Utah. Fifteen miles south of Blanding, my Magellan GPS directed me to turn east on Utah State Route 262.
Although Magellan was on course, I was not. Blanding rests at 6000 feet in elevation. As you descent into the desert, each hill begins to look like the last one. Near the bottom of the third long hill, I approached the UT-262 East the turn-off. Making that turn with my travel trailer in tow required unusual discretion. Carrying a speed of 55 MPH over the top of the hill meant that I was doing 65 MPH near the bottom, and all without touching the throttle. I applied the brakes and downshifted out of overdrive. Friction creates heat. With my truck and trailer brakes engaged, I hoped that the brakes on my rig would not fade.
With over five tons of metal accelerating downhill, I downshifted into third gear and let the engine roar. While applying my brakes, I dropped the shifter into Second and watched the engine rev up to 4200 RPM. Having had the good sense to preset my trailer brakes for highway speeds, I felt them work in unison with the big disk brakes on my 2006 Nissan Titan. My rolling rocket ship responded in kind, slowing to about 45 MPH.
The only problem was that I needed to be below 25 MPH in order to make the turn. At that point, it was “do or die”, so I applied the brakes even harder and hoped for the best. My “bail out” was to release the brakes and roll on past the intersection, but no one wants to hear Magellan say, “When possible, make a legal U-turn”. As I safely made the turn, the abundant skid marks and stray gravel on the road spoke to me. They said, “Jim, your successful outcome here and now is no cause for celebration”.
When I found myself facing east on UT-262, I took a deep breath and then looked for a place to pull over. This was at least the third time I had traveled from Moab to Hovenweep National Monument. Unbelievably, this was my best job yet negotiating that crucial left turn. Please remember that your perception of time, distance and vertical motion are different in the High Southwest. As Jim Morrison so aptly sang, “Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel”. Watch closely for the highway signs and keep your downhill speed below the posted speed limit. Otherwise, you too might miss your turn toward Hovenweep.
Soon, Utah Hwy. 262 began to show its age. Almost from the start, there were almost no shoulders on the sides of the road. For the first nine miles, the road was narrow, harsh and unforgiving. At that point, Highway UT-262 turned to the south, leaving me on old Hovenweep Road, which is also designated Indian Route 5099. Although my Magellan GPS had performed flawlessly until that point, its digital mainspring was about to uncoil.
Although Hovenweep National Monument is remote from any settlement larger than a trading post, it is a targeted destination for many motorists. With her database in full failure mode, Magellan’s siren-sweet voice tried to lead me astray. “Turn left at the next opportunity”, she declared. Such tactics may have lured Ulysses onto an ancient, rocky coastline, but not me. Her voice intended to deceive me. “Ha!” I said, “This is like déjà vu all over again”. This was my third trip to Hovenweep along this road. Had I learned anything?
Slowly, my thoughts came back to me. Long ago, in Navajo land I had learned to disbelieve Magellan’s driving directions. Just try to drive from Gallup, New Mexico to Chaco Canyon with only Magellan as your guide. Twice in the past, Magellan had failed me there. Smugly, I concluded that no one at Magellan or its database creators had ever traveled these roads. If they had, they would not suggest a shortcut that starts at the washout of Montezuma Creek and then winds for miles over rough terrain.
The first algorithmic rule for GPS databases should be, “If there is an alternative route over paved-roads, suggest it.” In order to do that, one must know firsthand if a road exists. If so, is paved or gravel? Only by placing the mapmakers’ eyes in the real world will such things ever change. Meanwhile, the Spirit of the Ancients sits around a celestial campfire, looking down at us and having a good laugh. Come on, mapmakers; none ever died wishing that they had spent more time in the office.
After Magellan suggested a hard left turn up a steep and curving gravel road, I stopped to consult my trusty DeLorme Utah Atlas & Gazetteer. Later, while looking at Google Maps, I could see why Magellan got it wrong. From Hatch Trading Post to Hovenweep on paved roads requires a roundabout tour to the south, via Reservation Road 2416 and San Juan County Road 413. Just south of Hatch Trading Post, that paved route crosses Montezuma Creek on a contemporary highway bridge. Just south of that bridge is where Magellan suggested a make a hard left turn.
Had I taken that route, it would have soon connected me with a graveled extension of “Hovenweep Road”, also called San Juan County Road 212. If one follows that gravel road, it is indeed the original and shorter route to Hovenweep National Monument. With its “Hovenweep Road” moniker, that gravel route is only ten miles long, but takes thirty-eight minutes. The paved route to the south is longer, but takes only twenty-nine minutes.
If you are familiar with Google Street View, you know that Google camera cars have traversed almost every paved road in America. Magellan, for its part, has outsourced its database to either the incompetent or the knowledgeable. The Navajo Nation is the largest Native American tribe in the U.S. Although their reservation abuts the Four Corners on three sides, Magellan treats it like a no-man’s land. Rich with cultural heritage, it behooves Magellan to provide accurate directions throughout the region. Magellan’s users need to know that they can follow paved roads to such treasures as Hovenweep National Monument.
Once I got past the Magellan database errors, I had a pleasant ride to Hovenweep. To the sides of the road I saw occasional Navajo dwellings. Whether any one of them was occupied or abandoned, I could not say. Were these empty houses awaiting their owner’s return or were they the abandoned relics of a time before the Dine’ (Navajo) moved to the cities. Other major features on the land consisted of natural gas wells and occasional water wells. The gas wells utilized propane fuel to spin their flywheels, while the water wells featured Aermotor windmill pumps. Although windmills usually indicate that cattle will be grazing nearby, the only wildlife in view that day consisted of wild horses.
Even in April, the desert was extremely dry. Little water ran in the major watercourses and there were no waterholes visible on the mesa. For the wild horses, finding sufficient forage and water defines their constant battle for life over death. Few of the horses looked well fed or well watered. In order to conserve energy or to beg a meal, many untamed horses stay close to the road. Although they were clearly wild, most of the horses barely moved when I stopped to photograph them.
One exception that day was a palomino stallion that I startled as he crossed the landscape. In order to photograph the horse, I had to make a U-turn and then stop on the gravel apron of a desolate crossroad. With all of the noise and commotion that I had caused, the palomino caught wind of me. As he galloped across an arroyo, I had time to capture only one image of the horse. As I later zoomed in on that image, I realized that his ribs were showing, indicating severe environmental stress. If I could rewind and redo my actions that day, I would not have pursued and further stressed that beautiful animal with my vehicle or on foot.
As I approached Little Ruin Canyon at Hovenweep National Monument, the grand Sleeping Ute Mountain appeared to the east. Although many of the place names throughout the High Southwest are fanciful in their origins, Sleeping Ute Mountain lives up to its name. With his head in the north and his feet in the south, the ancient spirit of the mountain appears to be at rest. As I approached the campground at Hovenweep National Monument near sundown, I held my breath, hoping to find an open campsite large enough to accommodate my rig.
A Busy Afternoon at Canyonlands Field - Moab, Utah
In April 2012, I visited Canyonlands Field, near Moab, Utah. It was a busy day at the airport, with takeoffs and landings going on throughout the afternoon. Serving both general and commercial aviation at the same field sets the Moab airport apart from most regional airports. The juxtaposition of commercial and private takeoffs and landings, all without tower support means that everyone involved needs to stay alert and responsible for their actions.
In this video, I watch as the Great Lakes Airlines Beech 1900 departs Moab. Only minutes later, a private pilot lands his high performance TBM850 turboprop on the same runway. As with any uncontrolled airfield, no one takes off or lands until radio communications have confirmed the location of any airplanes in the area. Although this video looks like a narrow escape, it is more like an aerial ballet, choreographed by the pilots themselves.
Next time you are in Moab, Utah, be sure to dedicate a few hours to the action at Canyonlands Field. The best time is often on a Saturday afternoon. Between the skydivers coming down and the busy airfield, you will not regret your visit.
In August 2012, I visited Mammoth Lakes for the first time since the 1990s. I was surprised to see how little the core of the town had changed. Still, rampant development of the sub-alpine meadows around the edge of town looked unsustainable to me. In 2012, the town went bankrupt. At the same time, the Los Angeles Department of Water & Power (LADWP) made plans to exert its Mammoth Creek water rights. As has happened several times before, Mammoth headed deeper into an economic recession.
Collectively, we spent the past fifty years moving Los Angeles to Mammoth Mountain. Now, over-development and under-supply threaten water sources for both city and town. Perhaps a good 2012 – 2013 snow season will allow us to ignore both the economic and environmental realities for yet another year. Go Sierra snow!
One exception that day was a palomino stallion that I startled as he crossed the landscape. In order to photograph the horse, I had to make a U-turn and then stop on the gravel apron of a desolate crossroad. With all of the noise and commotion that I had caused, the palomino caught wind of me. As he galloped across an arroyo, I had time to capture only one image of the horse. As I later zoomed in on that image, I realized that his ribs were showing, indicating severe environmental stress. If I could rewind and redo my actions that day, I would not have pursued and further stressed that beautiful animal with my vehicle or on foot.
