White Mountain Peak...

In the White Mountain Range of California. (How original)

There are all too many comparisons to the White Mountains resembling a lunar landscape. Nonsense. The Moon is closer to your Grandma's flower garden than the wildness and weirdness that is the White Mountains.

I'll try and paint the scene. 

To the east lies the Great Basin sinkhole punctuated by range after range of mountains silhouetted in the dusty morning haze. To the immediate west the maw of the Owens Valley looms 10,000 feet below. Canyons free fall east and west from the White Mountains. Just past the Owens Valley rises the Sierra Nevada whose peaks resemble shards of shattered glass. They are that angular. 

In other words, there's a lot happening in this geographic region, and it's all beautiful. 

I shared this 14,252' summit with a few chubby marmots, some shy pikas and one mouse who really wanted to get into my pack. It was all good after a 14 mile round trip hike.

Good night from Bishop, CA

I included a shot of Barley at our 11,500' campsite. He wasn't much into the 32 mile round trip drive on nasty roads to get there. But than again, neither was I.

White Mountains of California...

And the Ancient Bristlecone Pines Groves. 

With the passing of Prometheus (see Great Basin I post) another of Earth's old timers was found along the wind blown slopes of the White Mountains. 

His name is Methuselah, and he's around 4800 years young. A diaper dandy compared to the still growing Prometheus who weighed in at around 5200 years in 1964. 

The Forest Service employees won't divulge the exact location of where Methuselah has been hanging for almost five millennium. They'll just say, "He's out there along the 4.5 mile trail!" I was even willing to do a double secret handshake, and bribe them with IPAs if they spilled the beans. No go. These birds weren't singing.

So...I took an amble among these barely green senior citizens and made a few guesses on which one was Methuselah. When I knew no one was watching, I hugged a few of them. I can't speak for the pines, but it made me feel better.

Fun Factoid: the oldest Bristlecones pines live in the most marginal locations. They can be found where the winds shriek, the soils are thread bare and moisture is an after-thought. These tough guys have an almost "Is that the best shot you got?" attitude when dealing with the worst Mother Nature can throw at them. 

These trees inspire me.

I had to shoot the photo of the pine with barely enough needles to fill a gallon jug, yet he managed to produce one lonely cone. Now that's survival of the species!

Good night before I go "sappy" on you.

Jeff 

Great Basin National Park II

I took a 11 mile stroll up to Johnson Lake passing the appropriately named Johnson Mining District. Despite the fact Nevada's nickname is the Silver State, tungsten was the main element being yanked from the ground way up here. During World War I, this little known rock was an ingredient in making steel alloy. The hard stuff was then used to create weapons of people/property destruction and radio transmitters. 

Here's a photo of what the miners called home. The wild scenes is where I call home when it's warm. Which today at Johnson Lake, it was not. An Arctic Air Mass welled over the peaks causing yours truly to feel frigid. (Reminiscent of some of my past dates). 

I'm now in Topanah, Nevada. (Home of the Muckers!)

I'm not sure what a Mucker is, but I don't think I'm one.

Good Night from the Big T,

Jeff

PS. GBNP only gets about 100,000 visitors/year. Plenty of places to not see other people. Plus it's FREE! No Park Service permit required.