Road Trip to Great Basin National Park

Memorial Day weekend can be a tricky time to travel, with floods of people anywhere you go. This year we made a wise choice and missed the crowds. We traveled northwest through some pretty isolated country, our final destination being Great Basin National Park in Nevada.

From our home in Enoch, Utah, the one-way trip is 138 miles. The largest town we passed through was Milford, population 1,360. Other than that, it is a desolate stretch of land. We saw a few small herds of antelope, sheep, and cattle; small farms in the desert, and a ghost town.

The average person could call this land boring and monotonous. "Ugly" may be the term used by the most cynical. But for me, it is fascinating! Any terrain that is this remote has got to have layers of mysteries waiting to be discovered. I ponder the stories that may never be told and geological wonders that have never been discovered. Here's a small collection of what we found.

Frisco. Just fifteen miles west of Milford on Highway 21 is the ghost town of Frisco, named because it lies at the foot of the San Francisco Mountains. At its height—around 1885—this mining town had twenty three saloons and a population of 6,000. That's really hard to believe because now, no one lives here.

We parked just off the highway and walked across strewed debris and old foundations. On the side of the hill are five beehive-shaped charcoal ovens (below) used by miners to serve the smelters. Most of the large conical ovens are well preserved.

With more time, and a big enough interest, a man could spend all day exploring Frisco. Many old mines and buildings are scattered around the area. Being on a tight schedule, we chose only visit the ovens, and then the cemetery.

The cemetery (above left) is located due west of the ovens, and accessed by a good graveled road. I was pleased to see that the graveyard still sees visitors, as evidenced by coins, flowers, boots, and other knick-knacks left at many of the graves. Headstones are intermingled with wild grass, sagebrush, and juniper trees.

The demise of Frisco is a fascinating tale. One evening in 1885, the night shift had just emerged from the Horn Silver Mine when the foreman realized the ground was shuddering beneath him. He held off on sending the next crew down, and a few minutes later there was a “thundering roar” that shattered windows as far as Milford. All at once, the entire mine collapsed, taking with it not only dirt and ore, but also the jobs of those in town who were employed at the mine. In the years that followed, Frisco held on by a thread, but by 1920, the town became empty.

The next sixty or so miles from Frisco takes you through some pretty lonely territory, with long stretches that cross the Wah Wah and Pine Valley's (above).

As the highway climbs another crest and takes a noticed turn to the northwest, the first view of the snow-capped mountains of Great Basin National Park come into view. I was also impressed with the fields of Indian Paintbrush that grew like wheat in the valley (right).

We pulled over to a corral that was just off a dirt road and found scattered wool on the ground. It appeared that this had been a spot for sheep-shearing not too long ago.

Garrison, Utah. The first hint of any civilization in nearly seventy five miles, Garrison is a tiny town in Snake Valley. I don't know much about the history of this little place, other than it was founded in the 1850's by cattle rustlers and other outlaws. Sounds interesting to me.

Other than farms, there isn't much here. An LDS church that appears to be made with two modular homes sits in the middle of town. Behind the church is an interesting cemetery (left), with several old graves and a graveled ground. The majestic Snake Range stands as the backdrop.

Baker, Nevada. Less than a mile after leaving Garrison, we cross the state line into Nevada. Seven miles later, we are in Baker. Baker isn't much bigger than Garrison, if at all. Total population: 68.

Baker is headquarters to Great Basin National Park, and tends to have the look of a National Park border-town with hippie-like art on some of the buildings. 

We took a small drive around town, past the elementary school playground, and past the community church (above).

At the center of town, it is necessary to take a left-hand turn onto Lehman Caves Road. This is the road that will take you to the main entrance of the park. Along this stretch you will find several pieces of “art” if you pay attention to the fence posts (above). Although this is the main thoroughfare to the park (and we were there on Memorial Day!), you'll still have the road mostly to yourself. Take your time and see what you can find.

Lehman Caves. Around 1885, Absalom Lehman discovered a small opening in the hillside above his ranch, leading to a spectacular cave that would later bear his name. Although the exact story of how this rancher/miner from Pennsylvania discovered the caves may never be known, we do know that what he found is pretty amazing.

The cave is damp and cool inside, maintaining a constant temperature of fifty degrees Fahrenheit. We opted for the ninety-minute tour, which we took with fifteen other people. No gum, no food, no water bottles, no camera bags, no touching—among other rules—are strictly enforced. Cameras are allowed, and flashlights and jackets are recommended.

Our tour took us a little over half a mile past stalagmites, stalactites, helictites, shield formations and other configurations. The entire walk is conveniently placed on a cement path, along with some stairs. There are a few clear pools of water inside the cave. In the Inscription Room, several names are written across the ceiling, including one from 1903.

It is hard to fathom how the early discoverers of the cave got around without a foot path. They must have used lots of ropes and candle light.

There is evidence that Native Americans used the entrance hole as a burial spot, judging from bones found below the opening. But nothing suggests they explored the cave.

Wheeler Peak. The omnipresent Wheeler Peak seems to be visible from about anywhere in Snake Valley, and inside the park. This snow-capped crown is the second highest in all of Nevada, reaching 13,063 feet in elevation.

Although hiking this summit is on my to-do list, I knew it wasn't practical on this trip. We had little time, young kids, and the peak was still packed in snow. I had hoped to hike to Stella Lake, which sits below the peak in an Alpine setting, but the rangers told me it was under snow also.

So, we did the next best thing and drove ten miles up the Wheeler Peak scenic drive to a lookout point near 10,000 feet. The drive is pretty, and climbs at a steady pitch. Along the way you have great views of nearby Mount Moriah, as well as distant Notch Peak. There is also a roadside kiosk explaining the history of the failed Osceola Ditch project.

I will admit that when I came to the view point I was very disappointed.  Several tall trees grew around it (blocking the view), and it faced the wrong direction (toward the east, rather than Wheeler Peak). Therefore, the vista it provided was only mediocre.

I did what I tend to do and briskly walked a quarter of a mile further up the road toward a bend that appeared to have a promising panorama. Few cars passed me. Patches of snow clumped around the foot of the Englelman Spruce that grew from the steep slope that dropped at my immediate left. The high mountain air was welcoming and I breathed it deeply as I continued a quick jaunt.

At last, I reached the bend in the road, and as expected, the trees opened up, the valley below unfolded, and Wheeler Peak in all her majesty stood before me. Caked in white, with rugged granite ledges peeking out, I admired the splendor of the mountain.

But knowing that I had a wife and three girls waiting on me back at the car, I knew I had to leave. I steadied my camera with my right hand and trotted back down the road. ♠