Devil Dogs of Dale & a Baby Buzzworm
by
IT began at 6 A.M. on one
of those “Hey-Mable-let's-pack-up-the-old- Edsel-and-move-to-Californy-and-all-that-sunshine”
type day way back in April 1995 – nearly 20 years ago. With temperatures heading for the low-80s,
glittering snow frosting the local mountains, and the desert looking like the
ever-blooming stock of a commercial nursery, Ghost Town USA was heading towards the
Dale Mining District, in the “back-forty” of California’s Mojave Desert.
In all the years of exploring the desert, as of
the date of this trip, I had never visited the Dale Mining District, which is
located in the northeast corner of Joshua Tree National Park, about 20 miles
southeast of Twentynine Palms.
Past Twentynine Palms,
the state highway heads east into an infinity of Joshua Trees, past occupied
and abandoned, crumbling "jackrabbit homesteads". At mile 14.3 east of the National Park
Visitor Center turnoff, a well graded dirt road angles to the southeast. On the north side of the intersection, a
downed water tank and a concrete foundation are all that remains of Old Dale,
which dates to the 1880s when it was the base for placer mining
prospectors. Bottle collectors and
treasure hunters have dug here for years, many times with mixed results.
I grabbed my camera, plopped my hat on my head and
stepped out of the van twenty feet in front of an onrushing, churning dog
tsunami coming from an occupied cabin across the street.
Surprise!
The ferocious, four-legged furballs
could have at least wagged their tails in greeting to let me know they wanted
my company! But nooo!
I nimbly jumped back in the van and smiled inanely
to three of the ugliest, snarlingist canines I've
ever had the displeasure to meet. They
skidded to a stop, not caring whether I smiled or not. They took up their macho “I dare you to come
out” stance. With the van window rolled
up, my three friends realized they weren't going to have Speck for
breakfast, so they stopped barking and started sniffing the van's rims. Probably smelling markings by local cats,
they each took turns hoisting a leg, washing off the desert dust and the smell
of the previous liquid marker.
Since getting non-window masked photos was out of
the question, I started the engine, flipped on the air-conditioning, and
crossed the road, heading southeast on the Gold Crown Mine Road with my ugly,
snarling canine escort. Putting the
pedal to the metal, the Devil Dogs disappeared in a plume of white dust and
flying gravel.
In 1995, the first 3.7 miles were easily traveled
in a passenger vehicle with reasonable road clearance, but a truck or 4X4 would
have been better. At that point the road
swings slightly east, and there is a small pullout is on the left. I parked there, and hoofed it a couple
hundred yards up the wash to the remains of the Virginia Dale Mine. At the time of my visit, all that was left
were five large rusted cyanide vats, three battered tanks, a ball mill drum,
concrete foundations, rock retaining walls and scattered rubble decorating the
sides of a steep-walled draw flowing from the black rocks of a sunburned hill.
The Virginia Dale Mine dates to the early 1900s
and was home for 50-60 people. The gold
was rich, but it played out.
Don't go beyond this point
unless you have a properly equipped vehicle and off-road driving skill. In 1995, the road rapidly deteriorated,
becoming a four-wheel drive trail until it slipped over a small pass and descended
down the east side. There it was fairly
smooth, but within a half mile, sand was encountered. Since it had rained recently, the sand had
been compacted by a vehicle with wider tires than mine, and it was easy running
for me in my minivan.
At a point 1.8 miles from the Virginia Dale Mine,
the road deteriorated into a pair of sandy wheel tracks as it made an acute
turn to the right. Just a half-mile down
that road (which continues straight ahead), faint tracks lead to the east along
the south face of the big black hill.
Driving SLOWLY, it took nearly
15 minutes to traverse the 0.9 miles of rough rocky trail to the site of New
Dale. Here in the early 1900s a town of 1000 supposedly squatted here. There is room, and different sources claim
different things. If there was anything,
it’s long gone. Absolutely nothing
remains of the old town, except rusty cans, scattered broken glass and a couple
square holes surrounded by scrub-covered rock piles that look like they may
have been cabins. After metal detecting
for all of 30 minutes and finding nothing but junk, I packed up my trusty old
White's Coinmaster 5000, popped off a couple pictures
of the site, and hoisted myself aboard the Ghost Town Express.
I returned to the state highway and the site of Old
Dale and didn’t spot my flea-bitten friends.
I quickly drove across the street, grabbed my camera and swung the van
around. I opened my window and shot
several pictures just as the Devil Dogs caught sight of me, and the canine
tsunami rolled towards me for round two.
To heck with them.
I dropped the tranny into drive, punched the
accelerator and gave my furry, four-legged friends their second gravel shower
of the day!
***
Three weeks earlier my family and I camped at
Joshua Tree for our annual Spring Break camping trip. As always we explored a number of mining
camps and old ranch sites, both remote and close to campgrounds and roads. Each year we search out different locations
in the park, and over the years have found many sites unknown to most of the
Park's casual visitors.
On that camping trip, it was at a remote site that
my "24 exposure" roll of film slipped past 30 exposures. At number 36 I swallowed hard and opened the
camera...NO FILM! Guess I was trying to
go digital in the pre-digital days!
Thankfully I had an extra roll in my pocket, so I loaded it.
Well, that really made my day. Of course by that time we were clear down at
Cottonwood Canyon, in the southeast end of the park. All the sites I had previously shot were
behind us, BUT, I knew I'd return a few weeks later. Oh well!
So on this fine April afternoon with high cirrus
clouds drifting over the sun, muting its brightness, but highlighting the
brilliant colors, the doggie-highlighted Ghost Town Express wheels rolled into
the Park to reshoot photos at the old Ryan Ranch site. Since the ranch is only a couple hundred
yards from a campground, I figured I’d run in, shoot a roll of film and leave,
all in a thirty-minute time frame. Then
I could head home.
Ah yes! Easy plans. No
problem….
So here I was alone, in a hurry, wearing tennis
shoes and not watching where I was walking.
Actually all I was interested in was camera angles. I spotted a perfect spot to record a “Kodak
Moment” on a flat rock, across a small wash.
I jumped over the wash, landing on top of the rock. It faced the adobe-walled ruin of the old
ranch house. The sun peeked through the
clouds highlighting the weathered adobe brick.
It was the "ultimate shot," so I pressed the button and
quickly sidestepped to the right to get a slightly different angle. As my foot landed, it slipped a bit, and I
felt a light thump and a stabbing pain on the inside of my right foot. I jumped, then limped over to a large, round
rock a dozen feet to the right and sat down.
Looking to where I just came from, the nasty spines of one of the area's
plentiful small barrel cacti “smiled” back at me. I figured I'd probably kicked that unmoving
pincushion. Once I peeled my shoe and
sock off, a swollen spot looking for all the world
like a big mosquito bite with a little hole in the center marked the side of my
foot. Looks like a cactus
prick. I shrugged my shoulders, squeezed
the mini-volcano-looking wound to make sure the spine tip didn’t break off
inside. I wiped the oozing blood off
with my handkerchief, slipped my sock back on, then my shoe. It really began to throb, and as I tried to
take more pictures, my foot started burning like a bee or wasp sting does.
Time to head home, so I gimped my way back to the
van and we rolled off to the west.
An hour and a half later I got home. After unloading the van, I sat down to eat
the fresh pizza and a cold beer my wife set out for dinner. I told her about my day and decided to free
my sweaty feet from sneaker-jail. I kicked off the left shoe first, peeled off
the sock, then untied the right shoe. As soon as that shoe's pressure was released,
pain raced through my foot, up my leg and smacked me between the ears. Quickly removing the sock, I knew instantly
that this wound was NOT caused by
kicking a cactus. My entire instep had
become a huge, swollen, angry red and purple mess.
Four hours later, the emergency room doctor
checked out my foot and told me it was a rattlesnake bite, but I "was
lucky because it didn't inject any venom". Even so, my foot was swollen and badly
bruised. I missed three days of work,
and my foot hurt to walk on for about two weeks. I'm glad it only “one-fanged” me, and that it
was a wimpy one at that!
If it would only have rattled!
Needless to say, everybody at work called me
Rattlesnake Gary for a long time!
Rattlesnake
bites can be very serious. For all my
life I've always been careful when in the field, but this time I was in a
hurry, not paying attention, yet was VERY LUCKY! Be careful when you are in the
field. WATCH WHERE YOU WALK!
BROOKLYN MINE (San Bernardino Co.)
Rubble remains but is only
accessible via FOUR-WHEEL-DRIVE vehicle roads. This early 1900s era gold-mining camp sits
just a few feet north of the county line east of the site of New Dale.
·
SW¼
Sec 36, T1S, R12E, San Bernardino Meridian
·
Latitude:
34.0350056 / 34° 02’ 06” N
·
Longitude:
-115.6786014 / 115° 40’ 43” W
OLD
DALE (San Bernardino Co.)
Concrete rubble remains
alongside SH 62, 14.3 miles east of the Twentynine
Palms junction of SH 62 with the road to the north entrance of Joshua Tree
National Park.
·
SE¼
Sec 35, T1N, R11E, San Bernardino Meridian
·
Latitude:
34.1225027 / 34° 07’ 21” N
·
Longitude: -115.7952722 /
115° 47 43” W
NEW DALE
(San Bernardino Co.)
About
4.5 miles southeast of Virginia Dale, on a FOUR-WHEEL-DRIVE ROAD. Nothing remains except
scattered rusty cans and some foundation depressions.
·
SW¼
Sec 27, T1S, R12E, San Bernardino Meridian
·
Latitude:
34.0500047 / 34° 03’ 00” N
·
Longitude:
-115.7188804 / 115° 43’ 08” W
VIRGINIA DALE (San Bernardino Co.)
3.7 miles southeast of Old Dale, on the Gold Crown
Mine Road (graded dirt). Remains include rusty cyanide vats, tanks and mill
equipment, concrete foundations, rock walls, and scattered rubble.
·
SW¼
Sec 20, T1S, R12E, San Bernardino Meridian
·
Latitude:
34.0647262 / 34° 03’ 53” N
·
Longitude:
-115.75447371 / 115° 45’ 16” W
RYAN RANCH (Riverside Co.)
·
SE¼
Sec 21, T2S, R8E, San Bernardino Meridian
·
Latitude:
33.984730
·
Longitude:
-116.151671
This was our GHOST
TOWN OF THE MONTH for April 1999.
It was rewritten and reposted for our GHOST TOWN OF THE MONTH for April 2014.
***************
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