High Above the Heat: Mahogany Flats and Telescope Peak

Death Valley is world-renowned for its blistering salt flats and below-sea-level basins, but if you look westward from the valley floor, the Panamint Range offers a dramatic, alpine escape. At the pinnacle of this range stands Telescope Peak, accessible via the rugged gateway of Mahogany Flats.


The Gateway: Mahogany Flats

Before you even lace up your boots, you have to survive the drive. Mahogany Flats is the highest campground in Death Valley National Park, sitting at an elevation of 8,133 feet.

  • The Journey: The road transition from Wildrose Canyon to Mahogany Flats is legendary. The final 1.5 miles are steep, unpaved, and notoriously bumpy. While high-clearance vehicles are a must, 4WD is often recommended depending on recent weather.

  • The Campsite: Once you arrive, the air is thin and crisp. The campground is nestled among ancient mountain mahogany and juniper trees. It serves as the primary trailhead for the summit and offers a literal “birds-eye” view of the Badwater Basin thousands of feet below.

  • The History: Nearby, you’ll find the Wildrose Charcoal Kilns, 25-foot-tall beehive-shaped stone structures built in 1877 to create fuel for silver-lead mines. They are some of the best-preserved specimens of their kind in the West.


The Ascent: Scaling Telescope Peak

The hike from Mahogany Flats to the summit of Telescope Peak is a strenuous but rewarding 14-mile round trip. It is a journey through vertical life zones that feels more like the High Sierra than the Mojave Desert.

Feature Detail
Distance 14 miles (Out and Back)
Elevation Gain ~3,300 feet
Summit Elevation 11,049 feet
Difficulty Strenuous
Best Time June – October (Snow lingers into May)

The Trail Experience

The path begins with a steady climb through forests of Pinyon Pine. As you gain altitude, the landscape shifts dramatically. You will eventually encounter the Bristlecone Pines—some of the oldest living organisms on Earth, weathered into twisted, golden sculptures by centuries of high-altitude wind.

The final stretch follows a narrow ridge. To your left (east), the ground drops away toward Badwater Basin (-282 feet). To your right (west), the Panamint Valley stretches out toward the Sierra Nevada.


The Summit: A 360-Degree Spectacle

Reaching the top of Telescope Peak (11,049 feet) provides a geographical perspective found nowhere else on the continent. On a clear day, you can witness one of the greatest vertical reliefs in the United States:

The “Telescope” Effect: From the summit, you can look down at the lowest point in North America (Badwater Basin) and, simultaneously, look across to the highest point in the contiguous U.S., Mount Whitney (14,505 feet).

The peak earned its name because the air is so clear and the vantage so high that it feels like you are looking through a telescope at the distant horizons.


Essential Tips for Your Trip

  1. Check the Snow: Even if it’s 100°F in Furnace Creek, Telescope Peak can be covered in ice and snow. Always check ranger reports before heading up.

  2. Acclimatize: You are starting at 8,000 feet. Give yourself a night at Mahogany Flats to get used to the thin air before attempting the summit.

Hydrate: The desert air is incredibly dry, and the climb is exposed. Carry more water than you think you’ll need—there are no reliable water sources on the trail.

Note: I walked to school every morning down Argus Avenue to California Street and then up to Telescope Street where Telescope Peak was present in the background. We marked the seasons by looking to see if it had snow or not. If it did it was winter. If it didn’t it was summer. One year our neighbors, the Mocks went to Mahogany Flats and brought home enough pine nuts to fill 3 55 gallon barrels. There are not many things that taste better than roasted pine nuts.

References:

Telescope Peak, California

Telescope Peak Hike in the Winter: Death Valley’s Highest Point

Telescope Peak Trail Map & Elevation Profile

Wildrose Charcoal Kilns

Telescope Peak

The High Desert Gateway: Exploring Wildrose Canyon and Station

Deep within the Panamint Range of Death Valley National Park lies a landscape that defies the standard desert stereotype. Far above the salt flats of Badwater Basin, Wildrose Canyon offers a rugged, high-elevation retreat where pinyon pines replace creosote bushes and the air remains cool even as the valley floor below reaches triple digits.

Rich in both geological drama and pioneer history, the canyon and its long-lost “station” tell a story of silver booms, industrious engineering, and the enduring resilience of the Mojave Desert.

The Geography of an Oasis

Wildrose Canyon is a 13-mile-long natural corridor on the western side of the Panamint Mountains. While much of Death Valley sits below sea level, Wildrose begins at an elevation of roughly 4,000 feet and climbs to over 8,000 feet. This dramatic verticality creates a unique ecosystem; it is a “sky island” where moisture is more abundant, supporting a dense woodland of Singleleaf Pinyon Pine and Utah Juniper.

The canyon serves as one of the primary western gateways into the park, accessible via the winding Wildrose Canyon Road. For travelers, it represents a transition from the stark, arid Panamint Valley to the alpine-like ridges of the high Panamints.

The Story of Wildrose Station

While the canyon remains a popular destination today, Wildrose Station is a name that largely belongs to the history books. Located at the junction of the Trona-Wildrose Road and Emigrant Canyon Road, the station was once a vital “oasis” for weary travelers and freight teams.

The Stagecoach Era

In the early 1900s, during the gold and silver rushes that birthed ghost towns like Skidoo and Panamint City, Wildrose Station served as a critical stage stop. It was a place where horses were changed, water was shared, and prospectors could find a hot meal. Beneath a massive rock formation—which the local Timbisha Shoshone and miners alike called “the big rock”—a café and blacksmith shop once operated.

The Modern Era and Removal

In the mid-20th century, the station continued to operate as a small commercial hub, featuring a general store, café, and gasoline pumps under private leases. However, in 1971, the National Park Service (NPS) decided to close the station and remove its commercial structures to restore the “historic flavor” and natural integrity of the area. Today, little remains of the station buildings themselves, but the site continues to serve as a landmark near the Wildrose Campground.

The Architectural Marvel: Wildrose Charcoal Kilns

The most famous residents of the canyon are not people, but ten massive, beehive-shaped structures: the Wildrose Charcoal Kilns.

Completed in 1877 by the Modock Consolidated Mining Company (partially owned by George Hearst, father of William Randolph Hearst), these kilns were an industrial solution to a fuel problem. The silver-lead smelters in the Argus Range, 25 miles to the west, required intense heat that regular wood couldn’t provide.

  • Engineering: Each kiln stands 25 feet tall and was built from local stone and lime mortar.
  • Production: Laborers filled the kilns with pinyon pine and juniper logs, then set them to a slow, controlled burn for about a week to produce high-energy charcoal.
  • Preservation: The kilns were only used for about two years before the mines closed. Because of this short lifespan and their remote location, they are considered the best-preserved examples of charcoal kilns in the Western United States. Even today, the interior of the stones still smells faintly of woodsmoke and creosote.

Visiting Today

For modern visitors, Wildrose Canyon is a prime destination for escaping the heat and exploring the park’s history.

  • Wildrose Campground: Open year-round, this site offers 23 spaces. Unlike the low-elevation campgrounds, Wildrose is often breezy and cool, though it can see snow in the winter.
  • Hiking: The trailhead for Wildrose Peak (9,064 ft) begins at the charcoal kilns. It is an 8.4-mile round-trip hike that provides some of the most spectacular 360-degree views in California, stretching from the Sierra Nevada to the east to the white salt crust of Death Valley to the west.
  • Wildlife: The canyon is a haven for desert bighorn sheep, burros, and a variety of high-desert birds like the Pinyon Jay.

Travel Tips

The road into Wildrose Canyon is narrow and winding. The National Park Service strictly prohibits vehicles longer than 25 feet from traversing the upper sections of the canyon road due to tight turns. Additionally, the final stretches leading to the kilns are gravel; while usually passable for sedans, high-clearance vehicles are recommended after rain or snow.

Wildrose Canyon stands as a reminder that Death Valley is more than just a scorched basin—it is a mountain kingdom with a deep, cooling breath and a history etched in stone.

Jeanette Kay Thomas, Classs of 1986

Jeanette Kay Thomas

Aug 9,1968- Feb 12,2026

Born in Ridgecrest, CA to Carolyn Lowe and James Thomas Sr., Jeanette lived a life defined by passion and an indomitable spirit. She was a woman who loved deeply, and when faced with life’s challenges, fought long and hard with a courage that inspired many. Jeanette Found peace and happiness in the simple beauties of life. She loved the great outdoors, a quiet games of cards or family gatherings, but her truest treasures were her daughter and grandchildren. As the best Memaw anyone could ask for, She spent her happiest days making memories with her grandbabies!

Jeanette is survived by her mother, Carolyn lowe, daughter, Maegan Darling, her beloved grandchildren, Natalia and Joseph, brothers,Woody Lowe, Stoney Lowe, and Sis-in-law, Kary Thomas. She also leaves behind her nieces, Kristina (Justin) Benzo, Brittany (Brett) Baker, and Katelynn Lowe; nephews Steve Kuschka and Tayler Lowe as well as a wide circle of great nieces, great nephews, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.

She is preceded in death by her sister, Starla Thomas, and brother, James Thomas Jr.

Services will be held at Holland & Lyons Chapel, on March 21st @2:00pm

https://www.hollandlyons.com/obituaries/jeanette-thomas?ttm_pid=211006822&ttm_affiliate=legacypro&ttm_affiliatetype=standard&ttm_campaign=legacy

Donald F “Don” Dill — Class of 1952

Donald Frederick Dill

1933 – 2026

Donald F. Dill, a  standout athlete of the Trona High School Class of 1952, passed away in February 2026. News of his passing was shared by his wife, Roberta, through the Searles Valley Historical Society Newsletter.

A Life of Leadership and Athletics

Don’s journey in Trona began around 1948, when he moved from Michigan with his parents, and sister. His parents were originally from Canada. He quickly became a fixture of Trona High School life, where his natural leadership and athletic prowess were on full display.

A versatile and gifted athlete, Don was a four-year letterman in both Football and Baseball, while also competing on the basketball and track teams. His peers recognized his character and vision early on, electing him Class President for both his junior and senior years. Don also helped preserve the memories of his classmates by serving as the Sports Editor for the 1952 yearbook.

Family and Legacy

Don was preceded in death by his brother, Lloyd, and his nephew, Ron (Class of 1961). He is survived by:

  • His beloved wife, Roberta.

  • His sister, Marjorie Brooks (Class of 1953).

Don will be remembered by the Trona community as a man who embodied the spirit of his graduating class—active, involved, and always ready to lead. His legacy remains a part of the long history of Trona High School and preserved in the hearts of those who knew him.

Linda (Pounds) Spears — Class of 1978

Linda Lea Spears (maiden name Pounds) passed away on February 17, 2026, in Lake Isabella, California, at the age of 65. She was born on May 23, 1960, in San Bernardino, California, to Horace Pounds and Carol Sorensen.

Linda grew up in Trona, California, in a lively household alongside her five siblings. She graduated as a proud member of the Trona High School Class of 1978, embracing her identity as a Trona Tornado. That same year, at just 18 years old, she became a mother — a role that would define her life and bring her immeasurable joy. Linda’s greatest passion was her family, and she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to raising and loving her children and grandchildren.

Linda lived a bold and colorful life. She was unapologetically herself — wild, loud, opinionated, and fiercely independent. Known for her unforgettable phrases like “WOOOOWWW, REALLLY,” “WHOO CARREESSS,” and her latest favorite expression “F**k Em,” Linda had a way of leaving a lasting impression on everyone she met. She never followed the crowd; instead, she stood out wherever she went. Her stubbornness and ornery nature were matched only by the size of her heart. Taking care of others wasn’t just something Linda did — it was who she was. Those fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of her love felt it deeply.

Linda was preceded in death by her husbands, Jerry Hinzo and Rick Spears; her father, Horace Pounds; her mother, Carrol Sorensen; her sisters, Janet Reed and Martha Kennedy; and her brother, Charles Pounds.

She is survived by her children: sons Joe Pounds (Louis), Justin Hinzo (Janette), Jake Spears (Allison), and Jaxson Hinzo; daughters Jillian Hinzo, Jasmine Hinzo, Jade Hinzo, and Serenity Hinzo. Linda also leaves behind a legacy of love through her grandchildren: Jonathan Napolis, Shawny Napolis, Patience Pounds, Samuel Husk, Maddox Pounds, Jeremiah Husk, Justin Hinzo Jr., Nathan Hinzo, Adrian Hinzo, Jerry Hinzo, Bailey Rodden, Dashinay Branson, Brody Spears, Brayden Spears, and Bryce Spears; as well as her great-grandchildren: Hudson Skiles, Haiden Skiles, Angela Husk, and Danny Skipworth. Additionally, she is survived by her sisters Nancy Pounds and Sharon Vincent-Flores.

Linda’s life was filled with laughter and memories that will be cherished forever by those who knew her. Whether it was receiving one of her infamous “California Cow Kisses” or learning how to pull hair under her tutelage, Linda left an indelible mark on everyone she encountered. Her unique spirit will live on in the hearts of all who loved her.

Linda will be cremated. A Celebration of Life will be held in her honor on Saturday, February 28 at 2:00 PM at 14324 Shady Tree Court in Bakersfield, California. Friends and family are invited to come together to share stories and memories while celebrating the vibrant life she lived. Flowers may also be sent to the same address.

Linda Lea Spears will be deeply missed but forever remembered for the love she gave so freely and the unforgettable presence she brought into every room. May her memory bring comfort to all whose lives she touched.

https://www.ridgecrestca.com/obituaries/linda-lea-spears/article_d389f575-901b-42d9-bed8-f9e53df97cc0.html

Homewood Canyon: The Desert’s Hidden High-Desert Escape

Tucked away in the rugged Argus Range of the Mojave Desert, Homewood Canyon is one of the Searles Valley’s best-kept secrets. While the valley floor is famous for its shimmering salt flats and the alien landscape of the Trona Pinnacles, Homewood Canyon offers a different vibe entirely: a high-desert retreat with a rich mining history and a surprisingly tight-knit community.


A Landscape of Granite and Sage

As you turn off Trona Road and head west into the canyon, the scenery shifts rapidly. You leave behind the industrial silhouettes of the mineral plants and climb into a world of massive monzonite boulders and high-desert scrub.

The elevation gain provides two things that are precious in the Searles Valley:

  1. Lower Temperatures: It’s often significantly cooler in the canyon than on the valley floor.

  2. Expansive Views: From many vantage points, you can look back across the basin to see the vast expanse of Searles Lake and the Slate Range beyond.


From Mining Claims to Desert Homes

The history of Homewood Canyon is deeply rooted in the search for gold and minerals. In the early 20th century, the Argus Range was peppered with small-scale mines. Over time, these mining camps evolved into a residential community.

Today, the canyon is home to a mix of full-time “desert rats” and weekenders looking to escape the hustle of Los Angeles or Ridgecrest. The architecture is as eclectic as the residents—you’ll find everything from vintage cabins and mobile homes to modern off-grid retreats.


Living on the Edge (Literally)

Life in Homewood Canyon isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s a place for people who value autonomy and silence.

  • Wildlife: It’s common to spot wild burros (descendants of the old miners’ pack animals), kit foxes, and the occasional bighorn sheep.

  • The “Trona” Connection: While Homewood feels worlds apart, it relies on the nearby town of Trona for basic services. However, the canyon maintains its own distinct identity—quieter, rockier, and a bit more elevated.


Things to Do

If you’re visiting or passing through, Homewood Canyon serves as a fantastic basecamp for exploration:

Activity Description
Bouldering The granite formations offer world-class scrambling and climbing opportunities.
Off-Roading Numerous trails lead deeper into the Argus Range and toward the Great Falls Basin.
Stargazing With minimal light pollution, the Milky Way is frequently visible to the naked eye.
Ruth Mine History buffs can explore the remnants of the nearby Ruth Gold Mine (with proper caution).

A Note for Visitors

Homewood Canyon is a residential area. While the surrounding Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land is open for exploration, it’s important to respect private property and stay on designated trails. The desert is a fragile ecosystem; as the saying goes, “Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints.”


Would you like me to create a custom packing list or a safety guide for a day trip to the Argus Range?

The Mirage of the Shortcut: The ’49ers’ Ordeal in Searles Valley

In the winter of 1849, a group of weary emigrants stood on the edge of a shimmering white expanse in the California desert. To their salt-stung eyes, it looked like a frozen lake or a field of snow. In reality, it was the dry bed of Searles Lake—a place that would offer no water for their parched throats, but would eventually change the industrial history of the American West.

The Fatal “Shortcut”

The story of the ’49ers in Searles Valley began with a map. While resting in Salt Lake City, a group of roughly 100 wagons, fearing the fate of the Donner Party, decided to bypass the high Sierras by taking a southern route. A young man showed them a hand-sketched map of a “shortcut” that promised to shave 500 miles off their journey to the gold fields.

This route led them directly into the jaws of Death Valley. After weeks of suffering, the group split. The “Jayhawkers” and the “Bennett-Arcan” party struggled over the Panamint Range and descended into the neighboring Searles Valley in January 1850.

Thirst and Despair

As the pioneers entered Searles Valley, their situation was critical. Their oxen were dying, and their water barrels were empty. When they first caught sight of the white floor of Searles Lake, many rushed forward, hoping for a freshwater oasis. Instead, they found a bitter, alkaline crust.

The journals of the survivors describe a scene of utter exhaustion. The Jayhawkers were forced to burn their wagons to cure the meat of their dying oxen, continuing westward on foot. One member of the party, a man named Mr. Fish, perished from exhaustion nearby—his name still marking Fish Canyon in the Slate Range.

The Heroic Rescue

Among these ’49ers were William Lewis Manly and John Rogers. Realizing the families in the Bennett-Arcan party could not survive much longer, these two young men trekked over 250 miles on foot to Mission San Fernando to fetch supplies.

On their return trip, they passed back through Searles Valley, leading the starving families toward safety. As they climbed the final ridge of the Panamint Mountains and looked back at the valley of their suffering, someone famously whispered, “Goodbye, Death Valley,” giving the region its name.

From Gold to Borax

While the ’49ers of 1849 saw Searles Valley only as a barrier between them and the gold mines, the valley held a different kind of “gold.” One of the men in a prospecting party years later, John W. Searles, remembered the strange white crystals he had seen while struggling for survival as a young man.

In 1862, Searles returned to the valley and identified the crystals as borax. He founded the San Bernardino Borax Mining Company, utilizing the legendary “20-mule teams” to haul the mineral out of the desert. The path blazed by the desperate feet of the ’49ers eventually became the highway for a multi-million dollar mining industry.

Legacy

Today, the Trona Pinnacles and the dry lake bed serve as a stark reminder of the 1849 ordeal. The Searles Valley Historical Society maintains markers at the “Slate Range Crossing,” where the Jayhawkers made their escape. What was once a landscape of near-certain death for the ’49ers is now recognized as one of the most unique geological sites in the world—a “chemical storehouse” discovered by men who were simply trying to stay alive

Little Lake, California — Gently Used Desert Town — Buy It Now.

Twenty-two miles north of Inyokern in highway 395 there was a small resort area known as Little Lake. I have vague memories of stopping there once or twice but never for long.

I do remember that some people from Trona, including my uncle, John Black, would go there to fish. It was stocked with bass.crappies and bluegill. in the lake and they charged a fee for fishing.

When Highway 395 was rerouted in the 1950s Little Lake was pretty much forgotten.

For more information about Little Lake visit this site:

www.owensvalleyhistory.com/little_lake/page95.html

If you would like to buy Little Lake follow this link:

https://www.ebay.com/itm/257206292649

 

The Desert Burros of Ballarat, California

Ballarat, California sits on the edge of Death Valley, a ghost town surrounded by harsh desert, abandoned mines, and wide‑open BLM land. One of the most iconic sights in the area isn’t a building or a landscape — it’s the wild desert burros that wander freely through the Panamint Valley. They’re charming, stubborn, and beloved by many travelers. But behind their rugged appeal lies a complicated environmental story.

These burros, descendants of animals left behind by miners and homesteaders, now roam the desert in numbers far larger than the ecosystem can comfortably support. Their presence has sparked ongoing debates involving residents, conservationists, and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), which is responsible for managing both the land and the animals.

Where the Burros Came From

Burros (wild donkeys) were introduced to the region during the late 1800s. Miners used them for hauling ore, water, and supplies. When mining operations collapsed or workers moved on, many burros were released or escaped into the desert.

Over time, they formed self‑sustaining wild populations. Today, they’re a familiar sight around Ballarat — wandering through the town, approaching visitors for snacks, and grazing across the surrounding BLM land.

The BLM’s Role

Desert Burros in Ballarat, California, the BLM, and the Environmental Damage They Cause

The challenge is that burro populations grow quickly. With few natural predators and a steady supply of water from springs, tanks, and human activity, their numbers can double every four to five years. When populations exceed what the land can support, environmental damage follows.

Environmental Damage Caused by Wild Burros

While burros are charismatic and often adored by visitors, their impact on the desert ecosystem is significant.

1. Overgrazing of Native Plants

Burros eat grasses, shrubs, and even young trees. In fragile desert environments, plants grow slowly and recover even more slowly. Heavy grazing can lead to:

• loss of native vegetation
• soil exposure
• reduced food sources for native wildlife

2. Competition With Native Species

Burros compete with animals such as:

• bighorn sheep
• mule deer
• desert tortoises

They consume the same limited water and vegetation, often outcompeting native species that are already struggling to survive.

3. Damage to Water Sources

Burros congregate around springs and seeps, trampling the surrounding vegetation and muddying the water. This can:

• degrade water quality
• reduce habitat for amphibians and insects
• alter the flow of natural springs

In desert ecosystems, water sources are the heart of life — and burro pressure can dramatically reshape them.

4. Soil Erosion

By trampling vegetation and compacting soil, burros accelerate erosion. This leads to:

• loss of topsoil
• reduced plant regrowth
• increased sediment in waterways

Erosion also affects trails, roads, and archaeological sites.

5. Human–Burro Conflicts

In Ballarat itself, burros often wander into town looking for food. Visitors sometimes feed them, which:

• encourages aggressive behavior
• disrupts natural foraging
• increases vehicle collisions
• draws burros into unsafe areas

What feels like a friendly interaction can actually harm both the animals and the environment.

Why the Issue Is So Difficult

Managing wild burro populations is emotionally and politically charged. Many people see the animals as symbols of the Old West and want them protected. Others focus on the ecological damage and argue for stronger population control.

The BLM uses a mix of strategies, including:

• roundups
• adoption programs
• fertility control (where feasible)

But the terrain around Ballarat is rugged, remote, and difficult to manage. Solutions are slow, expensive, and often controversial.

A Landscape Caught Between History and Ecology

The desert burros of Ballarat are a living reminder of the region’s mining past. They’re part of the town’s identity and a favorite subject for photographers and travelers. Yet their growing numbers place real pressure on a fragile desert ecosystem already stressed by drought, climate change, and human activity.

Balancing the charm of these animals with the need to protect the land is one of the ongoing challenges facing the BLM and the communities of the Panamint Valley.