Journey to Haypress Creek

Navigation: Main page » Outdoors

 Print this page Submit articleComment article

Author: Sandin Phillipson

Article source: http://www.hotlib.com/. Used with author's permission.

It was the end of my first year as a graduate student, and my personal stock had risen somewhat due to long hours of hard work. Now a fabulous opportunity presented itself in the form of a research project in the northern Sierras in a locality known as Haypress Creek, which fell into my lap as a result of shifting academic fortunes. The hapless fellow who had been slated to go began an academic tailspin despite the initial excitement generated in the department by his excellent undergraduate grades. Meanwhile, my long hours of diligent work that first semester, in contrast to undergraduate grades that had not only failed to generate excitement among the faculty, but had gained grudging admittance on a probationary status, captured the slot. Good, graduate school had been an all-or-nothing proposition on which everything was gambled on making a success of the first semester.

I rolled northwest out of Fort Worth in my bright blue 1973 Dodge Charger, sliding past the luxuriant green prairie toward Amarillo. The Charger had been with me for just over five years, since being resurrected from what amounted to an open grave where it moldered under a tree in a biker-guy's yard. Acquired in California during the Army, it had made several cross-country trips with its new engine, and I had little doubt that it would make the journey from Texas to California. Besides, as a poor graduate student, there was really no choice but to utilize the resources at my disposal. The character of the country changed as I approached Amarillo, the green waving grass replaced by blowing dust. Mexican migrant workers shuffled along the road, bandanas tied over their faces as protection against the sediment-laden driving wind, in a scene reminiscent of the Grapes of Wrath. The dust storm cleared, revealing layered red, beige, and white sandstone and scrub grass, heralding my entrance into New Mexico. The varicolored desert slid past interminably as the blazing sun beat down. Due to the expanse and sameness of the scenery, a fixed point on the horizon never seemed to draw closer. Objects on the lateral horizons never seemed to draw abreast, making it seem as though I were simply sitting on the highway with the engine running. The thermometer on my Avocet watch read 105, but continuous glances at the temperature gauge revealed no impending doom beneath the hood.

After making the diversion to the Grand Canyon, too close to pass up spending half a day to see it, I resumed the westward journey on I-40. Nearing Kingman, the signs for Needles again reminded me of the Grapes of Wrath, although my path led northwest across the Hoover Dam. Fantastic rock formations, representing massive mudslides of past eons, lined the twisting descent into the concrete modified canyon, through which the hot breath of the desert was channeled. Crossing the dam, with the distinctive four intake towers protruding what appeared to be a short distance above the surface of the reservoir on the right, belied the dizzying crag on the left. The 318 chugged and rattled up the steep incline, straining to propel the steel body of the Charger onward to Las Vegas. Dusk, then darkness, descended as I guided the Charger along the bustling thoroughfare, nervously increasing speed well above the posted limit, but still cars flowed past me like water diverging around an obdurate boulder in a stream. My plan had been to stop for the night in Las Vegas, where it was rumored that good hotels were cheap. A casino hotel beckoned from the urban strip off the highway, but much to my consternation, I was unable to find the road to the entrance and could not reach what stood right before my eyes. Frustrated, I continued northwest, determined to find a motel that required less sophisticated navigation skills to reach. With tired, frayed nerves after a long day of driving, the subsequent miles to Indian Springs were like sleep deprivation torture, but finally a "motel" sign beckoned.

In the morning, much refreshed, I started early in hopes of making a detour through Death Valley. Similarly to my brief detour to the Grand Canyon, I felt that I couldn't pass so famous a place as Death Valley without seeing it. The thermometer at the visitor's center indicated 100 at 10 am, as I meandered north through the park. Whether because of the high temperature, or increased air pressure at this low altitude, the Charger's temperature gauge began a steady, inexorable climb. I watched nervously as the sun-faded orange needle passed middle ground and reached the second-to-highest tick, then began the final push on the short, intervening distance to the last mark. Every extra bit of work required from the engine, even to climb the smallest hill, was matched with a corresponding rise in the temperature gauge needle. On downhill stretches, rolling in neutral at idle forced a retreat of the troublesome instrument. Climbing the last hill, the needle pegged on the top mark as I gently urged the 318 onward. I waited for the impending clouds of steam to boil from beneath the hood, but none came. Upon cresting the ridge of the Funeral Mountains, I immediate shifted into neutral and coasted down the long grade into Beatty, relieved at the corresponding rapid descent of the temperature gauge needle.

Now my spirits rose as my destination seemed within a day's reach. Passing through Hawthorne stirred memories of a previous visit to the army depot located there, which I had visited six years before. Finally, past Yerington and the short distance to I-80, and I was truly in familiar territory. While in the Army in Monterrey, California, I had traverse I-80 on so many occasions that the route was memorized. I rolled west on I-80, now retracing a stretch of road that was very familiar. Through Reno, there was the famous Circus-Circus that had always attracted my interest on previous trips. Here was some overlap with the past, as I had actually once stayed at the Circus-Circus while traveling for the Army. The hotel was also the last landmark that I remembered before my old 1964 Dodge had thrown a rod in the middle of Nevada, during an attempted return home for Christmas vacation some six years earlier. After Reno, I relived the experience of crossing into California, with the fir-covered slopes opposite the interstate. At last I reached Truckee, where I had also stopped during my first trip to California. In a déjà vu-like experience, I found myself in front of the same motel in which I had stayed on that initial trip. It caused me to reflect that history was in some ways repeating itself, as if two lives were superimposed, the present upon the past. Although the places were the same, the circumstances were certainly different. On that first trip, I had been traveling to my first permanent Army duty station in Monterrey, fresh out of High School and running from a dead-end small town. My experiences in the Army had motivated me to go to college, and then on to graduate school. Now, here as a graduate student, I felt that I had come up in the word several notches from the first time that I had crossed the High Sierra.

Years later, I again had reason to return to Reno. This trip, nine years after the summer of field work in Haypress Creek, reflected a continued rise in my fortunes. In the intervening years I had continued in graduate school and acquired a doctorate, and this trip was not undertaken with an underlying feeling of desperation in an old car that required continual observation of the gauge cluster. This trip was all expense paid, accomplished with a cross-country flight and rental car at the airport. But in another episode of déjà vu, I found myself at the Reno Circus-Circus! The temptation was too great to resist, and I pointed the rental car west toward Truckee, then north to Haypress Creek. If anything, the area seemed even more primitive, the roads even more narrow. But after working in the Rocky Mountains and Andes, the peaks no longer seemed as high and rugged as when I had first viewed them.

I am a geologist, and have had some interesting experiences and travels over the years. I thought this was a particularly fun story because it shows how a person's condition in life can improve as measured against something stationary, like a place that you visit under different circumstances over the years. My real emphasis is on geology and mining, but it is fun to write some short stories. I have some more serious geology-related items at my web page:

http://sedward.home.netcom.com/petrography.html

sedward@ix.netcom.com

Copy SoapNet and Make Money
Whether you want to admit it or not, soap operas may hold the key to your home business success. This article includes a few home and small business principles ...

You Cant Not Communicate
Most of us would like to be better communicators. As leaders, co-workers, team members and in all of the other roles we play both professionally and personally...

Atkins Diet Ongoing Weight Loss (OWL) Carbohydrate Ladder
The Atkins low-carb diet consists of four phases: Induction, Ongoing Weight Loss, Pre-Maintenance, and Maintenance. This article focuses on phase II of the Atki...

RSS For Fresh Content & Better Ranking
All indications show that RSS feeds are on the rise because of their less intrusive nature, relevant targeted content, can be personalized, accessed through a v...

Buying Cheap Hawaiian Shirts
Because Hawaiian shirts are so popular, many new manufacturers have entered the Hawaiian shirt market. With so many companies selling these popular items, it is...

How to Talk Yourself Into Success
If you have ever been tempted to give up on your goals, learn the one word that can empower you to keep going.

Closing Costs When Buying A Home
Closing costs are often the last thing a person thinks of when buying a home. While closing is the joyous moment the home becomes yours, the costs can be surpri...

Keeping Tabs on Niacin
Vitamin B3 is one of the vitamins that make up the nutritional powerhouse known as the Vitamin B complex. Vitamin B3 is also called niacin, nicotinic acid and n...

Starting Your Own Blog
I was sitting in my local Internet Cafe yesterday, I like to get away from my 'home office' from time to time and it's a great place to go for a cup of Espresso...

6 Ways To Get More Sales From Your Advertisement
To bring great sales success, a great advertising technique is not the only parameter. You must know what it is that your customers are actually buying. They ar...

Your Words Affect Your Weight Loss - Stop the Struggle
Telling yourself you have to "struggle with this weight issue for the rest of my life," is as good as telling yourself there's no point in trying. "Why bother? ...

Just What Kind of PR Matters to You?
How happy are you -- as a business, non-profit or association manager -- when you see your public relations folks futzing around with parties, videos, booklets ...

Vioxx Personal Injury Lawsuits
A Texas jury has ruled against Merck to the tune of $253.4 million for the wrongful death of a Vioxx user. This will be the beginning of a very litigious period...

Supply Chain Management 101
Answering the question of what Supply Chain Management is, is as simple as breaking down the phrase into its component parts. Supplies are those inputs that a ...

Does Sexual Abuse Usually Occur Just Once?
Your daughter tells you that Uncle Charley has touched her bottom and she doesn't like to sit on his lap anymore! Should you believe your child? Yes. Should ...

Build It And Build It Cheap! Part II
Part II of the author sharing his views and ideas on do it yourself web design and promotion. Learn how to have a professional quality site while keeping the co...

Mail Can Make You Money
Are you still waiting for business to turn around before you start direct mail marketing? Waiting around won't get you any business. The time to start is now. ...

Look Natural – Wear Makeup!
Have you ever considered how difficult it is to look natural? Quite difficult - isn't it? Especially if there had been no makeup available to achieve it! Many-a...

Marketing-Minded Financial Planners--Appearing on TV? Tell the World!
There's just something exciting about appearing in front of millions of people.

Small Business Bonzai Marketing
Do you own a small business? Do you wish to increase sales? Do you wish to draw more customers into your store or find more customers for your service business?...

Bilderbergs
The OSS had a reason to support the Royal family member who was the head of the Bilderbergs and had been a Thulean Gestapo member. This only starts the explorat...

Listening Between the Lines
As a leader of staff it is very challenging to keep quiet, and to listen. This is the key, though, to getting the best out of your workforce. Take the time to l...

Focus Your Attention
Lately, there has been a collective challenge to avoid being embroiled in the media events of all that has been happening in the social, political, economic and...

What Should I Make My Snake Cage From?
Many herp owners like to make their own snake cages. This articles discusses the various materials, their advantages and disadvantages as well as some hints and...