We follow the Virgin River to La Verkin (population 4000), Hurricane
(population 13,800) and Harrisburg Junction, where we picked up Interstate 15
to Washington (which grew from 8,200 in 2000 to 18,800 in 2010). They grow
cotton here of all things, thanks to water drawn from the Virgin River. St.
George is next (population 82,000). Lots of Mormons. St. George sits on convergence
of three distinct geological areas: the Mojave Desert, Colorado Plateau, and
Great Basin.
Traveling through the Mojave Desert we see more splendid
desert country. Pass through Littlefield, AZ (population 308) and finally into
Mesquite, NV (population 17,500) and growing. Mesquite has casinos, golf courses,
retirement homes, lots of physical therapists, very big and well stocked liquor
stores, lots of rich retired old people and no water.
Mesquite is also the home
of the monster Stephen Paddock who murdered fifty-eight people at a concert in
Las Vegas on October 1, 2017, the deadliest mass murder in US history. It took
him ten minutes to indiscriminately fire 1,100 rounds into the crowd wounding
another 851 people.
It is very likely that this depraved man was in Mesquite
when we passed through.
We stock up on whiskey. Easy and cheap what with a
respectable number of brimming over whiskey stores. Water is another matter.
Later today we want to travel to another gem of a natural
area, the Gold Butte National Monument, just southwest of Mesquite where there
is no water for miles and the temperature this time of the year soars to 110
degrees.
In Mesquite we visit four gas stations, the visitor center and a
library. All the water faucets have locks on them and business proprietors say
no to a request for water. That ought to tell you something.
However, we visit the local fire and rescue station. The
guys on duty there were quite accommodating and happy to help us out. They filled
our tank with good artesian well water and sent us on our way with a warning to
be careful in Gold Butte.
Notwithstanding the warning, away we go to Gold Butte on
route 170, through Bunkerville (population 1,300), still following the Virgin
River. Not much water there. Not much water anywhere, except for Lake Mead to
the southwest, created by the monstrous Hoover Dam.
 |
| Entering Gold Butte National Monument. Beware. |
Gold Butte National Monument, a three-hundred thousand acre
desert preserve contains a wide array of natural and cultural resources;
including ancient rock art, sandstone towers, and important wildlife habitat
for species like the threatened Mojave Desert tortoise. Good old Barack Obama, at
it again, designated this area in 2016 after local conservation groups, Nevada
and Clark County lawmakers and the Moapa Band of Paiute Indians mounted a vigorous
campaign to encourage him to do so. Those pesky Paiutes at it again.
Note the local effort to protect this area. Republicans in
Congress oppose it of course and call for revocation of the designation.
Weird Gold Butte Rock Formations.
Nobody lives here now. It’s too hot and dry. There are few
mineral resources to speak of. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries some
brave souls tried to ranch and farm here. They built water catchment basins,
but drought eventually chased them out. There is a ghost town, gold Butte, but
all the remains are some mine openings, a few seamen foundations and a few
pieces of rusty equipment.
 |
| Eastern Greenhorn in Front of a Dam Catchment Structure. Dry as a Bone. |
Prior to the area’s designation as a national Monument,
local people reported substantial damage to abandoned historic cultural
resources (historic corrals and fences), felled Joshua Trees (not a tree at
all, but a local Yucca) and, tragically enough, 10,000-year-old petroglyphs
peppered with bullet holes.
We leave route 170 and take Gold Butte Road, turn to the
south east away from the Virgin River, and drive for 15 miles on dirt gravel washboard
roads, averaging 5 miles an hour. The temperature is 109°. This is the Mojave
Desert at its best. Nobody around except us back east greenhorns. Rock, sand, cacti,
palms and yucca as far as you can see.
 |
| Driving into Gold Butte |
We reach the end of the line for us at Whitney Pockets, a
series of red sandstone cliffs, towers and monoliths. Roads beyond this point
are too rough for our intrepid, two-wheel drive, Dodge Grand Caravan.
 |
| Camping at Whitney Pockets |
 |
| Wind Tortured Whitney Pocket Sandstone |
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| Late Day at Whitney Pockets |
But this is perfect. We are by ourselves in the middle of a
grand desert landscape. We set up our camp and wonder around the local
landscape marveling at the desert ecology and the weird and fascinating rock
formations. The hot dry desert panorama is all ours.
All alone we watch night come on. Brilliant, starry sky. Coyotes yipping in the distance. Hot air. Pleasant enough though.
Good night America.
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