Lemoigne Canyon | Death Valley
Feb
8th
Trent, United States
Trip in United States ~ Moderate difficulty
Summary: Death Valley, 23.5 mile Round Trip, Overnight Backpacking Trek
Trails: Emigrant Campground, x-country, South Fork, x-country, Lemoigne Canyon
Picture Gallery: Click here
After two postponed attempts to backpack through Death Valley since the beginning of the year, plans finally materialized last weekend. Weather conditions throughout the west coast the last weekend of January were treacherous. Park rangers heavily advised against attempting backpacking through such conditions. The following weekend I found myself hopping a flight to Salt Lake City to pay my last respects to a highly regarded ecclesiastical leader, the late Gordon B Hinckley.
In “compensation” for the delayed adventure, I cashed in a floating holiday carried over from last year and made it a three day weekend. This impulsive ploy, tinged with a slight snide expression of contempt toward lady luck, proved fortuitous; the trail was strewn with lessons learned, personal triumphs, and mother nature’s unrelenting stoicisim. Matt and I would find our limited and developing personal reserves of energy completely depleted come Saturday evening.
Upon finsihing my last meeting late Thursday night, I made a B-line to Fresno to rendezvous at my college roommate’s house - 2.5 hours closer to our eventual basecamp of Emigrant Campground. We packed our bags and I crashed on the couch of his committed bachelor pad. Friday was dedicated to leisurely traveling the remaining 357 miles to Furnace Creek - Death Valley HQ.
We arrived at sunset, talked briefly with the park rangers, and backtracked 30 miles along Highway 190 to Emigrant Campground. Emigrant Campground is a small, primitive grouping of 10 gravel campsites open solely to tent camping situated at an elevation of 2100’ with access to some basic luxuries - water, tables, flushable toilets, and a small parking lot to leave a vehicle for a day or two. A sleeping pad is definitely recommended for the camper at Emigrant. Weather was a bit windy with temperatures dropping into the low 30s, but our REI Quarterdome 3 UL tent and Backside 15 degree bags proved competent. I was able to finish two sections of Calculus study before retiring for the night.
We arose about 7:30a, broke camp, positioned the car relatively close to a high traffic area, and were off by 8:30a - glistening in the morning sun as well as in the morning of our naivety. Just as the sun would beat down on us harder as the hours past, just as the packs would increasingly weigh on our shoulders with each step over boulders, dry washes, up brittle, virgin mountainsides, and trails consisting of loose gravel, so would the reality of the elements remind us of the frailty of our human condition.
Upon consulting the map in the weeks of preparation leading up to the morning’s adventure, we were confident we comprehended what lay before us. Displayed on the map were three access roads leading into the Cottonwood Mountains within the Panamint Range - two from the east and one from the west. All three pointed to the famous Cottonwood / Marble Canyon loop and all three required high-clearance vehicles. Since we had a low-clearance, high gas-mileage sedan, we strategically selected Emigrant Campground as basecamp and set our sites on approaching Cottonwood springs through the south and east via Lemoigne Canyon.
To get from Emigrant Campground to Lemoigne Canyon we were faced with two options. One, hike up the highway 3 miles north to the start of the high-clearance vehicle road, turn west and follow the relatively flat road 5 miles to the Lemoigne Canyon trailhead. Or, we could make our own trail, cutting up northwest an estimated 2.5 miles across what appeared to be a flat plateau to the end of the lower 4x4 access road which approached from the east. We planned to engage the latter plan and at 8:30a on Saturday morning we threw the packs on our shoulders and stepped out into the trailless desert.
We vastly underestimated the distance requisite to cross the land of lava rock and dry washes. The cross country hike took approximately an hour and a half and placed us 45 minutes east due to the foothills of the Panamint Range impeding a straight line to the end of the access road. All told, we now estimate the distance from Emigrant Campground to the end of the access road at 4.5 miles. Still, better than the 8 miles following the established roads would have taken.
Matt and I were relieved to arrive at the end of the access road and finally “begin” our hike. We took some trophy pictures of the sign delineating vehicles were henceforth prohibited and continued south along the only evident trail. The trail narrowed and took us winding through canyon walls around double our height in stature. We came to a small valley with sheer cliff walls on all sides - dug into the walls were holes, whether the were naturally born into the canyon walls, the product of animal habitation, or design of human engineering, we were unsure. They were a fascinating impediment to our progression.
We thought we had gotten slightly off of the trail due to the winding nature and forks in the small canyon. So, Matt and I cross-country hiked to the left. We synched up with what we thought to be the trail and continued south. However, when we arrived at a portion of the trail whereby we had to remove our packs, have one of us free climb eight feet up, and hand the packs up, we realized that we were at another dead end. Leaving his pack with me, Matt ran deeper into the canyon to scout out a vantage point.
He scurried up a sheer, brittle mountainside, causing a minor avalanche of rock, dirt, and dust as he ascended for a better view. At which point he twisted his ankle enough to cause discomfort the remainder of the trip, but not enough to warrant stopping the hike.
We determined we were lost. Upon consulting the map we realized that in our haste to start the hike we failed to recall the end of the access road serves as the fork for two trails: Lemoigne Canyon and South Fork. We had been hiking down South fork the last hour and a half, or roughly 2-3 miles! It was disheartening to learn there was a possibility we spent an hour and a half along the wrong trail.
Lemoigne, we discerned, lay about a mile northwest over a small, but formidable range. Having braved a cross country venture both outside of the Panamint Range and recently within, we decided to attempt to bridge the gap between South Fork and Lemoigne in a similar fashion. Our gamble paid off and we descended into Lemoigne Canyon about a mile and a half upstream of the access road. Our spirits quickly returned to their previous state of optimism.
We followed Lemoigne Canyon approximately four and a half miles southwest consistently gaining elevation to an old mine house. The rangers mentioned there were no official campgrounds along our path and that we would be free to strike camp wherever we well pleased along the trail - provided we found somewhere accomodating was the gleeful bit of irony they last pronounced during our telephone conversation a couple weeks prior. As we ascended higher into the Cottonwood Mountains, I began to comprehend the meaning behind their jest. Everywhere we looked there was a noticeable grade - especially on the trail of loose gravel we dug our heals into, which ground at our hips with every step that not only propelled us forward under 40lbs of additional weight, but also compensated for the abnormal sliding out of our feet.
Upon arriving at the mine house, about 6 hours and over 10 miles into the hike, I was concerned about pitching camp for the night. We had just started to reach snow line, where there was patchy deposits of snow about the mountainsides. (Educated guestimate put us at least 4000’.) Though it was only 2:30p, we knew that the only chance we had of arriving at Cottonwood Spring - and thereby the only opportunity to re-fill our hydration packs - was if we pitched camp, left our gear and continued the rest of the way to the spring with our detachable day packs. However, come 2:30 my legs began to knot up and fatigue hit hard.
Matt had fallen behind and I had been pushing consistently hard for the 35 minutes since our previous breather. I came to learn that Matt’s quads locked up on him just five or ten minutes prior. I had exhausted myself that last ascent. All I wanted to do was take off my pack, pitch camp, and rest the remainder of the day.
Matt encouraged me otherwise. He suggested we drop our packs for a little while and explore the abandoned mine house. I eagerly accepted the suggestion. Packs on the trail, we headed a few hundred yards to the mine house, took pictures, checked out the antiquated paraphernalia, and even added our names to the dry wall of hiker fame inside the structure. After 20 mins or so we made our way back to the trail, put back on our packs, and I felt revived.
We continued our ascent for a little more than an hour. The trail turned from loose gravel to blanketed in dry, white snow. It was gorgeous, yet the weather was warm enough where I felt comfortable in shorts. We found ourselves at a snow-ridden version of a similar dead end as the previous one in South Fork. Apparenlty, we had taken another wrong turn and ended up off trail once again. This time,since it was about an hour and a half until sunset, we decided to descend and find a place to camp. (We guestimate our max altitude to be at around 5000-5200’.
We ended up camping off the trail a hundred feet or so towards the mine house. The ground was soft-packed dirt and we could clear out dead foliage on our side of a cairn barracade and construct a firepit relatively close to our tent. There was also plenty of dry wood laying about and we were able to conserve our drinking water by melting the snow for water to cook dinner.
That night Matt and I saw to the duties of setting up camp and cooking dinner and desert. We borrowed a rusted axe and shovel from the old mine house and burnt through all the wood we had gathered and chopped. We used the shovel to bury the fire and returned the tools to the mine house in the morning. After dinner, as the blaze of the campfire was consuming the remainder of our fire wood, I allowed myself to lay recumbant and relax.
It wasn’t until I got up to throw more wood on the fire that I noticed the onset of a tension type headache brought on through a level of exposure to solar radiation. I found this curious, because I have only had one other notable headache in 25 years of being alive. So, I made my way to the tent and enjoyed the comfort of undisturbed rest. The headache subsided.
The next morning we awoke at 7a and were on the trail by 8a and back to the car by noon. Out of the 5.5 liters of water I brought, the three liters Matt carried, and the ceramic filter, we were left with 1.5 liters of water. We did not come across any water source nor another human being the whole trek. And if it weren’t for the snow we used for cooking Saturday night, then we would have been compeltely depleted of all water by the time we returned to the car.
Two main lessons learned. One, water is worth the extra 2.2lbs per liter in Death Valley. Two, I just ordered a Garmin GPS unit - they are worth the money, especially in areas where trail markings are virtually non-existent.
With regards to gear, this is the first hike I truly used - or had planned to use - the gear Ecco provided. The boots, by far, are phenomenal. Zero blisters - they hugged my feet and were lightweight. The only complaint I had about them was that while crossing the 3 miles of lava rock I hit the front of the boots against the lava rocks quite a bit. My boots showed signs of being scraped, whereas my friend Matt’s shoes did not retain such noticeable and permanent scrapes. However, he did get blisters. Feedback I have on the boots is to consider lining the outside of the toe with a different, more durable material. The goretex jacket provided ample shield against the wind at night and doubled as a pillow. The skull cap was also very useful and functional. However, the shirt ideally would be made of a wicking material more akin to under armour as it retained a lot of saturation and took a little while to dry.
Lastly, the Ecco pack proved insufficient in size for this trip - I opted for a 4000+ cubic inch Mountainsmith pack instead, largely because the Ecco pack does not have a location for a hydration reservoir nor detachable day pack. That being said, I got use out of all the swag Ecco provided and am very well pleased with the performance of all items - especially the shoes.
Picture Gallery: Click here
After two postponed attempts to backpack through Death Valley since the beginning of the year, plans finally materialized last weekend. Weather conditions throughout the west coast the last weekend of January were treacherous. Park rangers heavily advised against attempting backpacking through such conditions. The following weekend I found myself hopping a flight to Salt Lake City to pay my last respects to a highly regarded ecclesiastical leader, the late Gordon B Hinckley.
In “compensation” for the delayed adventure, I cashed in a floating holiday carried over from last year and made it a three day weekend. This impulsive ploy, tinged with a slight snide expression of contempt toward lady luck, proved fortuitous; the trail was strewn with lessons learned, personal triumphs, and mother nature’s unrelenting stoicisim. Matt and I would find our limited and developing personal reserves of energy completely depleted come Saturday evening.
Upon finsihing my last meeting late Thursday night, I made a B-line to Fresno to rendezvous at my college roommate’s house - 2.5 hours closer to our eventual basecamp of Emigrant Campground. We packed our bags and I crashed on the couch of his committed bachelor pad. Friday was dedicated to leisurely traveling the remaining 357 miles to Furnace Creek - Death Valley HQ.
We arrived at sunset, talked briefly with the park rangers, and backtracked 30 miles along Highway 190 to Emigrant Campground. Emigrant Campground is a small, primitive grouping of 10 gravel campsites open solely to tent camping situated at an elevation of 2100’ with access to some basic luxuries - water, tables, flushable toilets, and a small parking lot to leave a vehicle for a day or two. A sleeping pad is definitely recommended for the camper at Emigrant. Weather was a bit windy with temperatures dropping into the low 30s, but our REI Quarterdome 3 UL tent and Backside 15 degree bags proved competent. I was able to finish two sections of Calculus study before retiring for the night.
We arose about 7:30a, broke camp, positioned the car relatively close to a high traffic area, and were off by 8:30a - glistening in the morning sun as well as in the morning of our naivety. Just as the sun would beat down on us harder as the hours past, just as the packs would increasingly weigh on our shoulders with each step over boulders, dry washes, up brittle, virgin mountainsides, and trails consisting of loose gravel, so would the reality of the elements remind us of the frailty of our human condition.
Upon consulting the map in the weeks of preparation leading up to the morning’s adventure, we were confident we comprehended what lay before us. Displayed on the map were three access roads leading into the Cottonwood Mountains within the Panamint Range - two from the east and one from the west. All three pointed to the famous Cottonwood / Marble Canyon loop and all three required high-clearance vehicles. Since we had a low-clearance, high gas-mileage sedan, we strategically selected Emigrant Campground as basecamp and set our sites on approaching Cottonwood springs through the south and east via Lemoigne Canyon.
To get from Emigrant Campground to Lemoigne Canyon we were faced with two options. One, hike up the highway 3 miles north to the start of the high-clearance vehicle road, turn west and follow the relatively flat road 5 miles to the Lemoigne Canyon trailhead. Or, we could make our own trail, cutting up northwest an estimated 2.5 miles across what appeared to be a flat plateau to the end of the lower 4x4 access road which approached from the east. We planned to engage the latter plan and at 8:30a on Saturday morning we threw the packs on our shoulders and stepped out into the trailless desert.
We vastly underestimated the distance requisite to cross the land of lava rock and dry washes. The cross country hike took approximately an hour and a half and placed us 45 minutes east due to the foothills of the Panamint Range impeding a straight line to the end of the access road. All told, we now estimate the distance from Emigrant Campground to the end of the access road at 4.5 miles. Still, better than the 8 miles following the established roads would have taken.
Matt and I were relieved to arrive at the end of the access road and finally “begin” our hike. We took some trophy pictures of the sign delineating vehicles were henceforth prohibited and continued south along the only evident trail. The trail narrowed and took us winding through canyon walls around double our height in stature. We came to a small valley with sheer cliff walls on all sides - dug into the walls were holes, whether the were naturally born into the canyon walls, the product of animal habitation, or design of human engineering, we were unsure. They were a fascinating impediment to our progression.
We thought we had gotten slightly off of the trail due to the winding nature and forks in the small canyon. So, Matt and I cross-country hiked to the left. We synched up with what we thought to be the trail and continued south. However, when we arrived at a portion of the trail whereby we had to remove our packs, have one of us free climb eight feet up, and hand the packs up, we realized that we were at another dead end. Leaving his pack with me, Matt ran deeper into the canyon to scout out a vantage point.
He scurried up a sheer, brittle mountainside, causing a minor avalanche of rock, dirt, and dust as he ascended for a better view. At which point he twisted his ankle enough to cause discomfort the remainder of the trip, but not enough to warrant stopping the hike.
We determined we were lost. Upon consulting the map we realized that in our haste to start the hike we failed to recall the end of the access road serves as the fork for two trails: Lemoigne Canyon and South Fork. We had been hiking down South fork the last hour and a half, or roughly 2-3 miles! It was disheartening to learn there was a possibility we spent an hour and a half along the wrong trail.
Lemoigne, we discerned, lay about a mile northwest over a small, but formidable range. Having braved a cross country venture both outside of the Panamint Range and recently within, we decided to attempt to bridge the gap between South Fork and Lemoigne in a similar fashion. Our gamble paid off and we descended into Lemoigne Canyon about a mile and a half upstream of the access road. Our spirits quickly returned to their previous state of optimism.
We followed Lemoigne Canyon approximately four and a half miles southwest consistently gaining elevation to an old mine house. The rangers mentioned there were no official campgrounds along our path and that we would be free to strike camp wherever we well pleased along the trail - provided we found somewhere accomodating was the gleeful bit of irony they last pronounced during our telephone conversation a couple weeks prior. As we ascended higher into the Cottonwood Mountains, I began to comprehend the meaning behind their jest. Everywhere we looked there was a noticeable grade - especially on the trail of loose gravel we dug our heals into, which ground at our hips with every step that not only propelled us forward under 40lbs of additional weight, but also compensated for the abnormal sliding out of our feet.
Upon arriving at the mine house, about 6 hours and over 10 miles into the hike, I was concerned about pitching camp for the night. We had just started to reach snow line, where there was patchy deposits of snow about the mountainsides. (Educated guestimate put us at least 4000’.) Though it was only 2:30p, we knew that the only chance we had of arriving at Cottonwood Spring - and thereby the only opportunity to re-fill our hydration packs - was if we pitched camp, left our gear and continued the rest of the way to the spring with our detachable day packs. However, come 2:30 my legs began to knot up and fatigue hit hard.
Matt had fallen behind and I had been pushing consistently hard for the 35 minutes since our previous breather. I came to learn that Matt’s quads locked up on him just five or ten minutes prior. I had exhausted myself that last ascent. All I wanted to do was take off my pack, pitch camp, and rest the remainder of the day.
Matt encouraged me otherwise. He suggested we drop our packs for a little while and explore the abandoned mine house. I eagerly accepted the suggestion. Packs on the trail, we headed a few hundred yards to the mine house, took pictures, checked out the antiquated paraphernalia, and even added our names to the dry wall of hiker fame inside the structure. After 20 mins or so we made our way back to the trail, put back on our packs, and I felt revived.
We continued our ascent for a little more than an hour. The trail turned from loose gravel to blanketed in dry, white snow. It was gorgeous, yet the weather was warm enough where I felt comfortable in shorts. We found ourselves at a snow-ridden version of a similar dead end as the previous one in South Fork. Apparenlty, we had taken another wrong turn and ended up off trail once again. This time,since it was about an hour and a half until sunset, we decided to descend and find a place to camp. (We guestimate our max altitude to be at around 5000-5200’.
We ended up camping off the trail a hundred feet or so towards the mine house. The ground was soft-packed dirt and we could clear out dead foliage on our side of a cairn barracade and construct a firepit relatively close to our tent. There was also plenty of dry wood laying about and we were able to conserve our drinking water by melting the snow for water to cook dinner.
That night Matt and I saw to the duties of setting up camp and cooking dinner and desert. We borrowed a rusted axe and shovel from the old mine house and burnt through all the wood we had gathered and chopped. We used the shovel to bury the fire and returned the tools to the mine house in the morning. After dinner, as the blaze of the campfire was consuming the remainder of our fire wood, I allowed myself to lay recumbant and relax.
It wasn’t until I got up to throw more wood on the fire that I noticed the onset of a tension type headache brought on through a level of exposure to solar radiation. I found this curious, because I have only had one other notable headache in 25 years of being alive. So, I made my way to the tent and enjoyed the comfort of undisturbed rest. The headache subsided.
The next morning we awoke at 7a and were on the trail by 8a and back to the car by noon. Out of the 5.5 liters of water I brought, the three liters Matt carried, and the ceramic filter, we were left with 1.5 liters of water. We did not come across any water source nor another human being the whole trek. And if it weren’t for the snow we used for cooking Saturday night, then we would have been compeltely depleted of all water by the time we returned to the car.
Two main lessons learned. One, water is worth the extra 2.2lbs per liter in Death Valley. Two, I just ordered a Garmin GPS unit - they are worth the money, especially in areas where trail markings are virtually non-existent.
With regards to gear, this is the first hike I truly used - or had planned to use - the gear Ecco provided. The boots, by far, are phenomenal. Zero blisters - they hugged my feet and were lightweight. The only complaint I had about them was that while crossing the 3 miles of lava rock I hit the front of the boots against the lava rocks quite a bit. My boots showed signs of being scraped, whereas my friend Matt’s shoes did not retain such noticeable and permanent scrapes. However, he did get blisters. Feedback I have on the boots is to consider lining the outside of the toe with a different, more durable material. The goretex jacket provided ample shield against the wind at night and doubled as a pillow. The skull cap was also very useful and functional. However, the shirt ideally would be made of a wicking material more akin to under armour as it retained a lot of saturation and took a little while to dry.
Lastly, the Ecco pack proved insufficient in size for this trip - I opted for a 4000+ cubic inch Mountainsmith pack instead, largely because the Ecco pack does not have a location for a hydration reservoir nor detachable day pack. That being said, I got use out of all the swag Ecco provided and am very well pleased with the performance of all items - especially the shoes.
2 Comments (Leave a comment?)
Chelsea ~ 14 Feb 08
wow - what a trip. Aren't there dangerous animals and such along the trail? And how hot was it out there? Sounds like something I would love to try!
Trent ~ 14 Feb 08
It was indeed an amazing adventure. The whole time we were in Death Valley park we saw two jack rabbits, two ravens, three lizards, and stumbled across an ant hill. Other than that, we saw no sign of life. In fact, from when we left Emigrant Campground to when we returned - about 28 hours later - we didn't see a single other person, either. I hear there are more animals out in the mountain ranges, but they largely keep to themselves.
Weather was deceiving - highs at the valley floor were in the upper 60s and lows were in the upper 30s. Since temperatures drop about 3.57 degrees fahrenheit per 1000 feet (6.5 degrees celsius per 1000 meters), temps were in the lower 60s / lower 30s at Emigrant Campground and were projected to duck down to the lower 50s / lower 20s at our max altitude (~5200 ft).
Temperature was decieving, though, because when we were in the arid sun, we were baking! It felt a lot hotter than 60 degrees fahrenheit - check out how much water we went through for a notion. And when we were resting in the shade, we started to get cold if we rested for too long. I would definitely not do this hike from March thru October. However, there are other - more pretty and higher elevation - hikes that you can do in Death Valley through the month of May (that take you up to around 11,000 feet).
If you get the opportunity, I would highly recommend backpacking through Death Valley. It is a memorable experience.
-Trent