Panamint Springs Resort and Historic Darwin, California - Pandemic Memories
Saturday May 2, 2020 (Continued from Part 1).In the late afternoon, I departed Panamint Springs Resort, heading west on California State Route 190. Along the way, I found the unmarked entrance to the Old Toll Road, leading to Darwin Falls. Its entrance was blocked by concrete “Jersey barriers”. Likewise, the entrance to Father Crowley Vista Point had barriers and warning signs. Farther along the highway, I found the turnoff to the old mining town of Darwin, population 43, or perhaps 53.
The town, named for the 1860’s pioneer and miner Dr. Erasmus Darwin French
reminded me of Bodie, a ghost town farther north. Darwin features many
homes, commercial establishments and mining properties, most of which
are in various states of decay. When the mining and smelting of lead
and silver played out, the town rapidly descended toward ghost town
status. Now, many of the buildings are in “arrested decay”, as are the
minimally maintained buildings in Bodie.The Darwin post office opened in 1875 and closed up for a time, starting in 1902. Although closed during my Saturday visit, it still operated in 2020. During my brief visit to Darwin, I saw many old buildings and one barking dog, but not a single human. It reminded me of the Twilight Zone TV episode, when all the people disappeared from a small town. Other than the dog, it seemed to me that there were no other living beings on the planet. In Darwin, I saw no buildings newer than eighty-three years, which is when Highway 127 (now
Highway 190) bypassed the city.The bypass reduced the maximum grade from 19 percent on the Old Toll Road to 7.3 percent, and reduced the number of curves from 245 to 72. For the ten years prior to completion of the bypass, the naturally surfaced toll road to Panamint wound over hills and down steep walled canyons.
My mission that day was to travel the Old Toll Road down the canyon to Darwin Falls. Built in 1925-26, and originally known as the Eichbaum Toll Road, it featured a natural surface roadway, thirty-five mile long and from 15-20 feet wide. Officially named the Death Valley Toll Road, it began in Darwin Wash, east of the town of Darwin. From there it traveled over the Argus Range via Darwin Canyon, across the Panamint Valley, and on to the Stovepipe Wells Resort.
After a false start or two that day, I found a promising track. As with most roads in the area, it rose and fell with the terrain. Soon, I was four wheeling down a long, steep walled canyon. From the looks of the boulder strewn terrain, it was scoured by
rushing
water during eons of thunderstorms. Somewhere down canyon, I found an
old waterworks, now long abandoned. It featured a huge, cast iron water
tank and the shell of a wooden garage. The pipes and valves dated to
the early twentieth century.Traveling deeper into the canyon, I came to what appeared to be the end of the road. With so many floods having rearranged the canyon, the actual roadway was hard to discern. Social roads and dry washes forked off in several directions. With no signage or markings to guide me, I took a wrong turn. Soon, at what seemed like the end of the Earth, I found an oasis called China Garden Spring. It featured many large trees and a dusty SUV parked by the side of the road. The vehicle appeared to be in running condition, with its side windows rolled down. Not wanting to disturb any campers or remaining descendants of the Manson Family, I traveled a bit farther. While preparing to
turn back toward civilization, I came across another side canyon. From a slight rise, I could see two tents at the oasis I had just passed, but true to form, there were no people or human sounds.Similar to my previous experience at Minietta Road, I found the wreck of an old car nearby. This one was the shell of a 1930’s Chevrolet. Some chrome still shined back from the snaggle-toothed grill. On it, the word CHEV—ROLET appeared split in half by impact. Comically, the bullet-ridden hulk of the car appeared misshapen and smaller than its original size. Had the driver made the same mistake I had at the fork in the road, ending up here? Based on its location and despite its battered looks, its vertical, truck-like grill, I assumed it to be a 1935-37 Chevrolet Suburban Carryall, making it one of the earliest examples of that vaunted model. After extensive photo research, I
determined that it was a 1937 Chevrolet
two-door Town Sedan. The vertical chrome grill initially threw me off
the trail. Later, I realized that it was a replacement grill, welded
into place.The “new” highway bypass would not to open until late 1937, so in the early summer that year Henry and Mabel drove their Chevy down the Old Toll Road. Earlier that day they had passed through the town of Darwin, buying gasoline at the sole gas station there. Despite the storm clouds and showers in the area, they wanted to make it to Panamint Springs by nightfall. Late in the afternoon, in the depths of the canyon, they took the same wrong turn that I had. While trying to turn around, their car became high-centered on a protruding boulder. Stranded there, they waited for help, but no one arrived. Sundown came early in the depths of the canyon, so they did their best by sheltering in their car. As the last light faded from the canyon walls, they thought they heard a large truck approaching from up canyon. “It could be a tow truck”, Henry said.
As they stepped out on to the road to flag down the truck, a debris flow ten feet high swept them away. “Goodbye, Henry”, Mabel said. “Goodbye, Mabel”, Henry replied. Pummeled and smashed by rocks and water, the wreckage of their Chevy remained high-centered, in that, its final resting place. After the flash flood, Henry and Mabel were nowhere in sight. To this day, all subsequent floods have left their abandoned car high and dry on a small knoll. When I found it, fenders and accessories were located in odd places around the body, as if exploded by dynamite. There were no tires or wheels to remount. Not even a frame was evident under the chassis, so I got back in my truck and retraced my tracks.
Legend
has it that eighty-three years later, Henry and Mabel reappeared,
overlooking the wreckage of a sports car near Minietta Road.Retracing routes in the desert is harder than it sounds. Driving down a canyon is easy. Just keep turning downhill at every junction. When returning, upstream, later in the day, everything can look quite different. At two points, I had to follow a hunch and hope I was heading back to Darwin. Obviously, it was not safe for me to venture into the back-country alone without an off-road GPS and a topographical map. Lucky for me, I had made the correct decisions on my return trip. Soon I found myself in empty Darwin, and then headed back to Panamint Springs via the 1937 bypass.
Sunday May 3, 2020
Other
than my regular afternoon trip to Minietta Road for a phone call home, I
decided to stay at the resort, compile my photos and write this
communiqué. When I went into the general store to pay $5.00 for a late
checkout on Monday, the counter man looked at me with a funny
expression. He handed the money back to me, indicating that paying for a
late checkout from an empty campground was not necessary. Since I had
my five dollars back, I decided to search the store for something to
buy. Wearing my worn-out N-95 mask, I prowled the empty store. Candy
cost $2.50 each, which was ten times the quarter dollar I would have
paid in my youth.After a few minutes, I found three one-pound bags of Gold Medal all-purpose flour. At $2.29 each, I could afford two bags and still have some change left over as a tip for the counter man. Speaking through my mask, I told him that markets “in the city” had no flour. He remarked that he had tried to buy flour
in
nearby Ridgecrest the previous week, but struck out completely.
“Strange”, I said. “I had to come to the desert to buy flour”.On Sunday morning, some tent campers departed, leaving almost a full bundle of firewood behind. Searching the abandoned fire rings in the campground, I scrounged up a few more pieces of partly burned wood. After dark, I filled my stone fire ring with the plunder and lit my few remaining pieces of paper. The moral to that story is, if you plan to enjoy a campfire, bring old newspapers or fire-starter. Upon lighting my last scraps of paper, some flakes of the wood started to burn. Soon I had a roaring blaze, which lasted almost two hours.
As the wood burned down to embers, I drew myself closer to the fire. The waxing moon was now almost overhead. When the last flame flickered out, I doused the fire and went inside for the night. Thinking back, I realized it had been fifteen years since I had last made a campfire. From now on, I will bring a bundle of wood and some kindling on every trip. Even though I was
alone and far away from family and friends, my campfire had made for a peaceful, warm and inspiring moment in the cool desert air.Monday, May 4, 2020
On Monday, I broke camp and returned to isolation in the civilized world. If I learned anything in Panamint Springs, it was that you could isolate and keep up social distancing while enjoying some of the most spectacular scenery in the world. My adventures included finding enigmatic wrecked cars and communing with the spirits of those who may have died in them. When you visit the desert, be sure to plan for unforeseen circumstances. If not, you might end up joining Henry and Mabel in the lost dimensions of this universe. Next time I visit, I plan to have detailed maps and an off-road GPS in my kit.
This concludes Part Two of a Two-Part Article. To read Part One, click HERE.
By James McGillis at 02:59 PM | Mojave Desert | Comments (0) | Link
