Black Mountain

Igniting cold fire is only half the fun.

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It's August. It's hot. And I'm looking inside the refrigerator again! I haven't done a constructive thing today. And I'm feeling fat and without purpose. Have you ever felt like that? At times like this, I need an outdoor adventure. Something to stretch my legs, lungs and expectations. I've discovered, no matter how often I look in the refrigerator, not much changes in there. :>)

There's a little mountain about 70 miles west of here. To get there, it's 20 miles of paved road, 40 miles of dirt road and about 10 miles of matted down sagebrush. That is, if anyone was there this year. Otherwise, you mat it down yourself.

This mountain rises a thousand feet above the surrounding country. It tops out more than 8000 feet above sea level. And it's a great place with grand vistas, springs and desert wildlife. It's one of the wildest places I can drive a vehicle to. There are fewer people there, at this time of year, than in the wilderness areas, in the big mountains to the west.

The geology is fantastic. Some of the oldest rocks on the continent are found there. A volcanic system with phonolites, soda trachytes, alkali meta trachytes and latites exists in a complex system of Precambrian and Cambrian rock in the same area.

But best of all, a pegmatite occurs on one end of this mountain. And it's the only pegmatite in Wyoming reporting spodumene and fluorapatite. A variety of other pegmatite minerals were reported there as well. What am I standing looking in the refrigerator for? Black Mountain here I come! There's no time to plan an expedition. There's just enough time to throw a few essentials in the truck and get moving.

If everything goes smoothly, the sun will set as I arrive. I must get there before dark. It's just too easy getting stuck or mash up a vehicle after dark. UV lamp, battery, headlamp, map, camera, hammers, rock bag, water bottle, and food. The food won't take long. As I've already mapped that out:>)

I can't forget my teenage son. "Want to go", I ask. "Does everything glow like it did on Casper Mountain", he responds? I'm honest and tell him I don't know, but it should be a great adventure. He takes that to mean "no" and doesn't need anymore adventures for today. I head out without him.

After graduating from college, I worked in this part of Wyoming as an exploration geologist. The topography, the smell of the sagebrush and of the road dust brings back old memories. So much time has passed! I've children almost as old as I was back then. And until a year ago, my oldest son was driving the same pickup truck I purchased while working that exploration job.

Heading west, I'm feeling great. Thirty miles down the road, not a single vehicle is in sight. But it wasn't always this way. Thirty-five years ago, this area was a hot bed of activity. Now, all that's left are the memories and some reclaimed land.

I'm in my element. Navigating the back country. Crossing bogs. Fording small, spring fed creeks. Transversing jagged, rocky ridges. And escaping from dune sand and mud holes. I arrive at Black Mountain just before sunset.

What a view. I quickly, take a panorama with my camera, as I must locate the pegmatite before it gets too dark. Hiking down the mountain top ridge is exhilarating. I enjoy feeling my heart pound and my lungs work double time trying to get enough of the thinner air. There's life beyond the refrige!

After a half mile, I find the pegmatite. A small exploration pit was blasted into the outcrop, probably by a prospector before World War II. I'm disappointed. This pegmatite is small. And it's truncated by erosion on the west end. Although it contains spodumene and tourmaline, I find that it lacks character. Most road cuts, in areas with real pegmatites, are better prospects than this. Whoever first described this pegmatite probably tried to sell it and was apparently unsuccessful :>)

It's been three hours getting here. I planned to spend the night, lamping the pegmatite and enjoying the stars. But I figure, it takes a half hour to lamp the pegmatite. If the pegmatite lacks fluorescent minerals, I'll spend the rest of the night here, as it's just too dangerous driving off the mountain in the dark. But that won't be too bad, as it's a new moon. The stars will be glorious. I love the sound of the desert at night.

Yet, I could lamp the pegmatite now, in the dusk. I might miss the more subtle fluorescence. But if it seems worthwhile, I could stay. If not, there is enough sky light and time to get off the mountain before darkness settles. The Rattlesnake Hills are just a dozen miles away. I could inspect the volcanics there and still get my star time.

With lamp, hammer and bag in tow, I hike back to the pegmatite. The wind's picking up now and is blowing about 30 mph. A cursory inspection reveals the usual uranium ion activated coatings. The colors are a deeper green and much less intense than those seen on Casper Mountain. I've concluded that just about any location, in Wyoming, contains rocks that glow green:>) The feldspars and their admixtures have a pale pink-red fluorescence. Nothing unusual. No fluoro-glowrites or phospo-spotlites. There's enough time to get off the mountain. The wind is blowing harder and I'm out-da here.

It's 10 p.m. and very dark now. The wind is howling at 50 mph. I'm having difficulty navigating, especially around the springs. The tall grass flattened by the wind, lies horizontal with the ground. That obliterates my tracks. In the daytime it's relatively easy to avoid getting stuck. But at night it's a different matter. The difference between safe and stuck is often measured by a foot or so. And rocks which are obvious in daylight, hide in the vegetation at night. I'm spending too much time scoping out safe routes with my headlamp.

There are two trails leading to a single, rocky creek crossing that separates me from the Rattlesnakes. But I can't find either the trails or the crossing in the dark.

The stars are fantastic. There's no moon and not a single beam of light for 50 miles. The black rock absorbs the light from my headlamp making the night seem very dark, the stars brillant. The wind is howling and is nasty. There goes half of my map. Luckily, I have the pertinent portion in my hand. I haven't experienced a wind like this since last winter. It's the only sound I hear.

The desert night is usually filled with animal sounds. Those sounds are pleasant and produce a feeling of well being, once one is accustomed to them. Those sounds keep everyone informed as well. But when the wind blots that information out, I get a feeling of loneliness on one hand, and of apprehension on the other. I just hate coming upon a large animal unawares at night. They startle me and I scare them.

I could hike up to the volcanics with my lamp. Wait out the wind. Get a little star time. Then lamp out the rocks in the early morning. Or I could lamp out the outwash material by the creek. Prospectors often use creek material to locate a mineral deposit. The creeks contain eroded material which are followed like a trail. I opt for the latter. The UV lamp illuminates the usual uranium stuff, mostly in chalcedony and fracture/joint fillings. But several pieces of volcanic debris light up with a dull, red-magenta glow. One small, highly altered piece lights up a bright orange. Hummm...maybe there's some potential here.

It's almost midnight now and I'm on the south side of a creek next to the Rattlesnake Hills. They are on the other side of the creek. I'm within a mile of the rocks I want to lamp.

After a short time stumbling around the creek bank, my headlamp runs out of juice. I've drained the batteries getting the truck safely away from Black Mountain. I'm left with the dull red glow of two leds and the dull purple glow from the ultraviolet lamp. Now it's very dark. The dull purple glow from my uv lamp doesn't help much. I've taken a couple of nasty falls in the steep, loose debris.

It's just too easy to fall while working a steep, loose slope, on a black, windy night. My hands instinctively reach up slope to brake a fall. And my new, plastic cased lamp is held by them. I'm afraid I'll break it. Maybe buying a lamp with a plastic case wasn't such a good idea :>) Could one with a metal case survive a fall? Probably not. It's time to pull the plug. I retreat back to my truck.

Although my rock bag is almost empty, my spirit is full. I've been revived. When I was out here as a youth, I measured success by the 'how much' like my teenage son does. But with my gray hairs, I've acquired another perspective. It's enough just to be. And unlike that first truck of my youth, I'm still trucking :>)

That creek needs crossing and I'm sure more adventures are beyond it. So, I'll be back.