Date:         Wed, 12 Apr 1995 09:17:47 -0700
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From:         lmacphe@cello.gina.calstate.edu (Larry R. MacPhee)
Subject:      New Red Rock Tome!

>So Steve, where's the next installment of your trip report, huh?  Do
>you think you can just leave addicts hanging like that?   :)
>
>/m

Well Martha, maybe the MacPhee/Gibb clan can supply you with a Red Rock
Tale till the intelmeister gets back to his real work. After we said our
goodbyes to the remaining Red Rock crowd on Sunday morning, we headed off
for our own exploration of The Famous Burro Schmidt Tunnel. We took the
advice of the Saturday Expedition members (Donner Party, Part I?) and
looked for the easy road into the region. We decided to tank up before
entering this otherworldly place, since we had gone close to 180 miles
without a fill. We had been unpleasantly surprised on a recent desert trip
when the engine sputtered and died as the trip meter rolled over to 200.
(Our gas gauge has never worked).

We found the signatory barrel with words painted on it, as indicated by
Nikki Kautz, and since Bob Kenyon said Martha did it, we figured "Damn the
Torpedos", we'll give it a try. We smirked a little because the map we
purchased at the Randsburg general store clearly showed the road we were
taking, and we thought "God, how did they miss it?". We proceeded along the
road, which was reasonably good, for about a mile or two and came to the
crest of a hill which gave us an overview of the valley we were about to
enter. As we approached the hill, we noticed that a 4x4 Toyota pickup with
giant knobby tires and about a mile of clearance was parked oddly in the
middle of the road. As we got closer, we noticed a body under the truck.
When we pulled up next to the truck, a guy crawled out from underneath,
covered in grease. We asked if he needed any help and he said "No, I'll be
able to limp home from here but I wrecked the 4WD." Once again, we ignored
this subtle warning sign, cheerfully replied "OK" (though a small feeling
of dread began to germinate in my stomach) and hurtled down the hill, which
grew progressively more dicey as we went.

About halfway down this fairly steep and rough hill, I looked in the rear
view mirror (keeping an eye out for dirt bikers, since one had buzzed by us
recklessly already) and noticed that our rear bike rack, my newly
christened birthday present, was swinging more loosely than it should from
the tailgate. Doh! I got out and reattached the straps that had loosened,
recalling the manufacturers wimpy warning that this rack was not intended
for off-roading. (Now I figured they meant OFFROADING, as in guys covered
in protective plastic armor, covered in mud, etc; not a couple of bounces
through ruts-we've got worse potholes and traffic bumps in our apartment
complex for cripes sake!)

So we roll on down the hill and pass numerous side forks to the left and
right; many looking promising, but slightly less travelled than the main.
Eventually I expressed some doubts to Alice about the quality of our map
and about our exact position in relation to it. Alice claimed more
confidence, so we kept going. Finally we reached the second fork to the
left and the Burro Schmidt Tunnel. It seems we missed the first one on the
trip down the main road, but no harm done.

We met the old lady at the house. She was talking about O.J. and tried to
teach our kids the sign language words for mother, father, baby, and I love
you. I was getting pretty creeped out by all the touchy-feely stuff, so we
signed the guest book (noting the presence of Saturday's expedition) and
made a hasty retreat to the tunnel. We walked through without incident. I
was particularly amused by how straight it was and how frustrating it must
have been for ol' Burro Schmidt to reach almost all the way through and
then need to tunnel left without success and then right to get around the
solid and impassible rock face. We exited the tunnel, soaked in the view of
the great valley below, and then hiked the trail back over the mountaintop
to our camper.

I brilliantly suggested that we try to exit via the spur that we missed on
the way in, so we took the first promising right. We drove through some
truly nasty "road", at one point wrapping the license plate nicely around
the front bumper and finally reached a dry stream bed that we were not
going to be able to cross without pushing. We both agreed that the kids
just weren't up to pushing us out if we got stuck, so we managed a twelve
point turn and tried to go back. The next hour or two is kind of a blur,
but suffice it to say that none of those damn goat trails were on the map,
and we had a helluva time trying to find the correct road back out. We
finally gave up trying to retrace our original steps and exited opposite
from the direction we entered, encountering some very cool views of pink
lava rock along the way, and a much better road by the way.

-Larry, Alice, Michael and Julia

____________________________________________________
Larry R. MacPhee     lmacphe@cello.gina.calstate.edu
                     lmacphee@vmsa.oac.uci.edu
____________________________________________________