Death Valley:

Lippincott Mine Road to the Racetrack Playa

Len Wilcox
excerpt from Desert Dancing, 2000

Our expedition to the Racetrack began on one of the most glorious spring days we'd seen; the sun was bright, but the weather was not yet uncomfortably warm.  Distant thin clouds promised not to bring any rain, just a little shade if needed.  The wind was a mild breeze; the wind can be as much an enemy as the sun but today it would stay light and easy.  It was a perfect day for a long trip on sand and gravel.

Getting to the Racetrack isn't easy, but ever since I'd heard about the rocks that move I knew I had to go.  And, predictably, I chose the most difficult route to get there, a 4-wheeling expedition that equals or surpasses any I've ever taken. It was a white-knuckle cliff-hanger, and Suz says I'd better enjoy the memory; we're never going back.

Located beyond Ubehebe crater, which is north of Scotty's Castle, The National Park Service advises that 4-wheel drive may be needed to get to the Racetrack. Coming around from the north, by Ubehebe Crater, I think they're wrong; while conditions can change with the weather, when we went the road was washboarded but graded and easy, and is usually fit for the family sedan.  Coming from the south, however, is an entirely different story.

There are two ways through from the south. One is a relatively easy 4-wheeling trail.  The second route is a detour off of the first, up the serious, high-pucker-factor, mountain-goat trail known as the Lippincott Mine road.  Of course, that's the road we chose, on the day we decided to tour the Racetrack.

Both trails take off from the Saline Valley Road north of state highway 190 north of Darwin and west of Panamint Springs. There are no road signs; not even BLM markers.  The Saline Valley road is paved, for a ways; but it's old, not maintained, and only a single lane wide - and really, it's just one long pothole, until it finally turns into dirt. 

The road climbs out of the saline flats and up into cattle country, through Joshua forests into cedar and juniper, and finally dusty pines.  We broke out into the open and found ourselves on the edge of a mountain, looking southward toward the Panamints. 11,000-foot Telescope Peak was in snowbound glory, and a few miles away we could almost see the mud houses of Ballarat at about 2,000 feet on the edge of the playa.

The road rounded the mountain, and we were facing the Inyos, about as high as the Panamints, and the floor of Saline Valley spread before us.  We followed Saline Valley Road down past chocolate-colored rock upthrusts and dropped quickly to the flats.

At the intersection of the Saline Valley rd with the Lippincott Mine Road (on some maps, Lippincott is identified as the Ubehebe Crater Road) there's a large rock cairn, and just beyond as sign that warms the heart of any dedicated 4-wheeler.  It says:  "Caution.  Route ahead not maintained.  Washouts and cut banks ahead.  Route not recommended for vehicle travel.  Experienced drivers using 4x4 high clearance vehicles only."

A wide spot in the road

As it turns out, they're not kidding. It is a warning to take seriously.

The trail rounds the foot of a mountain then heads up a canyon that winds its way through spectacular scenery.  The rocks are a collage of granite, sedimentary conglomerates, and a lot of interesting quartz - gold-bearing, perhaps, judging from the amount of mining and the number of prospect holes in the canyon. 

The climb gets very serious - almost straight up, it seems.  This is slow, low-range work.  There are washouts, most of which have been repaired with rocks, and in places you'll only have a foot or so between your outside tire and a disaster.  The drop gets hairy:  hundreds of feet, not straight down. But not enough of a slope to matter; a mistake would be fatal. 

There's an additional problem: the breeze in the canyon is blowing from behind. We're in a low-range, high-RPM climb, moving at perhaps 4 or 5 miles an hour.  Even though it isn't a hot day - in the 80's - The Jeep's engine starts to heat up.  We have to stop twice to let things cool down.  Finally the road tops out at a saddle.  This isn't the summit, but it's a good stopping point, and the view westward is fantastic as the Saline Valley lies at your feet. There's room to park with the grill in the wind to let things cool.

Further on, the pucker-factor eases as the dropoffs are not as severe, but the trail remains a challenge with switchbacks and washouts and low-range climbs.  The trail ends just beyond the summit at a nice bladed road, with another warning sign like the first for the traffic coming from the other direction.  Beyond is the Racetrack, and 28 miles of gravel to Ubehebe.

The Racetrack is not a disappointment. The rocks really do move.

Hiking out onto the playa, we examine the soil of the lakebed.  It is indeed a very fine material, and I could imagine it wet; it would become very, very slick.  According to the Park Service's sign, the winds here hit 70 miles an hour or more.  Surely that is enough force to push these rocks around.

No one has ever seen them move.  After all these years, a hundred or more since this phenomena was brought to the attention of the naturalists studying Death Valley, no one has seen the rocks move, not yet.

The rocks come from a formation to the north called the Grandstand, and from a ridge on the east across the lake.  They aren't boulders; they are rocks, up to perhaps a foot or so tall. The rocks are spread out on the lake and we walk from one to another, but most had no trails, no sign at all of doing anything unusual.

But some rocks further north did not let us down.  The trail in the dry playa was clear; this rock had moved, moved a substantial distance, without human or animal help; there were no tracks around it, no record of assistance, just the path it made as it slid through the mud.  It had changed directions, several times.  It was easy to see the record of various windstorms, and imagine how long they lasted; some a short time, some for days, with wind coming from different directions making the rock slide in different ways.

We found more, some with footprints around them, from people who had walked out on the playa while the mud was still wet.  That would have been interesting, to be here when the lakebed was still moist, and experience the soil conditions.  I'd be tempted to wait for the wind and try to catch the rocks in the act - but no one ever has.  This would be one miserable place in a storm with 70 mile-per-hour winds.  On the other hand, I don't need to see them move now; I can take it on faith, I've seen the evidence and am convinced it happens.

Though I don't think it's the wind, I think it's the ghosts of the Rainbow Chasers playing a trick on us.