Section 4 of the Great Basin Trail (cont.)

Sections of the GBT: Section 4

Section 4: Eureka to Wells
(approx. 207m) 

(section mileage with XC factor: 219m)

(section elevation: 56,250ft gain, 57,100ft loss)

Section 4, Segment O: Ruby Crest
Harrison Pass to Lamoille Canyon
(approx. 46m)

(14m road, 32m trail)

(approx. 12,625ft elevation gain, 13,500ft elevation loss)

Ah yes, the Ruby Crest. Probably the most well known mountain range in Nevada to most outdoor enthusiasts including hikers, skiers, and equestrians. Most of  Segment O follows the Ruby Crest National Scenic Trail for 36 miles. From Harrison Pass, the GBT hiker jaunts along a rugged jeep road to the trail head for a couple miles, while the end of the segment follows the a paved secondary highway in the glaciated and spectacular Lamoille Canyon. For most of the Ruby Crest Trail, the hiker stays high in the 'Swiss Alps of Nevada' topping out at Wines Peak at 10,893 feet, which provides the hiker with an expansive panorama of the surrounding Great Basin and the Ruby Valley below. One feels to be in the High Sierra at times near Tuolumne Meadows for the polished granite walls sheen in the bulky distance and the alpine lakes shimmer in the warm sun. Numerous lakes dot the high country and snow lingers into July on some shaded aspects. The Ruby Crest trail has frequent visitors along the well groomed trail which makes this an enjoyable treat for the Great Basin Trail hiker who has seen a lot of rugged country and scant trail thus far. 


I had the great fortune to rendezvous with my buddy Andy of Pa'lante Packs. He met me at Harrison Pass with a trunk full of food and resupply and a brand new backpack from Pa'lante called The Desert Pack. We left after a big breakfast and basically skipped along trail with our yapping conversation. It felt good to have company again. And it felt good to watch such a talented hiker like Handy scoot through the snowy terrain. At Overland Pass, the cirque completely filled with last Winter's snow and Handy just shoe-skied with the ease of a soaring bird flying through a narrow channel. I picked my way down the mix of boulders and snow. We walked along the banks of the lake still partially frozen. After a day of pure bliss in the mountains, we found a ridgeline camp with a couple mangled limber pines as barriers from the chilly wind. We had a hot meal of pesto pasta and aged white cheddar cheese. Down below to the east, the end of the day rang in a purple demeanor that had not a dark semblance but rather a rosy purple vestige, one of glee and exuberance, as if the day had danced.

The next day, we skirted through the Ruby Crest and shoe-skied and skidded on our butts through the lingering snow. The alpine lakes of Favre, Liberty, and Lamoille remained cloistered in ice with the slushy banks adorned in a glacial blue. From Liberty Pass, I could see cars in the parking lot, Lamoille Canyon being a popular day destination for the folks of Elko. The craggy Verdi Peak sprouted up over the canyon to the north and I pondered: which way through now? I felt fortunate to have Handy along side as to help me scout a way through north without road walking. I knew the section north, the way through to Secret Valley, but I wanted to find a cooler and more enjoyable way through or around Lamoille Canyon. In the end, chilling in the parking lot observing families and day trippers do their thing, we vied against doing something too craggy and too technical. So, we walked the road for 9 miles. The glaciated walls and deep canyon of Lamoille did not disappoint at all. To be honest, that was probably the best and prettiest 9 mile road walk I have had on a long distance trail.

Segment 4, Section P: Northern Ruby
Lamoille Canyon to Secret Valley
(approx. 32m)

(6m road, 15m trail, 11m XC)

(mileage estimation with XC factor: 34m)

(approx. 9,025ft elevation gain, 9,175ft elevation loss)

The Northern Ruby is a tricky section. Limited access to public lands is the main obstacle. The narrow range is flanked by private land to the west in the Lamoille Valley, to the east in the northern Ruby Valley, and to the north in Secret Valley. I had this same access problem in 2015's Great Basin Traverse and while I found a way through I did not find the most attractive way through. In 2017, while on my bikepacking trip through Nevada, I stopped in Elko. At the local bike shop, I had heard of some aspiring trail projects, including the one I paid most attention to: a connection via trail from Lamoille Canyon to Secret Valley. So, when we encountered the craggy crest surrounding Verdi Peak and saw the challenging task ahead of us and we rambled on down the highway for 9 miles within Lamoille Canyon, I set our sights for the old ruins of the powerhouse at the mouth of the canyon hoping that that trail project had progressed further along than what I had seen in 2015 and heard about in 2017. 

My guess figured right and at the powerhouse trail head I found the beginnings of a thoroughfare that extended around private land and connected Lamoille Canyon with Talbot Creek. From there, the not so difficult task of navigating cattle trails and flowery slopes took us to the roaring north fork of Cold Creek. Ambling along the north side of the creek, we followed a cut-corridor that led us to nearly a headwall of the Northern Ruby crest. After a short jaunt straight up through sagebrush, we attained the craggy crest and had an expansive view of the high plateau dotted with the Soldier Lakes. I felt content and satisfied with what we had established through the Northern Ruby. And then Handy said, 'Which way now?' I pointed and spoke about the way through. He pointed too, but in response, 'What about traversing that?' Slopes leaning up from the Soldier Lakes basin topped out at an abrupt edge that teetered over the Ruby Valley below. 

We made our way over to the rim and felt the yawning vacuum of the immense drop off from the rim. Sheer cliffs fell straight down among pillars and couloirs of rock. Bristlecones literally laid on the ground sprawled out in a malleable nature against the force of wind. The ancient trees grew all gnarled and coiled in leaning with what I could imagine being gale force winds. We marveled at the trees, we admired the craggy crest in our rear view, we gaped at the plummeting cliffs, and I gazed towards the verdant East Humboldt Range looming in the north. I needed another set of eyes and Handy's suited the situation well. Fresh eyes and fresh legs kept the route legal, achievable and 'likeable.'

This section is majority trail, although really rugged trail. This section is not to be taken lightly, and what seems like a break within the length of the Ruby's, this section is not such a break. Expect very hard travel and hard work through here.

Section 4, Segment Q: East Humboldts
Secret Valley to Wells
(approx. 45m)

(14m road, 31m trail)

(mileage estimation with XC factor: 48m because of trail nature)

(approx. 11,900ft elevation gain, 12,450ft elevation loss)

The East Humboldt Range is the lushest range the Great Basin Trail hiker will encounter. The range runs nearly 30 miles from Secret Valley in the south that bridge the range with the Ruby's to Interstate 80. These mountains are lush with greenery that show a wetter characteristic than the ranges to the south. The mountains here are rugged and lonely, the trails are overgrown and untrampled, and the valleys are scarred with glaciation--- these mountains, in essence, are old and wrinkly. I will venture to say that this range poses the most rugged and physically demanding day on the entire GBT. I will be very up front: this section will kick your ass.

As with the Northern Ruby, public access is limited with the main access points a lone trail head at Secret Valley and the well-visited Angel Lake just outside of Wells. The hiker will hike strenuously and will need to be mentally focus to keep up on the difficult navigation. Progress through the range will be slow, sometimes down to a slog. But the GBT hiker is rewarded with high elevation views. The main thoroughfare used along the GBT in the East Humboldt Range is the East Humboldt Highline trail, that ultimately extends for some 28m or so. This trail was once a corridor for Peruvian and Basque sheepherders and I imagine the old, tall rock cairns had been stacked the majority of the time by those sheepherders. Evidence of these mountain herders also remain etched in time on the aspen trees. Some markings signify where water is, where the shepherd came from, what year, and who. Father and son show lineage etched in the form of arborglyphs on aspen trees. To find these markings one may be in an old camp or on the obscure route high in the range. Tread is nearly gone, a footprint a rare sign, to follow this corridor instills a refreshing wildness to the movement of humanity down below in the basin.

This segment is challenging and taxing both mentally and physically. The hiker must have a keen eye for waymarks carved in trees and a sharp eye for toppled over cairns. One must employ a feel for the contouring of the route and an intimacy with reading a landscape which both relate to understanding what is in front of you and what is on the map. Finally, the hiker must have an adventurous spirit patient with slow progress. Immerse yourself here, take your time. Once you round the bend of the northern tip of the range near Greys Peak and you see the shimmering town of Wells in the distance, a giddiness consumes the body, overwhelms the experiencer with immersion as you know you will take the route southward from this point. You are now at the head of the route and you can look south back at the heart and you feel being swallowed up by the big emptiness, a powerful void of soul seeking and replenishment through solitude and isolation. I found myself occasionally bringing my hand to my brow, flattened out, to gaze out at the vista and looking deeply into the ocean of land before me. I squinted and tried to focus to see where I came from, from where the Great Basin Trail began.

From Angel Lake, the land is checkerboarded with ownership. Rather than try to hop corners and put a hiker in a potential illegal position, the GBT walks the paved road some 12 miles into Wells. The travel goes much faster than being up in the East Humboldts and the walker is motivated by the temptations of town.

Section 4 of the Great Basin Trail

Sections of the GBT: Section 4

Section 4: Eureka to Wells
(approx. 205m)

(section mileage with XC factor: 219m)

(section elevation: 56,250ft gain, 57,100ft loss)

Section 3, Segment M: Diamond Range
Eureka to Jacobs Well
(approx. 48m)

(21m road, 27m XC)

(mileage estimation with XC factor: 53m)

(approx. 12,600ft elevation gain, 13,150ft elevation loss)

The Diamond Range is probably my favorite range that is probably the most overlooked within the Great Basin Trail. I understand that is a tall statement especially since the Diamond Range is smack dab between the Ruby's and the previous sections big 3 ranges of the Toiyabe, the Alta Toquima and the Monitors. The Diamond Range is as remote as any range in Central Nevada although from the peaks one can see large agricultural fields down in the basins below. The range is long and thin and is accessible at two points: Newark Summit in the southern end and Overland Pass in the northern end. The high point is Diamond Peak at 10,614ft that towers over the Newark and Diamond Valleys. The majority of this section is a very long traverse utilizing horse trails and some rough bushwhacking. Of the 48m in this section, 27 miles are cross-country along the Diamond Crest, however, the estimated mileage may push between 27m-32m depending on navigational skills. The rest of the mileage in this section is rugged ranch roads outside of Eureka and, to the north, one utilizes the old Pony Express route. 


I left Eureka with a full belly and ambled through the highlands above Eureka to Newark Summit. I met Squatch there, a well-known hiker known for his documentaries. Coincidentally, as I started my Great Basin Trail Squatch had begun to take occasional trips to Nevada to film a documentary about Nevada about how beautiful, weird, remote yet overlooked Nevada is. We met at Newark Summit for an interview. The more we explore the hinterlands of Nevada as hikers the more treasure we receive. After our interview, we parted ways, Squatch by vehicle and me by foot. Late afternoon began to color the skies in a cloaked purple and a deep pink. The peak hovered above me and I found wild horse trails that took an easy gradient along the crest. I climbed Diamond Peak as the sun touched the western horizon and I found a nestled spot under a wind-warped limber pine and hunkered down for the night. I gazed at the dark sky enveloping the entirety of the Great Basin. The Milky Way began to smear the expanse of blackness and lights from civilization flickered from the basins some 5,000ft below.

Up early the next morning since I had a bird's eye view of the sunrise, I began the day-long scramble along the ridgecrest. Fortunately for me, I was at the high point of the day but I could see the long undulating ridge that spanned seemingly endlessly to the north. Quickly, the wind began to blow, and just as quickly, I found wild horse trails that weaved along the crest. I cruised along but then slowed once the crest became more pointy. But, the wild horse trails persisted. I worked hard, exuberantly hard. I felt ecstatic being up so high and traversing a range so long and rugged while having unmarked trail. I attained a hidden pass where in one go I saw more wild horses than I could count. That being said, astonishingly I saw more wild horses in this one day than the whole trip length of the GBT. Bands of horses huddled together in muddy swales on the leeward side of the range. Snowfields had recently melted and the horses took advantage of the newly sprigged grass and the melting water. Nearby on another snowfield, a couple deer laid about cooling off. I gazed at the bands of horses, some 60-70 I imagine, from a short distance and watched them become aware of me and begin to move in unison. Every minute or so a lone horse would break from a band and gallop towards me to inspect me. More and more of the horses became aware of me and a long procession moved up to the pass from the muddy swale. I moved towards them as my route dictated and the horses kept a wide berth of me. At the pass, I noticed a couple hovering mosquitoes. Flummoxed by the appearance of the mosquitoes up so high on an exposed and windy crest, I slapped them away from me. Seconds later, I kept slapping. I thought maybe that hidden muddy swale held mosquito coverage for the horses. 


I continued on with the mosquitoes in tow. The conditions worsened as the technicality and my enjoyment of the range increased. I floundered in exhaustion in the increasing temperatures and rugged terrain of the crest. I could not break for a rest because the cloud of mosquitoes became to thick and harassing. The sage-lined crest had that greenish blue tint and soft fuzzy appearance that zigged with the crest. The crest lined so sharply it looked like the sagebrush could not be shaken off the top, like the sage stuck to the crest like Velcro. I felt mesmerized by such a beautiful crest, especially so with wild horse trail traversing just underneath in perfection of gradient, for a trail lover like myself, I was in heaven. 

Nevertheless, the mosquitoes could have gone to hell. The day barely cooled off as late afternoon finally arrived. My mosquito annoyance felt worse than ever and I broke off the crest north of Christina Peak to find water. I found gushing spring water after switchbacking down horse trails. The mosquitoes swarmed me in a frenzy, as the sky became majestically draped in the purples and pinks of sunset. I moved on quickly trying to get lower in elevation to find the 'sweet spot' of where the mosquitoes were not. I must have encountered a hatch at the most particular day of the year in the Diamond Range---randomness in fullness once again, empty in meaning but powerful in memory. I ultimately surmised the mosquito swarms must be coming up from the agricultural fields down below.

I found a low saddle and set up camp. After some futile attempts of staving off the mosquitoes, I began to break mentally. I was extremely tired after the rugged day, but more so mentally broke from the mosquitoes. After an hour in the darkness trying to sleep amid the roar of flying bloodsuckers, I broke camp and walked on in the night. After a half hour, I heard a dog barking and I knew I had neared a sheepherder's camp and I knew that that dog would not be friendly. I stumbled in the sagebrush and found a small clearing just enough to throw down my sleeping quilt. The temperature had finally dropped to the point of chilly and I fitfully slept for a few hours before waking up at 5am to the buzzing of mosquitoes. I had about 5 hours of reprieve. Now, I trotted onward across Huntington Valley along the Pony Express Trail towards the Southern Ruby.

Section 4, Segment N: Southern Ruby
Jacobs Well to Harrison Pass
(approx. 36m)

(21m road, 15m XC)

(mileage estimation with XC factor: 38m)

(approx. 10,100ft elevation gain, 8,825ft elevation loss)

If you read from me that I thought the Diamond Range is probably my favorite and most underrated range of the Great Basin Trail, then I changed my mind. I am now saying the Southern Ruby is probably my favorite and most underrated range of the Great Basin Trail. Honestly though, I could say that about a few others as well because the trail is that beautiful! After being ravaged by mosquitos in the Diamond Range I made an early attempt to nearly sprint across the Huntington Valley to avoid the heat. A long ascent up Cherry Creek Canyon and several cooling-offs at the two glorious springs, I attained the crest and started the lengthy and undulating traverse of the high country. 

The Southern Ruby is an extension of the whole Ruby Crest and has a significantly drier climate than the burlier, wetter ranges to the north. Because of the drier and slimmer range the Southern Ruby has limited water sources and is inhabited by wild horses where in the northern ranges access to the high country is limited for the wild horses due to private land boundaries and a different land management agency. The Southern Ruby is almost all horse trail or cross country travel with two track being a distant third. The mileage doesn't quite add up, but the two track you encounter is very rugged and remote, while the cross-country travel is very, very tough besides the occasional excellent horse trail. You may never see a visitor here in this range, although I found 2 older folks up on Cass House Peak traversing the range from the other direction. Once again, randomness bestowed a gift in meeting these 2 folks, for they were the first two people I had run into on the route some 650 miles into the Great Basin Trail.


The Southern Ruby remind me of the southern High Sierra with the barren crestlines and windblown bristlecone. The views of the Ruby Valley and the many lakes below remind me of the views of the southern High Sierra towering over the Owens Valley and Owens Lake. The crest is stark, yet bounding with an ancient life. Hard-worn trees inhabit the precarious ledges and slopes and are mangled from the incessant wind. Limber pines are also wind mutilated, however, whatever crumpling and warping that suggests the stumps and limbs are soft the viewer is completely mistaken. The hard-worn trees are supple in nature and bend with the wind and create an absolute natural work of art. I could sit for an hour or two in admiration of the striations bark and the twists of the trunk and branches, let alone the miraculous labyrinth within an exposed root structure. Despite the raging wind slamming into the crest, the ancient trees are fragrant, gnarled with an aroma of sweet, sweet pines. I loved this range, not only because of one of the largest groves of bristlecone in the U.S. but because of the abruptness, the remoteness, being overlooked, and because of the amazing trails the wild horses have created through their vagabonding. 

I slept on an exposed saddle and let the wind course through my quilt on a warm night. The nasty mosquitoes had since been left behind in the Diamonds, I slept comfortably.  After some wild horse trail, I began to amble steeply up an old two track. Up on Cass House Peak, where the wind kept tripping my feet up, I encountered the older couple. I heard the click-clacking of the their trekking pole tips and glanced over. All three of us walk in a complete bundle of wind-resistant clothes, so we had to yell at each other. After a brief conversation, the encounter was over, although I felt socially rejuvenated. 

Later that morning, I noticed a large plume of dust billowing from the Newark Valley. I knew immediately that the strong and gusty winds up on the Southern Ruby's crest had been careening through the basins as well and had kicked up dust from the Newark Valley's dry lake bed. I sauntered on while keeping an eye to the west and south. As hours went the dust cloud crept towards me I realized the haboob wasn't just a quickly passing dust cloud. The haboob extended all the way to Elko and swamped out the daylight in the valley below. I stood straddling a barrier for the dust to reach and with the winds blowing in from the east I had a clear view of the darkening skies. Impressive nonetheless, I descended from the ramparts of Pearl Peak and picked my way to Harrison Pass, even startling a lone coyote at a flowing creek. At Harrison Pass, I set up an early camp and admired the haboob still from afar and waited for my buddy, Handy, to join me and resupply me the next day.