High Elevations and Unexpected Guests

Since it’s currently hotter than a cast iron skillet in Moab as I type this, with highs well over 100 degrees, I’m reminded that summer hiking is best done at higher elevations - even in the desert.  A few years back, Rhonda and I did just that, during a trip to Great Basin National Park in eastern Nevada - located in the heart of the Great Basin Desert. 

Cooler temps? Check. Beautiful mountain trails? Check. Unexpected bathroom wildlife? We’ll get to that.

If you’ve never been, Great Basin is a quiet gem of a park - one of the most remote in the lower 48. It’s known for its ancient bristlecone pine groves (some of them are older than the pyramids), the surprisingly elaborate Lehman Caves with formations you won’t see anywhere else, and yes - Nevada's only glacier. Who knew?

Since the park is so remote (the nearest "big" town is Baker, population of 41, camping is really the only way to experience it properly. We didn’t mind. We hiked through groves of gnarled bristlecones and past crystal-clear alpine lakes, all at elevations around 10,000 feet. The air was thin, but the temperatures were glorious. Even the cave tour was cool - literally, maintaining a constant 50 degrees underground year-round. Yes please.

Now, the campground was a bit lower in elevation than the alpine trails, which meant slightly warmer temps, but still pleasant. Like all national park campgrounds, it had an outhouse. One morning, as we prepped for another scenic hike, we decided to make a quick pit stop. Being the chivalrous husband I am, I let Rhonda go first while I fiddled with my camera settings for the day's upcoming adventure.

A few moments later the outhouse door wildly swung open, and Rhonda leapt out the door with wild eyes and Olympic-level speed.

“All done, dear?” I asked, helpfully.

“There’s a snake in there!!” she gasped, clearly not appreciating my calm tone.

“A snake?”

“You heard me! Look behind the toilet!”

Sure enough, curled up in the corner like he’d paid for the campsite himself, was a giant gopher snake, easily six feet long. Turns out they grow big out there, and unlike us, they enjoy basking in the warmth of a sun baked outhouse. While these snakes are usually harmless to humans, they do have a knack for traumatizing snake-averse spouses.

Rhonda may never use a vault toilet again.

The cave tour sure was fun though... 😉

Photography Notes 

Like most cave tours in national parks, Lehman Caves can only be explored on a ranger-guided hike - and honestly, that makes perfect sense. The formations in there are delicate, ancient, and beautiful… and people, well… aren’t always known for those same qualities.

Our tour had about 25 people, and the ranger kicked things off with an excellent intro to the cave’s geology, its unique “shield” formations, and what not to touch (basically: everything). Then came a surprise. He announced that he needed someone to bring up the rear - to make sure nobody lagged behind or got lost in the abyss. The kicker? That person would get to carry an official National Park Service flashlight.

Naturally, I jumped at the opportunity.

Why? Because on most guided tours, you travel in a tight little human blob, which is great for safety… but terrible for photography. You’ll get a dozen shots of people’s backs, heads, and elbows - but not many of the cave itself. As the designated flashlight guy in the back, though? I had clear shots, time to compose, and just enough distance to make magic.

It was a photographer’s dream.

So, if you’re ever on a cave tour and they ask for a volunteer to “keep the group together” from the rear, don’t hesitate. It’s basically a free photography permit with a badge-light. Did I accidentally lose anyone while adjusting my shutter speed? I don’t... think so... 🤔

If I did there was nothing on the local news about it, but then again, there was no local news. 😂

A little elevation is a great way to beat the summer heat in the Great Basin Desert.

 

 Bristlecone Pine

 

 

Lehman Caves

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tunnel out.

 

Stella Lake