Today (Monday) we wanted to go see a place called Fort Piute. According to the maps, it was roughly northeast of our camp and reachable via some well-marked roads. Well, there’s maps, and then there’s maps.

First waypoint was the “town” of Landfair. On desert maps, towns are marked according to what may have been there at some mythical point in time. The only thing we found at or near Landfair (and we verified it by GPS) was a grand street sign and some ancient concrete/stone structures.

No matter, we headed stalwartly on, proceeding along the eastern section of the famous Mojave Road. We were soon confronted by a small parking lot of noteworthy vehicles. Ralph tried to make friends, but they were a bit standoffish. Not too shy to pose for pictures though. We always wonder how these crumbling steeds make the journey here, presumably before they fail.

After that, the road was okay but nothing to brag about. Then Ralph picked up some kind of debris in a drive line and started making ugly noises. We found the rogue junk but never figured out how the whole thing happened. Onward.

Miles and miles of rough dirt road ensued. It would be smooth for a while, then turn to a devil’s ride for 50-100 yards, then smooth out again. Believe it or not, this is actually fun. Almost to our destination, we side-tracked to take a look at an ancient corral. It’s built of old railroad ties and is a sturdy structure for sure. I climbed up on top of Ralph to get a good shot.

At that point, the road turned to total grunge. Rocks, rocks, and more rocks. My three-week-old concussion was getting “reminded” by all the bouncing and jolting. It was eight more long miles before we could work our way through the pass, up the power-line road, up the opposite side of the ridgeline, and get within walking distance of the old Fort.

The fort was built near a natural spring. It’s always a startling surprise to see such greenery out in the stark dryness of the desert. Karin and I walked down to the spring, but the vegetation was so enthusiastic that the water was completely shrouded in plant life. Karin managed to reach into the thicket and grab a small handful of the wondrous fluid.

The old fort was built to last from local stone (of which there is a plentitude). Oddly, the fort was used only for six months, to protect the mail service, before the mail route was moved further south and the fort was abandoned. This happened in 1868, which goes to show that our government/military joint operations are just about as sound and well-coordinated today as ever before.

The last green tree at the end of the spring’s flow looks out to the far stretch of the Mojave Road, scratching its way across the far rise and on to the distant Colorado River.

Late in the day, we pounded our way across 30 miles of more rough dirt roads and arrived tired but content back at camp. Howie was of course glad to see us.

The wind died down, the desert peace settled in upon us, and we congratulated ourselves on a day well spent.