One night after work I decided to go explore the desert. I left my house at 8:30 pm and arrived at the mouth of Indian Springs Canyon at 9:10 pm This canyon is located in the Simpson Mountains, which are a compact range west of the Sheeprock Mountains. They are named for Captain James Hervey Simpson, who explored the wilderness in the late 1850s. Heading out, I came upon the Onaqui Mountain Wild Horse Herd on the Dugway/Lookout Pass road. There were at least 150 horses and I had to go very slowly and move them out of the way.
I noticed that the minor eastern peaks of Big Davis Mountain are quite high above the valley floor from the eastern perspective of Skull Valley. I finally made it to the Pony Express Trail and headed west across Government Creek. In fact there was a pretty good flow of muddy water in the creek bed here and this was the first time I’d seen it run.
I drove along the north end of the Simpson Range and noticed several interesting paths leading up its slopes to interesting rock outcroppings and even some cave-like holes in the rocks. I drove on and after 19 miles from Dugway I passed Simpson Springs and thought of Chorpenning, Major Egan, James Simpson, Clara Anderson and all the other history of the place as I passed.
About 5 miles west of Simpson Springs I followed a pretty decent road south and the sign said “Death Canyon 12 miles; Indian Springs 5 miles.” I followed this road for about 6 miles and came to a small spur in the road on the west side which ran off the main road about 70 yards to the edge of the escarpment which looms over the flat bank lands above the old river bed. . What a view of the desert, Table Mountain and Camel Back Ridge to the north. I surveyed the scene for a while and then determined that I had gone too far south of the Indian Springs road.
I then backtracked north for about 2 miles and came to an old 2 track that I thought was the road to Indian Springs Canyon. I parked the truck, got my bike out of the rack, looked over my shoulder at the waning afternoon light and misty gold desert sky, pierced by mysterious rock ridges, and headed east toward Indian Springs wash/canyon. Right after I started riding east, I startled a couple of mule deer who seemed very surprised by my presence. I followed this path through scattered sage and juniper until I came to a junction with a much better and steeper path coming from the northwest. I realized that this new trail would be the trail of choice if I were to visit this location again. I marked this junction with a white rock in the gray dirt and continued east into the canyon.
I had read reports of a large amount of water present in this canyon and was disappointed to have gone more than a mile and a half with no sign of water still in the dusty drainage. By this time, all daylight was gone, but the moon was ¾ full and there were only a few clouds, so the ambient lighting was very good, and I continued. Around the 2 mile mark I heard the gurgling and gurgling of the water. As I continued, I noticed a large gorge opening up on the south side of the road. Moonlight will play a trick on your depth perception and height/distance estimates, but I’d say this gorge was at least 60 feet deep in places and the bottom was full of water. The road in this area will most likely be lost in a few more years due to the massive erosion that occurs here.
Later, the barrel began to change noticeably. There were big puddles of water on the road and then came the fords. The creek crossed the road 6 times along my route and 4 of these crossings were from 6 to 40 feet long with some reaching knee high. Due to the changing geology from the desert to the higher canyon, erosion was not very frequent here and the water was very cold and clear as it reflected the moonlight. I could clearly see the stones in the background.
As I ventured up the canyon, I considered the Indians who must have frequented this place, such as Chief Peanum, Old Tabby, Chief Tintic, and others. I also considered the Emigrants on the California Trail, who are said to have strayed south into this canyon so abundant in wood and water. I thought of Captain Simpson and his expedition and wondered if this was the water from the Champlain Mountains that saved their lives after the disastrous crossing of the Sevier Desert and Keg Mountain. And finally, I realized that he was treading the same ground that Colonel Patrick Edward Connor did with his 3rd California Infantry volunteers on their way to the Salt Lake Valley. In fact, it was Connor’s men who, on his instructions, first cut the road to Indian Springs Canyon and crossed the pass into Lee Canyon and Porter Valley. All these thoughts filled my head as I ventured further up the canyon.
About 4 miles into the canyon in the middle of the 4th ford my bike chain broke and dangled behind me in the creek. I stopped abruptly and plunged knee-deep into the water. It was a warm night, so the water really felt good. I cleared the current and assessed the situation. It had been dark for an hour but there was good moonlight, the temperature was nice, my brakes were working fine and my tires were in good condition, so I decided to continue. I walked my bike through the last 2 fords and came to a heavy cattle guard.
By this time, the canyon floor was wet, there was good grass in places, and the sound of running water filled the night air. At this point I looked directly north and noticed the west face of Indian Peaks looming over me. In the moonlight they were well defined and clear and looked like some kind of grey/blue dust. The canyon opened up a bit and I came to another fork in the road. I followed the fork with the water because I had heard that the source of this water was one of the old mines in the forgotten mining town of Indian Springs.
The road became very dilapidated and there were violent rivulets of water gushing down each side. There was a much larger stream just south of the road in the reeds. Just when I was about to admit defeat in my goal of reaching the old town, due to the fact that the whole place was turning into a slippery swampy mess, I was startled when I came across a large juniper tree and saw an old building of haggard appearance. looking up at me with its dark entrance and windows open from the shadows with the whole structure bathed in pale moonlight. As Louis L’amour once said, “he was emaciated in the same way that a dead tree is emaciated.”
Surprisingly, I had no chills at all. He was elated that, by moonlight, he had come all the way up Indian Springs Canyon to the site of the old town. I parked my bike in a large patch of thick grass that was abundant in the area, walked over to the old structure, and looked inside. It was an old tin building and incredibly rusty. There were what appeared to be numerous bullet holes in the ceiling allowing moonlight to penetrate the thick blackness within. I decided not to go into the old building, but admired the workmanship of an old steel hinge where a door had stood long ago. I went back to where my bike was and looked up at the sky. The stars were absolutely beautiful. The Big Dipper shone bright and clear directly over the old town.
When the clouds passed in front of the moon, it caused an eerie appearance. It was like you had a dim switch on a lamp and the whole landscape went dark and then bright again. She expected to see an apparition in the moonlight among the trees, but I did my best not to think about such things. Instead, I considered the catamounts that might be lurking silently out of sight, waiting for their chance to eat something… ME! And I realized that this would be the last trek here in the desert that I did unarmed.
I poked around a bit, but due to the large amount of water in the area, the low light, and the late hour, I no longer looked for structures. I got on my bike and rode down the canyon. As I rode through the canyon, I was aware of the night sounds and smells of the cool canyon: crickets, talking night birds, and the fragrant smell of Big Sagebrush and Utah Juniper. I had to stop my useless bike and walk all the fords which turned my sneakers into a wet mess that I had to walk dry every time I heard the “Squish” “Squish” which could be quite annoying.
I finally got to my truck at 10:55 pm The entire 8.5 mile adventure took me about 2 hours. It would have been considerably less if the chain on my bike hadn’t broken. I estimated that I gained about 2,000 feet of elevation to the city site. What a workout and what a beautiful night. I shall never forget Indian Springs in the light of the May moon.
If you decide to venture into one of Simpson Mountain’s many canyons, make sure you have good maps, plenty of water, and tell someone where you’re going. Also, if you walk at night, especially in the summer, beware of the many snakes that hang around in the dark. Most of the old mines and buildings are probably private property and should not be disturbed. The main draw here is complete solitude and plenty of water in the middle of the desert.