We woke to cold air and silence. After a night at the Lotus Mine, the plan was simple: drive up to the top of the workings, poke around, and then point the rigs north toward Ballarat. The road up from the cabin was short and uneventful, but it put us a few hundred feet higher with a wider view and plenty of leftover artifacts from when the mine was running.
We spent a good amount of time checking out the various cables that remain attached to the top of the mountain. The tramways disappear down the hillside in every direction, and you lose sight of them almost immediately. After we got our fill of exploring and pretending to be top sniper, we drove back down and headed out of Gohler Wash.
Somewhere along Wingate Road, we spotted a gap in the rock and pulled over. The slot was narrow enough to touch both walls and cool enough to make you forget the sun-baked washboard we'd been rattling across for the last hour. We only went in a few minutes before it pinched off, but it was exactly the kind of detour that makes the long stretches worth it.
We staged our vehicles outside the General Store and went in to see what Ballarat had to offer. The answer, mostly, was history. The walls were covered in old articles, photographs, and memorabilia from the town's mining days. But the real surprise was the bathrooms. Running water, actual showers. In a ghost town in the middle of the Panamint Valley. We took advantage of the toilets but passed on the showers. Good to know they're there, though, for the trip where things really go sideways.
From Ballarat, we headed west on Ballarat Road until we caught Trona Wildrose Road, then turned southwest until we made a right onto Nadeau Road and pointed back north.
The Nadeau Road turns to trail and the name carries history. Remi Nadeau built this route to move ore from the mines in the Panamint Valley to the smelters and railheads beyond. Outside of the historical interest, the trail is just a straight-up adventure. Creek bed crossings with steep entry and exit angles, loose rock, and a general roughness that kept us in low range for most of it. By the time we reached the Minnietta Mine Cabin, we were more than ready to stop moving.
The Minnietta Mine Cabin sits on a shelf overlooking the valley, and from the front porch the view stretches out so far it barely looks real. Inside, the place is simple but functional: a wood-burning stove in the middle of the room, bunks along the walls, solar power, and running water if the tank happens to be filled. The walls are covered in photos, articles, and notes left by previous visitors.
We spent the evening the way most cabin nights go: fire pit, burritos, and conversation that gets looser with every hour. Just like the night before, same good company, same reluctance to call it a night. The cabin's wood stove kept the cold at bay while we turned in, and the desert settled into its quiet.