Home » Nuts Over Blackhawk Slide

She thinks I'm nuts. She says I always have been. But, that's okay. I think she's nuts too. Our councelor doesn't say much about it. He just listens, jots down notes and occasionally professes, "It's all right. After 30 years together? It'll work out." I don't know why we keep paying him. He never settles anything. I'll give you an example and let you decide who's really nuts.

We have a cottage near Pioneertown, California. It's up in the eastern foothills of the San Bernardino Mountains on the edge of the Mojave. She had to have the place. She said it 'spoke to her'. It was a great buy. I love it there. I'm really glad we got it, but it doesn't "speak to me."

We were vacationing there. I got a book, "Geology of Southern California", at the Oasis of Mara Visitor Center when we were over at Joshua Tree Park. I was laying on the couch reading it. She was out on the porch with binoculars, bird watching. She'd holler in every time she spotted a new one and disrupt my concentration. I do have to admit, when I get interested in something I tend to go over board. I've always been sort of a 'rock hound', so I was really into the book. One particular chapter excited me because it was located nearby. It was about the Blackhawk Slide.

The Blackhawk Slide is a huge landslide, the largest of its type in North America. It happened 10,000 years ago or more. There was an aerial photograph of it. I was really impressed. It's over two miles wide, about five miles long and over 50 feet deep. The perplexing thing is, it spread across land with only a three degree slope. There is no way it should have run out five miles. A huge slab fell off the side of Blackhawk Mountain. It rushed down a valley at tremendous speed, and, they guess, surged up over a low ridge like a giant wave. It trapped air under the rock and dirt and debris, then shot out over the gently sloped desert like an air hockey puck scooting on the table top. They estimate it was traveling 270 miles an hour at that point. The whole event only took 80 seconds. I was fascinated.

I went out to the porch, "Hey, you want to go for a drive?"

"Where? What for?" She looked at me skeptically and pointed toward the feeder. "The humming birds are back."

I gave her my sales pitch. I told her all about the Blackhawk Slide, with much enthusiasm. She listened politely (like the Dr said she should), but when I asked again, she said "No." She was right (I'm suppose to admit it when she is). It was our last day there. It was afternoon. We had to pack up and close down the house then drive to L.A. in the morning. So, I didn't get to go.

I got the window seat out of LAX. I could see the Blackhawk Slide from the air. I was even more disappointed since it looked so close to our place, from 30,000 feet. When we got home I searched it on the Internet. There was lots of information and pictures. It was right off the main highway north out of Yucca Valley. There was a spot along a dirt road up to a mine where you could look down over it. There was a gravel quarry down toward the lower end where you could get on top the slide. It was definitely on the itinerary for the next trip out.

I was excited the morning we were finally going to go see the Blackhawk Slide. She didn't seem to be. "You're taking me to a gravel pit." I heard her mutter. "You're nuts". I packed lunch and threw an extra jug of water and our camp stools in the trunk. I let her drive so I could keep my eyes peeled for it. I had my folder with maps and the articles and pictures I'd down loaded. My anticipation was keen. I was anxious. It turned out to be a much longer drive than I thought. She kept glaring, "How far is this place?"

Finally, up ahead, I spotted a low ridge line extending almost out to the road. I could see the mine road winding up into the foothills. We were there! The rounded, eroded hillsides that marked the edge of the monstrous landslide looked just like in the pictures. The road to the gravel quarry was right where the maps said it would be. We turned off and drove up to the gate. It was closed and there was a "No Trespassing" sign. She wanted to turn back, but I was not going to be dissuaded when I was that close. Besides, it wasn't even locked. We drove in and parked the car where you couldn't see it from the main road.

It was wonderful! It was all I'd expected. In the sides of the quarry you could see the strata of breccia and alluvium they'd talked about in the book. It was mostly marble and sandstone-great for road fill. I hiked up onto the highest buried hill to scan as much of the surface of the slide as I could. I could almost feel the earth moving. I could almost hear the roar. I looked up toward the mountains and could follow its path down the valley and out onto the desert. I found some of the playas, dry seasonal ponds, where they'd found the mollusk fossils that enabled them to date the slide. It was an exhilarating, but humbling experience, witnessing the raw power of nature and it's aftermath. I took lots of pictures and narrated an entire video tape while I was walking around.

An hour or so later, when I got back to the car, she was sitting hunched over on her stool staring at a mound of dirt. "Come here!" She waved me over. "Look at this ant hill."

I did. It looked like any other ant hill I've seen.

"I've been watching it for half an hour. Each ant seems to have a job to do," she said. "The bigger one over here is guarding this entrance. He checks out every one who tries to bring something in that way. If he doesn't like them, they have to go around to this hole over here to get in." she pointed out enthusiastically.

"You're nuts," I said.

Because of the "gravel pit tour", as she still calls it, I had to take her in to Pappy and Harriet's Pioneertown Palace for dinner, dancing and drinks that evening. I had a great time too, but we spent close to a hundred bucks!

Now, you tell me. Who's nuts?