Desert diary: Jerry Freeman chronicles his
trip through the desert

Editor's note: This is the account by archaeologist Jerry Freeman of his seven-day, 100-mile unauthorized trek into highly restricted government territory.

Diary entries

• Day 1
• Day 2 a.m.
• Day 2 p.m.
• Day 3
• Day 4
• Day 5
• Day 6
• Day 7

Archives

'New Lost 49ers' complete successful trek across West

New pioneers relive history

Modern 49ers struggle over historic Nevada trail

Photos, graphics

Route map

Freeman prepared

Test Site sign

Warning sign

Abandoned shack

Freeman speaks

Freeman's map

Archive photos

Previous trek

Freeman

Jennifer Freeman

SIGNS forbid tresspassing at the Nevada Test Site.

The steep face of Skull Mountain yields to a series of fractured ridges near its eastern end. I patiently climbed each one, the effort draining my canteens. According to my map, I had one final highland to climb before reaching a small, barren valley. From there, it would be a short, sweet dash to the spring.

Shading my eyes against the morning glare, I elected to aim for a protective stand of Joshua trees near the peak. I would have breakfast there, perhaps sleep a while.

Nearing the summit ridge, I became careless. Ten hours of hiking through rugged and uninhabited land lulled me into a false sense of well being. Scrambling to the top, I foolishly stood upright, my mind in the food bag.

I stopped dead in my tracks. There before me, swallowing up the entire valley, lay an eerie, strange facility, unlike anything I had ever seen before. In awe, I dropped to my knees and slipped into the cactus.

Removing my pack and grabbing the binoculars, I tunneled through the barbed vegetation for a better view. What in heaven's name was I looking at here? Had I misread my map? Crawling back to retrieve my compass, I carefully triangulated my position. No! The only thing that was supposed to be in that valley was barren rock.

I coined the place "The City of the Dead," because it appeared to be abandoned and initially I could see only bizarre-looking structures and portable trailers. The entire valley was filled with them.

Focusing my glasses to my right and directly down the valley, I detected my first signs of life: a guard at his station, his small white pickup parked nearby. Scanning left, I spotted a moving vehicle. Then another. To the north, I saw two more. Good grief, they were everywhere!

All of these fixtures and the people securing them stood directly astride my path into Cane Spring.

Retreating beneath the protective mantle of my cactus "hideaway," I pulled provisions from my pack and prepared breakfast: Spam and apple slices. Repacking, I smoothed the ground beneath me, arranged my bulky gear as a headrest and turned in. Sleep would come soon, it had been a long night.

I was awakened by the dreaded clatter of helicopter blades. I lay still and listened as the ominous sound reverberated across the summit ridge, only to quickly die away. A check of my watch showed 3 p.m. I had slept nearly five hours.

Crawling to the edge of the shelter, I weighed my options. An immediate run for the spring was out of the question. I must wait for the protective cover of night. Even then, the formidable security below was going to make this crossing extremely difficult.

Perhaps I should backtrack and bypass the "city." Studying the terrain with the binoculars, I realized I would have to scale the height of Skull Mountain itself to do it. This would mean steep ascents, with marginal visibility across unfamiliar ground. Water was a major consideration also, I needed some NOW!