Friend of the Desert

Approaching Corn Creek below the Sheep Range

After hustling through Albuquerque with no traffic and a full moon descending, I was not prepared for Las Vegas rush hour. A typical 4-6 evening rush hour felt unlikely, but traffic crawled through town. 

Before I dove into the stream of cars, I stopped off at the Lake Mead overlook, where the bathtub ring of past shorelines and dry bays dominated one of the West's most critical water sources. I walked in the small desert gardens around the visitor center to stretch my legs after having barely left the car since Ash Fork, Arizona.  

Lake Mead

Occasional glimpses of the Strip were as close as I got to gambling. After an hour of grinding along, all the cars vanished, as did the Vegas sprawl. 

I crossed an Indian reservation boundary, then turned toward an isolated path of green in a broad valley hemmed by brown, craggy mountains. Only a simple sign indicated I headed in the right direction, while other signs urged me to drive like a tortoise. that gave me hope I might run into an endangered desert tortoise (I didn't).

The Desert National Wildlife Refuge preserves the green patch, the mountains, and everything between, forming the largest national wildlife refuge in the Lower 48. Its 1.5 million acres cover dusty roads, recluse cabins, bristlecone pines at its highest elevations, and everything east to Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge. To the east, the striped mountains of the Sheep Range offer visitor s a glimpse back in time, those belts of rock developed in past geologic eras. 

Beyond Corn Creek, the backcountry roads are strictly for high-clearance, 4-wheel-drive vehicles. One can journey 70 miles without sight of civilization. Sometimes even those primitive roads are impassable. The desert bighorn sheep protected by the refuge rarely appear near Corn Creek, sticking to the mountains and often living off water sources there (water is flown to backcountry bins during dry years). The refuge headquarters its share of delights. 

The visitor center stands adjacent to Corn Creek, the rush of spring water that makes life in this desert possible. Several trails run through the oasis. Birds, lizards, snakes, and more resided here. I didn’t see a desert tortoise, but they have been known to amble through, as have coyotes. Standing in such an arid place and hearing the healthy gurgle of Corn Creek just gives me a little hope in this world. 

After all, this place survives against the odds. Protection has kept the water running, as development has sapped the waters of springs around the southwest, the best known being the springs around which the original Las Vegas settlement formed (they ran dry in 1960). The reeds, mesquite and other trees brought surprises around each corner. 

Corn Creek contains Pahrump poolfish, a tiny species of critically endangered fish who could no longer survive in its native springs due to the introduction of goldfish. They thrive in Corn Creek, which has pushed them back from extinction. In one slower stretch along the creek, they numbered in the dozens. 

An onsite refugium provides tanks to poolfish populations before they are reintroduced to the wild. Even in a safe place, the poolfish face threats The refuge must be vigilant against people dumping goldfish – how this is a thing, I’ll never understand. But people do it, and goldfish could quickly wipe out the Pahrump poolfish. The refuge also maintains a small reservoir pool to keep introduced crayfish from entering the creek, as crayfish are difficult to remove once introduced and prey upon poolfish. 

Railroad tie cabin, early 1900s

Before it became a refuge, a family homesteaded the property. Evidence of the Richardson family’s years on the land runs strong. The cabin they built from railroad ties from the failed Las Vegas-Tonopah Railroad still stands and looks livable after a renovation. 

The family’s bigger impact lies in what they brought with them - they planted fruit trees, including pomegranates, that still produce fruit. 

Pomegranate blossoms

The pomegranate trees were orange with orange blossoms in early April. The native plants grow tall along Corn Creek, a sharp break from the sage and Joshua trees that dominate the refuge’s lower elevations. Prickly pear cacti popped with brilliant pink flowers across the Corn Creek area. 

After a recent heat spell, the surprises did not include any snakes although lizards were plentiful.

This week, temperatures settled in the 70s but quickly plummeted to the low 40s after sunset. The cold was refreshing so long as I wore enough layers. One night the wind rushed all night, the other was still. Both were cold, I woke up recharged from sleeping in such a peaceful place. 

Visitor center pond

The modern visitor center also served as a break from heavy driving. My friend served as a volunteer and artist-in-residence. On Fridays she hosts a watercolor journaling workshop. We looked out onto the Corn Creek oasis, then drew and painted. I sat in front of the desert plants and trees, although my painting a crystal spring at their bases that doesn’t exist. The creek runs there, but the foliage is too dense to see the water there. 

Visitors came and went through the day until its sunset closing. A family from Illinois came to see the place they walked regularly when they lived in Vegas. Young lovers found a bench from where they planned to watch the sunset. 

Full moon, Vegas haze

The only influence of the Las Vegas everyone knows was the light pollution along the southern horizon. The dark skies still popped with stars and the Milky Way glow, at least until the full moon rose from the southeast. By morning the moon began its steady descent over the western mountains. Once first light broke, the birds began to pipe up. 

Each morning, I woke, then raced out to enjoy the calm moments before sunrise. On the last day, the sun emerged a little too fast, as I wanted to keep the chill in my bones along Corn Creek as long as I could. But it would fade as the oasis came to life in bird song.