The FYMC Loop

GeoJeepette needed some caches, and she needed them badly. Reno/Sparks has been mined out, Marysville was too far and we were just in Fallon. What to do? Oh what to do!? Maybe it’s time to run the FYMC loop again. FYMC is short for “Fernley Yerington Minden Carson” (I just made that up). It’s a circular route starting in Reno and going to Fernley, down 95A to Yerington and then over to 395 and up to Carson City and then back to Reno. As it turned out there were a sufficient number of caches to appease GeoJeepette’s appetite, so off we went. And then not. It seems that there was a charity run/walk in the neighborhood and we found ourselves stuck in the middle of the road while people swarmed around us. I’m sure it was all for a good cause but we were on a mission and after about 15 minutes we weren’t feeling very charitable.


In the past we’ve done a pretty good job of clearing out most of the caches in the Fernley area leaving only the ones on top of mountains or the one we can never find at a casino. There was one cache, however, that intrigued me because it wasn’t clear how to get to the cache (a challenge) and there were references to seeing something called “The Old Man” and “Military Hill” and avoiding man made obstacles. Sounds like an adventure to me! The map on the cache page showed “Speedway Road” intersecting with 95A and going almost all the way to the cache but when we turned off the highway onto Speedway Road it took us to a salvage yard. After a short search it was obvious that private property was in our way and we would have to find a different access point. That was confirmed when a nice gentlemen stopped us and asked us if we were lost. We said no. He then pointed at GeoJeep and suggested that we should try “Gas Line Road”. I think he could tell GeoJeep wanted to get his tires dirty. We casually thanked him and made a beeline to Gas Line Road. After going through the gate (close it after you) we beared left because our arrow told us so and promptly found ourselves confronted with unwelcoming signs--more private property!. So we returned to Gas Line Road. and drove roughly east for awhile as we watched the arrow slowly turn in the wrong direction.

Eventually we found a road that made the arrow happier but only for a little while. We wandered from road to road trying to head in the general direction of the cache. Sometimes we won, sometimes we didn’t. Then we found ourselves on a road/wash in a narrow canyon that took us within a half a mile of the cache. After another wrong turn we were able to drive to within 0.17 miles but the cache was obviously on top of a hill and we were on the bottom. There weren’t any roads to the top and...well, no, I didn’t really want to hike all that way to the top. But we came so far. Turning around and leaving wasn’t an option either. That’s when I spotted the road. Well...I’m sure at one time something drove up the hill because I saw tracks. I’m sure I did, honest! That’s when GeoJeep saw the tracks too and before I could stop him he bolted up the hill. Before we knew it, we were on the top of the hill and only about 180 feet from the cache. Now that’s more like it!!

After finding the cache, looking at the view and taking some pictures we headed back to GeoJeep. That’s when it occurred to me that because GeoJeep had treaded so lightly up the hill we may not be able to see his tracks, making the descent much more difficult. What we needed was an old fashioned Indian scout to walk ahead of GeoJeep and follow our path downhill. Hummm, I wonder if GeoJeepette is up for a little walk? After a very quick lesson in tracking she took point and I followed in GeoJeep. GeoJeepette was a natural! She only lost the trail once and only for a minute and in no time we were at the bottom. What a team!!

Curiously, we never saw anything that could have been “the old man” or “military hill”. All we saw were a bunch of discarded reels of cable left long ago by a utility company or more likely a thief. On the return trip, we came to the top of a hill and could see the highway on the other side of private property. We had skirted this property coming in and, in doing so, had added about 30 minutes to our adventure. We didn’t want to take the time to skirt the property again, after all, there were caches calling for us. So we headed straight for the highway hoping that nobody would notice the huge cloud of dust rising up from behind GeoJeep as we raced by. It must have worked. No red lights and sirens...this time.

Fort Churchill is a civil war era Calvary fort in a state of arrested decay located along the Carson River near Hwy 95A. It’s a popular spot for campers and history buffs and, of course, cachers. There are several caches in the area but only 4 were new for us. We found the others on a very cold and foggy January day a couple of years ago, but that’s another story. Two of the four caches were in a campground within the boundary of the Fort and there is a day use fee. But because we were only going to be there a few minutes we were reluctant to pay for the whole day so we sort of...well, OK! OK!...we found a back road and snuck in. The first cache was at the entrance to the campground and the other was along the bank of the Carson River except that after a dry winter and hot summer the river was actually a couple of shallow ponds. The campground was virtually empty and the ranger was elsewhere so we decided it would be a dandy place for lunch. Our guilt drove us to eat quickly and we were out of there in record time. Next stop, Wabuska!

Not surprising, the latest cache in Wabuska is on the roadside historical marker. Wabuska is like so many other Nevada towns in that they all got their start because of a railroad and/or nearby mining and now it’s barely hanging onto economic life. What always strikes me about Wabuska, however, are the hot springs about a mile north of the town and clearly seen on both sides of Hwy 95A. Why hasn’t the geothermal energy of this area been harnessed? Will it in the future and how will this affect the economy of Wabuska?

From Wabuska we drove south through Mason Valley, grabbed a couple of caches and quickly found ourselves in Yerington. Yerington is a small sleepy town located on Hwy 95A where the highway suddenly turns east and eventually intersects with Hwy 95 at Schurz. Whether local legend or historical fact it’s interesting how Yerington got it’s name. It seems back in the late 1800’s the town of Pizon Switch or Greenfield (depended on who you talked to) wanted the railroad to come through town so they thought that if they flattered some important state mucky-muck who made those decisions the town would surely get the railroad. So the name was changed to Yerington in honor of Henry M. Yerington, Superintendent of the Virginia and Truckee Railroad from 1868 to 1910. You can be sure that Henry was honored but, unfortunately for the townsfolk, not enough to get the railroad. Is that where the term “political railroading” was coined?

After picking up a few caches in the area we headed south on Hwy 338 to where it intersects Hwy 208. We turned west on 208 and followed the Walker River as it cut through the Singatse Range creating the spectacular Wilson Canyon. Our caching took us through the small quiet agricultural communities of Smith and Wellington and then onto Hwy 395. One of the most interesting caches in the area highlighted the shortest highway in the world. The beginning and the end of the highway are separated by the width of a sign post and the cache is between the signs. What’s that about anyway?

Once on Hwy 395, we took a short detour south to get a cache called “Hwy 395 South”. A nice simple innocuous name for a cache that is anything but simple or nice. This is what GeoJeepette said in her log, “Had a feeling what we might be looking for and we were right.” She’s so nice. Note the reference to “we”. The truth is I followed the arrow and walked right up to the FAKE cache and then followed everyone else’s footprints down the steep slope digging in all the bushes and turning over all the rocks. FINALLY GeoJeepette gets out and walks over and points and say’s, “I think it’s here”. There’s no disputing who has the brains and who just kicks over rocks.

As we headed home, we did pick up a few along the way but my heart wasn’t into caching anymore. I know sulking isn’t very mature but what do you expect from a rock kicker.