photo courtesy of BLM

Given California's size, it seems there are always more roads that lead to undiscovered corners of the state.

Until recently, the western segment of State Route 178 was one of them for me. If it sounds familiar, it's that left turn off State Route 14, past Red Rock on the way to Mammoth, that seemingly leads to nowhere.

Drew and I took that left turn on a recent weekend. We were headed for his mountain bike race in Keysville (formerly Keyesville), another area new to me, near Lake Isabella.

The road climbs gradually from the high desert into the Southern Sierra Nevada. With nothing in the windshield ahead but wilderness, and more asphalt, it makes you wonder why the road was even built.

From what I could find, its origins are common to that of many roads, beginning as a Native American path later followed by explorers looking for a way through the mountains. With few signs of inhabitation along the way, it's not hard to imagination how daunting the landscape must have looked to those early travelers.

But the possibility of wealth will immunize a person to hardship, so prospectors eventually followed the explorers into the rugged mountains after gold was found in the Kern River. That's what gave birth to Keysville.

After route 178 curved around the shores of Lake Isabella, we looked down into the river's steep canyon before turning onto the dirt road that leads to Keysville. Its frothy churn bounced around boulders, serving as another reminder of the area's inherent wildness.

Today, Keysville is under the supervision of the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). It is criss-crossed with well-marked and well-utilized off-road trails. Signs remind you what's Ok to do where. But things weren't always so orderly.

Gold was found along the Kern River in 1853, and Richard Keyes established the mine after which the town is named in 1854. Within just a few years, a ramshackle town populated by hundreds of miners had sprung up on the steep, boulder-strewn hillsides.

Not much remains visible today. But quite by accident, Drew and I ended up camping near the Walker Cabin, one of the area's last remaining structures from the mid-19th century.

It is named for a set of brothers who could have populated a Louis L'Amour novel. Known as the "Shooting Walkers," their former home offers no hint of their trigger-happy reputation. It appears now to be a pastoral mountain hide-away.

The cabin sits tucked against the hills, beyond a fenced meadow where cows still graze. It is well preserved, thanks to the efforts of local volunteers. While clearly rustic, it certainly looks habitable after a casual inspection of the exterior. Its rough siding is intact, and the stacked stone chimney stands tall, lacking only a welcoming stream of smoke.

Like most BLM land, dispersed camping is allowed at no charge at Keysville. Just pull off the dirt road and park. From there, you can head down to the Kern River to fish, swim or raft. Or, head for the hills to explore trails on foot, bike, horseback or off-road vehicle.

We continued our exploration on the way home. Instead of backtracking the way we came, we followed route 178 west toward Bakersfield. It's an iconic drive, with the sight-seeing best left to passengers. The narrow road demands the driver's full attention. Its two lanes press hard up against the canyon wall on one side. Off the opposite shoulder is a precipitous drop into the fast-flowing river below.

Like those early prospectors who found the gold visible on the bottom of the river bed, our exploration of the mountains around Keysville didn't go deep. Tapping its full potential requires more time and effort, but would no doubt yield a rich and rugged outdoor experience.
Eric Harnish lives in Castaic, also no stranger to shoot-outs in its frontier days.

Discover Keysville
blm.gov/visit/keysville