Ancient Bristlecone Pines (Pinus longaeva) of the Spring Mountains, Near Las Vegas, Nevada

• Jan Emming

On Tuesday, August 30, 2022 I took a gorgeous hike up into the Spring Mountains, which loom to nearly 12,000 feet/3700 meters just west of Las Vegas and are seldom paid much attention by most of the 40 million tourists who pass through that city every single year. My goal was to visit the groves of ancient Great Basin bristlecone pines (Pinus longaeva) that survive at the top of this relatively rainy sky island surrounded by arid Mojave Desert. It’s just as well for the trees to get less visitation, although the 3-mile, 2000+ foot elevation gain hike to get to them is enough of a barrier to most people that they should be safe. There is plenty of biodiversity in this mountain range, perhaps even surprising to anyone not familiar with how sharp elevation gradients can drive tremendous variation in vegetation and animal diversity.

My primary goal for the day was to visit the Raintree, a particular individual of the Great Basin bristlecone pine (Pinus longaeva) species, which is one of the largest examples of the species known in Southern Nevada. I believe that this tree has been dated via tree ring coring to be about 3000 years old. While that is certainly more ancient than almost any other plant, it is only about 60% of the known age of around 4900 to 5050 years attained by dozens of other members of its species in California and Nevada.
This is a view of part of the Spring Mountains as seen driving up Kyle Canyon Road, located northwest of Las Vegas. The range is comprised primarily of uplifted limestone, heaved by tectonic forces well over two miles up into the air from the former seabed it once was hundreds of millions of years ago.

Sheer limestone cliffs of Mummy Ridge form a dramatic backdrop for groves of thousand or more year-old bristlecone pines in Nevada’s Spring Mountain range.

The roots of the Raintree are more or less as amazing as the crown of branches they support is.

Because this is the age of social media, we must perform the mandated selfie procedure in front of a charismatic dead bristlecone pine.

Bristlecone pines have staying power in both life and in death. Not only can trees remain alive for thousands of years, but dead ones can hang around for thousands more.
Thanks to the high-altitude, cold, and semi-arid environment that Great Basin bristlecone pines live in, wood decays extremely slowly. Dead trees might easily stand for a thousand or two years before eventually toppling to the ground, and then persisting for thousands more in a fallen state. The wood is dense and heavy and filled with resin, which further retards decomposition.

This dead wood has high scientific value in its own right, since the growth rings contained within it can be used by dendrochronologists to date the climatic past fairly accurately. Tree rings provide a continuous and nearly annual data log, tracing back thousands of additional years beyond that of the equally ancient living trees, which provide the same (but more recent) record of dry and wet years, from which climate can be inferred. Tree rings of this ancient nature can also be used to more accurately calibrate other techniques of studying the past, such as carbon dating. Over the past few decades, scientists have compiled an unbroken record of drought and wet cycles going back roughly 10,000 years in the American West, using both live and dead Pinus longaeva wood.
Miriamah poses in front of a dead bristlecone pine that might have first germinated from a seed a thousand years before Christ. Tree of Life.
The exposed roots of old bristlecones are amazing to behold. They of course initially grew in the stony ground, but erosion has gradually exposed them, which can give an idea of how fast erosive forces act upon this landscape over the centuries.
Bristlecone pines appear to strongly favor growing upon limestone soils, or perhaps rather limestone rocks even. They reach their greatest sizes and ages upon calciferous substrates.
One thing that bristlecones can do is survive for millennia upon limited strips of bark that connect a portion of the root system to a corresponding portion of the crown. Of course one might imagine that the trees would prefer to have a full crown and complete layers of cambium encircling the entire trunk; but if they don’t, it doesn’t necessarily mean the death of the entire tree – just parts of it. The other parts soldier on into the future. A given tree might be 90% dead, but as long as there are some parts that are still alive via bark strips (and coils, and spirals, etc) then the tree carries on. This longevity is why the species was given the Latin name Pinus longaeva.
Straight out of a Lord of the Rings movie, a gigantic and gnarled bristlecone is an impressive sight. Of course in reality this tree is vastly older than the mythical Lord of the Rings trilogy, which was invented “merely” decades ago. 😉
This Great Basin bristlecone is nearly as wide as it is tall. The elephantine trunk points to its likely great age.
While the twisted bristlecones of windy ridges near timberline are given the most attention by everyone from artists to scientists and the general public, the species is often quite different in appearance in a better setting. This stand of majestically tall bristlecones is growing on a cool, moister, north-facing slope sheltered from the worst wind and less exposed to the drying sun. The trees here are much more typical in appearance to a regular pine of whatever species. The trunks are straight and strong, and the trees can tower 75 or more feet into the sky. You can still see the propensity of the wood grain to spiral around the trunk as it grows however, just in a less pronounced fashion.

The other plant in the lower left is common juniper, Juniperus communis, which has a circumpolar distribution in the northern hemisphere on three continents. It is seen here near the southerly limits of its natural range. I imagine it might also occur in parts of the Sierra Madre in northern Mexico, but probably is not abundant there.
These bristlecones in a tall and nearly pure stand are no doubt many centuries old, but they are not likely to be nearly as ancient as their wizened, shorter brethren up on the ridgeline above.
Bristlecones are such handsome trees. Note how open the forest naturally is, with few other plants of any other species mixed in. This reduces fire threat to very low levels, and is a key part of what enables the trees to attain such great ages. In a warmer and more vegetated zone of the forest lower down, fires would probably occur too often to allow them to get too old. Even if fire intervals are measured in centuries, it would still discourage the aging process. Thousands of years without fires are obviously required to keep both live and dead trees around for millennia, as discussed earlier. Basically, bristlecones live best in environmental conditions that discourage or eliminate wildfires. These same conditions are also inhospitable to insect pests and disease-causing pathogens, and these are all factors in why these trees are the longest-lived species on earth.
A wide-angle view of the tall bristlecones growing on a north-facing slope of the Spring Mountains in far southern Nevada. The tallest spires are probably 75 to 90 feet in height (~23-28 meters). The understory plants are mostly Juniperus communis.
Bristlecone pines can start reproducing while fairly young, and trees as little as 25 to 30 years old can begin setting cones. The cones are purple while growing and take two years to fully mature.
Eventually the cones turn downwards, and in their second or third year they dry up, turn brown, and open to release the seeds. Cones and foliage can be very resinous and often ooze large quantities of sticky sap. One can see how insects, spiders, and even small vertebrates can become entrapped in the resin, and under ideal conditions the resin can fossilize into what we know as amber. Fossilization of the resin will not be likely in bristlecone pine habitat however – it’s much more likely with coniferous trees in colder and wetter climates, rather than cold and dry ones.
A carpet of dead cones lies underneath a bristlecone pine of seed-bearing age. The seeds are eaten by a variety of forest animals.
Baby bristlecones germinate in the pine needle duff underneath the forest canopy. These tiny foot-tall (30 cm) pines are likely to already be 10-15 years old, but they have the potential to survive for thousands of years, so they aren’t necessarily in any rush….

Fortunately there were quite a few small ones in a variety of ages, which does indicate that they are reproducing successfully across the years. Medium size ones of about 7 to 10 ft tall were quite attractive, and they would make nifty looking Christmas trees. But I would strongly argue against that because bristlecones that size are probably a minimum of 50 to 75 years old and to cut them down for a Christmas tree lasting just a couple of months at most would be unsustainable. I only mention that because Christmas trees are a handy size and appearance reference that we are all familiar with. Farmed Christmas trees are still way better though. (If you’re a fan of live Christmas trees, which I’m kind of not to be honest.)
A slightly larger juvenile bristlecone pine gets a foothold in the limestone chips that pass for soil in these mountains. This specimen stands a bit under 3 feet/1 meter tall, and judging by the way the branches are shaped I’d guess it’s somewhere around 25 to 30 years old at this stage.

Great Basin bristlecones appear to still be reproducing successfully in most places, But it bears remembering that their natural habitat is at the upper end of high, dry, desert mountain ranges, and there isn’t a lot more room for them to expand upwards as the global climate warms due to human activity and various emissions. It’s probable that these pines will be eliminated from some of the smaller and lower mountain ranges their currently inhabit in the Great Basin region over time due to heat and drought and possibly increased competition from lower-growing pine and juniper species also moving upwards to escape the heating process.

The Spring Mountains are probably high enough to enable them to survive our carbon emitting ways for some time, but we can’t take it for granted either. After all, the only way to get miraculous several-thousand year old trees is to enable a climate that allows them to survive for that span of time!
There are also lots of other great trees in the Spring Mountains of Southern Nevada. Large and beautiful ponderosa pines (Pinus ponderosa) are common, and some of them reach large sizes. Especially for a mountain range surrounded for dozens of miles by very arid Mojave Desert.
Ponderosa pines are widespread and important trees in the western USA, Canada, and Mexico. They reach their tallest heights and greatest ages in northern California and southern Oregon. The epithet “ponderosa” in fact means “large”. The oldest known ponderosa pine is documented at 900 years, which is a lot less than the bristlecones growing a couple thousand feet up the ridge, but it’s still pretty nifty. I’d guess this one isn’t likely to be much more than 300 to 400 years old, which is substantial.
Ponderosa pine bark is very fire resistant, especially on large trees. It is thick and slow to ignite, and historically adult trees are adept at surviving smaller and more frequent forest fires without trouble. Crown fires are a different matter, and many recent blazes caused by a century of fire suppression policies have burned many pines that might otherwise have survived a lesser conflagration.
Selfie photos usually cannot accurately convey the size of a tree due to close proximity and lens distortion, but this was a big ponderosa pine. That’s why I made myself the center of attention! 😉
Here’s the same ponderosa without me in it. The trunk was likely nearly 4 feet/1.3 meters in diameter. The oldest and largest known ponderosa pines have been recorded at around 900 years of age, mainly in northern California and southern Oregon. This is a lot younger than the bristlecone pines growing several thousand feet above, but it’s still pretty impressive to be honest. I doubt this tree is much more than 300-400 years old however, but I am just guessing, honestly.
The lush crown of the large ponderosa pine in the past two pictures.
There are also large Douglas fir trees (Pseudotsuga douglasii) in the Spring Mountains. A hefty trio with trunks nearly two feet thick grow along the trail winding up the slop to the bristlecones above. Douglas firs are also widespread and important economically in the timber trade in the western USA and elsewhere.
I did visit one small localized grove of aspen trees (Populus tremuloides) growing in a shady ravine near Mummy Spring. Aspens are limited to higher elevations this far south, but they are very common farther north.
This photo well exemplifies the way that altitude plays a supremely important role in biodiversity, wherever on earth you are talking about. Here you have moisture-loving aspens and a forested slope mere miles from several dry lake beds in the valley below. This is part of what drives biodiversity in arid lands in particular, but it occurs in any climate – different elevations, temperatures, exposures to the sun and cold, and soil/rock substrates, among other factors – are what dictate what lives where, and how well it thrives or doesn’t.
I didn’t originally know what this species of thistle growing at Mummy Spring might be when I first photographed it, but after some online research I believe it is probably Cirsium eatonii. It’s a fairly close match in appearance and habitat. The common came is Eaton thistle or mountain thistle, and there are several subspecies scattered across the intermountain west.

The Eaton thistles were mostly past blooming stage at this point in late August, but a few flowers were still present to help with identification.

I like this photo because it deftly illustrates the ginormous difference between the Mojave Desert and the Spring Mountains. All of this ecological change occurs within only about 10 to 15 miles, from alpine peaks to dry lake beds.
A zoomed in view, looking north across the Mojave Desert as it merges gradually into the Great Basin Desert beyond. A forest fire burned some of the lower slopes some years ago in the foreground right.
Various mountain chains both large and small punctuate the Basin and Range physiogeographic region, which covers a huge area in the interior western USA. The Great Basin itself covers only part of the even larger Basin and Range geological zone, characterized by numerous isolated mountain ranges separates by sediment-filled valleys. Most of the mountain ranges trend from north to south, or northwest to southeast, and most are surrounded by valleys on all sides and not obviously connected to nearby mountains only a few miles away. These hundreds of different ranges are generally free-standing and isolated, not part of a contiguous chain, unlike the Rockies or the Sierra Nevada. Despite their isolation, many basin and range mountains reach significant heights of 10,000 or more feet (3300 meter) like the Spring Mountains do. But they function more like forested islands in a desert sea than like regular mountains.

The Great Basin covers most of Nevada and large parts of Utah, Idaho, Oregon, and smaller parts of California. It is defined by watercourses that do not have any surface outlets to the ocean. All water that falls within the Great Basin (which is really a series of smaller basins side-by-side) leaves only via evaporation, or by sinking into the ground, but not by surface streams or rivers. The massive Basin and Range Province extends from eastern Oregon to western Colorado, and down into western Texas and northern Mexico. Many of its watercourses do reach the ocean however, chiefly via the Colorado River in the west, and the Rio Grande in New Mexico and Texas to the east. The aforementioned mountain ranges separated by valleys is why it’s been named Basin and Range, which obviously overlaps the Great Basin but extends way beyond it.
Looking to the southeast, Las Vegas and the world-famous Strip casinos sprawl across the flat valley. A bristlecone pine lifts foliage in the foreground. Such diversity in geography around here! Lake Mead on the Colorado River can be seen in the far background.
I liked this scene, because it has bristlecone pines overlooking a dry desert landscape. Rain-catching mountains make this possible.
I think this dry lake bed is called Frenchman Dry Lake, and if so it is on the Nellis Air Force Range or the Nevada Test Site, both of which are restricted-access military installations. The average person cannot visit this dry lake in any case. You can just look down upon it from the Spring Mountains, which are public access to all, fortunately.
There are many other small dry lake beds and low desert mountains in this part of the Mojave Desert. I don’t know them well enough to be certain of which is which, but most are on military lands anyway and are off-limits to the public.
A type of skyrocket gilia (Ipomopsis aggregata ssp arizonica) lives in the forest underneath the various pines on the Spring Mountains.
Indian paintbrush (Castilleja martinii var clokeyi) grows at the base of an ancient dead bristlecone pine. While paintbrushes are partial parasites, they don’t attach to conifers, neither living nor dead. 😉
The limestone substrate hosts a variety of small flowering perennials on this exposed ridge where a long-dead pine tree stands.
This is probably some sort of verbena, but I am not sure of the species. My guess is it’s in the genus Abronia, and I’m also guessing it’s restricted to limestone.

Edit: This is Abronia nana var covillei. I looked it up online and the species is found primarily in eastern California with a few populations in southwestern and southern Nevada. Several conservation sites list is as vulnerable and uncommon due to limited distribution and threats like cattle grazing and carbonate mining. I observed around a dozen plants on the ridge where I photographed this one, and my guess that it’s also found throughout the Spring Mountains on remote and little-visited ridges away from this trail.
Paintbrushes are a well-loved western wildflower. They look great against the calcareous limestone of this site. There are many species, with this one being Castilleja martinii var clokeyi.
Another specimen of paintbrush growing near the others.
Some sort of evening primrose, possibly in the genus Oenothera, or maybe Calylophus? (Edit: It is Oenothera howardii.)
A mistletoe parasitizes a fir branch. This is probably Douglas fir dwarf mistletoe, Arceuthobium douglasii.
Bristlecone root systems are attractive when they are upended from the rocky soil and exposed to the weathering processes of the air. The wood is heavy and dense with very tight grain, and I imagine it’s desirable for wood turning art and furniture projects. That might explain some of the chainsaw cuts on some pieces. This is the base of a fallen bristlecone pine that has weathered like driftwood, only without ever having been submerged in water at all.

Some details of the woody roots of bristlecone pines that have died. This is some detail of the roots and the wood grain from the mostly-but-not-totally-dead tree in the next photo. I think the scalloping that occurs in the slowly eroding layers of lignified cells is gorgeous!
This bristlecone pine has a living bark strip on part of the trunk, supporting some greenery even as most of the tree has expired. The living bark segment is marginally visible up at the top right.
I am sure that quality aged wood of this type is extremely desirable for high-end furniture and art projects. I am thinking that many if not most of the accessible pieces located within a reasonable distance of a paved road or even a 4WD Jeep trail will have been removed and utilized for such purposes. But the inherently challenging terrain that the plants naturally live at likely protects too much wood pilfering. When you are talking about wood thousands of years old, it is an essentially irreplaceable resource, and conservation measures should be considered given the historical and scientific value.
The smooth weathered branches of the pines are also beautiful, although I suspect that the parts in highest demand are the gnarled, twisted trunks and root bases. Of course this is just me hypothesizing.
Even the small representatives of bristlecone pines are amazing to behold. You can see how trees that survive in such tough, marginal environments might have inspired the human art of bonsai. Of course the native Japanese species used in bonsai aren’t bristlecone pines, but there are of course other trees growing in rocky, windswept places like alpine forests atop mountains and along rugged seacoasts that adopt similar forms. The sense of wonder and beauty these survivors inspire leads to the practice of bonsai growing.

It’s worth noting that when you bonsai a tree, you’re essentially duplicating the same sorts of conditions artificially in pots that prevail in the wilderness – restricted soil volume and nutrients, low water, cold and heat and drought and wind. Of course not every single one of those factors is mimicked in a pot – they don’t need to be to achieve the ancient look. Instead human pruning, wiring the trunks and branches into place, and scarification of the trunks and branches of the subject plants substitutes for the harsh ecological conditions that create wild bonsai trees such as these. In other words, art is imitating life.
The 3000 year-old Raintree in its element below Mummy Mountain, growing in the saddle of the ridge it occupies.
And lastly, closing out this post, I sit admiringly at the foot of this ancient giant Pinus longaeva, hoping that it might still be around for many centuries after I myself am gone, with me being but a memory in the desert mountain winds.

8 thoughts on “Ancient Bristlecone Pines (Pinus longaeva) of the Spring Mountains, Near Las Vegas, Nevada”

  2. These ancient pines become incredibly sculptural almost more so in death than life. Your photos definitely illustrate the dichotomy between the desert and the mountain environments. Fascinating how life adapts to each area.

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    1. Often the partially or entirely dead trees receive more attention than the fully living ones. This may be because they are very charismatic photographic subjects and look so stark against their backdrop of stony slopes, cerulean sky, and distant desert valleys and mountains. Normally we humans see dead trees as something to be rid of (and to be fair in urban areas there are good reasons for this) and we love the living. With bristlecones, it’s almost inverted in a way, not that people dislike the living trees of course. Just that we don’t pay them as much mind. These dead twisted skeletons speak to something in us, perhaps our own mortality and the passage of time?

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    1. These are a bit of a hike, at 3 miles each way and almost 2000 feet of elevation gain in that short distance. It’s fairly rigorous but very worth doing.

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  4. Many Thanks for this! I can’t travel for the time being but loved this armchair tour. I’m hoping to visit Great Basin National Park someday and see the Bristlecone Pines there. Would love to visit the Spring Mountains as well. I’m guessing you are a botanist? I appreciate all the natural history information you have provided. In my browsing experience it’s rare. So thanks again.

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    1. Yes, I have a degree in biology and botany. I am glad you enjoyed the tour – these trees are special and definitely among my favorite of all tree species. Great Basin NP and the Spring Mountains are two of the best places to view them, as are the White Mountains in Inyo County, CA. Other populations in Nevada and Utah are more isolated and hard to access but also worth doing. Plus, don’t forget to check out Rocky Mountain bristlecones (Pinus aristata) from Colorado and New Mexico too! Thanks for your comment.

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