Is what I experienced when I ventured below sea level into Death Valley National Park in the late 1990’s. I arrived there in a manly Ford Escort hatchback. Stuffed inside was a bicycle, a box of maps, beer, camping gear, some clothes and food. Back in those pre-get-hit-by-too-many-cars days, I was more cyclist than hiker.
I stopped by the Visitor Center for info on possible bike rides. As usual I had lots of questions.
“Hi! I was thinking about riding from Furnace Creek to Scotty’s Castle. How long away is that?”
The young and polite National Park Service Ranger answered, “52 miles.”
“Oh, that’s not too far. I can ride there and back in a day.”
“No Sir. That distance is one-way only. Double that for a return trip.”
“What! But it’s only about an inch and a half on the map!”
“Sir. Death Valley is vast. It’s the largest National Park in the lower 48. There’s over 3,000,000 acres to roam around in. There’s lots to see here. I’d suggest you take a ride from Furnace Creek to Badwater. That’s about 52 miles round trip.”
So that’s what I did.
Badwater is the lowest point in North America. (-282 feet. The height of a 20 story building). From those bleached salt flats, I looked up across the valley to Telescope Peak rising over two miles above me.
“This is so wild! This is so crazy! I love this!”
That is how my DVNP quarter century love affair began.
Recently, I was on a three week mission, “to boldly go where no Wondering Wandering Jew had gone before!” (My apologies to Captain Kirk for the paraphrase.) I’m here to say my love fest for DVNP is still present and accounted for.
Many people think Death Valley is desolate, stark and generally uninviting. To these folks I say, “It’s a subtle beauty that’s not for everyone.”
Death Valley is a place you have to “Get.” I notice the zebra stripes on the mountains, the ebb and flow of the changing colors, the shadows and the extraterrestrial nature of it all. I “get” it.
On this past trip, I was offline for over a week. It gave me the opportunity to ponder the real important issues of our world.
Such as:
Why did I see Little Brown Bats, Wild Burros and Kangaroo Rats in one valley but not the others?
Why do people ignore the signs and drive across salt flats, playas and alluvial fans? Thus creating a long lasting scar for all to see?
How is it, I’m capable of discovering pockets of solitude and silence in the most populated state in the country?
When this trip was all said and done, it was my best visit to DVNP. (A close runner up was the 2016 Superbloom year). When the temperatures are pegging pleasant, when the wind is as mild as a fly’s fart, when Orion’s Belt felt so close I might have been able to measure his waist, there’s no where else I’d rather be in the winter months. It didn’t hurt that my campsites were so remote I showered as naked as the moment I was born.
NOW THAT’S FREEDOM!
Death Valley isn’t for everyone, but it’s definitely the right place for me.
If you go be super careful. In many places (where I go) no one will ever hear you scream.
Cheers and Come on Summer!
Jeff
Last photos: I purchased an Airbnb for long and short term rentals. I priced it right too.
We biked there for about a week in 2014--lots of wind made biking hard, but it was beautiful and interesting.
ReplyDeleteI was there with a friend in August back in the 80´s. We slept naked on a picnic table outside of Stovepipe Wells. The stars were our blanket, radiant heat from the stone slab table was warmer than any heating pad. The temp dropped to 120 something as the low. We headed out on the Borax trail before sunrise. As the sun came up the pallet of colors on the canyon walls was one of nature´s masterpieces. Gone in moments once our star was settling in for another day. Thank you for reminding me of a most memorable sojourn.
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