Dispatches from No Cell Phone...

Coverage Valley...

would be an appropriate name for Panamint Valley. Verizon and company has deemed the area as unworthy of a microwave tower. I'm OK with this "No Service" approach to remote.

This desert depression is a short raven's flight west of its famous neighbor-Death Valley National Park. After spending four nights there, I call it Death Valley Lite. There's canyons, mountains, ghost towns, waterfalls, sand, solitude, abandoned mines and one Panamint Springs Resort. 

The PS Resort is the Valley's population center (about 30). When campers and motel guests stay the night, the population quadruples. Naming this crash pad a Resort is sort of a misnomer. Toilets plug up daily, hot showers are problematic, wifi is in name only and litter blows freely throughout the compound. The unofficial slogan of the staff is, "we're not paid enough to care!" 

On the plus side, the restaurant has good bar food, smiling helpers and a beer selection that puts most  Biker Bars to shame. (In other words, heaps more than Coors and Bud Lite). Purchasing an IPA is on the honor system. Choose one of 130 titles from the Winnebago sized cooler, flick its cap and start drinking. Settle up with the bartender when you're done. I like the style. 

I met Evan, a part owner of the spread. He was in his late-twenties, wore camouflage pants, long hair and a beard. His shirt announced "Keep calm and return fire." He was a wealth of information about dirt bike trails but never heard of a canyon of historical significance just fifteen miles away in the National Park. Go figure. 

Ahh! But the views from the campground of the Cottonwood and Panamint Ranges are skip a heartbeat beautiful. Happy Hour sunsets are silently thrilling, except when fighter jets from nearby China Lake Naval Weapons Center flex their might and muscle at sand dune level. Oftentimes, the aircraft are heard but not seen. The fly boys and girls are kind enough to call it quits at nightfall, thus restoring peace in the Valley. 

BTW Thank you pilots for your service to our country. 

The other population center is thirty miles south-the one full time resident ghost town of Ballarat. From 1897-1917, this mining camp/supply center boasted a post office, a Wells Fargo station, a school, a jail, a morgue, three hotels and seven saloons. There wasn't any churches. Now, there's a sign proclaiming the town to be "free." Going so far as to say, it's OK to shoot your gun. 

Freedom has its limits. Don't drive over 15 MPH past the trailers, rusting mining equipment, blue-tarp roof outbuildings and General Store. You can camp there, but it'll cost you $3 a night. Don't forget to give your neighbors a wide berth and stay out of their line of fire. 

Besides being wild and remote, Panamint Valley is just plain out there. I hiked a few canyons, went high along some hills to old mines and spent the rest of my time taking in the views. 

One day, I'll be back to do it over again. I'd even camp at the Panamint Springs Resort. Maybe (touch wood) the plumbing will be repaired.

Cheers from somewhere else out there,

Jeff

Scenes from a BUSY place..

There's 22 million humans in Southern California. I've never met most of them. I know Brad (brother from another Mother)

 http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-brother-from-another-mother.html  

 I also know there was World Baseball Classic games in San Diego. That's two reasons to venture to a stupidly crowded landscape. I'll add a third reason to say those mellow Southern Californian Dudes make a very palatable, thirst quenching IPA as well.

To sum up the experience: The baseball was entertaining, the traffic scared me, Brad was fun to hang out with, the prices were earthshaking, the food better than average, the rest and relaxation was sparse, I caught another cold, the women are fit and beautiful, the hiking was non-existent, its 23 hours of noise with a one hour break,  and the weather was cool and clammy damp. 

I'm now a tired sloth. It's a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live here.

It was a unique week for me, but I'm ready to retreat to quieter places. Wont you take me back to your warm bosom Death Valley National Park?

Wish me luck on my drive...

Cheers!

Jeff 

A Land of Superlatives...

"Hottest, Driest and Lowest" are the oftentimes mentioned descriptors of Death Valley National Park. Those words are imprinted on gift shop T-shirts so it must be true. However, there's so much more to Death Valley. 

It's the largest National Park in the lower 48, contained in the most populated state in the Union, yet, you can find plenty of solitude. A whopping 92% of this stark jewel is designated Wilderness. Thank you, President Clinton. 

Now, I'm at a stage of my life when I see gaggles going right, I'll go left. If you are willing to walk a few miles further up a canyon or mountain (like I am) you'll have it for your own. It's quiet too. 

While I drive the low trafficked byways, I'm constantly scanning the scenery for a canyon or an obscure old road to explore. Oftentimes, the hike will lead me to an abandoned mine, complete with derelict cabins and discarded dreams. Most of the Diggers in DV never struck "pay dirt." I'm guessing making the Big Bucks might have been icing on the cake for these hermits. Many were probably attracted to the silence and the big wide open spaces. Same as us modern day tourists. 

Two of my favorite activities involve sunrises lighting up the Panamint Mountains and sunset Happy Hours while viewing the Amargosa Range. All I have to do is turn my folding chair 180 degrees while holding a hot or cold beverage. The sun does all the rest. It's a dirty retirement job, but someone has to do it.

Cheers from Dana Point, CA. 

Where did all these people come from? 

World Baseball Classic starts manana.

I knew there's a good reason why I'm here.

Jeff

The last photo is my newest Real Estate scheme. Condos in the Panamints. I'll cut you a great deal.