The Death Valley X Files…

“I Want to Believe.” The X Files TV series.

Extraterrestrial, Out Worldly and Freaky is how many would describe Death Valley National Park. So it only makes sense, the region would attract the ultimate illegal aliens.

On my recent trip to DVNP, I was doing my usual Wandering and Wondering when I came upon this intergalactic phone booth. I picked up the phone and dialed ET and began speaking. 

“Hi Guys! I’m camped nearby. Why don’t you drop in for an IPA and some appetizers? My treat. We can schmooze about the state of the Earth and other galaxies. I’d enjoy hearing your Big View perspectives.” 

I heard a garbled response but my I Phone Translator app wasn’t set to “Out of this world” mode. Thus their answer was lost in space.

I returned to  camp at sunset doing my usual. That is drinking an IPA, reading and just looking around. When  I saw this!

After the Undocumented Dudes and Dudettes landed, (a Wall wasn’t going to stop them)  their were a few awkward moments of attempted communications between civilizations.  Fortunately  IPAs are the universal language of love and understanding.  I  was conscious, oriented and alert enough to capture the moment on film. 

So we laughed, kibitzed (told stories) and noshed on some appetizers. All in all, an enjoyable Happy Hour. (More so than drinking with boring humans.)

I limited my guests to two beers. I didn’t want them flying under the influence (FUI), especially at Warp Drive. 

Before they launched though they taught me how to move rocks without physical contact. It’s a cool bar trick called telekinesis. I was a quick learner.

Last photo: Before ET could phone home, he/she had to post a letter into an intergalactic mailbox. 

The galaxy was a lot easier to negotiate back then.

May the Force be with you,

Jeff 

It was Love at First…

Sight.

 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.

My Fear Factors.

My Fear Factors.

I’ve been visiting Death Valley for about a quarter century. (That makes me sound old!) This BIGLY National Park is one of my Happy Places.

in that time , I’ve discovered about a dozen “Go To” hikes. 

This year I noticed a new sensation in a “repeat Canyon” hike. The amble features an eighteen foot marble like unclimbable (for me) chute.  There’s an alternative  route in place though. It requires dealing with a slick eight foot chimney. When I was younger, I’d take a deep breath and scramble up the obstruction. It never felt right, especially on the return descent. This time, I paused while standing atop a stack of jumbled  rocks.Hmmm. Did this chimney grow? Wasn’t their more hand and foot holds? Where did that slight overhang come from? Thoughts of what could happen made me hesitate. I gingerly stepped off the ramp and retreated down canyon. The sensation was fear.

It’s not just the thought of taking a tumble. I’m more concerned about “What Ifs?” I’ve become overly cautious.

When I provisioned up for my Death Valley National Park three plus weeks desert wander, I sort of went overboard.

I’m carrying enough water to fill a kiddy pool. 

My food supply is equal to a Safeway Supermarket. 

I brought enough “Cutie” oranges to keep scurvy at bay for the entire US Navy. 

I could host a Sigma Phi Nada fraternity party with all the IPAs in stowage.

Starbucks offered to buy back my horde of Pike Place blend  Apparently I cornered the market.

I’ve downloaded and paid for the premium Gaia GPS app. Maybe I won’t get lost as often. 

My storage unit is stuffed with enough warm clothes for a Ernest Shackleton South Pole expedition. Mind you, I’m spending my time in the desert.

I precariously perched extra gallons of gasoline  onto Sanctuary Too for a long sought journey into Racetrack Playa. The National Park Service issues dire warnings about the road in. “Beasts and Monsters lie beyond this sign. Be aware and be prepared.” Hence all the extra gas. Honestly, it’s a jiggle-your-love-handles washboard route. (A reminder for me to go on a diet). My chain smoking slacker neighbor at the end-of-the-road dry camp arrived in a Kia hatchback sedan. So much for beasts and monsters. (But I had more food, beer and stuff than he had!)

So I’m left to ponder. Why did I become a wimp about things I barely thought of when I was younger? I survived then, why wouldn’t I do the same now?

My lame excuses are age and experience. I’ve been living this wandering wondering lifestyle since I was 17. While others were getting married, raising a family, working to keep it all together and pursuing the myth of the American Dream, I was “out there” hiking, car-camping, bicycle touring and backpacking. I’ve gotten lost, gone hungry, understand thirst, been injured and had to limp out to an ER. I’ve frozen my tuchas off by not carrying enough wool, fleece or down clothes. Worst of all, I’ve run out of IPAs. HORRORS! I’ve experienced all of these events more than once. To use the cliche, “been there, done that.” I didn’t find those moments enjoyable back then. Why should I now? 

But Jeff! What about challenges? What about pushing your mental and physical limits to the extreme? To this, I answer. Considering I was bred to be a tailor or merchant, I’m OK with my resume. (Remember, I was Northern CO’s first Jewish professional firefighter). I’ve sidestepped the Grim Reaper more than one person has the right to.  I have nothing to prove. 

BTW. “Fall Canyon” is the hike I retreated from. The name says it all.

Last Photos: Sometimes  Death Valley hikes require a rope and a ladder. I examined both of them. Neither would have met OSHA standards. I used the ladder. YIKES! 

Be careful out there. I’m sure Aron Ralston wasn’t planning on cutting off his arm when he ventured into “Blue John” Canyon.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/08/at-least-i-didnt-have-to-cut-off.html

Jeff