ON THE ROAD AGAIN Part 3 Death Valley - The Pictures

Scotty's Castle

Mosaic Canyon

Mosaic Canyon

Zabriskie Point

Devil's Golf Course

Devil's Golf Course

Natural Bridge

Badwater

Sea Level ABOVE Badwater :-)

Titus Canyon
Titus Canyon
Artist's Drive
Artist's Drive
US!

ON THE ROAD AGAIN Part 3 Death Valley

As we flowed down the precipitous but winding, smooth corners into the valley I made rapid mental adjustments in my expectations for Death Valley. My mind's eye always saw Death Valley much as the Bonneville Salt Flats...long, flat and salt pan. Who knew? The reality is quite different.

Death Valley is the largest National Park in the in the contiguous United States at 3.3 million acres with the well known low point, Badwater, 282 feet below sea level, but bounded on the west by Telescope Peak at 11,049 feet and formed not by water but by sinking bedrock between two parallel mountain ranges, the Amargosa and the Panamints.

By the time we reached our motel in mid-park we had passed mountains, sage and dunes while gazing across the valley at snow covered mountain tops. Rain had been falling for much of two weeks and would continue to fall for one more day, making planning each day's activities a challenge of reading the morning park report to see what roads had been reopened after the inevitable wash outs and flooding that occur when rain and desert roads co-mingle.

And Death Valley is a motoring park with one North-South road and one East-West road and a handful of short gravel roads (trails) to points of interest. Four-wheel drive is recommended for off the two main roads.

Scotty's Castle became our first adventure on a day where rain continued to fall. Imagine this: a desolate, huge, climate challenged valley with a castle, yes a castle, at the north end. The full story of this castle is a tale in true western fashion, full of gold, mines, lies, investors and a wealthy but really private engineer and his wife. Suffice it to say here that Scotty neither built nor owned the castle. Filled with antiques and worldwide decor, it is a charming, comfortable, expansive and exotic wonder.

As the weather (and the roads) cleared we were able to hike Mosaic Canyon encountering only narrow crevices, rock scrambles and dry falls. A shorter hike at Natural Bridge provided a canyon hike with a great arch. Each showcased different canyon geology and highlighted the distinct varieties found in the park.

Zabriskie Point, a traditional park turnout area with far-reaching views of the Badwater end of the valley and the very aptly named Golden Canyon is a photographers dream. Dropping back into the valley, Devil's Golf Course is a walk through gnarled crystalline salt spires. Yes, they're sharp!

And then it is down to the bottom. Badwater, where you look 282 feet up the cliff at the sign designating the sea level, is a sheet of white and the lowest point in North America. With a winter-only briny pond at the edge, the sight of all that salt is a high blood pressure nightmare.

Saving the best for last, we hiked Titus Canyon one morning followed by the Artist's Drive that afternoon. Titus Canyon can actually be driven from east to west...when the road hasn't washed out from rain. Lest I mislead you, it is a canyon; a deep, narrow, twisty canyon and suitable at its best only for high clearance vehicles. The day we hiked the lower end only a really talented off-road motorcyclist might have made the washed out sections. A spectacular canyon with a huge variety of rock, Titus is a geologists playroom and entirely different than Mosaic.

On the other hand, Artist's Drive is the segment of the park most likely to provoke an intake of breath and unintelligible sounds of visual pleasure. On a wildly plunging and rising, curving one-way road the hills and ravines reveal a spectrum of colors: bright and inescapable pink, green, blue, purple, red, brown, black and golden.

It is impossible in Death Valley not to vividly imagine the pioneers who passed through this tough and unforgiving landscape. Purely by chance my reading while on this trip was a book about Wallace Stegner and the American West. Focused on areas that surround but do not intersect Death Valley, it nevertheless gave both ample context and much food for thought as our glances roamed this vast space. To be in Death Valley a person feels much like a flea on King Kong; an invisible annoyance but one which in great numbers could cause great harm.

There is a profound silence that slowly envelopes the valley as dusk rolls across the valley, tumbling out of the mountains in the west, creeping along the valley floor and over the dunes and rising again in triumph up the eastern peaks. Yet, it was the cloak of night which presented the the most striking awareness of human presence as several nights the loud, low flyovers of military aircraft from China Lake and Nellis roared repeatedly across the sky.

I have been too long among the pine and cedar to feel strong attraction for this curious and fascinating landscape. Yet Death Valley calls to be seen at least once even by those not passionate about desert expanse.

Coming Soon...Part 4, a remarkable side trip out the western edge of Death Valley to Manzanar National Historic Site (WWII Japanese Internment Camp).

ON THE ROAD AGAIN Part 2: Nevada

So, in this multi-part Death Valley trip report let's take care of day 2, 3 and 9 right now. These were our days driving through Nevada. I rather pride myself on finding any place I visit interesting; looking for the unique and noteworthy and seeing its value.

But...Nevada, sigh.

First, there is the landscape. You might remember from previous posts that I am a fan of trees. Real trees. Big flowing and majestic trees. Nevada has, well, sage. And while I find the Joshua trees a welcome relief from the endless flats and clearly unique, even their repetition does not a forest make.

The few distant mountains do not make up for the unceasingly straight road with its signs advertising 24 hour liquor, 24 hour casinos and 24 hour, ahem, ladies of the night 'ranches'.

With its nude landscape filled with military installations, munitions depots, undersea training(!) and flight zones it is easy to see how Nevada's big empty (but not really) spaces could lend itself to tales of alien landings.

Perhaps I could learn to admire if never truly like the landscape, but it is indoors where Nevada sends me running for cover. I didn't actually see this, but I'm pretty sure there are gaming machines in the restrooms because they are certainly in every other nook and cranny of any building that has an entry door.

But what really drops Nevada down to #50 on the "I love this state" list is the SMOKE! Not only is smoking allowed nearly everywhere, but mostly to get to any non-smoking area you must trudge through casino clang and swirling smoke to reach breathable air.

We met some lovely people and ate at least one very nice meal in Nevada, but my ability to see what Nevadans must, and I am sure do, love about their state is lost in a heavy cloud of smoke.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN Part I: Idaho

Maybe it is because I grew up far enough west of Chicago to consider riding a train to the city, especially to see the Christmas tree at Marshall Field's, a real treat. Or maybe it was the family trip each fall downstate to see the colors and brunch across the river from the Blackhawk statue. Or even maybe it was the many trips across corn fields to Des Moines where the bulk of our family resided and Mom and Dad called home. Perhaps it was just growing up when the automobile and the highways came of age. Yet then I went to Idaho for a job where our staff 'song' was On The Road Again; where each year I put thousands of miles on my current car and where four-lane was non-existent. So maybe it's just me.

But I love the byways. And the first day of our trip to Death Valley from Lewiston, Idaho only reminded me how much I have come to appreciate the varied terrain of my adopted state.

Not that the trip started in ideal conditions. Towing our trailer for the first time and leaving in winter overcast, we had the good fortune to have the snow hold off until the end of the first day - literally as we pulled into the motel parking lot.

And that small blessing meant three hundred miles of watching forest and mountain, streams, tumbling rivers and steep canyons, high desert hills and sage rush past my window.

And the small towns resurrected a gush of memories. See that small town? I once worked with it's legislative candidate on his campaign. See that small town? We mediated on the next contract for almost twenty-hours one night. And that one? A disciplinary hearing kept me in town for two days. Ah, and that one? We came with in an hour of a strike and I can tell you the motel owner's life history.

Travel gives us landscapes; physical, social and historical.

If only we watch...using more than just our eyes.