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The highlight of Olancha, CaliforniaTurn right in Olancha onto US 190, and things really begin to get desolate. It's still a hundred miles to Death Valley, but as mile after mile of pavement pass under you, you wonder how much more bleak the terrain can be.
A long day's journey.The rental Volkswagen climbed to the top of a four thousand foot mountain. A vast, barren valley lay below. The map revealed this to be Death Valley's next door neighbor. Another climb to four thousand feet revealed a new expanse of nothing, with gray mountains in the distance. This was Death Valley. Other than the highway that I drove on, and an occasional car, I had seen no indication of human habitation in fifty miles - not a house, not a barn or even a shack, not a telephone pole.
Looking south, happy to be in a car and not a covered wagonI made it to Furnace Creek, the hub of activity in Death Valley, and found a campsite. The helpful ranger told me I could camp up high on the hill, but strong winds were expected over the next two days. Down low, nestled in a small canyon that possessed actual shrubs that offered a bit of ambience, I'd find protection from the wind. It was, he informed me, also preferred by the sidewinder rattlesnake. Huh. I chose rattlesnake ravine.
I never saw a serpent during my stay, but I learned that the ravine did serve as a very efficient channel for the tremendous winds that arrived on schedule. The winds blew all night, bending tent poles and playing the tent nylon like a hard rock guitar player on drugs. I finally took down the tent, piled rocks on it and spent the remainder of the night (and the entire second night) in the car.
How windy was it? My pots, lids and utensils, carefully weighted with rocks before I went to bed, were gone in the morning. I scoured the campground and managed to find one pot, both lids and my spoon.
How windy was it? When I visited the salt flats of Bad Water, wind gusts at one point made it impossible for me to walk forward.
Bad Water, 282 feet below sea level, the lowest point in the U.S.There are lower places on the earth than Bad Water. Australia, Africa and China have low points over five hundred feet below sea level. The Dead Sea is 1,360 feet below sea level. But walking out on the salt flats of this desolate place gives one a sense of the vastness and power of Death Valley more than any other spot I visited.
Bad Water is easily accessible to tour buses and would be crowded if it weren't so vast. So it wasn't my favorite place in Death Valley, but still it was awesome.
The lure of Zabriskie Point was great, as was the peril of getting there from below.
I found many good hikes. On my first venture after setting up camp, I tried hiking up to Zabriskie Point through the badlands below it. The trail got a bit too narrow and the drop-offs a bit too dramatic for my liking, so I settled for a sunrise drive to take in the wonder of the place.
The trail up to Zabriskie Point from Golden Canyon
Sunrise at Zabriskie Point, facing west
The badlands of Zabriskie Point
Bad Water is easily accessible to tour buses and would be crowded if it weren't so vast. So it wasn't my favorite place in Death Valley, but still it was awesome.
The lure of Zabriskie Point was great, as was the peril of getting there from below.I found many good hikes. On my first venture after setting up camp, I tried hiking up to Zabriskie Point through the badlands below it. The trail got a bit too narrow and the drop-offs a bit too dramatic for my liking, so I settled for a sunrise drive to take in the wonder of the place.
The trail up to Zabriskie Point from Golden Canyon
Sunrise at Zabriskie Point, facing west
The badlands of Zabriskie PointMy favorite spot in Death Valley was the sand dunes near Stovepipe Wells. On my first morning, I found a guided photography walk at the dunes. Perfect! I was up early and on the road in plenty of time. (You put a lot of miles on your vehicle in Death Valley). I was very excited. I wasn't disappointed.
The magnificent dunes of Death Valley
Ever changing, always astounding.
I met the ranger, Bob Greenberg, a few minutes early. We had a sunny, cloudless sky overhead, and a distant storm provided a rainbow for our first photo op. It turned out that I was the only person to show up for the walk, so I ended up with a ninety-minute private tutorial on photography and the desert. Bob and I got along well. I learned some good things from him, and we traded stories and experiences with enthusiasm. He is a seventy-year old guy who looks fifty. He was a professional photographer all his life before selling his business and becoming a Park Service ranger. Now he spends his life moving around national parks from Denali to the Everglades. He returns every year to Death Valley.
Harsh, dangerous, ever-changing, always beautiful.
When it comes time gas up the car, Death Valley isn't where you want to be. The prices hovered close to six dollars a gallon. As I was ready to drain my wallet, I joked with a man walking by that the price had dropped a penny overnight to $5.95. He said that over the mountains in Beatty, Nevada, thirty miles away, gas was $3.75. Five minutes later, I was on the road. What the heck. It was a pretty drive, and I had nothing but time. I saved a bundle on gas, ice and other supplies.
The future has arrived in Death Valley.
On Sunday, I was up very early for another trip to the dunes. I wanted to photograph them in the early morning light. I spent a couple hours wandering the vastness, up and down giant, shifting hills. When I had finally satisfied myself, I headed back to the car and found a ranger preparing to give a talk on wildlife in the dunes. This time there was a crowd - a young German PhD student and myself. After forty-five minutes, the dunes had morphed from a barren and lifeless place to a teeming habitat. The ranger showed us how to spot tracks of countless critters - mice, snakes, birds, lizards, coyotes and fox.
Morning shadows in the dunes.
I woke up on the third morning, not knowing where I'd be at lunchtime. I did my photo trip to Zabriskie Point, ate a quick breakfast and broke camp. At nine, I called Island Packers, the boat concession for the Channel Islands National Park, to see if there were any day trips with openings available. Yes, I was told. Tomorrow at nine a.m., a boat was going to Santa Cruz Island. Yes. There are places available. Out came my credit card, and my plans for the next couple of days were made. I was on the road by nine-thirty to my next adventure.
The magnificent dunes of Death Valley
Ever changing, always astounding.I met the ranger, Bob Greenberg, a few minutes early. We had a sunny, cloudless sky overhead, and a distant storm provided a rainbow for our first photo op. It turned out that I was the only person to show up for the walk, so I ended up with a ninety-minute private tutorial on photography and the desert. Bob and I got along well. I learned some good things from him, and we traded stories and experiences with enthusiasm. He is a seventy-year old guy who looks fifty. He was a professional photographer all his life before selling his business and becoming a Park Service ranger. Now he spends his life moving around national parks from Denali to the Everglades. He returns every year to Death Valley.
Harsh, dangerous, ever-changing, always beautiful.When it comes time gas up the car, Death Valley isn't where you want to be. The prices hovered close to six dollars a gallon. As I was ready to drain my wallet, I joked with a man walking by that the price had dropped a penny overnight to $5.95. He said that over the mountains in Beatty, Nevada, thirty miles away, gas was $3.75. Five minutes later, I was on the road. What the heck. It was a pretty drive, and I had nothing but time. I saved a bundle on gas, ice and other supplies.
The future has arrived in Death Valley.On Sunday, I was up very early for another trip to the dunes. I wanted to photograph them in the early morning light. I spent a couple hours wandering the vastness, up and down giant, shifting hills. When I had finally satisfied myself, I headed back to the car and found a ranger preparing to give a talk on wildlife in the dunes. This time there was a crowd - a young German PhD student and myself. After forty-five minutes, the dunes had morphed from a barren and lifeless place to a teeming habitat. The ranger showed us how to spot tracks of countless critters - mice, snakes, birds, lizards, coyotes and fox.
Morning shadows in the dunes.I woke up on the third morning, not knowing where I'd be at lunchtime. I did my photo trip to Zabriskie Point, ate a quick breakfast and broke camp. At nine, I called Island Packers, the boat concession for the Channel Islands National Park, to see if there were any day trips with openings available. Yes, I was told. Tomorrow at nine a.m., a boat was going to Santa Cruz Island. Yes. There are places available. Out came my credit card, and my plans for the next couple of days were made. I was on the road by nine-thirty to my next adventure.
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