With a name like DEATH VALLEY, it doesn’t seem like a place anyone would ever want to visit. But, we had never been there and December seemed like the best time to make a visit to the place who’s claim to fame is the driest, lowest and HOTTEST place in the United States.
When we pulled into the huge campground and saw only 5 other campers parked, we weren’t sure whether we should rejoice or high tail it outta there. As it turns out, it was the perfect time to be there. The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas see very little tourist traffic and the weather, except for some gusty wind, was perfect.
left: The empty campground.
right: A great climbing tree at our campsite.
I run the other way as fast as I can when I hear the word HEAT and back in 1913, Death Valley recorded a temperature of 134 degrees Fahrenheit……..in the shade. Just the thought of that temperature makes me want to shrivel up and blow away. We experienced mid 20’s to mid 60’s while we were there, purrrfect!
There had been high wind warnings for a few days before which reportedly blew 18 wheelers off the road and we were a little hesitant about driving in such conditions but, we had no problem and it was peaceful and calm when we arrived. Then, that evening, it hit. Gusts to 55mph rocked the rig. The Hippygeek had to go out in the middle of the night to trim some branches sanding the top of the rig, the cover to the front was almost completely blown off and we had to pull the slide in to keep the slide awning from being ripped to shreds. The howling winds kept us awake all night and I imagined, as Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz did, our home lifting and twirling up into the sky. By morning, all was calm and fortunately there was no damage.
We took in a couple of ranger talks, one about survival which mostly included drink, drink, drink. And, another one about creepy crawlies like snakes and scorpions but it was too cold for them to come out of hiding so we didn’t have to worry about them.
There is a borax museum with artifacts, pictures, and unusual rock specimens from the old mining days. As a child, I remember seeing commercials about 20 MULE TEAM BORAX! It was catchy advertising but I had no idea what any of it meant until now. Borax was mined heavily in the late 1800’s and it took a team of 20 mules to haul the 36 ton loads 165 miles out of the valley. Ruins of the processing plants can still be seen.
left: Old carriages used in the valley.
right: A roadrunner.(beep, beep!)
We also took a trip to Badwater, the location of the lowest spot in the U.S. It lies 282 feet below sea level in a large salt flat. The Lil’ Dude scraped his finger on the ground and took a taste just to see if it really was salt. He was convinced. After candy, salt is his favorite taste sensation.
The options for hiking are endless and amazing as the unique geology of the area is really where the beauty lies in the valley. We hiked up a canyon to a natural “bridge” arch, we slogged across huge sand dunes and made our way up through a canyon of polished marble.
right: Another heart rock.
A drive through artists point exhibited rock in tans, browns, oranges, greens and blues. The color of the rocks change with the light throughout the day so the scenery is a constantly changing palette.
Although I never thought people could actually live in a place of such extremes, we met several locals who wouldn’t consider living anywhere else. The beauty of the area is certainly alluring but the thought of 134 degrees F. fries any thoughts of making it home. In response to the question of the summer heat, one local said “it’s really not that bad”. Yeah, right. My friends in Fairbanks say 60 below zero isn’t that bad either. I guess I’m just a wimp.
left: Flintknapping class.
Although Death Valley sounds frightening, it was the death of only one person that gave it its name. It’s a gem in the National Park system and definitely worth seeing but, if you’re a wimp like me, plan your trip in December.
“I’d had no particular interest in the Southwest at all as a young girl, and I was completely surprised that the desert stole my heart to the extent it did.” Terri Windling
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