November 22: The Sequoias to Death Valley. Starting mileage: 37,914.
We woke up among the Sequoias and the crisp, mountain-morning air. Like the size of the trees, there are no words to describe the fresh scents of the surrounding pines, cedars, and sequoias. Do the woods always smell so calm? It was cold, and had it not been a brilliantly clear sky, we might have worried about snow. From the looks of it, Sequoia National Park gets a lot of snow: there are 12+ feet tall red poles along the roads so drivers can FIND the road in heavy snow. Funny to think we’d be out of the woods and into the Death Valley desert by nightfall.
Coming down the mountain
Although Death Valley was only 100 miles due East as the crow flies, there are no open roads over the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Our route would take us in a big, 320-mile U, out of the Sequoias, around the Sierra Nevadas via Bakersfield and Mojave, and north to Death Valley.
First, we took the rural road California 245 south through the foothills. It was very curvy, with many hairpin turns over bulges and bumps in the road. We saw a dog, sunbathing in the road. He stared at the car, stretched, and instead of moving, laid back down in the road with his head on a paw. Guess they don’t see much traffic up here! So, we carefully drove around him on the narrow shoulder.
Not long after, we starting seeing roadrunners (or quails?) flit across the road. They ran so fast on stretching, knobby thin legs and seemed to make a game of how close they could be to the car. Mama Lucy got a little queasy from the twisting, up and down road, and the braking for the birds, so we pulled over for a few minutes to ease her stomach. It was much warmer now. In the end, the temperature went from 39 to 73 as we went down the mountain.
Urban deserts
After the winding road, we passed through Exeter, Bakersfield, and Mojave. We saw most of the energy forms–shiny solar panels hidden among vineyards, oil derricks en masse pumping and bleeding the land like a swarm of needled mosquitos, and wind turbines punctuating cliff tops near Mojave. Later, we drove through a small town, where the houses looked brittle and worn…doors hanging off, old toys scattered among cars in the yards. Also, a smell of chemicals permeated the air, likely from the factory with chipping white paint, sitting amidst the houses. The only person we saw was a man walking by the railroad tracks. Were the people all working today in the plant? The place gave me an eerie feeling, like we were passing through a living ghost town.
Into Death Valley
We drove and drove. More than six hours on some of the most remote, endless roads I’ve ever seen. And then, we were going up again–to 4,000 feet elevation. And at last, down, down, down into Death Valley as the sun was setting. As I drove–carefully–into that strange environment, I remembered this from the National Park website:
Many of Death Valley’s roads were built in the 1930s. They are narrow and serpentine and cannot be driven at high speed. The most dangerous thing in Death Valley is not the heat. It is the “single car rollover.” Cell phones do not work in Death Valley! Do not depend on them. Dependence on a cell phone in an emergency situation can be fatal.
Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley
At last, we arrived into Stovepipe Wells Village at dusk. This way-station has been an oasis since the early 1900s. There is a ranger station, gas station, general store , and Stovepipe Wells, a small hotel with the Badwater Saloon and Toll Road Restaurant. We backed into a parking space about 3 feet from our hotel room door. Our little room was welcoming–decorated in red, and a back door! Later, we wandered back over to the lobby to sit at the fire-pit in the rocking chairs and contemplate the autumn desert. Stars. A satisfying quiet. After dinner, we sat watching car headlights drive into the valley. The cars were miles away–but their lights burned like pinholes in this landscape. Many cars pulled into the 24-hour gas station across the street, refueling at a very reasonable $3.09, and then we watched their red taillights drive away into the vast dark.
November 23: Sunrise on Thanksgiving Day in Death Valley
Once upon a time, I spent Thanksgiving Day on Easter Island. Today, we were in Death Valley. I thanked my lucky stars that we were here, now, and went out into the darkness for photos at sunrise.
The quiet. The immense quiet. Only the sound of gravel under my feet. And then came the colors. A line of pink. Dust in the distance. I heard birds, smelled sage, and watched for the sun. I walked about 50 yards, to the end of Stovepipe Wells, by the ranger station. Death Valley is a National Park and the park is “open” 24 hours a day, every day. There is an automated fee machine at the station for those who are honest to stop and pay. There was enough light now and I could see a giant crow sitting on the pay box, watching me and waiting for sunrise.
Thanksgiving site-seeing
After breakfast in the Toll Road Restaurant, we drove over to the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes.
Next, we visited the Harmony Borax Works, where the famous 20 Mule Teams hauled mined borax out of Death Valley. What the heck is borax? Mama Lucy knew–it was a powdery mineral used in detergent. In addition, she remembered the brand, 20 Mule Team Borax, sponsoring Death Valley Days radio programs when she was a kid.
Badwater Basin
After a walk around Harmony Borax Works, we continued on to Furnace Creek, an oasis about 24 miles from our hotel. This is where the Furnace Creek Visitor Center is located, and where the highest temperature ever in North America was recorded. 134 degrees. Uff!
We were on our way to see Badwater Basin, the lowest point in North America–at 282 feet below sea level. This bowl in Death Valley gets less than 2 inches of rain a year. This little bit of rain floods the basin, but it is so quickly evaporated–leaving behind miles of salt flats. In addition to driving hazards, heat and flash floods can kill here too…and rattlesnakes, scorpions, and black widow spiders.
On the way back to the hotel–and Thanksgiving Dinner!–we drove through the Artists Palette. This is an area of colored rock hills, and a narrow circular drive that escorts you through.
Giving Thanks
We got back to our hotel in time for a late afternoon Thanksgiving buffet. They rolled out all kinds of vegetables, salads, desserts, and of course, the turkey and ham. We rolled out almost two hours later–stuffed. At last, we rested–sitting in rocking chairs until the sun went down. “Beautiful and peaceful,” Mama Lucy wrote in the travel log. Thank you for all that we have, all that we are, all that we see, all that we are able to do.
Photos available on Etsy.
Intrigued about the lowest place on earth (1,412 feet below sea level)? Read about the Dead Sea in Israel/Jordan here.
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