Death Valley

Road Trip: Ghosts and Gambles in Audacious Nevada

Posted by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com
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November 24: Death Valley to Audacious Nevada. Starting mileage:  38,354.

We woke up early, intent on seeing another desert sunrise. And of course, coffee was the first thing on the agenda. Today, we’d go from Death Valley to the bright lights of Las Vegas, Nevada. We’d pass through Nevada’s desert landscape of ghost towns, old towns, and vast empty spaces where it is hard to imagine the gambles that people took to make homes and a living here.

Pre-dawn sky at Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley.
Pre-dawn sky at Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley.

 

Desert Accident

I went to the reception area to get a cup of the always-on brewed coffee, as an incident was unfolding in the lobby. A woman and man talked quietly to the manager, while another man sat dazed in a chair. The couple had found him in his upside-down car on the side of the road about an hour from here. There was no cell phone service to call 911. So, they revived him, got him out of his wrecked car, into their warm car and now were here to get him help. He sat in a chair staring into space, blinking slow, mouth agape, and his hands reaching up to hold his head like he was checking to see if it was still there. With his mussed-up bed-head hair, motorcycle boots, leather jacket, and jeans he looked like a musician, except for the leather briefcase at his feet.

As I refilled my coffee cup, an ambulance and a park service ranger arrived. The couple repeated their story, left their contact information, got some coffee, said goodbye to the wrecked guy, and left. He was waving off an EMT when I went out to take photos before sunrise.

orange clouds sunrise death valley sky
“Desert sky…Dream beneath a desert sky.” Predawn moment in Death Valley, lyrics by U2.

 

About an hour later when I returned to the lobby for another cup of coffee, the accident guy was still there. Now he sat outside by the fire-pit, briefcase heeling close to his boots, smoking a cigarette, and staring out at the desert. His bewildered expression was a reminder to drive carefully on these roads. The number one cause of death in Death Valley is not the heat–it is the single-car rollover. He was lucky to be alive.

 

Daylight Pass

We filled up before leaving Stovepipe Wells and pulled out on CA-190 going northeast to Nevada. The road took us past the Devil’s Cornfield, and then up to Daylight Pass in the Amargosa Mountains. We went from zero elevation to 4,316 feet above sea level in about 15 miles.

Daylight Pass in Amargosa Mountain Range, eastern edge of Death Valley. 4,316 elevation.
Daylight Pass (4,317 elevation) in Amargosa Mountain Range, on the eastern edge of Death Valley. 
The long road from California into Nevada.
The long road from California into Nevada.

 

The Ghost town of Rhyolite

A ghost town was near our route. Rhyolite was established in 1905 after gold was discovered in nearby mountains. After big investment in infrastructure, by 1907 Rhyolite had a railroad station, electric lights, water pipes, telephones, newspapers, a hospital, a school, an opera house, and a stock exchange. The town’s population hit about 5,000 in 1907–08. Imagine the pluck it took to turn a tent city of miners into a cultured town in just three years.

Alas, Rhyolite crashed fast too. First, the gold ore was exhausted, then financial panic. All three banks closed by March 1910. By the end of 1910, the mine was operating at a loss, and closed in 1911. Out-of-work miners moved elsewhere. According to Wikipedia, “All the newspapers shut down by June 1912. The post office closed in November 1913; the last train left Rhyolite Station in July 1914, and the Nevada-California Power Company turned off the electricity and removed its lines in 1916. Within a year the town was ‘all but abandoned’, and the 1920 census reported a population of only 14. A 1922 motor tour by the Los Angeles Times found only one remaining resident, a 92-year-old man who died in 1924″.

The remains of the John S. Cook and Co. Bank in the ghost town of Rhyolite, Nevada.
The remains of the John S. Cook and Co. Bank in the ghost town of Rhyolite, Nevada.
HD & LD Porter, 1906. Ghost town Rhyolite, NV.
The HD & LD Porter brothers’ store in Rhyolite, Nevada. It is said that customers could buy groceries, clothing, mining supplies, hardware, lumber, furniture, hay, grain, and Studebaker wagons here. The store also leased freight animals. The Porter Brothers slogan was, “We handle all good things but whiskey.”
The Bottle House in Rhyolite, NV.
Tom Kelly built the Bottle House in 1905-06 with 51,000 beer bottles. The bottles were donated from the 50 town bars.
Fallen Joshua tree desert tree Rhyolite, Nevada.
If a Joshua tree falls in a ghost town, does anyone hear it? Rhyolite, Nevada.

 

Beatty and Amargosa Valley

Shortly after Rhyolite, we came into the little town of Beatty. These desert towns all seemed to have a wild west, devil-may-care feel–heroically or recklessly navigating the boom and bust. Maybe it was the number of faded hotels, or the aging industrial elements, or the needy houses, or the general emptiness of the place. I wondered about the people who lived in this harsh desert environment, the few residents who live with so many strangers passing through.

Looking back at California from this long desert road near Rhyolite, Nevada.
Looking back at California from this long desert road near Rhyolite, Nevada.
Signs of the times. Beatty, Nevada.
Signs of the times. Ghosted hotel in the town of Beatty, Nevada.
Fort Amargosa Valley sells fireworks, gasoline, and has a diner in an alien museum. Nevada!
Amargosa Valley sells fireworks, gasoline, and has a diner in an alien museum. Nevada!

 

Hoover Dam

It was early afternoon when we drove into Las Vegas, so we decided to drive on to Hoover Dam before checking in and relaxing.

Wow! Hoover Dam is famous for its scale, and the ingenuity of the people who imagined and built it during the Great Depression. And I’m here to tell you, it’s big! Its base is 660 feet thick–wider than two football fields are long. It goes more than 700 feet down into the canyon–about the size of a 60-story building. It holds back the Colorado River, and created Lake Mead in the Black Canyon. Until the bypass bridge was built over the canyon in 2012, US-93 passed across the top of the dam, carrying traffic between Arizona and Nevada.

We drove over the dam looking for parking. And I have to say, the closeness of a very big Lake Mead on the one side and the empty air above the Black Canyon on the other side gave me a fright. Its a little terrifying to think that we are confident enough of having tamed nature to drive over the concrete holding all that water back! We crossed back over quickly, and parked in the garage. At a safe distance, we gawked at this amendment to the land. I tried to keep an eye on the dam, and the giant bridge that throws a shadow on it, as we got our pressed pennies and ice cream cones.

Hoover Dam on the Colorado River, on the Nevada / Arizona border.
Hoover Dam on the Colorado River, on the Nevada / Arizona border.
The Hoover Dam Bypass Bridge over the Colorado River and Black Canyon.
The Hoover Dam Bypass Bridge over the Colorado River and Black Canyon. Arizona / Nevada border.
Mama Lucy at Hoover Dam. Nevada.
Mama Lucy at Hoover Dam. Nevada.
Power lines in the desert nearing Las Vegas.
Power lines in the desert nearing Las Vegas.

 

Las Vegas!

The Faux Eiffel Tower at Paris, Las Vegas, Nevada.
The Faux Eiffel Tower at Paris, Las Vegas, Nevada.

We followed the power lines into Las Vegas, listening carefully to Siri as she directed us to the correct turn lanes, and the legal U-Turn spots so that we could get to our hotel. I’d found a place in the heart of the Las Vegas Strip that had a reasonable price for us and the car.

After check-in, we took a walk as the sun went down.

The sidewalks were unbelievably crowded. It was Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. Everyone must have come here for the holiday weekend. And everyone must have been completely starstruck by the bright lights. No one watched where they were going. Groups of people walked 5 across, taking the entire width of the sidewalk. After a few minutes of getting hit and jostled, we walked arm-in-arm, with me closer to the oncoming people so that Mama Lucy didn’t get pummeled by the crowds. I stiffened my shoulder and gave as good as I got.

We walked through the Venetian, enjoying the lights, the gondolas, and the sights and sounds of this crazy, audacious desert city.

November 25:  Las Vegas. Starting mileage: 38,580.

We may have been the only early risers in Las Vegas. I think the other people out and about at breakfast were the people who’d been out all night.

It was once again, time for laundry and another oil change, and we’d decided this Saturday morning would be “chores” time. First, we found a 24-hour laundromat not far from the hotel. It was a quiet, friendly place and our three loads were done lickety-split.

Laundering in Las Vegas.
Laundering in Las Vegas.

 

Next, we found another Bozarth Chevy dealer. They’d been good to us in Denver, and so, we’d made an appointment for the second oil change of our trip. Turns out, this establishment also found a few things wrong with the car–and took a couple of hours to put in brake fluid and a new filter. By the time we were turned loose, our chores finished, it was almost time for dinner and the nighttime show that is the Las Vegas Strip.

Show girls

Did I mention the show girls who also parked at our hotel? We’d been seeing tell-tale signs–a yellow boa in our parking spot, feathers in the elevator, and glitter on the buttons. And today, we saw scantily-clad girls arriving to do their thing on the Strip tonight. Two girls were changing into pink outfits in the parking garage. Two other girls were in the elevator when it opened on our floor. They had their hair tied in tight buns covered in silver glitter. They wore silver bikini bottoms, silver knee-high boots, and the rest was a combination of smartly-placed pasties, white feathers, and silver beads. As we’d seen last night, the girls work in pairs, charging for photographs with tourists on the streets. We smiled and made chit-chat with them about the cool weather that was expected tonight as the elevator slowly made its way to the ground floor. Brrr.

Dancing waters of the Bellagio. Las Vegas.
Dancing waters of the Bellagio. Las Vegas.

Las Vegas Gambling

We walked over to watch the Dancing Waters at the Bellagio. And then had a a wonderful dinner at Mon Ami Gabi, right across the street. Later, we sat in “Paris” watching a group of young men sing Motown and songs from the 50s/60s. And of course, we gambled. I’m a reluctant gambler and only risked $20–it was all too quickly gone. My Las Vegas souvenir was a ticket to claim my remaining $0.40 in “winnings”. Mama Lucy had better luck at the slots and played for a little longer, but never heard the bells and whistles indicating a million dollar win.

Mama Lucy playing slot machine in Las Vegas.
Mama Lucy doing her thing in Las Vegas.
Slot machine Mama Lucy in Las Vegas.
Slot machine Mama Lucy in Las Vegas.

I still felt lucky. My big win was going on this trip. And that night, I felt so lucky to get Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and take a seat with my mother on the Las Vegas Strip to just watch the crowd and the lights. What a place! Who had the idea to build THIS in the desert? What audacity…to even exist…a mirage, an oasis in this empty desert land.

Select photos are available on my Etsy shop.

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Thank you!

 

Road Trip: Death Valley

Posted by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com
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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.

Trees, mountains, and Valleys...Leaving Sequoia National Park.
Trees, mountains, and valleys. Leaving Sequoia National Park, California.

 

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.

On the winding, hilly back road CA-245.
On the winding, hilly back road CA-245.

 

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.

Vineyard Neat rows of grape vines, like stitches on the California hillside.
Neat rows of grape vines, stitched to the California hillside.
long road mountains driving to Death Valley California
This harsh land seemed to activate self-reflection, ideas of peaceful aloneness, and eternal movement. And, there is this sound tires make on the long, empty roads to Death Valley. Was this where the Eagles were inspired to write: “Don’t let the sound of your own wheels make you crazy. Lighten up, while you still can, don’t even try to understand…”
Another long road near Ridgecrest, California.
Another long road near Ridgecrest, California. 

 

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.

Shadows on long roads to Death Valley.
Shadows on a long road to Death Valley.
Dark is coming. And we were still on the road into Death Valley.
Dark was coming near Panamint. And we were still on the road into Death Valley. At the top of this hill, we came back into a mile of sunlight, for one last look at the sun before heading down into Death Valley.

 

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.

Stovepipe Wells General Store. Across the street from the hotel. Death Valley, California.
Stovepipe Wells General Store. Across the street from the hotel. Death Valley, California.
Street Light. Headlights. Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley National Park. California.
Lights. Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley National Park. California.

 

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.

Colors of sunrise. Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley National Park.
A hint at the coming colors of sunrise. Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley National Park.
Just a moment before the sun comes, a rose color washed over Death Valley on Thanksgiving Day.
Just a moment before the sun came over the ridge, a rose color washed over Death Valley on Thanksgiving Day.
Good morning sunshine! Thanksgiving in Death Valley, California.
Good morning sunshine! Thanksgiving in Death Valley, California.
Desert landscape. Death Valley dawn.
A few seconds later, and the desert appears from the dark. Death Valley.
Me, my shadow, the birds and the desert. Death Valley.
Me, my shadow, the birds, and the desert in a fading pink sunrise. Death Valley.

 

Thanksgiving site-seeing

After breakfast in the Toll Road Restaurant, we drove over to the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes.

Mama Lucy in the Sand Dunes of Death Valley on Thanksgiving morning.
Mama Lucy in the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes of Death Valley on Thanksgiving morning.

 

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.

A wheel from a 20 Mule Team wagon. Harmony Borax Works. Death Valley.
A wheel from a 20 Mule Team wagon. Harmony Borax Works. Death Valley.

 

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!

On the road across Death Valley.
On the road across Death Valley.

 

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.

Badwater Basin in Death Valley National Park.
Badwater Basin in Death Valley National Park.
Us at Badwater Basin in Death Valley on Thanksgiving Day.
Us at Badwater Basin in Death Valley on Thanksgiving Day.
The lowest place in North America. Badwater Basin, Death Valley.
Walking out onto the salt flats at the lowest place in North America. Badwater Basin, Death Valley.
Walking in the salt flat. Badwater Basin. Death Valley.
Walking in the salt flats. Badwater Basin. Death Valley.
A vast salt flat in Death Valley's Badwater Basin.
A vast salt flat in Death Valley’s Badwater Basin.

 

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.

Artists Palette hills of oxidized rocks of Death Valley.
Artists Palette hills of oxidized rocks of Death Valley.
The road through the Artists Palette hills of Death Valley.
The one-way road through the Artists Palette hills of Death Valley.

 

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.

Mama Lucy in her rocking chair. Death Valley on Thanksgiving Day.
Mama Lucy in her rocking chair. Death Valley on Thanksgiving Day.
Our view from the rocking chairs. Death Valley on Thanksgiving Day.
Our view from the rocking chairs. Dust from a distant car, and an airplane trail. Death Valley on Thanksgiving Day.

 

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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Thank you!