Death Valley IV - July 2007

Up the road about five miles, hang a left, and we’re looking for the Devil’s Cornfield. There’s no sign, but Greg points to the left and says that’s it. There’s a lot of it to see, but once you’ve seen one of them you’ve seen it all. It’s similar to the Devils’ Golf Course in that the fascinating thing about it is the scope. Consider this one plant that grows up through the desert floor, has a wonderful life, and then dies. All of the salty water it soaked up throughout its life now oozes out, crystalizes, and you have a salt formation in the shape of the plant and there are miles and miles of them. Because there’s no turnout that we can see, we cruise on past it and on up to the dunes.

Stupid kid, he keeps referring to the single dune we saw on our trip through Utah and keeps calling it the Dumont Dune. Less than a year ago and he can’t even remember that they’re actually called Bruneau Dunes. We stopped along the road and Greg took two pictures, one included the famous Star Dune, but I’m including this one because of the contrast due to the angle of the sun.  The entire area is actually a bright off-white and the dark places you see are shade.

Back on the road, down to Stovepipe Wells (which the kid kept calling Stovetop), stop for a cigarette, and we’re on our way to Mosaic Canyon. We walk up about a quarter mile to a really neat sight. I’d show it to you but the kid, not being a very good historian or photographer, screwed up somehow and deleted the picture. Some two hundred years ago somebody put up a railing on either side of the canyon along with metal rungs set into the floor. Mother Nature, being a woman, decided she didn’t like them and violently wrenched off one of the railings, undercut the wall, bent the remaining railing, and yanked most of the rungs out. Whew! You really don’t want to mess with that woman.

Down the road, as we’re leaving the park we see a guy jogging along the highway! No water, no vehicle anywhere nearby, and he’s just out jogging. Wears nothing but T-shirt, shorts, and sneakers. Greg and I share our opinion of doing something so stupid when he mentions that he used to know a marathoner who mentioned that there is a Death Valley marathon. When I got back I found out that there was. (Note 5)

On past Panamint Springs to Father Crowley Point. Not a lot to see, but we did have some fun. Greg had me trying to throw rocks with my left hand and I looked like a real spaz. My third try hit the ground about ten feet in front of me. When we finally read the monument we found that Father Crowley was well known in the area as providing help and comfort to people all over the desert. What irritated us was that this particular monument was based on the fact that Father Crowley had "passed by here." Hell, we’re passing by, why don’t we have a monument?

Ah well, can’t have everything. Down the road, up the road, down the road, and just shy of Owens Lake we see a sign saying there’s a point of historical interest ahead. Why not? We make the turn and see a road that looks REALLY rough so Greg parks. As we’re standing there Greg checks his phone, sees that he has a signal and decides to call his honey. We had seen another truck going down the road loaded down with junk in the back and, as Greg finishes his call, he points out that if we happen to find someone illegally dumping, we could be eligible for a reward. We hike the quarter of a mile or so to look at some ruins and meet George. (Note 6)

He looks at my hat and asks, "You a Marine?" I tell him that both Greg and I are Marines and he says so is he. Not just a Marine, but a veteran of Iwo Jima. Wow! In the story of the Adelanto trip I mentioned that you just can’t go anywhere without running into one of them guys. Turned out George could talk. He was a member of a gem society and he and Greg went off on talking about different places to hunt gemstones. Well, to be fair to Greg, George did most of the talking.

He told us that Keeler (the town just to the west of us) was known as a mining town and Greg pointed out the slag and opined that it was probably a copper mine. That was reinforced by the coloration of the hills to the east. Before we parted George asked if we wanted him to take a picture of the two of us, we agreed, spotted an old boiler that seemed to be a good prop, and posed while he took the picture. We finally said our goodbyes and Greg and I started around the right end of the building you see in the picture. We just got there when George called from the other end telling us that he had just seen a bobcat (Lynx rufus) run inside the structure.

Not quite sure why we were doing it, Greg and I walked down to the other end, around it, and climbed up on top. While we were doing that George made the comment that he had once been attacked by a bobcat when he was a young boy. "Jumped right down on my shoulders, it did. My uncle George shot it right off my back (Note 7)." With that George climbed into his "buggy" as he called his truck and left. We poked around for a couple more minutes still not knowing why we’re doing it. A bobcat weighs only about twenty pounds, but is one mean little kitty. We finally come to our sense and leave the kitty alone and get back on the road.

Boring from then on out. We go down the road, find Diaz Lake campground, check in, and then go get our beer for the night. Well, day and night, as we were there just a bit after noon. Yep, we wimped out and spent less than four hours that day in DV. We just plain relaxed all afternoon and evening. One interesting point is that Friday night we set a new record: Fewest beers ever consumed at a campsite. We each had only four apiece. When we stopped to get our ice for this night I looked in the cooler, saw we only had ten, and went ahead and picked up another eighteen-pack.

How many did we drink that night? Well, let’s just say that the next morning Greg was wishing we had saved one for breakfast. Last picture is the kid at the campground with his bone necklace.

And that’s it. We got home, bypassing Kramer’s Junction hunting ground (Note 8), and, after unloading the car, Greg and I shook hands with the comment, "It was a great trip. Promise me we’ll never do that again." Done deal!

The final comment is that Greg and I agreed that nearly everywhere we stopped everyone we heard was speaking anything but English. It is hard to picture Helga saying to her husband, "Joachim, where shall we go for our vacation?"

"Ah, Helga, I am so tired of the thick forests, cool mountains, and deep rivers of Germany. Why don’t we fly to America, rent a car, and drive to Death Valley?"

Note 5: On the web I found that the last marathon was in 2004 (at least I can’t find any info on one later than that). There was, however, this little tidbit:

AdventureCORPS, an event production firm specializing in ultra-endurance and extreme sports events, will host the 30th Kiehl's Badwater Ultramarathon on July 23-25, 2007. A true "challenge of the champions," this legendary foot race pits approximately up to 90 of the world’s toughest athletes–runners, triathletes, adventure racers, and mountaineers–against one another and the elements. Covering 135 miles (217km) non-stop from Death Valley to Mt. Whitney, CA in temperatures up to 130F (55C), it is the most demanding and extreme running race offered anywhere on the planet.

The start line is at Badwater, Death Valley, which marks the lowest elevation in the Western Hemisphere at 280’ (85m) below sea level. The race finishes at the Mt. Whitney Portals at 8360' (2533m). The Badwater course covers three mountain ranges for a total of 13,000’ (3962m) of cumulative vertical ascent and 4,700’ (1433m) of cumulative descent. The Portals are the trailhead to the Mt. Whitney summit, the highest point in the contiguous United States.

Held as a race since 1987, this great tradition began with Al Arnold's solo trek from Badwater to Mt. Whitney in 1977, Jay Birmingham's record-breaking run in 1981, followed by scores of solo efforts, and then the Badwater 135 races from 1987 through 1999. AdventureCORPS has continued that tradition by producing the Badwater Ultramarathon since 1999.

Note 6: I really have to work on my people skills. I don’t remember the man’s name. I used George because it was the only thing I could think of.

Note 7: Thus the reason for my using George as his name.

Note 8: Right around Kramer’s Junction there are specified gem hunting areas. On our last DV trip we spent several hours pawing through the rocks. Well, Greg pawed, I just wandered around.