A WALK IN THE PARK

Sponsored by Wood County Park District

SHIRLEY AND I WERE IN YOSEMITE, headed to Sequoia National Park on our way down to Zion, Bryce, Capitol Reef, and Arches. It was September, so we thought it might be cool enough to stop at Death Valley along the way.

“No, you don’t want to do that,” said other campers. “Temps there are still in the 108 to 110 range.”

The world record high temperature of 134 degrees was recorded in Death Valley on July 10, 1913. (On average, Death Valley in July is the hottest place in the world.) Moisture laden Pacific air is forced to rise as it crosses four mountain ranges on its way east. The higher elevations cool and condense that moisture into rain or snow. Dry air is then trapped and recirculated by the mountains surrounding Death Valley in southeastern California. Temperatures climb as solar radiation is absorbed and reflected back from the mountains and the bare desert floor. The air temperature is hot. The ground temperature even hotter, reaching about 200 degrees.

So we waited until the following winter. We planned to be in Southern Arizona and could reach Death Valley via Lake Mead, Hoover Dam, and Las Vegas. This turned out to be a good decision. Temperatures were in the upper 80s, but it is dry heat, you know, so quite comfortable, and it cooled quickly at sunset. We spent four days visiting the usual touristy sites and marveling at the spectacular scenery.

• Artist’s Drive is a nine-mile, one-way loop from Badwater Road. It winds and climbs and dips through colorful volcanic rock.

• Badwater Basin at 282 feet below sea level, is the lowest point in North America. If you look way up, on the cliff face, there is a paint line representing sea level. A few thousand years ago, there was a 30-foot-deep lake at Badwater, but the lake evaporated leaving a five-foot-thick layer of salt. We took a little walk out on the salt flats. I caught myself walking gingerly (and stupidly) because the salt flats looked so much like a frozen lake.

• Dante’s View (of the Inferno, of course) is 5,000 feet above Badwater Basin. You can see across to the Panamint Mountains and Telescope Peak on the western edge of the Valley. From Dante’s View, you might convince yourself, like the 49ers who named it Death Valley, that crossing there would be an easy shortcut. All you would need to do is find a way to get your wagons down to the smooth and level valley floor and then up the mountains on the other side. How hard could that be? Today, if you squint, you might be able to distinguish the little blip on the horizon that represents Mt. Whitney and thus score a twofer—a simultaneous view of the highest and the lowest points in the contiguous 48 states.

• Devil’s Golf Course is another salt flat. Except the salt is not even close to flat. The devil created what must be the world’s largest golf hazard. The salt there has crystallized into lumpy-bumpy, jagged-edged spires and cavities. The Park Service says you are allowed to walk out there—if you like. But there is a significant risk of twisting an ankle or falling on the rugged, uneven surface. Personally, I prefer not to get salt in my wounds.

• Harmony Borax Works is where those 20-mule-team wagons came from in the 1880s. Readers of a certain age may remember the Death Valley Days TV show hosted in the 1950s by a future president and sponsored by Boraxo. Each wagon held 25 tons and took about 30 days to make the 165-mile round trip to the railroad at Mojave.

• Zabriskie Point is up on the eastern rim, from which you can see all of Death Valley spread out below you. The geology up there is colorful, deeply eroded badlands made even more colorful at sunrise and sunset.

• Mesquite Flat Dunes are about 150 feet high and constantly changing in the winds. We camped at Stovepipe Wells to be close to the dunes but found it also meant being close to sandstorms. Still, we were fortunate to get the only “wooded” site in the gravel parking lot that passes for a campground. There was a single shrub about knee high.

• Scotty’s Castle used to be our favorite place in Death Valley because it benefits from the three most important things about real estate. Still, it is not a castle. For that matter, it wasn’t Scotty’s.

Chicago millionaire Albert Johnson was advised by his physician to seek a warmer, drier climate. Johnson and his wife, Bessie, began acquiring property for an estate in Grapevine Canyon, in the northeast corner of Death Valley. At about 3,000 feet elevation, it was comfortable most of the year with neither the stifling heat of the Valley floor nor the winter cold of higher mountain locations. Even more importantly, there were mountain springs for a reliable water source. Plus, there was access to railroads just 20 miles away that could bring building materials and, later, their guests.

A more or less permanent guest was Walter Scott, or “Death Valley Scotty,” who was a prospector, con man, and teller of tall tales. Scotty bragged that the castle was his, built with proceeds from his secret gold mine. (If Scotty had been slightly more literary, he might have called himself Sir Walter Scott.) Evidently Johnson kept him around for his entertainment value. Cable TV in remote locations was unreliable in the 1920s.

The main house has the Johnsons’ suite, a guest suite, Scotty’s bedroom, a music room, a kitchen, a dining room, and a large hall for entertaining guests. An open bridge connects the main house with an annex that has several more guest rooms and the Upper Music Room with an impressive 1,121-pipe organ as well as other instruments. A separate hacienda accommodated still more guests when the Johnsons entertained celebrities such as Will Rogers, Betty Grable, or Norman Rockwell. Several more guest houses were planned but never built because of the Great Depression and then the death of Albert Johnson. Also left unfinished was a 270-foot swimming pool plus reflecting pools, ponds, and fountains. In the desert, water is the ultimate luxury.

Scotty’s Castle “used to be” our favorite place in the park because in the fall of 2015, it fell victim to a flash flood of Biblical proportions—about two inches of rain. The Park Service estimated that rebuilding the washedout road and removing several feet of mud, gravel, and debris from the Castle would take until 2019. During COVID, they moved that back to October of ‘21. Adjusted the reopening yet again to December of ‘22. But wait, you may have heard about the Thousand Year Flood that occurred this August. So, it’s back to square one.

But some good came from the flood of ‘15. In February of 2016, we were at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument right on the Mexican border in Arizona. Newly arrived campers said they had come from Death Valley where there was a Super Bloom of Biblical proportions. Now, Organ Pipe is in the Sonoran Desert—the Green Desert. We love the place because of the saguaro, organ pipe, and cholla cacti; shrubs such as brittlebush, ocotillo, and fairy duster; trees such as palo verde, ironwood, and mesquite; and numerous kinds of desert wildflowers and wildlife. The Super Bloom put all of this to shame they assured us and showed their phone pix. So we went.

It exceeded expectations. First, some definitions. The flood of Biblical proportions in 2015 is an allusion to the one for which Noah built his ark. Noah would have been up a creek without a paddle in Death Valley. There are no trees for ark building. And a thousand-year flood is not one that occurs every thousand years. As Blizzard Bill could tell you, it is one that has a 0.1% chance of happening in any given year. It is possible to have a thousand-year flood two years in a row. Far from likely but still mathematically possible. The 2022 floods were associated with a whole 1.46 inches of rain. (You read that right. 1.46 inches.) In the desert, there is not much soil to absorb even that amount of rain so it runs off in great destructive torrents that wash out roads, carrying automobiles with them and depositing tons of sand and gravel at inconvenient locations.

Then there is the matter of where all those flowers come from in a place that was bare rock. Desert plants have evolved a clever survival mechanism. They produce abundant quantities of seeds that can lie dormant for decades or longer. During the summer monsoon season, Death Valley sometimes gets a sprinkle that might cause you to consider turning on your windshield wipers for a couple seconds. (Assuming you were foolish enough to be there in the summer.) If billions of seeds germinated at the mere hint of moisture, they would soon shrivel and die. (I think there is some Biblical parable about seed that fell on barren ground.) So, the seeds of desert plants have a thick outer shell that delays germination until there is an ample supply of water. Then they spring up gloriously— sometimes in clumps of individual plants, sometimes in hundreds of acres. This is especially true in the case of desert gold—not the kind the 49ers were after, but the bright golden flowers of that name.

Because the past is prologue, the flash floods of 2022, experienced all over the Southwest, may produce another Super Bloom in 2023, maybe sooner and not limited to Death Valley. Those of you who visit Arizona or Las Vegas in the winter might want to monitor the news and social media and consider a little side trip. RVers can camp in the national park. Others might check out the park lodges at Stovepipe Wells or Furnace Creek or in towns outside the park. Getting there is not necessarily a walk in the park, but if there is a Super Bloom, you will be glad you made the effort.

If you need further convincing, see more photos of the Super Bloom in my post for November 24, 2017 at AnotherWalkinthePark. blogspot.com.

If you are contemplating a trip, you might want to see photos and information about numerous destinations at AnotherWalkInThePark.blogspot. com. ✲