Arriving in Death Valley

Kingman, AZ

We have landed in another railway-dominated town for the next-to-last night of our time in the Southwest. Every few minutes freight trains rumble by on the tracks behind the motel. Route 66, on the other hand, which runs on the other side of the motel, is quiet at this time of evening. 

I am still filled with today's adventure, the great hike that led us through Whitewater Canyon down to the Colorado and to the Arizona Hotsprings just south of the Hoover Dam, but I better turn my thoughts toward Death Valley again before it fades too much. 

When we left Barstow I wondered if we would find Death Valley as desolate as it sounded. Coming closer it didn't seem like it at all: the desert had erupted in bloom, and even driving along the highway the different shades of yellow brightened an otherwise somewhat bleak countryside. The higher we climbed the more dense the cover became until a sea of gold stretched down the hillsides as far as the eye could see.

At about noon we entered Death Valley National Park coming from Trona on SR 178. We turned onto SR 190 just east of Panamint Springs and kept climbing for a bit longer until, finally, the road dipped towards the valley that contains the lowest point on this continent.

Although we had driven inside of the national park for quite a while now we still hadn't found an official park entry. This meant we had no good information regarding campgrounds, a bit worrisome when we read in the Lonely Planet that campgrounds at this time of year can be booked out by mid-morning. Also, we didn't want to have to drive through half of the huge park only to find out that we should have been checking for a campground at the west end somewhere. Soon we passed the first campground. We were shocked: it seemed to consist of only rocks and a few low shrubs, tents dotting the landscape without any shelter from the heat. With a sleeping pad that had started to leak air in the course of the night I didn't look forward to sleeping on such a rocky surface. Finally we saw a sign for a visitor information, just beyond Stovepipe Wells Village, the oldest resort in Death Valley National Park. No luck, however: it was closed. For information and to pay the park entrance fee visitors were asked to go on to Furnace Creek visitor centre. This was another twenty minutes away. The next campground, Stovepipe Wells, appeared only slightly more inviting than Emigrant. We looked at each other: maybe we would wish ourselves back to Joshua Tree, asking whatever might have made us drive to this inhospitable place. But if we really didn't like it we could always just keep going, right? It was early in the day, and nobody would make us stay if we didn't want to.

Yet the landscape, as forbidding as it was, had its own formidable beauty. The mountains were still partly covered in snow at the top on the south side of the valley, even though the car thermometer kept creeping up towards ninety degrees Fahrenheit down here at the valley floor. We passed wind-sculpted sand dunes fringed with hardy mesquite bushes, a field of sand with arrowweed bushes sticking up like stooks in a harvested field of yesteryear: 'Devil's Cornfield', a sign informed us. In a sweeping arch the road curved to the right, and suddenly a wide swath of lush green greeted the eye: we were approaching Furnace Creek. Already we were starting to be reconciled with this place. Maybe not all the campgrounds were rocky and bare after all.

The ranger at the visitor centre advised us to first try our luck at Texas Spring campground, just half a mile or so south of Furnace Creek. Here, it wasn't as protected as at Furnace Creek. A few low trees provided some shelter from the heat along the perimeter, but all the nicer spots had been taken already. We decided to go back to Furnace Creek and first try our luck there. Furnace Creek is the only of the park's campgrounds that takes reservations, and it can be booked up to six months in advance. Yet we were incredibly lucky: not only was there a spot available for us, it was also one of the nicest in the whole campground. The ground was sandy, without rocks, and trees would provide nice shade. All camping spots in the park have picnic tables and fire grates, though with temperatures that stayed around twenty-five degrees through the night a fire would not really be necessary.

In the evening a ranger talk was offered at the visitor centre, titled 'Boom and Bust in Death Valley'. Unlike in Joshua Tree NP ranger programs are limited to the second half of the week, Thursday to Sunday, because they lack the staff to offer more. This would be our only chance to listen to one in Death Valley, then, and we decided to attend.