Dante's View Rim Hike

This is what we came home to: a landscape that had been preparing for spring and was thrown right back into winter. During the twelve days of our absence most of the snow had melted, but the snowfall warning for Friday night and Saturday didn't come in vain; almost twenty centimetres of soft snow cover fields and even gravel roads again. It is hard to imagine that, a mere week ago today, we sought the higher elevations in Death Valley National Park to escape the intense heat of the valley. Yet this is exactly what we did, following the good advice of the ranger. 

Dante’s View is the highest and most spectacular viewpoint in the park. It took us about half an hour to get there from our camp spot, first following the highway towards the eastern park exit, then turning off onto a much narrower road that slowly wound its way up the mountain. In the valley – below sea level for a good part of the time, though we hadn’t been to the lowest point yet – the temperature was again 33 degrees when we left shortly before noon, and I anxiously watched the car thermometer. Would the elevation gain really make such a difference? I knew I would not do well hiking if it stayed so hot. At first, the change happened very slowly, and by the time we reached the side road we had lost maybe five degrees Fahrenheit. We came to a point where trailers have to be parked in order to continue, later to another parking spot for vehicles longer than 25 feet (7.5m), since they cannot travel the narrow, winding upper part of the road. By now the temperature had dropped back into the lower eighties, and up at the parking lot it was a pleasant 23 degrees Celsius, a light breeze making it perfect for hiking. 

Even from here the view is amazing. At 1669m we had gained around 1800m in elevation. Badwater Basin was spread out below, the thin line of the highway so far away. It’s a strange thought that all this was covered in water during the last ice age 10,000 years ago when a huge inland lake formed with the meltwater. 200m deep was the lake, surrounded by mountains just like now. How often and how dramatically has the face of this landscape changed over the millions – billions! – of years.

We changed from sandals into socks and hiking boots – not quite as reluctantly as we did hiking further down in the canyons where it is hot -, stuffed water and a few snacks in the daypack and tackled the first steep part of the trail, about half a mile away: Dante’s View proper. A surveyors’ plaque indicated the exact spot. 

Although the parking lot was far from empty not many hikers had gone up even this far. According to the description of the trail the marked trail ended here, and the last 3.5 miles (5.6 km) would be ‘without a trail’. Since it was a rim walk there could be little doubt regarding the right way, of course. When we looked over into the direction we were going to take, however, we found that the path lay clear and well recognizable before us, no different from the half mile we had come already. It was 12:30 when we started out, and we had little hope to reach Mount Perry, the peak at the end of the rim walk. We needed to leave enough time to be back in good time before it got dark and decided we’d hike until four, take a break and then turn around. With scenery this grandiose it doesn't matter if one makes it all the way to the top or has half an hour to spare; just walking in these surroundings is reward enough.

We climbed a bit higher from Dante’s View before the trail turned steeply down for its first descent. We knew from the description that it would be a hike with many ups and downs, following the contours of the rim that lay ahead, always with the view of Mount Perry in the distance. To our left we had glimpses of Badwater Basin, to the right stretched another plain with mountains on the eastern horizon, at least one of them with a snowy crown.

The steepest parts were slippery, and every once in a while we skidded down a bit on the scree. A hiking stick would have been helpful in these areas, but in general the trail was not difficult to negotiate. Small cushions of delicate purple flowers, budding, partly blooming creosote bushes added colour, and as usual lizards crossed our trail from time to time. Still no snake, but while I would have liked to see one I much preferred for that to happen from a distance. I caught a brief movement from the corner of my eye, otherwise I would have missed seeing one of the amazing creatures of this desert. A broad, short lizard with a flat body and short tail sat very still, its brown and beige patterned body so well camouflaged that it seemed to be a part of the rocky landscape. I stepped a bit closer, and it lifted its head to check me out. The body almost reminded me of a toad, except that it had a fringe of spikes down its length, and the head, short-nosed and as stubby as the rest of the animal, had a couple of longer spikes. When I looked it up later I found that it was a southern desert horned lizard, sometimes falsely called horned toad – it is by no means a toad. They prey on ants, grasshoppers and other insects. 

 

The steep descent was followed by a climb, and so it went on. For a while each rise was lower than the one we had just come from, which promised hard work on the way back. We didn’t turn around much, however; there was enough to see ahead, and if we stuck to our plan to turn around at four it would be manageable. For the most part the path was quite narrow but clearly visible, although we had to pay attention where we put our feet. Sometimes the wind came in gusts up the hillside, blowing dust into our eyes and whipping my hair into my eyes, but then we turned a corner and it would be perfectly still. In one such place a dramatic display of crimson greeted the eye: desert Indian paintbrush, not so different from the ones we find on roadsides and in forests not so far from here, only shorter and only in this particular colour.

  

We had walked for about an hour when the rocks became bigger and the path was difficult to see. At one point we had lost it altogether and tried to find the easiest way through this jumble of rocks. Looking around we found little piles of rocks on bigger boulders: other hikers had marked the easiest route, and if we looked up and scanned the rocky hillside it was quite easy to manoeuvre. Actually it was fun to pick our way through: it required paying close attention so that I didn’t even notice that we were climbing again. On a long sweep of hill we encountered a young family: two kids aged eight and five with their parents; the father carried the youngest sibling who was only two. They had turned around about a mile before the end, they said, to make the way back as enjoyable as the way there for the kids. They didn’t seem affected at all by the long walk. What a great experience at such a young age, and what a sense of accomplishment and confidence it will instill in them.

It was nearing four o’clock, and we had reached another steep climb. A little higher up we could see bigger boulders. We knew we would have to turn around soon and looked for a nice place to sit and enjoy the great view. A group of rocks provided both a flat surface to sit on and some protection from the wind, both much appreciated. Restored by the rest, plus some crackers and an orange we started the long trek back. 

As suspected it was more strenuous than the way there since there were more uphill sections now, but we took our time and enjoyed the walk with its wonderful vistas and the feeling of solitude. Slowly the sun slipped lower. We would be back at the parking lot in time for the sunset. 

Two men overtook us. They, too, hadn't made it all the way up to Mount Perry, but like us they didn't mind. We watched them getting smaller and smaller on the last steep hill, and when we couldn't see them anymore we knew they had reached Dante's View again. Soon we would, too. 

Cars kept arriving in the parking lot: people come here for spectacular sunsets and sunrises. We, too, stayed the few minutes until the sun disappeared behind the row of hills in the west. By now it was so cool that I was glad to sit in the car while we waited. 

Just like on the way up the temperature was slow to change at first on the way down. At first it seemed as if it would stay below twenty degrees - hard to imagine after the night before when the temperature likely hadn't dropped much below 25 degrees Celsius. And of course it got warm and warmer: by the time we had reached our campground (Texas Spring for this night, since Furnace Creek was completely booked out now) it was back up to thirty degrees.

What an awesome place! By now we were completely reconciled with it, and I am so glad we did not follow our first hunch to drive straight through!