A blustery day in Death Valley

 

When we emerged from the canyon leading out from the hotsprings the parking lot was once again nearly full. Our car was still there, with everything in it, thankfully, and after we stowed our packs we drove up to Boulder City to check on the sheep. Unlike last year when they were walking down the residential street from Hemenway Park where they often gather to feed not a single sheep showed its nose, so we took a brief detour through downtown. I was pretty sure I had read that the Coffee Cup Cafe closed at two, and we were well past that by now, but just for old times sakes – and still hoping a little bit to have a bite to eat here – we checked it out anyway. No success: it was closed for the day. A warm meal would have to wait until we arrived in Beatty, NV, our destination for the night and jump-off point for Death Valley NP the next day.

We had hoped to visit the 'Sourdough Saloon' where we spent a nice evening with our German friends at our last visit seven years ago, but, sadly, the owner died and it is, at least temporarily, closed. We had a bowl of chili in the 'Happy Burro' right beside it instead and walked back to our 'Atomic Inn' where we found three 'burros' – donkeys – roaming the motel grounds. They held still when I stroked their heads and long ears, but I soon realized the reason why they were so tame: they checked out the garbage cans and pulled out what seemed interesting, serenely munching on leftover hamburgers and plastic bags alike. Sad! The burro theme can be found all over town, but you'd think something could be done to prevent these animals from ingesting all kinds of garbage.

The next morning we started the long descent to the lowest place in the US. Unlike last time we drove down into the Death Valley when whole hillsides were in bloom, it still looked pretty dead, with only here and there a dot of colour. Here, too, spring didn't seem eager to make its entry. The forecast didn't sound too promising for our intended overnight camping at one of the campgrounds either: it was supposed to get quite windy, maybe with a bit of rain (yes, in Death Valley of all places!). We were going to play it by ear. A couple of hikes would be possible for sure.

A huge cloud of dust was moving along the valley floor, propelled by already strong winds, indicating we were nearing the 'Mesquite Dunes'. We remembered sand blowing from our other visits; this likely happens very regularly. We didn't stop at the dunes, however – one of the attractions of the park – but kept going until we arrived at the turnoff to the trailhead for Mosaic Canyon. An ugly wind drove dust into our eyes, but once we had turned a few corners hiking became a lot more pleasant. The main feature of this canyon is the variety of rocks, as the name suggests, its walls changing from almost wood-textured walls to a crazy black and white zig-zag pattern and many others in between. I always love the slot canyons, and part of this hike led us through these, too. The hike ends, like so many of these (at least for the regular, not overly adventurous hiker) a at a seemingly insurmountable wall which can, however, be avoided by scrambling up a wall a bit before that.

The "Red Cathedral'

One more canyon hike was on the agenda, this one in Golden Canyon, named very appropriately for its colour. Its actually more than one shade of golden, and after every few turns it changes, the different shades beautifully set off against each other. If you don't do the loop trail that includes Gower Gulch you will eventually arrive at the 'Red Cathedral', a huge sandstone feature. It towers over you and truly feels as if you're surrounded by the walls of a cathedral. Nobody was there when we arrived; the windy conditions must have deterred most hikers.

When we returned to the parking lot we had made our decision: we would not put up our tents in the park. Under these conditions it would be anything but enjoyable. We well remember our night of hanging on to the tent poles in Patagonia many years ago, and we didn't need to repeat that. Not even sitting outside on a picnic bench would be fun. Although it was a bit of a disappointment to miss this last chance to camp for Dorothee we'd take the road south out of the Death Valley and spend the night in Pahrump.

One more stop was obligatory, however: the lowest point in the United States – or is it North America, period? - at Bad Water Point. It was on our way out of the park anyway. It's a strange feeling to think that you're about 85.5 m below sea level here: a sign high on the rocky wall across from the parking lot indicates sea level. You can walk down to Badwater Basin on salt smoothed by wind and water, almost like a runway, but we turned around after a bit: we still had about a couple of hours to go before we arrived in Pahrump, and it would likely be dark by that time. Hoping for a night in the tent we hadn't booked a hotel yet either.

The highway south, narrow and not in perfect condition, follows the contours of the mountains to the left. We encountered very little traffic, and it stayed like that for most of the way. This would have been a really interesting drive through rugged country, but it soon was too dark to appreciate that fully. We passed through Shoshone and after some time reached the outskirts of Pahrump, a much bigger city than I had expected. The change from the wilderness through which we had just passed to the bright, blinking neon lights advertising casinos and fast-food restaurants and all kinds of other businesses was overwhelming. What was really disconcerting, however, was that the hotels Johann had found in Pahrump online the night before seemed to be fully booked for the most part. It couldn't be that we'd have to spend the night in the car?! By now it was 8:30 pm, and we decided to drive towards the centre of town and see if we could find anything along the way. Suddenly a police siren sounded briefly behind us, then briefly again. 'Should I stop?', asked Dorothee, who was driving. Johann and I hadn't even realized that this could have been meant for us. 'By all means,' we advised her once we did. The young police officer who walked up to the passenger window was very friendly. 'Your back lights aren't on,' he said, 'just wanted to let you know.' Asked about a hotel nearby he suggested a casino hotel we had just passed. Asked about another one right ahead he shook his head doubtfully, suggesting it might not be what we were looking for, then he wished us safe travels and let us move on. A call to the 'Golden Nugget' he had suggested revealed that it was totally booked out, but the 'Saddle West' casino-cum-hotel where we parked turned out to have a room for us. This town was definitely not the most desirable place, and it should have been no surprise for a town this size, so close to Las Vegas, that the influence of that city was noticeable here, from the many casinos to – which we found out later – a couple of legal brothels, one of them called the 'Chicken Ranch'. For us, it didn't make a difference: the most important thing was that we had found a place to lay our heads, and the room was nice and big and clean.