Into The Valley Of Whatever

Just when you think you’ve finally cracked it - mastered, say, a new skill - something happens to keep you humble, to remind you that perhaps you should have read Boondocking For Absolute Morons after all, and that relying on Internet Acquired Techniques for gauging the level of propane in your tanks - involving hot water and the laying on of hands (full disclosure, there were two sets of hands participating here) -  was perhaps not the wisest move, and that unnecessary oversights can, in fact, spoil an otherwise wonderful, breathtaking and uplifting experience.

Yes, we ran out of propane during a bitterly cold night on the flanks of California’s  highest mountain.  And the fully stocked fridge, which definitely does not use propane, went out on strike in solidarity the heating system, which does. So there we were, huddled in bed with the dogs for extra warmth, like Scott of the Antarctic (or was it Shackleton?) waiting for dawn so we could saddle up and get the hell out of there.  No food for the humans other than the handful of nuts the pantry yielded, no showers of course, not even a Pits And Bits wash in the trickle of icy cold water, and worst of all, NO CAFFEINE.  Again.

We set off full of self-recriminations, cold, tired, hungry, smelly and with a massive caffeine-withdrawal headache looming for me.  Perhaps not the best frame of mind for entering Death Valley which, to be clear, was never on my bucket list.

I do not like hot weather.  It makes me anxious.  And irritable.  But “everyone” says you must see it and I figured one night at an RV park - with electricity! - at the imaginatively named hamlet of Furnace Creek mid-Fall would be okay.

I expected we would be driving into a boring flat expanse of desert with a few hills either side - it is a valley after all.  What I didn’t expect, nor was I warned about, were the perilous roads I had to navigate.  These weren’t hills, they were mountains!  Nor was it mentioned anywhere that there was more than one valley!

Before the first descent, and before I knew I had to go up the mountains in the distance.

First we went down a very narrow twisty road 4,000 ft to a boring flat bit, then we had to go up 4,000 ft and descend AGAIN to reach the next boring flat bit.  At this point I felt if there was one more mountain range I would just get out, lie down in the desert and die. Dan gamely tried to keep my spirits up by pointing out the geological marvels all around us.  Really?  He wisely gave up and we remained married.

Fully air conditioned.  We went from 38 to 88 degrees in just a couple of hours.

The RV park appeared like an oasis. There was electricity, propane tanks were refilled, the fridge crossed the picket line and lo! there was caffeine followed by food followed by gin followed by a long nap, and peace was restored to the Marital Valley.  I even ventured out of my sanctuary long enough to take a photo or two but as far as I was concerned, Death Valley was over.

Sunset from our campground - meh!

Escape From Death Valley Day dawned with relentless clear skies.  Happily we had a very comfortable night, unlike these poor buggers who slept in pup tents on dirt and gravel before getting on their bikes to go for another 70 mile ride in Death Valley.  And they paid good money to do this!  This is their idea of a holiday!  They weren’t all crazy young people - there were some crazy older ones too, one of whom we spoke to.  A lovely man from Albuquerque whose wife was off at a quilting convention, so he came to ride his bike through Death Valley.  Neither hobby appeals to me but I’d say one has a distinctly smaller chance of dying while pursuing it.  

As my friend Louise’s sister says: “What some people do for fun.”  

Getting out of Death Valley was a lot easier than getting in.  I was so relieved to be almost done with it that I agreed to stop at a supposed scenic overlook.  

Well, I’m not ashamed to admit it.  I was wrong.  Death Valley IS amazing.  Who knew?

See them?  Now watch closely as we once again scale out.

 

Sure!  Let’s go hiking through the hottest place on earth!  Hikers - marginally less crazy than cyclists?  Tough call.

Dan remembers watching a tv show as a kid, sponsored by 20 Mule Team Borax. It ran for 18 YEARS so I expect he’s not the only Boomer who remembers it.  Clint Eastwood, James Caan, Carrol O’Conner and Robert Taylor appeared in it, as did Ronald Reagan, whose next job was Governor of California.

I  can’t believe anyone could survive out here, let alone work, and do mining work at that, but they did.  For 128 years.  Poor miners and poor mules.  And it’s still sold too but thankfully no longer mined using mules.

So, yeah, maybe I’m glad we came here.  It’s good to be proven wrong.  Occasionally.