Trading in the old goats for a new one, maybe I should have checked that it was a female?
Dyed and Spun
Through all the work, travels, entertaining her mom, and occasionally me, Caroline still finds time to spin roving into yarn. This bobbin of yarn is at the moment a single-ply that at some point will likely be spun together with a like-colored bobbin of yarn to make a stronger two-ply yarn. And then from there, it will be knitted into an article of clothing, or maybe a purse.
Out Of The Frying Pan
This wasn’t our first time soaking in the hot spring waters that emerge out of Death Valley and spill into this pool near Shoshone Inn where we were staying, but the other night under the stars, it was impossible to take photos as it was so dark and it was too cold to even consider it. Jutta was a bit apprehensive to get out of the warm car after we changed into swimsuits that night and bristled at the idea that she was going to get in a pool when it was nearly freezing outside, but as we scurried through the gate and moved fast to immerse ourselves, a sigh of relief and awe went up from the three of us, luxury.
While we weren’t staying at the swanky accommodations found at The Inn at Death Valley, we had the indulgence of these incredibly cozy, beautifully warm waters all to ourselves.
After a hot breakfast at the Crowbar Cafe with Jutta furthering the indulgence to the start of the day by having strawberry-covered pancakes, we were once again on the road and before long were crossing into Nevada to visit a place that was on Caroline’s and my bucket list.
One doesn’t drive through a yucca forest and simply admire them, one gets out of their car and communes with them.
While visiting snowcapped mountains wasn’t on the itinerary, how could we leave somewhere as extreme as Death Valley and not contrast it with images of the winter Jutta was missing by being in America with us?
We are up in the Mt. Charleston area just outside of Las Vegas, Nevada.
Of course, we got Jutta to fall back into the snow to make snow angels with her daughter. How often are you going to convince a lady near her mid-70s to do something so silly? Just five years ago, we had Jutta out in New Mexico making sand angels; click here to check out that day.
Mt. Charleston on a perfect day.
Speaking of contrasts, here we are at the item I mentioned from our bucket list, and the last reason for us to ever visit Las Vegas again is the Liberace Museum.
Update: on October 17, 2010, the Liberace Museum closed and never reopened.
Jutta had no idea who this guy Liberace was and Caroline only knew due to her time here in the States and learning about all the cornball stuff we’ve fetishized.
Well, now we’ve been here and done that: so long, Las Vegas, we may never see you again…at least until the next time.
If you were to look back at last year’s visit to the Hoover Dam when we stopped on our way to Death Valley, you might think these were the same photos. It’ll be another month before we travel with Jutta again, which is relatively extraordinary, but we have invited her to stay 83 days with us, with most of our focus on her experiencing what our normal day-to-day kind of life is like. She arrived back on January 23rd and will be leaving on April 15 if I can handle hanging out with my mother-in-law that long.
Dante’s View as Overlook of Death
Started the day thinking we would drive out to Racetrack Playa with our puny two-wheel-drive sedan – wrong. When the sign says recommended for high clearance vehicles, well, at least here in Death Valley, they mean it. One of these days, we’ll see those mysterious sliding rocks.
Now, with about 8 hours to play with as the Playa is off the itinerary, we’ll have to satisfy ourselves with other sites. Flowers are a nice start.
And more flowers.
We are often asked, “What’s to do in Death Valley?” If layers of multi-hued rocks, sand, salt flats, grand vistas, the occasional wild animal, extremes, hanging out below sea level, views of things you’ve never seen with your own eyes, and the stinkiest toilets in Southern California (at Bad Water, especially when in Summer) are of no interest to you and your experiences, you might hate being in Death Valley. But, if you are intrigued by things never seen, smelled, or felt by your senses, then this place will have things in abundance for you.
The next stop was Dante’s View, one of the more famous overlooks of Death Valley and the salt bed below. A few years ago, a flood of near biblical proportions inundated this National Park. Had we been here those days, we would have been looking out at a very temporary lake that, in places, was two feet deep. Some people canoed across the basin, likely the only time in their lives they would have that opportunity.
In the month that followed the most intense wildflower explosion occurred, which we did not learn of until the tail end of the phenomenon and sadly missed it. Now we’re stuck with this dried-out salty white view of a lonely desert. Oh, well, at least there are these human ornaments enhancing the view.
Maybe it’s the psychedelic attraction at work here, as images such as these trigger memories from long ago.
Like us, Jutta never tires of seeing these sights as we try to cement impressions deep into our histories.
Yesterday, I wrote about Bennetts Long Camp and the naming of this desert valley to reflect what it did to some of those who passed through over 150 years ago; here’s another sign identifying their way into death.
I don’t believe I knew prior to today and our walk on this trail that there were water-carved slot canyons here.
So, just how did this aggregate fill what appears to have been a burrow that seems to have been dug into accumulating layers of sedimentary sand well before it turned to rock? Was this once a home for a creature long ago?
One day, we’ll need to carry a book about the geological history of this region with us so we might better understand precisely what’s been going on here across time.
Into the sand dunes because nobody can ever experience too many environments in a single day.
We didn’t make it out to those dunes, but maybe someday.
While I didn’t share a photo, as I’m already posting so many here today, I’d taken images of the fading stars as we entered the park along with the first glimmers of sunrise, but this moonrise couldn’t be ignored.
A good macro lens would have come in handy in photographing these fine examples of salt crystals branching off like fibers reaching for the sunlight.
As above, so below.
Happy mom and fortunate daughter after another tremendous day experiencing the extraordinary.
Death Valley Signs of Life
Not much death happening around here at this corner of Death Valley.
Just a bunch of life from what we can see. This is the Devil’s Cornfield, made up of clumps of soil weathered by aeolian winds with arrow weeds growing atop of them. What are Aeolian winds? From Wikipedia, I quote: “Aeolian processes, also spelled eolian, pertain to wind activity in the study of geology and weather and specifically to the wind’s ability to shape the surface of the Earth (or other planets). Winds may erode, transport, and deposit materials and are effective agents in regions with sparse vegetation, a lack of soil moisture, and a large supply of unconsolidated sediments. Although water is a much more powerful eroding force than wind, aeolian processes are important in arid environments such as deserts.”
Proof that water can run pretty deep here when it does rain, or how does one explain this phenomenon?
Living in Arizona, we have come to not see names of places as literals, such as Bloody Basin, which is not full of blood, and Big Bug Creek, well, maybe the big bugs are now extinct. So when you see Salt Creek on the map in Death Valley and everything tells you that this dryest of dry places is tough on life, who would ever expect to find Salt Creek flowing with water supporting a small marsh? Salt Creek turns out to be the remnant of Lake Manly, which 12,000 years ago during the Holocene was still a real lake before the area turned to desert. Amazingly, underneath all of this scorching desert lies one of the world’s largest aquifers, the legacy of Lake Manly. At Badwater Basin, one can see signs of the aquifer in the small areas covered by a thin layer of water.
Not far from the Devil’s Cornfield, we are now visiting the Devils Golf Course.
I’d venture that these are the petrified waveforms that froze in time back when the devil was playing golf and listening to whatever kind of music a devil listens to, probably AC/DC.
How lucky we are that on this particular weekend in this most inhospitable of landscapes known as Death Valley, we would find wildflowers in bloom.
Sand, flowers, rocks, satan, and snow.
There seems to be more water flowing here in Death Valley than one would imagine.
After taking a wrong turn here at the Bennetts Long Campsite many years ago, a group of people heading for California’s gold rush area was effectively trapped due to lack of water and navigating skills. While a person did walk about 250 miles looking for help, some of the party died here, hence the naming of the place that would become known as Death Valley.
We explored a side canyon with a name that has been lost in time.
Update: In 2023, we took a hike up Golden Canyon, this is that canyon.
Does my wife have bird-like features, or is it just the weird camera angle?
The sun is getting low, and soon, we’ll be overtaken by hunger. Better head for the exit.
Tomorrow, we will take in the view from above.
Driving to Death
Some people dream of one day visiting the Great Pyramids in Egypt, others look to ancient Greece and the Acropolis in Athens, but for my mother-in-law, that mythical place her imagination dreamt of visiting one day that felt a million miles away was Death Valley National Park in California, and here she is returning for yet another visit. Nothing seemed more exotic to her than the images conjured up by a place so hostile it is called “Death” Valley. After all, the Sahara may have you thinking giant African desert, but it doesn’t sound horribly foreboding, or the Gobi Desert, you might as well add an extra “s” to desert, and you’d have what sounds like a yummy treat, the gobi dessert. But DEATH Valley, that is something to be reckoned with. So off we go, driving west, driving to DEATH!