Winter Camping in Death Valley National Park
Each year, I visit the Mojave Desert in late fall or early winter. My two favorite spots are the Hole in the Wall Campground in the Mojave National Preserve and Death Valley National Park,
farther to the north. I go to experience the unrivaled ecosystems and
terrain of those wild places. The winter season is a great time to visit
the desert. Crowds are small and attractions are often empty or nearly
so.
In December 2019, before most of us had ever contemplated the need to
stay at home or shelter in place, I headed alone to Death Valley. For
four nights, I planned to camp and explore some sites I had not yet
seen. This is how it transpired.
Tuesday, December 10, 2019 – The distance from Simi Valley, California to Furnace Creek Campground, Death Valley, California is 280 miles.
Departing the San Fernando Valley,
I headed up Interstate I-5 North through the Newhall Pass. From there,
I could see the historic Sylmar Cascades, which represent the terminus
of the Los Angeles Aqueduct. That system of gravity-fed trenches and
pipes transports water to Los Angeles from as far away as Mono Lake, in
the eastern Sierra Nevada.
On its final leg, powerful pumps raise the water, thus allowing it to
take a final plunge down a concrete aeration channel and into the Van
Norman Reservoir. From the high country near Mono Lake to Los Angeles,
most of Eastern California consists of a parched and thirsty desert.
It took just over five hours for me to reach my destination. In that
280-mile stretch, I crossed the San Andreas, Garlock, Searles Valley
and Panamint Valley Fault Zones. In July 2019 alone, the Searles Valley
and nearby Ridgecrest, California experienced more than 80,000 earthquakes,
including a 6.4 magnitude quake on July 6 of that year. On December
16, 2019, just a few days after my return, Ridgecrest registered a 3.5
magnitude aftershock.
Along
my way, I passed through the high desert community of Mojave. Over the
past sixty years, I have traveled this route many times. On this trip, I
reminisced about how the vast territory from Mojave, to Ridgecrest was
once an almost uninterrupted stretch of desert. In the past decade,
much of that formerly untrammeled desert has given way to thousands of
acres of passive solar panels. The Los Angeles Department of Water
& Power (DWP) owns many of these "solar farms".
In the early 20th century, Los Angeles notoriously bought up the water
rights in and around the Owens Valley, north of Ridgecrest. More
recently, Los Angeles has given up much of its water rights, but has
quietly industrialized
huge swaths of the Mojave Desert. These so-called “green energy”
projects have disturbed more desert tortoise habitat and denuded more
desert greenery than the L.A. Aqueduct ever did.
With
Death Valley as my destination, I had a choice of routes. On one hand, I
could continue on California Highway 14 (“The Aerospace Highway”).
Farther north, that highway becomes U.S. Highway 395. At Olancha
(population 39), I could then turn east toward Death Valley. Instead, I
elected to travel the more scenic route through Garlock, Searles
Valley and the Panamint Valley.
The word “scenic” is wholly inadequate to describe that area. “Surreal”
better describes the vistas and terrain. Traveling so quickly from the
crowded confines of the San Fernando Valley to the vast emptiness of
the Panamint Valley feels like going back a billion years in time. Near
Panamint Springs, I turned east on California Route 190 and soon surmounted Towne Pass.
While
descending the long grade into Stovepipe Wells, a McLaren, a Bentley,
two Ferraris and a Lamborghini passed me at speed. The designers at the
great automotive houses of Europe never anticipated the whoopdeedoos
on Highway 190. After dipping into each swale, the exotic sports cars
bottomed-out, with sparks flying. Watching them fly off each successive
alluvial hump was dramatic, to say the least.
Once I arrived at the Furnace Creek Campground, it felt like I was at
home. In the past three years, I have camped there four or five times,
so it has the feel of a local neighborhood. Two nights of dry camping on
an asphalt pad, then two nights in a full RV hookup (water, power, and
sewer) would make for a unique experience. For my first two days and
nights, I had to live by my wits, my solar panels and my portable
inverter/generator. Nights were cold and my house batteries ran low. I
turned off the furnace (at Furnace Creek) and stayed warm in bed by
wearing high tech base-layer garments and sheltering under three
blankets.
Wednesday,
December 11, 2019 – At Furnace Creek, the mobile phone and data
coverage is surprisingly good. A mile away, there might be no signal at
all. After staying up late watching YouTube, the quiet of Death Valley
(and some earplugs) allowed me to sleep uninterrupted for hours. When I
awoke, was it nine o’clock or ten o’clock? I do not know. Coffee and a
banana helped ease my transition back into terrestrial life.
As noon approached, the sun warmed my coach and the solar panels
recharged my house batteries. Soon, I was charging up my phone,
earbuds, Bluetooth speaker and camera, all with the batteries and
inverter circuit in my coach. As the sun rose further, I had a steady
flow of “solar-power in” and an abundance of “electricity-out”.
In California, December daylight hours are short. From Furnace Creek,
the sun appears to set behind the towering Panamint Range by 4:15 PM.
Following that, is a long twilight, as the sun still shines up into the
limitless sky, but not down on Death Valley. One way to avoid such an
early sunset is to visit Zabriskie Point,
which is on the east rim of Death Valley. From there, you can watch
the sun set behind Telescope Peak. If you do, you will experience a
phenomenon like no other. As the sun sets, Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity comes into play.
As
with Einstein’s faraway planet, which bends the light from a solar
eclipse, the clouds above the Panamint Range bend the light down to
each of us who are waiting in the plaza that sits atop Zabriskie Point.
There is a redemptive quality to the experience. When the sun hits the
perceived horizon, it does not set, but instead creates a parabolic
bend of light. The delay of sunset creates a pause in time, which lasts
for several minutes. Most days, it is impossible to tell exactly when
the sun passes behind the ridge at Telescope Peak.
That concluded “day two” of my visit. At the time, I was still living
off frozen food, well packed and enjoyed. It was a few degrees warmer
that night, so adjusting blankets and then, turning off the furnace (at
Furnace Creek) now made sense. Can you imagine the first Anglo
emigrants, spending almost two years, marooned at Furnace Creek? That
was 1849, ninety-nine years before my birth.
Their
forced stay was the ultimate in unexpected self-isolation. It was
freezing cold on winter nights and baking hot on summer days. In
addition, the ragtag group enjoyed no contact at all with the outside
world. As time passed, their situation became more desperate. A full
winter and a full summer in the hottest and one of the driest places on
Earth took its emotional toll.
Realizing their plight, the scraggly emigrants sent two riders all the way to San Fernando Mission, near Los Angeles.
Local ranchers took pity on the riders, giving them three horses and a
one-eyed mule to transport supplies back to those who remained at
Furnace Creek. Retracing their steps along dry washes and old Indian
trails, the rescue party rode one horse to death and abandoned the two
others. Upon arrival back in Death Valley, they found only two
families, with children had awaited their return. All the other
emigrants had departed, trying to find their own way back to
civilization. It is unknown how many survived and how many succumbed to
the elements in Death Valley and beyond.
After
scraping together what remained of their belongings, the hapless but
grateful families boarded their remaining wagons. From there, they faced
an arduous 23-day trip across the Mojave Desert. Upon completion of
their 250-mile trip to the Santa Clarita Valley, there were no parades
or celebrations; only the relief of having survived. Just two years
earlier, during the winter of 1846-47, the ill-fated Donner Party,
trapped by heavy snow in the nearby Sierra Nevada resorted to
cannibalism to survive. Of the Death Valley ‘49ers, only one man is
known to have lost his life during their ordeal.
Thursday, December 12, 2019 – On the morning of “day three”, I moved my
coach to a “full hookup” site at the campground. The Death Valley
‘49ers, 170 years earlier knew nothing of running water, electrical
power, wireless data or propane gas. Using those technologies, I
resumed access to all the comforts of contemporary life.
Ubehebe Crater.
Actually, there are two craters at the site, but the smaller one gets
no credit. Visiting that place is enough to give you the Ubehebes.
It is the second youngest documented site of a major volcanic explosion
in California. Although Ubehebe Crater erupted prior to European or
American exploration of the area, only the massive eruption of Lassen
Peak in the early 20th century was more recent. Ubehebe is
approximately 2,000 years old, or so they say. It is a strange site to
see, in that its volcanic ash exploded up through ancient seabed
sediments. Although it issued forth around the time of Yeshua, it still
looks fresh today. If you like your volcanic explosion sites low-risk,
this one is relatively safe. If it only explodes every several thousand
years, what were the odds that it would explode on the day of my
visit?
On the way to the crater complex, I passed the turnoff to Scotty’s Castle,
a remote desert mansion built in the Spanish Revival and Mediterranean
Revival style. Completed in the early 1930s, the property was the
ultimate self-isolation hideaway. Despite its name, Chicago
industrialist Albert Mussey Johnson had it built as a getaway for him
and his wife. During Mussey’s long absences, front man Walter Scott,
known as “Death Valley Scotty” maintained and presided over the castle.
In 2015, the buildings and grounds at Scotty’s Castle experienced severe
damage from thunderstorms and flash flooding. Since then, there has
been a massive effort by the National Park Service to create new flood
control channels and repair damage to the buildings. The road and
buildings that comprise Scotty’s Castle will not reopen until at least
the fall of 2021.
As
I mentioned before, mobile telephone coverage in Death Valley National
Park is limited mainly to the Furnace Creek complex. Yet, for reasons
unknown, as I passed the entrance road to Scotty’s Castle, I received a
call on my mobile telephone. It was a jarring phone message telling me
that the IRS was after me for non-payments. Even though I knew that
the IRS does not call you to request anything, it induced a brief
feeling of panic in me. Then I hung up the phone and ignored what
seemed to be a fraud call.
Upon my return, I visited the new “Ranch at Furnace Creek”. After
purchasing some expensive diesel fuel for my truck, I headed out for
nearby Salt Creek, which features habitat for the rare Desert Pupfish.
That afternoon, there were no visible pupfish and no crowds. In fact, I
was the only person at the trailhead.
Solitude is the major theme there in December. Unless a U.S. Navy 
jet
is thundering across the Panamint Valley or a Harley Davidson is on a
nearby highway, the loudest sound you will hear is the ringing in your
ears. If you do not think your ears ring, come here to Death Valley.
You may experience silence for the first time in your life. There are
no lawn mowers or leaf blowers here. If you are lucky, you may hear the
rustle of a desert breeze.
Friday, December 13, 2019 – It was another day in Paradise, as we like to say in Death Valley. The local motto is, “Death Valley - See it BEFORE you die”.
There was not much on my agenda for my fourth day. I could zoom down the
road to Badwater (elevation 280 feet below sea level) and see all the
sites, or I could enjoy midday in the comfort of my coach. Before 2 PM,
I headed out to 
the Harmony Borax Works,
only a few miles away. Most 19th Century mines or chemical production
facilities in the West lasted only a few years. Towns like nearby
Rhyolite emerged, produced ore and faced abandonment, all within a
decade.
After the discovery of borax ore closer to the railroad at Mojave, the
Harmony works closed down in 1888. For its brief productive era, a
team of twenty mules pulled the semi-refined ore across the desert to
Mojave. In the 1960s, none other than future U.S. President Ronald Reagan
hosted a quasi-documentary television show titled Death Valley Days.
The prime advertiser on that show was "20 Mule Team Borax". The main
attractions at the old Harmony Borax Works are two original Borax wagons
and a matching water-tender. With the arid desert to preserve it, this 
original rig looked ready for twenty mules to hook up and pull the wagons across the desert.
Leaving the defined pathway at the Borax Works, I ascended a draw and
hiked among hillocks of soft sediment. The sandy soil had a crust of
clinkers and small rocks, distributed randomly. Likely, they had rained
down from various prehistoric volcanic blasts. From the crest of a
final hill, I could see the heart of Death Valley. Within my field of
vision, there were no roads, buildings or other human made objects.
Other than my sandals scraping along the rocks, there were no sounds. I
felt like Yeshua, mounting a hill and beholding the Sea of Galilee.
Saturday, December 14, 2019 – Before noon, I departed Death Valley,
heading for home, 280 miles away. In four short days, what did I learn
there? I learned 
that
if you feel compressed (or depressed) by the conditions of your human
life… the ticking clock, unwanted crowds or the snarl of traffic, then
come to Death Valley in December. You might find peace and quiet here.
My visit offered me a time and place to rest, rejuvenates and prepare
for the unknown events of the coming New Year, 2020.
By James McGillis at 03:54 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link
