Death Valley, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks – July 2007

Death Valley, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks:
After three weeks with Aaron in Venice Beach, we decided to rent a car to explore California. We didn’t have enough time to tour the state by bike, but we definitely didn’t want to miss out on California, either. So we compromised with a car rental, and found an unbeatable deal on the Internet.

Our first stop out of L.A. was Death Valley, a seven-hour, 300-mile car drive northeast of the city. As the drivers in L.A. were among the most inconsiderate and rude I’d come across, I was happy when the congestion and skyscrapers turned to sandy hillsides, not unlike those we had seen in Malibu. We were nearing the desert.

We passed tiny villages, army and navy bases, and got our first glimpse of the famous Joshua trees. The sandy color of the desert was accented by violet, blue, green, and sand-colored mountains. Mini dust storms blew across the road. Consecutive signs on the highway read: “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain” and there was one for each of the Ten Commandments. In the middle of absolutely nowhere were signs that read: “Desert Marine” and “Death Valley Yacht Club!” Where they sailed their ships, the Lord only knew. We came to within seven miles of the Nevada state border and passed those that were heading to Vegas, including a van whose soapy signs read: “Marrying in Las Vegas.”

We drove as far as the edge of the Mohave Desert and then headed north on windy Rte. 127 towards Death Valley Junction, which boasted only a dilapidated, shut-down hotel, one phone booth, and the vacant Amargosa Opera House. We ascended a narrow road to Dante’s View to see the glowing sun descend in a ball of fire behind the mountains. We pitched our tent at the overlook for the night, worrying that we would be blown away by the ferocious wind. The enormous bright light on the horizon didn’t let us forget that the fun and excitement of Sin City was only 80 miles away. But the silence and isolation of our cliff overlooking Badwater, the Salt Flats, and the Devil’s Golfcourse was a different world. Apart from the wind, not a single sound could be heard.

The Death Valley is supposed to be the hottest place on earth, with summertime temperatures regularly hovering in the 120s, and it certainly didn’t disappoint. I thought I was going to be knocked over by the wall of heat and fiery gusts of wind. The heat made the blue sky and pastel mountains appear hazy. The sunbaked desert floor, almost deserted roadways, and open spaces that seemed to reach into infinity made the desert landscape seem barren, lifeless, and unforgiving with its hellish heat that defied the limits of human endurance.

Upon closer inspection, however, the desert was a bit livelier than upon first glance. The colorful, wave-like mountains at Zabrinskie Point were fabulous in their shades of mauve, violet, pastel blue, and mint green. The sand dunes danced in the wind, and the boulders and mosaics of marbled canyons were magnificent. Kangaroo rats scurried across the road and we even passed an oasis with several dozen palm trees. An old rail train, a general store, and a few houses and a ranch greeted us in the town of Furnace Creek (can you believe people actually LIVE in the Death Valley?!). We drove through the mountains on an unpaved, narrow winding road, passing ghost towns, abandoned mines, and places with telling names, such as Hell’s Gate, Deadman Pass, Devil’s Cornfield, Stovepipe Wells Villages, Last Chance Mountain, and also Rainbow Canyon and Artists’ Palette.

I was only too happy to get out of that hellish – if beautiful – land that threatened to consume us with its heat. We drove through the desert, past the large China Lake Naval Weapons Center, and on to Lake Isabella, watching the landscape change as Joshua trees turned into scrub bushes, which in turn transformed into forest and back again into desert before reaching the welcoming, blue lake. Jet-skis, boats, and water-skiiers skimmed over her surface.

Dusk was descending upon us as we followed a small, shallow river with clear water as it snaked its way through sand-colored hills cloaked in bushes and pines. We had reached the Sequoia National Forest, where we camped on a cliffside overlooking the river and awoke the next morning to celebrate our sixth anniversary. We were on the southern edge of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, which climb quite high in altitude. The fresh air of the forest and river was a welcome change from the Death Valley’s hostile and punishing environment. The drive was highly scenic, but it twisted and turned so sharply and so incessantly that I became car sick!

The drive through Sequoia National Park was awesome! The park has the world’s largest groves of sequoias and also the largest individual sequoias, which are the largest trees on earth in terms of volume and which grow naturally only on the western slope of the Sierra Nevadas. We drove through the Tunnel Log and walked amongst the beautiful red forests and then continued on to Kings Canyon National Park, which is adjacent to Sequoia National Park. Kings Canyon was stunning. The mountains, the canyons, the river coursed by rapids – words can’t possibly do it justice.

We had heard a lot about brown bears in the area, and I was very nervous, so we opted to stay at a campground with Bear Bins instead of by our car alongside the road. By federal law, we had to store food properly or risk being fined or imprisoned. This was because if a bear ate human food and became dangerous to humans, it would be killed, and you would be deemed responsible for killing a bear.

The bear bins were large, metal lockers that bears are unable to open. Inside of them, we had to put all food and drinks (even sealed), all empty food containers, trash, toiletries, toothpaste, soap, etc., ie. everything that has an odor. There had been bears spotted in the campground the week before, and I was so paranoid that even after we meticulously did all of that, I still couldn’t sleep. I lay awake all night long. Every sound made me jump.