Death Valley

Furnace Creek is 25 miles from the ranger station in Death valley at Stovepipe wells, the drive from there to the resort is over slightly descending desert terrain until you pass the lowest altitude marker.

Just after the ranger station a turn out is situated adjacent to some rolling sand dunes which seem anachronistic in the surrounding plains of arid rock and bake hardened surfaces. A sign further on shows the way to Scottys Castle, a gold prospectors folly, a ranch, styled on a medieval castle in a pseudo Mediterranean kind of way.

We ignore both these tempting scenic offers and press on in the heat towards our goal, it is 16:00 by the time we check in at the Ranch and in our minds we can hear the Honda wheezing.

This resort is a series of low lying two storey terraced villas, the registration office is air conditioned, but this does not preclude the three harried registration staff sweating and appearing flustered. As I wait in line a bead of sweat slowly runs down the sideburn of the largest of the group as he wrestles with a credit card imprint machine.

The matriarch of the bunch, Lisa, calls us over and asks if we've had a nice day and where we've come from, 'Yosemite' I reply, 'Oh, well thats a fair way, at least the Tioga pass opened for you' she says taking an imprint of our card and handing over the two room keys.

There then follows an explanation of the facilities; Museum, Restaurants, bars, Golf course, Pony riding, Solar electrical array etc before we are allowed to escape the cool confines of the office and proceed to our ground floor room.

We park the car close to the accommodation under a tree, whose shadow has long since moved away from the parking area and take the hand luggage the short distance to the room. The heat is dry and oppressive, reflecting intensely from any hard surface.

The resort sits in an irrigated oasis and the soft grassed areas around the villas moderate the reflected heat. A small patio area at the rear of our villa will allow us to sit outside, we don't.

A large fan in the centre of the rooms ceiling stirs the air continually, this is welcome but more welcome is the thrum and wheezing of a large air conditioning unit integrated into the wall and set at 72 degrees Fahrenheit.

David returns to the car for the suitcases, our villa is a little more insulated from the extreme temperatures of the day due to a cooled corridor entrance hallway which its front door connects to along with others in the block, an Ice machine and drinks machine sit in an alcove near the entrance.

We don our swim shorts, grab a towel each and decide to walk up to the store for some cold cans and check out the restaurants, on the way back I stop by the museum to take some photos, David who has returned to the villa to stash the cans in the refrigerator meets me there.

We continue our walk in the baking dry heat to the spring fed swimming pool in which a fair number of people are swimming or resting on loungers.

Selecting two loungers in the shade, I jump into the pool, it feels like entering a hot bath, David tests the water before entering not believing the water is warm.

After a short swim, I haul myself from the soporific water and collapse on one of the shaded loungers, the wind burns over me as it crosses the baking concrete, even in the shade the temperature is uncomfortably hot.

We return to the villa and elect to forgo an evening meal, choosing instead to procure some snack items from the shop for consumption later. As we walk towards the shop across the lawned area we notice a Coyote laying still on the grass, it is not bothered by the humans passing it.

The distant mountains have started to change colour at their peaks to a brilliant orange red as the sun finally slips below the horizon, the effect is startlingly short lived and we miss the opportunity to capture it on camera.

The ranger in the store thanks us for our purchases, pointing out that the profits contribute to the upkeep of the park. She hands us a glossy printed guide of the park and after confirming how long we will be staying, suggests we rise early and visit Badwater to catch the light as it changes the characteristics of the rocks.

We don't rise early, the long drive yesterday and heat has taken its toll, it is 07:30 before we arise and the sun is already risen. We skip breakfast and check out intending to drive to Badwater which is 17 miles further into the valley.

As we head off, I glance down at the fuel gauge, less than half full, but I have no idea what that means. A sign flashes past stating that the next available fuel is 56 miles distant.

I turn off further into the valley, David asks if we have sufficient fuel to make this trip and still make it back to the fuel stop. My rational mind says yes, the Honda starts to wheeze as it descends once more struggling to maintain speed, I turn off the air con and open the window, the heat blasts in and the Honda seems to groan against the inrush of air. My heart says take care.

Shortly a macadam turn out rises in front of us, some silver cars sit on its apron, we turn in. At one of the silver cars a man fills two flasks with water from a large container before trekking out into the small canyon this apron serves.

We step out of our dark car and take a few pictures, an information board holds a poster simply stating, 'Do not become a victim of Death Valley', we stride out towards the canyon, my lips feel dry and the camera in my hands seems to burn. David tags along.

We make turn after turn and the landscape doesn't change, I sigh and realise that probably this is all it does at this location, I suggest we head back and David gratefully agrees, saying he is thirsty any way.

In the car I snap Simon into his bracket and activate him, 'Turn right at the end of the road' he goads, right will take us back away from our planned detour. I comply and we start our Journey to Las Vegas.

The road climbs over a long distance but the Honda still complains, the bars on the fuel display flick off one at a time. We leave the entrance of Death valley behind, the outside temperature has not changed significantly though and our air con use is sporadic.

We arrive at a T junction with a collection of shacks, I foolishly assume this is the fuel location, its not. A large blue and white sign opposite the junction points the quickest way to Las Vegas and contains a collection of icons at its base one of which signifies fuel.

Simon agrees with the signs direction, I ask David if the two protagonists proposals match our printed map, he nods. I turn in the direction shown.

Not until later I realise that Simon has somehow conspired with the US government, to steer us towards Pahrump and away from Highway 95 which would have had us skirting Nellis AFB and groom lake, better known to conspiracy theorists as Area 51.

Pahrump is a sprawling settlement, which as we approach is notable in the general size of the plots of real estate that hold rotting machinery nestled amongst overgrown yards in which single storey clapboard houses appear to dominate.

We pull in to the fuel station, the Honda sighs as the engine is shut down, even the fuel cap releases a slight thweup as it is removed. The gauge still has two bars lit so the tank is not empty.

I select the pay inside option on the pump and am told to wait by the LCD screen. Simon speaks from his hot spot on the windscreen, 'Turn around when possible', I continue to wait.. and wait..

I cancel the transaction by touching the screen once again.

This time I select pay by credit card, following the process adopted at Tioga, I prepare for success. The pump asks me to input a 'zip' code, I cancel the transaction. I observe that everyone else seems to be having much greater success.

Finally I select pay inside once again, when prompted to wait I stride towards the gas station store and wait in line behind the successful 'pumpers' I ask the women behind the till what I need to do to proceed with fuelling the car. She says quite simply 'How much do you want?' I explain I need to fill up the tank, she takes a $100 traveller check and suggests I return for the change when done.

$72 is returned to me having filled up and we once again hit the road, the going is faster now and the road out of Pahrump littered with wannabe casinos and hotels. Local shopping complexes litter the main road, we are not interested in stopping here though, we're on our way to Vegas.

The speed limit rises to 70mph, I select the cruise control as the road once again starts to descend and is suddenly straight and visually unending.

We pass a strange yellow diamond sign, A tortoise! Beware crossing tortoises, I imagine the beasts sat on the white line at the edge of the road, waiting their opportunity to sprint out in front of the widely spaced 70mph passing traffic, the next sign shows a Bison, the one after that a horse.

A prison transport passes us on the other carriageway, later six police cruisers and a four wheel drive vehicle go haring past in the same direction. Must have hit a tortoise I mutter.

David is too busy snapping pictures of Las vegas in the distance as we commence a series of more steeply descending turns.

Tomorrow – Arrival in Vegas     

Posted in: dessert,heat,travel