Everyone does it.... Most do it the other way... .. A European favourite... Hire a car in San Francisco.... Visit Yosemite... Visit Death Valley... Lose their money in Las Vegas... Drive dispondant to LA and fly home.... The Penguins choose to drive from Las Vegas to Yosemite through Death Valley.
The acquisition of the hire car from Alamo... Smooth... No fuss... All included... Slick.... Off to fulfil a dream... To see Death Valley...
Ignore the standard route... Head to Shoshone... Take the Badwater Road towards Furnace Creek... Into the Valley.... One bird is seen.... Not another for 100 miles... Not an animal... Not a sign of animal life... They are not Englishmen... They don't go out in the mid day sun... Nor should you says the sign...
We experience the valley from a direction less travelled ... Virtually alone... Not really alone... Other cars pass every 10 minutes or so... Feel like we are alone but safe... For 50 miles we feel like we have the valley to ourselves... The colours... The colours.. Not bright... Not garish... Just every colour that could be the product of an artists pallette... Desolate terrain.... A wide valley floor... Steep rough canton walls.... Descend... Descend... Into the valley...
Watch the outside temperature indicator in the car dash... Watch it rise and rise... Watch it drop back a few degrees as the road follows the eastern edge of the canyon... Watch it rise again as the road drifts in the middle of the canyon... Will it to go higher... It passes 100... It passes 110.... It peaks at 118...
We reach Badwater... Lower than Lake Eyre... We no longer have the valley to ourselves... The European tourists have ventured out from their oasis at Furnace Creek...
We join the parade of 10 or 15 cars as they explore established viewing spots on the way into the Furnace Creek... The artists pallette.. The devils golf course.. The natural bridge... Beautiful.. Harsh... Desolate... Often breathtaking....
Enjoy the Oasis that is Furnace Creek... Watch tourist hose each other down... Watch them sit on the verandahs with beer in hand enjoying the cooling sprays installed for the purpose of encouraging patrons to extend their stay to incorporate another drink..... We sit... We pinch ourselves... This is Death Valley...
Into Rhyolite... Deserted town... A dilapidated sign says free museum here.. The surrounds adorned with a sofa inspired by the mosaic work of Appels... The Museum... Not really a museum... One room... One window... A complaining electric fan and a chair the only creature comforts available to the local retired volunteer... I come out from Beatty each day he says... The penguins wonder what he is escaping from.... A few trinkets... A few photos of the old town... Some prints for sale.... Some Indian relics... He treats us to a tune on an Indian flute... The old fellow quotes Mark Twain... The music from the Indian flute is both beautiful and haunting... It's because of the minor key tuning he says.. He says... The tourists ask me if they mined rhyolite here... I tell them no... They cussed at it here.... It was the rhyolite they had to get through to get at the Gold....
Beatty at last... Beatty... Just a town... Just as you would expect of a town on the edge of the Badlands.. The penguins feel a little like the exhausted horseman from a bad Western who rides out of the badlands for a meal and good night sleep... They even found the food at the Denny's diner tolerable... The deficiencies of the aging Death Valley Inn not even noted as deficiencies...
Posted with Blogsy
Nice mosaic. Looks quite out of place - the only bit of bright colour anywhere
ReplyDeleteWhat a vast open space,amazing!
ReplyDeleteWow! Amazing! Bernie looks like she is ready to melt!
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