Death Valley Days
As you near Nevada on highway 395 the two lanes become four. This is at the point the northbound traffic is required to stop and declare firewood and fruits upon entering California. To this point the highway from Susanville had wondered up down, around, and across expansive grazing lands. The rolling hills were interspersed with occasional pockets of forest. Now the highway became a freeway. And, in an undulating fashion, it took us to its apex overlooking the Truckee River Valley, and the home of Reno.
Bordertown occupies roadside opportunities at this valley overlook. We have found that every highway entering Nevada, from any direction, has a settlement like Bordertown just inside the state line. It seems that all of the Bordertowns are either desperate last chances for recovery, or they are the fortune seekers first opportunity. This depends on your travel direction.
It was now late afternoon. Anne and I did not want to venture into the Friday evening Reno traffic to find our park for the overnight. Behold, Bordertown Casino and RV Resort. We knew of the resort from past travels. The RV park also favors Good Sam membership card holders. Being a Good Sam park usually represents a level of service standard and amenities which will ensure a comfortable stay. I guess, in a way, if a Good Sam park were a motel, one would not feel compelled to black light the room before sleeping in it.
We set up our site, relaxed, and then walked to the casino for dinner. After dinner we stayed a few minutes to sample the machine odds. This had been a busy day and the end of it was a comfortable time.
Having only a couple of years of wintertime RV experience, our initial travel concerns are centered on being able to get out of the Rogue Valley. The tallest and steepest few miles of the I-5 freeway are a couple of miles south of Ashland. This stretch represents the Siskiyou Pass.
Generally, if there is a winter rain falling in Medford, there are blizzard conditions at the Siskiyou summit. The weather report this Friday morning presented clear roads to and past Susanville. Had a storm system threatened any of the southern Oregon or northern California region we would have traveled west, over the lower coastal range to highway 101. Once south of Crescent City we would drive east to link up with I-5. Today, this diversion wouldn’t be necessary.
My brother, Bill, had risen early and knocked at the door at 8:30, on this Friday, January 30th. He was here to see that we got away without problems. I had discovered the day before that an outside water fill valve on the RV had cracked during the last freeze. Bill helped me remove the valve and drove us to Triple A RV where I bought a replacement. It took us less than five minutes to swap the two valves. Now I was able to add fresh water to the RV’s holding tank.
The RV was packed, the CRV toad was hitched to its rear, the house was buttoned up, and we were driving away at ten o’clock.
Leaving the daily predictability of home life is exciting. But, initially, it can be a bit stressful. We feel very fortunate to have Bill nearby, as well as the watchful eyes of longtime friends Jim and Paula Leroy. This makes travel more rewarding.
Patti and John (Stan) Stanalonis are friends who live in Albuquerque. Both Patti and Stan play in league softball. A year ago we had linked up with them in St George, UT. We had all been there to compete in the Huntsman Senior Games. They had flown to St George. After the games they joined us in the RV for a drive to Lake Tahoe. One of Patti’s school friends, Rob Marsh, lived on the lake shore.
Before leaving Bordertown we called Patti and got Rob Marsh’s phone number. Rob was happy to have us stop in for a visit. He reported that the roads were clear and the sun was shining. He was eager to meet with us again.
Marsh is retired from a career associated with the government. This time included some years with the Air Force OSI. He tells us how he had searched widely for his perfect retirement home location. On Lake Tahoe he bought and remodeled a home for himself and his companion, Butkus. Butkus is a senior aged, very low centered Bulldog. Marsh’s initial retirement investment has been developed into a wonderful home. It is comfortable for his entertainment of visiting family or friends.
His directions took us to the northern edge of Reno where we ramped onto I-80W. We drove about 20 miles on I-80 before we reached the exit for Truckee. From Truckee it was 18 miles south to Tahoe City, on the lake’s NW shore. Homewood, the strip of shore Rob shares was only four miles away. It had taken us just an hour and half to drive from Bordertown to Rob’s timber nested home.
Rob is a natural organizer. He had our arrival, and the navigation for the berthing of the 40 foot RV worked out down to the last detail. We enjoyed a wonderful welcoming and quickly settled in.
Tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday. Tonight Rob had planned to meet his neighbor, Tom, at the Crystal Bay Casino on the south shore. The casino is where you can fill out betting sheets on sporting events. We met Tom and his son-in-law at the casino entrance. Anne said she had spotted some winning slot machines. The four of us found our way to the sports counter. Rob collected some forms and, with a pint of ale in hand, we settled at a table and studied the paper’s odds.
Rob explained the nuances of parlay betting. This is where your ticket is a winner if and only if each of your selections on the ticket prevails. One of the tickets had six positions and required a $5 minimum bet. The payout if the ticket won was $100,000. This seemed doable. I was in for $5.
As the game progressed, each parlay ticket holder either cheered or moaned. Everyone enjoyed the halftime show and we all marveled at the goal line interception that would lose the game for Seattle. This had been a fun and exciting day.
Rob Marsh loves to share sights around Lake Tahoe with guests. Monday he drove us to Squaw Valley Ski Resort. We parked near the lodge and walked around the resort’s large commercial development. The Winter Olympic Games were held at Squaw Valley in 1960. An Olympic torch burns as a featured reminder at the resort’s main entrance.
At the ski lift base area there is a large map display that shows the multitude of slopes on the mountain. Each slope is named and is marked with a needed skill level, from novice skier through extreme expert. Lifts, and higher transfer lifts are located everywhere on the vast northern slopes of the mountain. There are miles and miles of lift cables which form a vast steel cobweb over the skiers.
After walking the base area we stopped at an Irish pup for a warmup and a pint. Rob explained to us how each lift base can raise its cables to adjust for deepening snow pack. This ensures that departing and arriving cars won’t be dragging in the snow. It won’t be a problem this year. There is only a foot or two of snow at the resort level.
Squaw Valley was an eye opener and it is just a few miles from Truckee. Rob wanted us to see the historic railway town. The drive through the center of Truckee did indeed take one back in time. The town is a proud and well maintained snapshot of the history of the early western settlement.
This was our last evening to share with Rob. Anne wanted to host the dinner preparations. Rob insisted we use the filets he’s been saving, and he would cook them on the Barbie. Anne made the rest: mashed potatoes, gravy, sliced carrots, and a bread roll. The meal was fantastic. We were treated to a bit of after-dinner news on the telly which, yes, included more dialog trying to sort out why the goal line play hadn’t been a run.
The drive to Tonopah is a little bit out of the way, but it takes us south and allows us to avoid a long mountain range trek. Tonopah, Nevada, has a casino with an adjoining RV park. The city is at the junction of US 95S and US 6. This is the seat of Nye County and it is midway between Reno and Las Vegas. The town has a motto: Visit Today & Mine Away. Other than its niche in the middle of nowhere, Tonopah doesn’t present much reason to hang around.
The RV park is at the rear of the casino. The park’s 20 sites have full hookups. The water didn’t flow at our site, however, but we had loaded the holding tank while on Lake Tahoe. The cost was $27. It will do for one night. After registering at the casino reception Anne scouted out the slots and I returned to the RV for a sit down and a tinny. We rejoined later for dinner in the casino. Anne’s report was that the slots were poor. After dinner we wrapped up our interest in Tonopah.
The size of the dot on the map for Beatty turned out to be a misleading indicator for the presence of well stocked grocery stores. We spotted an off-main street market and Anne scrounged what she could. Beatty is at the junction of US 95S and Hwy 374W, which crosses the Amargosa Range into Death Valley. This final leg would take an hour. A sign on the road cautioned us to beware of wild burros. No sooner had we been warned that four of them crossed the road. Watch out next time, burros. I don’t like stopping the bus on an uphill grade.
We checked in at the Furnace Creek Ranger Station and secured a wonderful dry site, #87, at the Furnace Creek RV Park. The spot was available for two days. This would be enough time to scout out a more long term park.
Death Valley is between two mountain ranges, Amargosa to the east, and Panamint on the west. The valley sits on a fault line. At a time, long before yesterday, the fault rose on the west and sunk on the east. This action dropped the valley below sea level. The lowest point in North America is at Badwater Basin which sits at -282 feet. The fault action also created Mount Whitney, the highest point in the lower 48, at 14,491 feet. The two extremes are just 100 miles apart.
The ground is covered with rocks and gravel. The gravel is from vast alluvial fans which spread from the bases of the barren mountains to the center of the valley. On first impression the valley is brown. However, when one watches, as the sun changes position, a myriad of hues and soft colors appear, and then disappear. Earth tones from sandy tan to light shades of black dominate. Mixed in are patches with reddish tones and occasional smaller exposures which are a soft green. The green comes from the chloride content of the stone. Ironically, this palette of colors could probably be admired everywhere there are mountain ranges were it not for foliage blocking the view. Death Valley boasts no greenery on its slopes.
Death Valley Scotty, aka Walter Scott, left a large mark on Death Valley and on most of America through the first half of the 20th century. Scotty left home when still a young teen and made his way west to partner with the cowboys. He became an expert with horses and this brought him to be noticed by Buffalo Bill. Scotty was soon a celebrity entertainer in the Wild West Show. In time, that venture ended. Scotty turned his entertainment talents to storytelling, and, through that, to conning.
Walter Scott’s biggest tale was of finding gold in Death Valley. He even used a few nuggets he had obtained through street purchases as props to help con eastern investors into parting with much needed mine expansion funds he claimed he needed. When Scotty returned to the Bay area with a new grub stake he would squander the money. He lived lavishly and flashed his money while he continued to exaggerate his mining tales.
Investors never deeply questioned Scotty’s claim of finding gold in Death Valley. They certainly knew of the California gold rush. One Chicago millionaire businessman Scotty worked on was Albert Johnson. Johnson was wealthy through his own efforts and by way of an inheritance. Injured at a young age in a train wreck, Johnson never felt fulfilled in doing things he had always dreamed of.
The combination of Scotty’s polished tales of mining, horseback riding, and of the outdoor western lifestyle intrigued Johnson. Albert Johnson was supportive of Scotty’s money requests, but he wanted to have a firsthand look at one of Death Valley Scotty’s mines.
Scotty was prepared. He dramatically warned Johnson about the nature of Death Valley; of its inhospitable climate, and of the everyday risk of highwaymen. Not swayed, Johnson met Scotty at Death Valley. While there, Johnson soon found himself reinvigorated by the climate and by the western lifestyle. Now, what about that gold mine?
As part of the con to dissuade Johnson from finding out there was no gold mine, Scotty arranged for a mountain pass ambush. Although not intended, one of Scotty’s wagon hands actually received a bullet injury. Apparently, during the wait for their wagons to appear, Scotty’s ambushers had tipped too much from the bottle.
It was during post ambush dialog that Scotty’s con came to the surface. Surprisingly, Johnson was not spiteful. In fact, Johnson had come to deeply admire Scotty, and he knew he was benefiting health wise from the western environment.
Before passing on, Albert Johnson gave the Castle and its land to a trust. Under the trust agreement the Castle would rent out rooms and its staff would conduct tours. Visiting Scotty’s Castle is a very good way to spend an afternoon.
Our two days at Furnace Creek RV Park were over. Half mile south of this park are two more Park Service spots. Texas Springs RV Park is nestled in the hills to the east. This park is very alluring, but it is dry camping only and generators were forbidden. That left us with Sunset RV Park.
Sunset borders the highway and is across the street from the Park Visitor Center. Sunset RV Park is a well gridded 20 acres of hard packed gravel. It offers no hookups, but generators can be used, and it has a lone block building at the center which houses a public loo. With our National Parks Senior Pass we can use a spot for $6 per day. We chose a site far from others and one which could give us shade from the awning in the afternoon.
The new site was set up by early afternoon. I was enjoying the sun washed vista and a steady cooling breeze. This Friday’s temperature was reaching into the 80s and the wind and shade felt good. The wind picked up and it became a bit dusty. A gust blew down the satellite dish I had just aligned. Forty pounds of hanging weight wasn’t enough to secure the dish when it is facing directly into the gusts. Rock I had placed on the outdoor carpet started rolling to the center as gusts lifted the edges. Chairs and tray tables were blown over. That’s enough. I stacked things together and set a few stones on the pile.
After the first half hour of wind the dust from the south basin seemed to have blown past. However, the north end of the valley was clouded by the storm. The wind was constant and it gusted to over 40mph. It lasted well past when the sandman came to visit. I noticed Saturday morning that the gravel was nicely cleaned and some of it seemed to shine.
Saturday is laundry day. The Furnace Creek Hotel and Resort has a laundromat for its RV guests. The costs: $1 to wash, and $1 to dry. Anne dropped me off at the museum and she took care of watching the load.
On the veranda of the museum the berg was hosting a flint knapping demonstration. Joseph, a retired Park Service Archeologist has spent the last several years RVing the southwest. He stays at a park for a while, displays and demonstrates knapping, and shares stories of dig experiences he has had. Joseph knows central and eastern Oregon very well. He treasures the opportunity to collect obsidian from that region. I don’t think Anne had as much fun at the laundromat. Bless her domesticated heart.
I remember the occasional night at the dairy when I stood in the front field near the house. The summer night sky was clear and the Milky Way displayed as a true band of whiteness streaking overhead from north to south. To observe the Milky Way it takes weather, location, and opportunity.
A clear, cloudless night sky is needed. As it was on the dairy, one needs to be far away from urban light glow. And, finally, one needs to spend a moment and take advantage of the first two conditions. Last night was the first time these conditions came together for me in what seems like years. The star brilliance and density was amazing.
Our galaxy is an enormous spiraling disk of stars. If looked at from a distance the galaxy would either seem to be a flat plate-like spiral, or it would appear to be a bright band. How it looked would depend on whether you were viewing from above or from alongside. The Milky Way is Earth’s view of part of our own galaxy. We are looking outward toward the edge of a spiral wing.
The Milky Way is just a snapshot of a portion of our galaxy. I am always awed at the unfathomable enormity of the number of stars in that picture. And to think, our simple galaxy is but a speck of vapor in the cloud of galaxies that make up the universe.
A drive today took us to the north, and west in the valley. We stopped at the Mesquite sand dunes and trekked a little ways out onto them. Of course, as Oregonians, we knew all about sand dunes. But these dunes are different. In Oregon you don’t have to keep a lookout for sidewinders. The Mesquite dunes are as tall and as vast, but the sand has the feel of talcum powder. One would be pressed to isolate a single granule. Oh, yes, and the Oregon dunes have water nearby.
West from the dunes it is a short drive to Stovepipe Wells. Stovepipe Wells seems to be a popular stop. The fuel and curios had much lower prices that at Furnace Creek. There is an RV park offering both hookup and dry camping sites. A full hookup site was available for four days beginning tomorrow, the ninth. We made the reservation.
Anne had mentioned earlier that today we needed to drive to Pahrump, Nevada, for groceries and to find a Wi-Fi hotspot where we could connect the laptop and pay some bills that had come due. We drove the fifty miles from Stovepipe Wells to Sunset RV Park to collect the shopping list and the computer. The drive to Pahrump is another fifty miles. The road took us out the SE exit from Death Valley.
The drive to Pahrump was initially all uphill. We were crossing the eastern Amargosa Range. When we neared the high valley that was home to Pahrump I picked up my first AT&T cellular signal. I asked Siri to direct us to a Starbucks. Starbucks has Wi-Fi. Siri led us directly to where the Starbucks should be, but none was visible. I noticed a Denny’s restaurant advertising Wi-Fi. Denny’s would do.
We stayed in the car at Denny’s. I worked the computer and Anne guided me to the proper web sites. In a half hour we were up to date with bills, and we had read and downloaded important emails. Next stop is Wally World.
Walmart is in the same shopping center as Denny’s. While Anne filled the shopping cart I took on the task of getting a prescription filled at Wally’s pharmacy. The refill process would take an hour. I returned to the grocery side of the store to help Anne.
When the shopping was completed, we stopped at Subway and had some lunch/dinner. Night had snuck up on us by the time we finished eating. Anne drove and I dozed. We listened to a Harry Bosch story during the ride back to Sunset.
Site #10 was waiting for us as I pulled the RV back onto the desert floor and positioned it for electrical and water hookups. Stovepipe Wells has a pub/restaurant, general store, hotel, fuel pumps, RV park, and an airstrip. I have not seen any houses nearby. This commercial settlement is not positioned at a highway crossroad. Whatever its history for being in this valley, Stovepipe Wells is hiding it well.
Exploitation of Mother Nature’s resources brought the original few inhabitants to Death Valley. Perhaps most famous are the remnants of the 20-mule team Borax works. Borax was known as the white gold of the desert. One of the borax processing plants is just off the highway. A short, non-guided walking tour presents the 20-mule team history. Workers refined borax by separating the mineral from unwanted mud and salts, a simple but time-consuming process. Chinese labor was used extensively. The mule teams pulled loads of up to 36 tons from the Harmony Borax works, operating from 1883-1888, to Mojave or to Daggett. Without the mule teams the borax may not have realized a commercial value.
A few miles to the west of Stovepipe Wells a road leads you to the Charcoal Kilns. This side road twists and turns up into the Panamint Mountains for 20 miles. Around 4,000 feet the terrain begins to show growth of pinyon pine and other stocky plants. The road dead-ends at 6,800 feet, at the Charcoal Kilns.
Designed by Swiss engineers and built by Chinese laborers in 1879, the kilns produced charcoal for the Modock Mine. The Modock mine was located 30 miles to the west. Workers filled the air-tight kilns with pinyon pine logs and fired them. The burning, which reduced the wood to charcoal, took a week. Cooling took another five days. Wagons then hauled the charcoal to the Modock Mine smelter where it was used to extract silver and lead from the mine’s rich ore. The kilns stand twenty five feet high and are thirty feet in diameter. Each kiln could hold more than four cords of wood. If you stand inside a kiln and tap your feet on the packed floor, the sound is amplified by the kiln’s shape. What you hear as you tap sounds like a bass drum. The kilns saw service for only a few years.
Wildlife seems rare in the valley. Large black ravens are seen swooping over the graveled floor. Continuously cawing, they occasionally land near the parked RVs and stroll about looking for refuse. Stovepipe Wells is the proud home of the only trees in as far as the eye can see. The majestic foliage stands behind the restaurant/pub. Upon early evening the ravens fly in twos and threes from all directions to roost in the trees. This is not done quietly. With each arriving squadron of birds there is a collective protest, or perhaps greeting, from the current residents. Seen around the park are small sparrows. First one will lite, and then several more will fly in. Each bird seems to be curious what the others have found. From somewhere a seagull flew in. We have seen no ground animals, lizards, etc. There are coyotes, however. As nighttime sleep is nearing, a lone coyote cries out. This one voice creates a cacophony of noise that seems to fill the valley. The serenade lasts but half of a minute, and then sleep comes.
The Stovepipe Wells hookup site was available through the 12th. Friday, the 13th, we reposition a few yards away to a dry camping spot. Today, Feb. 17th, is designated RV cleanup day. We are expecting Roy and Arlene, from Gold Hill, to join up with us today. Last night there was another wind storm. The RV is positioned more sideways to the winds than it was during the storm while at Sunset. I had left all of the windows open to help cool the inside. The small breezes feel good while trying to get to sleep. An uninvited layer of dust now coats all surfaces.
The winds hit us around 2am. I lay awake listening to the patio awning being whipped by the gusts. I gave up on the hope that at any moment the automatic wind-retraction gears would kick in and bring the awning to the side. At 3am I got up and pushed the button to retract the awning. Sleep didn’t return and I arose at 4 o’clock and fixed a cup of lemon tea.
I decided I would try to finish the novel Caroline had loaned me, The Eight, by Katherine Neville. At around 5:30 my reading light started to pulsate. The coach battery bank was dying. Everything controlled by 12vdc stops working when that happens, including the refrigerator. The rules of the RV park are that generators can only be run between 7am and 7pm. Recharging the batteries was an hour and half away.
The coach batteries are trickle charged daily by a 45w solar panel on the roof. We have found that the solar isn’t sufficient to maintain enough charge to habit the RV without charging, also, for a while with the generator. The generator uses very little fuel and that expenditure isn’t critical, so long as the tank has enough to get us to the next fuel stop. I will get together with Dave to sound him out for solutions.
Pupfish are on the endangered species list and they live only in Salt Water Springs. These tiny fish, no bigger than a minnow, have adapted to the saline conditions of the spring water seeping from beneath the Panamint Range. They were named Pupfish because someone thought they resembled puppies in some of their mannerisms. During their mating cycle the male pupfish takes on a blue color which attracts the female. The Park Service has laid a half mile board walk along a portion of the small stream. The pupfish collected in still ponds created from bends in the water’s path. The boardwalk path afforded an opportunity to see a few lizards, listen to chirps from nesting birds in the creosote bushes, and to enjoy the sounds of the isolated brook as it tumbled a few inches over a riffle.
Thursday evening is scheduled a starry night dune walk at Mesquite Dunes. The presentation begins at 7:30. The day had been restful and fun. I had brought along the wood lathe, tools, and a box full of pre-rounded wood pieces. We had moved back to the full hookup area and I had power without needing the generator. Late morning I set up two folding saw horses and strapped the lathe on top.
I had lots of pieces of different kinds of wood. Raymond, a cabinet making friend, called me and said he was getting rid of off cuts. Come and get some, or sit by the stove while the scraps take the chill away from his large shop. Cherry, walnut, mahogany, and a number of other species were available. I had also been given several pieces of wood by Tom, daughter-in-law Anne’s father. Tom is also a crafter of fine wood works.
Arlene selected two pieces of mahogany to be used to turn pistachio nut bowls. In a little over an hour, Roy and I had roughed out the first bowl. Turing a piece seems to be the easiest part of this form of wood work. Most time is spent in finishing with sandpaper grades, from 80grit to 2,000grit. Because the bowls are to be used for foodstuff, I spun the bowl and held a beeswax candle to the surface. A bit of spin polishing with a soft rag produced a safe, soft shining finish.
After area cleanup it was time for a tinny. Roy and I mused a while outside in the shade while Anne and Arlene wrestled at the dining table over some two handed pinochle. Two handed turned into four handed, and that turned into dinner. Arlene treated us to beef brisket and home grown spaghetti squash. It was shortly after 7 o’clock when we drove the couple of miles to Mesquite dunes parking lot. It was very dark out by now and the stars shone overhead.
A young ranger introduced himself and explained what we would be learning during the 40 minute Under the Stars Dune Walk. As we trekked over the dunes the ranger told us about mesquite and creosote bushes, and how to identify them by leaf smell. We walked in the dark to allow our eyes to night adapt. At the bottom of what seemed like an endless dune, the ranger collected the herd and explained how being where we were on the dunes was blocking the glow in the sky created by Las Vegas, 50 some miles to the SE. He was right. There was absolutely no light interference where we stood.
The ranger used a laser pen to point out different constellations. From the Big Dipper to Polaris, he explained how the North star was easy to locate and how as the Earth turned this made it seem like the Big Dipper was rotating counter clockwise around Polaris. The ranger explained how stars consumed hydrogen and how all of the elements through iron were created in the process. The Milky Way was talked about and he told us stories of how a few of the prominent constellations received their positions in the night sky. Some of the constellations were known by different societies for different things.
One of the dune walkers told us of an event in Los Angles some years ago. Apparently, during a broad area power outage the calls to 911 went wild will claims of Los Angeles being invaded by objects from outer space. The teller explained that, because of the extreme amount of urban night light, the population had been raised being aware of the sun and the moon as the sky’s only inhabitants. They had never had the opportunity to witness a black night sky. Some of the walkers exclaimed, “Wow”, but the majority just moaned. The ranger thanked the teller and said he would use the tale in his future dune walks. Much of the information we were given wasn’t new, but the evening had been entertaining and wondrous.
A back road off the highway through Shoshone can take you to Pahrump. Just beyond Tecopa, on this road, is a turn off to China Ranch. In the early 1900’s, a Chinese man discovered an oasis nestled among some rugged mountains. The rich growing spot was many miles from a near neighbor. The Chinaman’s ranch became known as China Ranch. Over the years many types of farming was done on the ranch and the ranch traded ownership a few times.
Not too many years back, the wife of the current couple planted some date pits on each side of the long driveway leading to the homestead. The spirit of her idea was to form a colonnade with the date trees. One small success led to another and today China Ranch is known for its date orchards, and the harvests are abundant. There is much to be seen on a visit to China Ranch. One should never plan to leave the ranch without first having a date milkshake from the curio shop.
Roy and Arlene wanted us to see Ash Meadows Wildlife Refuge before returning to Stovepipe Wells. The refuge is a few miles from Death Valley Junction, and it is just across the border into Nevada. Predictably, on the Nevada side of the state line, there is a casino; Longstreet Inn Casino & RV Resort.
Roy and Arlene told us how, when traveling the Death Valley area several years ago, they had stopped for the day at the Opera House Motel at Death Valley Junction. They checked in, went to their room, found to be in a disgusting condition, and immediately checked back out. They then drove seven miles down Hwy 127 and stayed at the Longstreet Inn.
We, too, stopped at the Longstreet Inn. We were all ready for lunch, and, hey. They had some slot machines. The hamburgers were big and juicy, and the machines didn’t consume that much while we waited to be served. At the rear of the Inn, there is a large pond which hosted many ducks. From the outside veranda one could watch the ducks, or look over the many pieces of antique wagons and farming implements cleverly integrated into the landscape. The adjoining RV Park has over 50 drive-through sites with full hookups. This would be a fun place to spend a couple of days.
Ash Meadows Wildlife Refuge was closed for the day. However, the boardwalk over the large reserve was open for the walk. Roy, Arlene, and Anne went for the mile and half round trip on the boardwalk, while I stayed behind and saved a spot on a bench in the sun. I was told of a crystal clear hot spring, with year around 87F water, and of the few birds they spotted. This is a refuge which Dave and Joy would love, if they haven’t already experienced it.
The return to Stovepipe Wells began with a setting sun. The few thin clouds to our west slowly transitioned from white, through burnt red-orange, to black. We were all a bit tourist exhausted and the hour plus drive home was fairly quiet. We were also all a bit melancholy, as this was to be that last night Anne and I would enjoy the wonderful company.
With the aid of a tinny and a rigorous game of pinochle, we soon went through a healthy mood change. Arlene and I couldn’t beat Anne and Roy’s combined skills, and tremendous luck of the deal. After calling a truce, we enjoyed a great brisket, squash, and buckeye wheat leftover dinner.
After Roy and Arlene drove away for their ride to Reno for the night, Anne and I got stuck into our crafts. Anne had bought fabric to back the baby blanket she has spent the last twenty years working on, and I hauled out the lathe. Anne is determined to finally complete her, off and on, piece of art. Roy and I had bounced around a lot of ideas, and what if’s, while we had chatted in the cool shade on the desert. One idea we had come up with was the lathe turning of a nut, or sundry, bowl which could sit in a car’s cup holder. I had the wood, the machine, and the time. I went to work.
When I finished my nut bowl beta unit, I took it inside to show Anne. I found her stretched out and asleep on the couch, with a baby blanket covering her. I snuck back outside without noticing whether the blanket had been finished; a great way for us both to have spent a warm, sunny, lazy day.
The wind started blowing late in the evening. When daylight broke, the wind was still angry and gusty. I had looked forward to spending a bit of time outdoors with the lathe today. I ventured outside once. That was enough.
This wind was different than the others we have had while in Death Valley. The blow was from the NW. The last two were from the SE. It seems interesting that the valley is generally oriented in the same north to south direction. I wonder which came first. The other wind storms happened with clear skies. The morning sky was hung low with rain clouds.
Anne was very happy with her Brother Nouvelle sewing machine perched on the extended dining table. The mini ironing board was on top of the counter extension pull-out, strips of multicolored fabric lay in a heap on the sideboard, and Anne spent the day cutting, ironing, and sewing, while a Janet Ivonovich audiobook played over the RV’s speaker system.
Let it blow. Anne was in heaven. At 4 o’clock she held up here craftwork and declared it completed. Anne explained to me that this form of quilt top pattern had its origin with Southern quilters. Regardless the design origin, the piece is very bold and eye catching. At this point, she declared it time to get out of her night clothes and to prepare for the evening.
While Anne’s energies had been spent creating a piece of artwork, my storm day time was consumed in a more varied fashion. I completed a couple of Sudoku puzzles, read a dozen pages of Differential Equations Demystified, listened to the Ivonovich story, and began to read John Cleese’s book, So, Anyway…. Oh, yes. I probably dozed a bit, here and there.
At 5 o’clock I suggested we go to the pub/restaurant, located at the very heart of the village of Stovepipe Wells, and partake of a sample of their dinner fare. The restaurant is separated from the pub through a wood planked hallway. The hall sported a western motif. The tabled area was spacious. It featured a rock wall with a large fireplace at one end, and around the other walls were large movie posters displaying titles which were either filmed in, or featured Western life in Death Valley; gun slingers everywhere in those days. Anne chose chicken tacos, and I selected pepper fried steak. Service to our table was good, so I left a tip which was close to one of the recommended gratuity values printed on the customer copy of the receipt. I thought how handy it was that one no longer required an app on their bat-phones to calculate various tip percentages. It was automatically done through the cash register. Could life get any better?
It was raining when we left the restaurant. In fact, it rained all evening and sprinkled throughout the night. From inside our cozy water sealed RV we were actually living through an annual historic event in Death Valley. My heart swelled, as I thought of all of the beautiful flowers we would miss that would pop from the valley floor in a couple of weeks. There had been enough rain to have soaked in an inch or more. This would be sufficient to stimulate growth from the sleeping seeds. Winter was still here. The crest line of the Panamint Mountains now featured a soft white color.
The Alabama Hills were named after the C.S.S. Alabama, a Confederate warship responsible for wreaking havoc during the Civil War. Prospectors sympathetic to the Confederate cause named their mining claims after the Alabama and eventually the name stuck. The rounded contours of the Alabama’s form a sharp contrast between the glacially chiseled ridges of the Sierra peaks to their west. Generated by the same geological uplifting which created the Sierra range 100 million years ago, the Alabama Hills have undergone water erosion leaving the arched and sculpted formations seen today.
I dwell on these hills because, unknown to me, I had seen them many times over the years, especially as a boy sitting in front of the television set at the foot of the stairs in the dairy’s farm house. Channel 5, NBC out of Eugene, was the only signal dad was able to tune in with the rooftop antenna. Through this channel my eyes were opened wide as I shared in the heroic adventures of The Lone Ranger, and those of Roy Rogers. Silver and Trigger flawlessly carried their crime fighting masters over every inch of the hills, and across the dusty flatlands at their base.
Highway 395 runs past the base of the Alabama Hills as it courses its way down the length of California. The city of Lone Pine is found here. Lone Pine was the Hollywood hub for virtually all of its western theme movies and TV serials. Hopalong Cassidy, the Cisco Kid, Gene Autry, How the West Was Won, Bad Day at Black Rock, Tremors, and the Iron Man were all cast with the Alabama Hills as a backdrop. These features, and even some turn-of-the-century silent films, were produced in Lone Pine. The Lone Pine Film History Museum displays how the West was really won.
A few miles north of Lone Pine is an historic site which took the thrill out of the earlier part of the day. Manzanar has been re-established to preserve the stories and history of a dark time in American. This is one of the ten re-location camps where all people of Japanese descent on the west coast were rounded up and forced into internment after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. These people, many of whom were United States citizens, were given a week’s notice to prepare for their relocation. Homes and farms were forfeited or sold at tremendous financial loss. Manzanar, together with its sister sites, located primarily in California, became home for 120,000 people from 1942 to 1945. The U.S. Supreme Court played a defining role for these internment cities. Ruling from the court led the way for their creation, and a later ruling led to their destruction. A visit to the Manzanar Museum leaves one wondering how fragile our civil rights in America might really be.
To reach Lone Pine, we needed to cross the Panamint mountain range. For half of the seventy plus miles, we spent climbing and twisting through the narrow gaps between the jagged peaks of the range. At the apex we drove alongside the couple of inches of snow which had dusted the tops of the mountains during the valley’s rainfall. The western slope of the mountain highway wasn’t as confining, or as peaceful.
The yellow sign at the side of the road claimed a 9% downgrade. The sign, however, didn’t speak of the lack of guardrails on the outside bends around the mountain’s side. Nor, did it tell us not to look down as we braked into these corners. Gas mileage was picking up on the CRV’s digital display.
Within a few miles, gaps opened to the west and we could see portions of the dry, flat stretches of Owens Lake. The gray-white lakebed appeared to be tens of miles away, and the peephole-like glimpses gave the impression that the distance was all straight down. Interstate 5, south of Ashland, is steep, but it bows to the magnificence of Hwy 190 across the Panamint mountains.
February 25th, and our Death Valley Days are over. Anne is planning to meet up with tennis friends at Indian Wells, during the March tennis tournaments. This meant we needed to motor further south in California. We left the parklands at Death Valley Junction. From there, it was south on highway 127 to Baker, where we linked up with I-15S. The plan was to stay the evening somewhere near Barstow. As I drove, Anne discovered a wonderful thing. She could get many bars of AT&T reception, along with good cellular connectivity. To quote a famous American, “We’re free. We’re free at last.”
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