On Boxing Day my husband and daughter and I drove from Palo Alto (near San Jose) to Death Valley. We spent three days hiking and sight-seeing and drove back yesterday, just ahead of the snow that hit southern California and Nevada last night and this morning. As we left a park ranger told us they were expecting snow in the valley down to an altitude of 2000 ft. (Death Valley is famous for its low elevation--low point is 280 feet below sea level--but the highest peak in the Panamint Range, which borders the west side of the valley, tops 11,000 ft). The reason the valley is so dry is that it's in the rain shadow of a rain shadow of a rain shadow: moisture has to get over the Coast Range, then the Sierras, and then the Panamint Range. Some years the valley floor gets no rain at all.
Death Valley is gorgeous, if you like stark vistas of bare rock. My favorite hike was Mosaic Canyon, a twisty trail lined by all sorts of sedimentary and composite rocks in various stages of weathering and metamorphosis. There are walls of polished marble, outcrops that look like petrified wood, finely delineated sedimentary layers, and rock formations that look like melted candle wax (what are these called?).
Hiking with my daughter (I will call her Filia) can be a challenge. The usual progression is something like this:
1. Filia complains, doesn't want to go, asks if she can just sit in the car and read.
2. Filia eventually capitulates, admitting that in the past her parents have often been right about how much she will enjoy the hike once we get going.
3. Sunscreen interlude.
4. We get started. More grumbling from Filia.
5. We see something pretty or interesting. Filia begins to get excited, tells us we were right! We cherish a brief moment of validation.
6. Filia runs ahead up the trail, doubling back and climbing rocks whenever the opportunity presents itself.
7. Filia's energy begins to flag. She starts to complain again. She says she is tired. Maritus and I tell her that it's not much further to the end of the trail and/or the main point we've been aiming for.
8. One of us goes ahead on the trail to scout out exactly how much further we have to go. Filia climbs.
9. If it's a short distance, and/or if it's a loop trail, we manage to convince Filia to continue, especially if we can promise more climbing. If not, Maritus and I take turns sitting with Filia while each of us hikes to the end of the trail.
10. Tired Filia races back down the trail, taking all available side detours, climbing rocks, and doubling back to urge us to hurry.
In addition to hiking, we saw Scotty's Castle, a faux Spanish villa built in the valley in the 1920's. The owner was an Eastern millionaire, Albert Johnson, who befriended a local con artist, Walter Scott ("Scotty") after Scotty bilked Johnson out of $100K. (Apparently Johnson was a buttoned-up guy who appreciated the opportunity to let loose and enjoy the company of a colorful rascal.) It's an interesting house, in that 1920's money-to-burn-in-eccentric-ways mode. Interestingly, it was powered entirely by hydroelectric power from an underground spring, used passive solar water heating, and used a swamp cooling system in the summer. I wish we'd had time to take the underground tour, which shows off the technology, but we will probably be back another time.
On our way home I wanted to take a detour to go to
Manzanar, the WWII Japanese-American internment camp in Owens Valley. It would have taken us only about 60 miles out of our way, but we got a late start and it's a long drive back to the Bay Area. I've wanted to see the camp for a long time; I must have read the memoir
Farewell to Manzanar when I was about 12, and it had a big effect on me. But, not coincidentally, it's a very isolated place and getting there takes some planning.
I was hoping to post some pictures of Death Valley (bad ones taken with my phone), but I haven't figure out how to do that yet. In the meantime,
lots of pretty pics here.![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
