One of many
trip reports under the
SilGro home page for Alan Silverstein and Cathie
Grow.
Email me at
ajs@frii.com.
Last update: August 12, 2024
(Previous trip report: 1996_1208_PingreeTornado.htm)
Contents:
Death Valley NP
was one of my favorite places. More than 3000 square miles in size, it
was the biggest US national park outside Alaska. Most of it was raw,
barren desert. I like rocks, and I like to hike, so for me it was a
great place to visit! Many times over the years, resulting in
this compendium of hiking
destinations plus personal visit history.
Well the airfares were low, less than $100 round-trip from Denver to
Las Vegas,
so I went on a brief, solo hiking frenzy in mid-February. The rental
car actually cost more than the flights! I flew out on a Saturday and
back on a Thursday that included Presidents Weekend.
The highlight of this trip, as planned and executed, was a
long-awaited off-trail
route-finding hike and scramble from
Badwater
(-279'), nearly the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, to
Dantes View.
I actually climbed to the
Dante
marker (5704'), the highest point in the area, a bit north of the
parking lot (~5440'). It was such an awesome journey that I want to
write a trip report to tell the story.
I did the mega-hike on a Sunday, starting the morning after arriving at
DVNP. On Monday through Thursday I added nine more hikes, ranging from 15
minutes to 5+ hours, for a total of 13300' vertical gain in about 40.5
miles covered, over 31 hours afoot. Here I'll focus on the Sunday hike
and summarize the rest more briefly.
I only knew of one other person who'd done this hike:
Charlie Callagan,
a ranger at DVNP. He'd been both up and down, but he took the southwest
ridge from Dantes View, which ended at the valley floor more than two
miles south of Badwater. I wanted to go more directly, on the ridge
that began just south of Badwater and trended "too far" to the
northeast.
Before traveling, I studied this BW-DV route intensely. I had pictures
of it I'd taken from above --
Dantes View
-- and below -- a stereo pair from out on the salt flats. I prepared a
custom map from topos (paper topological maps from the USGS) with the
ridges and drainages highlighted. It all looked do-able except for one
little uncertain section in the middle I couldn't see either from above
or below, where I needed to cross a gully from the initial ridge to a
middle ridge that headed straight for Dante.
It was just 2.3 miles direct from BW to DV, with over a mile of vertical
gain! My estimated total gain was to be about 6200' (6000' direct plus
some drops) for about 4.8 miles on the route. Road distance between
these two points: Over 40 miles!
I was really curious what lay in between
Badwater
and
Dantes View.
How would it feel to traverse the terrain in the middle, rising up out
of the valley from the basement to the roof?
I didn't want to do this hike as a round-trip because it was so long,
and the descent would be on steep, rotten terrain. I worried about how
to get a ride down from DV. I considered bringing rollerblades, or
renting a bike and hiding it up at the top. (Alas, they didn't rent
bikes in the Valley, and I didn't want to lug one around all week from
Vegas.)
Ultimately I decided to simply start as early as possible, get to Dantes
View well before dark, bring lots of small bills, and hope to beg or buy
a ride down.
Just to make it more interesting... For medical reasons I was on a
low-carbohydrate diet trial. This meant I couldn't use any stored carbs
(glycogen), which are normally needed for intense or long-term exercise.
The solution was to eat lots of simple glucose candy (SweetTarts) while
hiking, at which time it should not cause an insulin spike. (It did,
however, make my teeth sting after a while!)
In addition to regular workouts and skiing, the Tuesday before this trip
I spent an hour climbing 1000' vertical with a full pack -- in some
stairwells at HP! I was ready.
I arrived at DVNP Saturday evening after the usual schlep out, including
flying from DIA, picking up a rental car, and buying groceries in
Las Vegas.
Driving down the hill to
Furnace Creek
I got a rude surprise -- "Will ya look at that, the Sunset RV
park####campground is full!" Hence I wasn't surprised that the tent
sites in the area were all gone too. I knew Presidents Weekend would
bring crowds, but nothing like this!
On a ranger's advice I spent the night a couple of tenths of a mile up the
Trail Canyon
road from the
West Side Road.
It was quite nice there, and it saved me $10 too. [2023: I think
nowadays you're required to drive a lot farther up this road to camp
legally.]
By the way -- I did not bring a tent on this trip! Just a sleeping bag,
thermarest, tarps, and warm clothing. I didn't need the tent,
either. I was actually hot the first night, sleeping below sea
level, full of anticipation of the day ahead.
I woke up too early; lots of pre-hike jitters. By all rights I should
have been wiped out, but I felt great, drawing on the energy of the
place. I got to
Badwater
nice and early, with a good look at
Comet Hale-Bopp
along the way!
I touched the saline pool, said a brief prayer, and started up the huge
rise at 6 am sharp, half an hour before sunrise -- just light enough to
see. First I passed the outhouse, then patted my car goodbye, then
walked south along the road (how exciting). Soon I left the pavement
and ascended a huge alluvial fan.
Ten minutes later I was at the mouth of the canyon that divided the
ridges south of Badwater. It was surprisingly steep and loose getting
onto the ridge I wanted. I debated going farther south and catching the
next ridge instead, a more direct route, but decided to stick to my plan
(filed with the Park Service). As it turned out, though this added 600'
of gain and more than three miles to the day, I took the right route!
On the ridge, heading east, it was quite narrow and rough. It looked
impossible in several spots and some scrambling was required. I dreaded
hiking up it for another hour to a dead end and then having to turn back
or even abandon the climb. (Part of me was thinking, "yes! yes!") But
I saw both desert bighorn and coyote scat on the ridge -- here and the
rest of the way up -- which indicated it was "connected and do-able". I
also found traces of a footpath, and some graffiti!
Just over an hour total got me to the 785' high point overlooking
Badwater.
There was a tremendous view from there, straight down north to BW, and
south into the cliffy ravine with dryfalls. I looked down on the roof
of my car; hard to believe it was 1000' below me. I felt like I was
pretty high above BW and the salt pan, but still "more low than high" on
the hillside... So far, so good. I rested ten minutes and studied the
route ahead.
A small ~40' drop later, I started up a very steep, complex, rocky
hillside about which I'd had my doubts. At first there was just one
obvious way to go; the only choice. Later it broadened, so I bore right
(south) to keep the ravine nearby on my right. I started to sweat from
the growing warmth of the day and the intensity of the climb.
An hour and a half passed that I don't remember well... I just ground
slowly up the hill, avoiding loose rocks and slippery talus, using my
hands a lot for balance.
At around 2400' and 0850, it became clear that the "hidden gully" on the
map and photos was a narrow, nasty slot canyon with big dryfalls. No
way could I cross it! At least not unless I ascended maybe another
1000' first, and then did a large drop cautiously on steep slopes.
Worse, the next ridge south, up to a 3815' point, looked horribly cliffy
above there, going the "direct" way that I had intended to Dante. I had
a sinking feeling...
But I had plenty of time, energy, food, and water, so I pushed on up the
original ridge passing one "waypoint" after another. Somewhere in here
my perception changed from being "close to Badwater" to "way the heck up
high above it." For a long time I had a great view down to BW and my
ascent route, which I'd have lost sooner if I'd crossed the nasty
ravine. Beyond the 785' point there were no signs of previous human
presence until I saw a big cairn at near 4000'.
Around 1030 (4.5 hours into the climb), I took a break to study the map
and add up the drops and rises ahead of me. I concluded I could follow
this ridge all the way around to Dante, though it would force me about two
miles north of the goal and I would end up approaching it from the
northeast. But I like "ridge-running", and this less-direct approach
would be gentler too. I figured I could still make Dante by 2 pm, so I
proceeded. To my surprise there were more cairns, and some bits of
metal, such as half a horseshoe.
After 5000' of gain, at 1130 I took a half-hour boots-off lunch break on
a 4800' ridge nearly due north of
Dante.
I felt surprisingly crampy -- I couldn't even sit cross-legged because
my inner quads complained. I downed lots of food and water, ate one
Vitamin I (ibuprofen), and mixed up a liter of Gookinade, which saved
me!
At noon I resumed the trudge up and around "the long way" to Dante. I
felt better, it was breezier and cooler, and I rather enjoyed the walk.
I even went out of my way to visit each high point along the route.
Dantes View
stayed between me and the sun, so no good pictures in that direction.
Eventually I found myself at 5320'+, one mile high on the backbone of
the ridge between Death Valley to the west and the
Greenwater Valley
to the east -- a spectacular rooftop ridge-walk! I continued to make
good time with frequent short rest breaks. Now the ups and downs were
on the order of 100-200' each.
Finally after 1 pm I started on the "homestretch", nearly 600' more gain
in over a mile to the
Dante
high point. I was very tired, but elated, and I moved pretty fast over
an expected series of false summits. It was a wonderful feeling
reaching the summit and the familiar USGS marker at 1356, a bit less
than eight hours from starting, and having it all to myself!
Hiyo! A total 6800' of gain, ~8 miles, less than eight hours.
(If you visit Dantes View, or see the famous photo taken from there
looking northwest, you will see the long ridge I climbed, out in the
distance, set against the valley floor.)
After a half hour rest at the high point soaking up the sunshine and the
panorama, I walked and ran down the trail about ten minutes south to the
Dantes View
parking lot. There were several signposts, including a broad
"billboard" lying nearly flat with "Dantes View" sprawled across it.
With a huge grin, I put both hands against this sign and let out another
victory whoop. Whereupon immediately several people asked me where I'd
come from. It took a couple of repeats for them to get it. "All the
way down there?"
And... Immediately a fellow asked me, "How are you getting back down?"
I said, "I'm trusting the universe on that one... Hoping to hitch a
ride, or pay someone $10 for a ride down." He replied, "Want a ride?"
I couldn't believe it! He, his wife, and two daughters, in a mini-van,
had just been to Badwater, but they didn't mind taking me 17 miles out
of their way (past Furnace Creek) back to my car!
And they wouldn't even take my money! So I tried to repay them instead
with information, lots of it, about neat hikes in DVNP. It was a fun,
fast ride down!
By 1530 I was back at my car at Badwater, and I felt fine. Amazing! I
had time to "debrief" with
Charlie Callagan,
at the
Furnace Creek
visitor center, catch a shower and the evening program, and snag one of
the few remaining campsites at
Texas Springs CG
for a solid night's sleep.
I awoke feeling surprisingly good. I'd completed my main goal, I had four
days left to play in the Valley, and "the rest was gravy." I filled the
time with lots more adventures, but as I promised earlier, I'll offer a
brief(er) retelling here.
After a leisurely morning I carefully drove my rental car, a Chevy
Cavalier, past
Ubehebe Crater
at the north end of the Valley and out to the southwest on the unpaved
Racetrack Road
for my first visit. Where Titus Canyon offered some bottom-bumping
rough spots last March, the ~26 miles past
Teakettle Junction
to the
Grandstand
at Racetrack Playa had few large rocks, ruts, or potholes... Just
world-class washboards! I spent 1:45 on the drive; that's right, a mere
15 MPH average.
Racetrack Playa
was pleasantly primitive. Few signs, nothing marking the trail up
Ubehebe Peak,
no outhouses. Just the rotten road and some pullouts and one signpost
at the moving rocks. Under an hour sufficed to walk out to explore the
Grandstand
-- a complex black quartz monzonite island sticking out of the north end
of the playa.
About two miles south, I spent a bit more than another hour wandering
around the utterly flat playa studying the moving rocks for which the
area is named. The rocks were thought to move when the mud was wet and
slick and the wind blew. Their tracks were bizarre, ranging from fresh
to faded; in all directions, looping around randomly; some with rocks at
their ends, others not; a crazy quilt of "fossil" slide marks in the
rock-hard dry mud.
The moving rocks ranged in size from pebble- to chair-sized. I could
see fewer than 100 rocks from any one spot. I paced one looping track at
about 1/6 mile in length. I thought all the rocks were near their
source, some cliffs at the south end; but binocs showed they were
scattered all over the playa, just thinner as you got away from the
source, as if they decayed into rubble, or they picked up speed and got
across.
After this I had enough time and energy to do a brisk hike from the
Grandstand pullout (3708') up
Ubehebe Peak
(5678') for the spectacular view of Racetrack Valley to the east and
Saline Valley
to the northwest. I made the top in 1:55, 25 minutes before sunset;
about 2500' total gain including a big saddle drop both ways.
Unfortunately after a very nice trail around the north summit, the last
400' or so south was rather steep, nasty scrambling, so I had to head
down by sunset at 1730 and get off it before dark. There was no help
from the full moon because thunderstorm clouds grew and socked in the
area!
Rain or snow, and fog, filled Saline Valley. The wind howled, the dust
blew, there were occasional distant flashes, and I reached my car just
10 minutes before it started raining. The sunset was dismal -- but
there wasn't enough rain to wet the playa so I could be the first person
in history to see the rocks move!
I drove back north toward Teakettle but turned left to the
Ubehebe Lead Mine
ruins (~3840'), as recommended by a ranger, 0.7 rough miles over a
saddle and down to the end of the road into a canyon leading to the
Saline Valley. I was exhausted and a cold wind still blew, so I slept
in the car several hours until it quieted down, then moved outside.
By morning it was calm and clear although cold. I got another nice look
at the comet and napped some more.
At about 0825 I started a walk downhill to
Corridor Canyon,
a very remote place, on pleasantly firm, consolidated gravel. I walked
past the Ubehebe Lead Mine ruins through a bland upper canyon and past
some small blue limestone falls... Petroglyphs, mainly bighorn, and old
graffiti here, river left, just inside the side canyons -- I didn't see
them until on the way back.
I continued out onto a huge wash, down that through some lovely,
polished blue dryfalls, out into Corridor Canyon itself, and down to the
far south end of the Corridor -- a roughly 2/3 mile long, impressively
straight stretch with low, smooth walls and a flat floor, quite
reminiscent of a long hallway. Total time from the car: 1:30, so it
had to be 3-4 miles.
I sat a long time at the far end of the Corridor. It was a very remote,
cool, quiet, peaceful place. I resisted the temptation to continue
down-canyon and disappear into the mists of time in
Saline Valley...
I hiked back up, about 1000' total gain, taking every right turn. I
spent 13.5 minutes walking the straight section, and 1:55 total to
return to the car; 4:05 round trip.
I drove back out the
Racetrack Road
in 1:30, and stopped at the
Grapevine
Ranger Station to close my solo hiking plan and refile another. What to
do with the remaining daylight? How about a quick walk up
Death Valley Buttes?
Hard to even see them unless you know where to look -- and they don't
appear that impressive -- but it should at least be quick, right?
The Buttes were surprisingly big and high, or else I was tireder than I
thought. They also offered a surprisingly spectacular sunset view.
From the
Daylight Pass
road about 1/2 mile below
Hells Gate,
at ~2160', starting an hour before sunset, I went directly across a wide
series of washes to the east butte (2720'+) and was on top in
under 40 minutes.
Unfortunately the distance and drop and gain to the higher west
butte was still substantial, so I didn't reach the top (3017') until
1740, ten minutes after the sun disappeared; 1:10 climbing time for a
total of 1100'. But I enjoyed long shadows and lovely colors on the way
up, especially
Corkscrew Peak
to the east and the length of the Valley to the south.
The last ~300' up the west butte was surprisingly nasty, airy, and
steep, though on solid, smooth, colorful rock (pink and purple). I
debated beating a hasty retreat from the summit, but decided since it
was a clear, calm, warm night with a full moon, I'd risk descending
(carefully!) in the dark. So I sat up there for nearly an hour soaking
up the glorious view as the stars came out. I saw my first wildlife
other than lizards and birds -- a small mouse; and a hawk circled the
summit very close to me (also noticing the mouse?)
At 1830 I reluctantly and carefully departed to descend the rough ridge.
Now pretty worn out, it took longer to get back to my car than it had to
ascend, even though I dropped north off the saddle instead of reclimbing
the east butte.
After a long, landmark-free slog across the huge wash, I was amused and
relieved to hit the road just 100' uphill from my car. I returned to
Furnace Creek,
caught a shower, and got to bed after 10 pm at a now fairly deserted
Texas Springs CG.
It was a beautiful morning in the Valley. I didn't hurt, but alas, I
didn't have much energy either. I messed around at the visitor center
over two hours chatting and doing map study. Then it was too late to
climb
Corkscrew Peak
(pity, but I
finally climbed it 11 years
later in 2008). I "wimped out" and went to hike up
Fall Canyon
instead.
I started at the
Titus Canyon
mouth trailhead (960') at around 1150. The trail north into
Fall Canyon
took 20 minutes to enter the canyon, and another 1:20 to reach the first
dry fall, about 25' high and ~3 miles from the trailhead. Except for
being on loose gully-wash gravel it was a mellow hike; cool, shady, and
with lots of steep canyon walls. Scrambling on the south side above the
first dry fall took me into the "killer slots": Some gorgeous, narrow,
sinuous sections winding through intensely blue limestone.
About a mile beyond the first dry fall, after the canyon widened out, I
decided I'd run out of time and energy and it was far enough... I
turned and started the trudge back down. I sat in the cool blue narrows
a while on a ludicrous anomalous polished pink boulder.
On the way down I discovered that the left fork about one hour in from the
trailhead led in just three minutes of hiking through a pretty side canyon
to an impassable ~15' dry fall. I got back to the car at 1655; about
5:05 round trip with ~1600' gain. I saw just one other person in the
canyon that day!
It was a good evening to take it easy... A shower and the evening
program at the Visitor Center. At
Texas Springs CG
I finally burned some junk firewood I'd collected near Las Vegas, before
decking out under the stars again.
For the third morning in a row I happened awake right around 5 am to pee
and got another look at the comet from my sleeping bag... Neat.
Time to head home. I stopped at
Devils Golf Course
for a half hour excursion out to see where they'd collected salt during
WWII. I can't exactly call it a hike -- making progress in this terrain
was like crossing a very rough boulderfield of razor-sharp rocks. I
found the site, but wasn't impressed.
At
Badwater,
running on reserves, I forced myself to take the last long walk I'd
looked forward to all week. I was afoot for 3:15. Using "pilotage", I
clocked 68 minutes at a 284 deg true heading toward
Wildrose Peak,
aiming for the -282' low spot shown on the topo map 3.3 miles out from
the parking lot. (This is one of few places where if I went back, I'd
take a GPS unit! [And
five years later, I did!])
It took 15 minutes just to get beyond the trampled area that had slowly
expanded over the years. Then the salt pan was relatively rough
compared to some years ago. It required some care to not stumble over
frequent expansion ridges.
Out at the probable low spot there wasn't anything different or
notable except the fabulous view. I was barely halfway across the salt
pan, surrounded by mind-numbing square miles of utterly flat, blinding
white chemical desert with perhaps as much as a foot of relief where the
crust bowed up here and there as it dried.
I sat and rested a long time, then meandered back. I could (barely) see
the cars at
Badwater.
Above it, laid out for inspection, was the entire route I'd climbed four
days earlier to
Dantes View.
The wind blew strong and steady, so I could see literally 50 miles both
north and south through the valley. Telescope Peak, decorated with
snow, rose over 11000' to the west, crowning the
Panamint Range.
It was a long walk back on sore legs and finally-developing blisters.
That 3' of gain was a killer... It was long enough that I listened to
the entirety of Beethoven's Ninth, "Ode to Joy", on a Walkman [cassette
player]. This was a "religious experience" that dulled the aches in my
body. Each time the beautiful music built to a crescendo I stopped and
turned slowly with my arms wide, taking in the expansive scene, full of
awe and ecstasy. It was a rush of intense joy. I was overwhelmed with
passion, filled with the color and vastness of the Valley and with the
memories of the past week.
The rest of the trip home was anticlimactic. I did a quick 15 minute
walk up both halves of
Cinder Hill,
also called
"Split Cone"
for the fault line that divides it, down at the south end of the
West Side Road,
leaning into a powerful gale of dry air.
I drove back the south way to
Las Vegas,
a bit short on time, but reached the airport with some margin left.
Another packed flight, a drive to Fort Collins, and I was home by
midnight.
(Next trip report: 1997_0323_LunarEclipse.htm)
Introduction
Saturday, Feb 15: Getting there via Las Vegas
Sunday, Feb 16: The mega-hike from Badwater to Dantes View
Monday, Feb 17: Out to the Racetrack and Ubehebe Peak
Tuesday, Feb 18: Corridor Canyon, Death Valley Buttes
Wednesday, Feb 19: Fall Canyon
Thursday, Feb 20: Long walk and home