Death Valley

Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes

Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes

If you play your cards right, you can follow the previous posts from a snowy 11,000 foot peak (Telescope Peak), past some unique structures (the Charcoal Kilns and Eureka Mine), through an ancient canyon with cracked granite blocks (Mosaic Canyon) down to rolling sand dunes (Mesquite Flat) all within a day. That alone should make Death Valley a “must-do” in anyone’s book – I personally can’t think of another place world-wide where you can traverse such a variety of terrain in a day or less. Granted, if you’re going to do all of those things in a day, you’re going to need to get an early start, and move quick, but it is indeed possible.

Mosaic Canyon

Mosaic Canyon

Do you like rocks? I like rocks. I’m constantly staring at rocks; picking up rocks, and trying to analyze rocks. Part of my interest in rocks is based on the fact that I’m wondering, “Is this safe to climb? Will this hold my weight? Can I traverse it?” and part of my interest lies within a much simpler explanation: the rule of cool (“ROC”). Rocks, in my opinion, are cool. Think about it for a minute: rocks are the very bones of the planet; forged in the molten interior before being slowly exposed on the surface. Even if you disagree with my analogy above, and say that rocks are more like the soul of the planet, dark and inscrutable, or some other metaphor, rocks are cool because they are time capsules. Any geologic feature, large or small that one gazes upon probably stood for millions of years, and during that time, was probably altered by heat, wind, water, ice, or platetechtonics. If nothing else, the long view of earth’s history gives you pause – that rock there that you’re sitting on? Probably stepped upon by dinosaurs; and it’ll probably be present long after you’re gone. Then again, if you don’t want to think about such big picture things, it’s easiest to say what I said above: rocks are cool.

Eureka Mine, Harrisburg Ghost Town, Aguereberry Camp

Eureka Mine, Harrisburg Ghost Town, Aguereberry Camp

As if there weren’t enough interesting things about Death Valley National Park, here’s one more for you: the park is honeycombed with tons of abandoned mines, representing a bygone era of mineral exploration and exploitation.  Many of these mines can be seen from the trail, most notably in the Golden Canyon region, but a majority – if not all of these mines may be unsafe, due to a variety of factors – the mine may not be seismically stable, there may be hazardous gasses (methane), or there may be morlocks or other serious hazards within the mine. Fortunately, should you have the itch to explore a mine in a safe manner; there is an option for you: the Eureka Mine (provided you are headed there during the right season).

Wildrose Peak

Wildrose Peak

Some people climb mountains for the challenge; some people climb mountains because they have a burning desire to be atop high places; some people climb mountains for the physical activity; and some people climb mountains just because they’re there. There’s a million reasons why people climb mountains, and if you run into people on the trail, it’s always interesting to hear why people are there, what they are doing, and if they are lost, help them out by giving them directions and encouragement. One of the most honest reasons I’ve heard for climbing a mountain was on Wildrose Peak by a transplanted Frenchman named Bernard who was living in Los Angeles. Wildrose Peak, incidentally, is the small sister of Rogers, Bennett, and Telescope in the Panamint Range of Death Valley, clocking in at 9,064 feet. On that trip, I had been on a climbing tear – I had powered up Whitney in winter conditions on Saturday, and bagged Telescope, Bennett, and Rogers on Sunday. It was now a Monday, and rather than take it easy – I decided to climb Wildrose Peak.

Telescope Peak

Telescope Peak

Telescope Peak, in my mind, is a hike full of contrasts. In 2002, I solo climbed Mt. Whitney in day at the end of May, and then got in my car and drove into Death Valley to camp at Mahogany Flat. At sunrise, I was up and on the Telescope Peak trail, and after a few hours of vigorous hiking, had summited Telescope, Bennett, and Rogers well before the day was half over. On that day, it felt like the trail positively flew away under my feet. Then again, I suppose anything after Mt. Whitney the day before would seem easy. However, on a subsequent trip to Telescope Peak, the stretch of trail from Arcane Meadows to the summit seemed to me to be the longest trail ever created. Two things are clear about the Telescope Peak trail: first, that it winds up and around to the 11,331 summit of Telescope Peak, which is the highest mountain in Death Valley National Park and the Panamint Range; and second, that it has stunning views of the surrounding terrain.

Rogers Peak

Rogers Peak

My favorite thing about Death Valley National Park is the variety that the park provides. The park has the things that everyone expects – blazing hot temperatures, Badwater, and classic desert terrain. But the park also has innumerable things that most visitors don’t expect, such as the Charcoal Kilns and great mountaineering. Yes, that’s right, I said great mountaineering. The most popular mountaineering is on a cluster of mountains – Telescope Peak, Rogers Peak, Bennett Peak, and Wildrose Peak - that are located in the Panamint Mountains. Out of these mountains, Rogers Peak, at 9,994 feet is the easiest to summit, and is a great short day hike from the Mahogany Flat campground.

Charcoal Kilns

Charcoal Kilns

Back in the near-distant past, after dinosaurs roamed the Earth, I decided that I wanted to climb Telescope Peak. At that point, I didn’t know much about Death Valley other than what I had read and researched. I know that this was truly a long time ago, perhaps during part of the dark ages, because I had gleaned most of my information from actual books and paper maps. I left after work for the desert, and by the time I reached Emigrant Canyon Road within the park, it was very late. As my car glided over the curvy pavement like a giant bat, my eyes drooped slightly. Suddenly, my high beams caught a glimpse of something grey, brown and large on the road. Automatically, my foot hit the brake before I could say “Blue Moon”. My SUV skidded on its antilock brakes for a split-second before coming to rest.