My friend Patrick O’Brien likes to discuss my recent adventure into Death Valley in the same breath as Hunter S. Thompson. I haven’t read the book yet, but it’s on the way, but what triggered his memory was the Mustang convertible in the desert. Thompson’s book ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” describes a “trip” into the desert with variety pack of hallucinogenic drugs. My adventure had the car, but it was a bit more tame and short-lived and the experience of this depth of serenity and solitude is hard to find in a bottle or a pill.
I’ve been alone now for many years. Thankful for a close network of friends and clients, there are few moments when the isolation reveals itself as despair. Nights are long at times and holidays are especially cold, but solace has a special strength too – an inner strength. That’s why over the past few months, this independence and self-reliance has lured me to unique, memorable destinations. Recently during a trip to Nevada for a newspaper convention, I decided to rent a car and make time to scream out into the deserts into Death Valley.
The sky was turning blue on Blue Diamond Highway as I turned the convertible into Red Canyons from Las Vegas. I tried to find something new to listen to on the radio, but my Miles Davis CD wouldn’t let me go. Besides, it was winter (wasn’t it?) and the clouds and showers were breaking into a palette of blue and pastel orange landscapes that cradled the horizon on all sides.
The hills and mountains of Tennessee are gorgeous. It’s one of the main reasons why I love my Tennessee home, but the rock ridges and mountains that surround Nevada and other cities in the West are alive with history and intrigue. In my opinion, if there was ever a template for creation, these landscapes in Death Valley would be the first pages to turn.
The roads from Pahrump and Shoshone, NV weave back and forth across the horizon from brown blankets of barren mountains to snow-capped peaks. The Mustang felt quite at home on these long banked curves, but each turn was a postcard and I couldn’t help turning my head from side-side looking through the cheap sunglasses I bought at a convenience store in Vegas.
Turning into one of the valleys along the way, I was started by three Army helicopters zooming toward me like an action thriller. They were gone before I could snap a picture, but I imagine these lands are great for military exercises because you don’t see many homes or businesses in the desert. Most of the roads run for miles with an opaque mountain range on each side. Western Nevada has a few “last-stops” though. It was near Parhump where signs were pointing toward a Brothel Museum and there seemed to be a lot of RV parks in this territory. I must have missed the “ranches” – maybe next time.
Crossing through Shoshone was really the last resemblance of any town. That’s where I pulled of the road next to Seymore’s Ice Cream stand and opened the top to the convertible. It was a first for me and even though the temperature was barely above 60, it was simply exciting the sun was out and before me a beautiful day – even if it was in the dead of winter.
My imagination always wondered what it would be like to pop the top on a convertible and hold my foot into an accelerator with the winds whipping by at 120 mph. That was the view on the speedometer and I was surprised to feel the car had more to give. Hell yes, it was breaking the law, but desert driving for 20 miles on two line roads will bring out the outlaw in anyone. My thin ruffled hair made me look like a mad-hatter, but I’d come this far and at this point in my life there’s a renewed effort to live it while you can – stop imagining and start doing.
At that rate, it didn’t take long for me to wind into the Amargossa Valley. There may have been three cars that passed by in the course of 50 miles. After turning onto Highway 190 at Death Valley Junction one of the last images was a hotel that looked like it was from some cheesy 70s movie. From there on, it was Death Valley and the deserts of Eastern California. The land was burnt orange, tan and speckled with black rocks and rocky crags up close and in the distance a mirage-like effect across the basin caused by dried salt beds. One of the first look-out points was Zabriskie Point and it was a great spot to shoot some pictures before driving into the town of Furnace Creek.
At the outskirts of this little desert town and home to the Death Valley Museum and Visitors Center is a hotel that looks like a Spanish ranch and the road sign indicated that point was 100 feet below sea level. It’s here my future visits will beckon me to turn left – I was more interested in the visitors center this time, but the lowest point is actually in an area called Badwater Basin. That spot is 282 ft below sea level and now I have a reason to go back, but it was getting late and it was important for me to reach the visitors center.
My 88-year-old Granny loves to collect refrigerator magnets. She’s got them all over her refrigerator doors at home and she seems to truly appreciate tokens from my adventures. There was a decent crowd at the Death Valley Museum and lots of laughter as the park attendants were friendly and funny as tourists stopped in to pay the $20 fee for traveling through the park. For me, a poster, a few bookmarks and one refrigerator magnet. By then, it was 4.00 pm.
As expected, I always seem to find myself running late, trying to absorb every last moment of this unique landscape. As soon as I left the visitors center, it was time to head back to Vegas. Besides, I had to have the rental back at McClarren Airport by 7pm. My flight didn’t leave till 11.30, but it was important to get the car back to avoid another day rate.
Just outside of the park, I took some of my favorite pictures of the year. Just over the horizon near a ridge of mountains referred to as Pyramid Peak (6,703 ft), the full moon was rising against a gorgeous canvas of blues and earthy southwestern colors. It was probably the most memorable site on my trip and I stopped for several moments to grab these photos as the sun slowly descended behind the mountains to the west.
I made good time heading back toward Vegas, slowing only once to roll the top back up on the convertible and settling in behind a Nevada police car that kept the speeds down as I got closer to the city. If you’ve ever been to Vegas, especially at night, the thing you’ll always remember are the lights. Vegas is located in the middle of the desert and what is familiar in the dark is completely disrupted by the glow of this city at night. As soon as I came back through Red Rock Canyons, the city was sparkling with a vibrant sparkle and there were so many airplanes and helicopters floating in that night sky, it looked like fireflies.
So there it was. The Mustang was hurried back into the line of all the other rentals and my bags were crossing over the roads to the Airport. My hair was matted all over my head from the day in the sun at triple digit speeds and my mind swirling with the thoughts and ambition precipitated by the meetings in Vegas. I’m in love with this landscape too and although it felt cozy to find myself back in Tennessee, I can’t help but imagine my next trip out west and hopefully, I’ll have another chance to make it back to the basin – even if it’s with a seniors group in an air-conditioned RV, but I’ll always remember the silence and thrill of going it alone.
If you made it this far…you deserve to see the rest of the pix…Click here…