Loving Death Valley, part 2

PK hiking on a loop trail out of the Zabriskie Point overlook. 

PK and I passed through Death Valley in the spring of 2015 en route to explorations of the red and gold glories in the American Southwest. That was our third visit to Death Valley, and we stayed only one night, thinking, somehow, that we'd "seen it." It wasn't true, of course, but still, we doubted we'd be back anytime soon.

Then the "super bloom" occurred, and due to an upheaval (Cancer Club) in our travel plans to Ecuador, we found ourselves instead on a consolation trip along the central California coast, within striking distance of the bloom. Of course, we couldn't resist.

We were not disappointed!  More super bloom photos.

Aside from flower extravaganzas, we rediscovered Death Valley's ever-present wonders. Rocks. Craters. Dunes. Canyons. Mysteries. PK indulged my photo mania by getting up and out of camp around sunrise, and going out again in the late afternoon, to catch the best light. We hiked for hours, stopping often to soak in the colors and forms and wrap our minds around how natural beauty grabs the heart and makes the soul sing. After that lyrical (ha!) phrase, I will lay off the descriptions and get to the photos, sans flowers. Death Valley don't need no stinkin' flowers to blow your mind. (But don't miss them if you can possibly get there before the rare bloom ends.)

You don't need to hike to enjoy Death Valley, but many gorgeous areas are accessed by easy to moderate trails. We saw hikers of all shapes, sizes, and ages in canyons and washes. (We wondered how some of them were going to make it! Black clothing? Flip flops? No water?) We both use hiking poles, wear sturdy boots or hiking shoes, carry water and snacks, bring a map and binoculars, and I always have my camera. Above, someone else is using it to take our photo at Dante's View. 

Dropping into Death Valley from the west through the Panamint Mountains, and I mean "dropping." Highway 190 goes from Lone Pine, CA, elevation 3,727 ft, at the foot of Mt. Whitney, to Death Valley, parts of which are more than 200 feet below sea level. The 70-mile drive previews what awaits. Right away, you know it's gonna be good down there.  

Death Valley in the early morning from atop Dante's View 5,000 feet above the valley floor.

Sunset at the Mesquite Dunes. Photo was taken from the road as we attempted to reach another destination while the amazing light prevailed. Since "amazing light" lasts maybe 10 minutes, probably less, ours was a futile pursuit. But at least I got this photo, and the one below. People walking around out there give it scale, and the scale is HUGE, as Bernie Sanders would say.

More Mesquite Dunes.

A favorite image from 2015 when we discovered Ubehebe Crater and the Little Hebe Crater Trail.

I'm skipping captions for most of the photos below. Unless otherwise noted, they were made at Golden Canyon, Zabriskie Point, Twenty Mule Team Canyon, or from along the road in the Badwater Basin, where we hung out a lot because of all the flowers. All these are roughly in the same area. Death Valley has MUCH more to offer.  

    

PK trudging up a steep trail in the Red Cathedral region of the Golden Canyon trail

If you go .... a few tips.

• Wear light-colored clothing to help stay cool.
• Wear a hat, wide brims are good.
• Carry a light pack to keep your hands free. Many trails require a bit of scrambling.
• Hiking poles are helpful.
• Camping? Only one campground takes reservations. To score a good spot elsewhere, arrive early in the day, preferably not on a weekend. We saw lots of tents pitched on rocky parking lots in overflow camping areas. 
• Talk to other tourists for ideas about where to go, what to see, especially if you're there for the super bloom. 
• Get up early. Midday is too hot and too bright for maximum enjoyment, especially for photography. 
• Check maps carefully and also the park-provided information. Many loop trails are easier starting in one direction rather than the other.
• Forget about your cell phone. It won't work in 99.9 percent of the park. 
• If you plan to get off the beaten path, be careful. A park ranger told us back country travelers should plan on changing at least one flat tire because of sharp rocks. We made a couple-mile foray onto a dirt and rock road before we turned around, shaken and stirred by washboard surface.  Eight-ply tires are recommended.

If you've never been to Death Valley, and want to do it justice, plan on spending at least 3-5 days. 

Chasing the Death Valley Super bloom - 2016

Chasing the Super Bloom - Death Valley 2016

During our recent swing through Death Valley, it occurred me to that the national park may be misnamed. Valley of Light? Drama Valley? Valley of Vibrant Earth and Sky? Even when it isn't busting out major primary colors, as it is now, Death Valley is life affirming. Its eerie stark beauty is like no other, and the sunrise and sunset-saturated colors of the rocks and mountains, dunes and salt flats, canyons and washes, will persist long after the fantastic but ephemeral super bloom fades. But right now, and perhaps for the next couple months, Death Valley is putting on a rare show. 

Il

Hordes descended upon Death Valley the weekend we visited - February 26-28 - as breathless reports of a super bloom continued. I was concerned, that since the bloom had been in progress for a few weeks, it would be on the wane by the time we dropped in. And when we first entered the park, from the west, we searched in vain for spots of color. It wasn't until we reached the Badwater area at sea level and below,  that splashes of yellow appeared, and then well past the official Badwater tourist zone, that flowers were thick and lush, providing the spectacular effect I'd anticipated.  It was a joy to see.

Earlier areas looked more like this, attracting just as many flower lovers and photographers. I loved being among them, rushing forth to capture whatever caught my eye. It reminded me of the excitement bears and bison elicit in Yellowstone. I'd like to think I'm above succumbing to group think about random roadside rarities, but I'm not. I can leap out of cars with the best of the them, camera at the ready.

Last yellow-tinged photo leaving Death Valley en route to Beatty to the east. 

Sparse  vegetarian, but, in contrast to the usual barren rocks, a highly decorated Death Valley scene.

The notch-leaf phacelia sets off the yellow of desert gold.

Desert Five-spot, our prize sighting. Globe-shaped flowers and roundish leaves. We saw a half dozen, mostly stand alone.

Lesser Mojave. We saw few of these, and only in a 

a nameless wash on Mormon Point. (A wash that led to a

winding slot canyon marked with a cairn by hikers we met

in the parking lot. Otherwise, we would not have known.)

PK walking amidst hip-high Desert Gold, which were thick in the south end of the park.

Desert Ghost. 

Desert Gold blooms are the most numerous, but the understory is full of purple and white flowers.

We spotted this bloom at Dante's View high above the valley floor. The vast majority of color was at or below sea level As the season progresses, the bloom is expected to move up, so late-arriving wildflower aficionados will not be disappointed they didn't get in on the ground floor, so to speak.

Death Valley from Dante's View, 5,476 feet above sea level. Even without flowers, it is awe-inspiring.

Butchart Gardens photos and a tip

Do you have plans to see Butchart Gardens, or hope to someday? Vancouver Island's gem had been on my to-see list for decades. Finally, on a July 2016 Roadtrek trip that included time on the island, I got my wish. It was fantastic, and I'd love to go again to see the spring or fall extravaganzas. 

After strolling along lush flower-lined paths the view opens to this, a grand floral display, just one part of the gardens that were started more than 100 years ago in an abandoned quarry. A sparse late-day crowd makes enjoying the details easy.

This should be a video to show the ever-changing fountain patterns. 

It's not all about showy flowers but also the subtle colors, textures, and design of greenery. 

Meticulous attention to creating living art is evident throughout the gardens.

The route provided to the Gardens by our GPS surprised us. It wasn't a freeway or a wide two-lane road with turning lanes and a bike path to accommodate the Garden's nearly one million annual visitors.  Instead, it's a narrow twisty turney country road. PK kept repeating, "This can't be right!" as we wound through the countryside. Butchart Gardens is about 14 miles from the city of Victoria.

Then suddenly the welcome sign appears and we drive in and the road opens to a vast parking area. A young parking attendant appears on a bicycle to lead us to where Class B RVs (Class B means small) are parked. Since it's around 4:30 p.m., there's only one, another Roadtrek, remaining in the parking lot and we pull in beside it. Rain threatens, so we grab our umbrellas and head for the entry gate. (No need to bring your own umbrellas as there are baskets of loaners for visitors' use.)

Cost of adult admission to one of the most lavish gardens on earth? Around $32 CA dollars. At the exchange rate available then, about $24 US dollars. Ticket prices vary by season. Soon after entering, we learned that the admission included an outdoor concert starting at 8 p.m. Bonus!

Another surprise bonus was arriving late in the day. We didn't do so on purpose; we'd driven from Tofino (post coming soon) and didn't reach our reserved-in-advance RV park until mid-afternoon.
Tour busses were departing as we arrived, and although we didn't have the gardens to ourselves, at no time did we feel crowded or frustrated. A couple days later, on the ferry back to Port Angeles, WA. I talked with a woman who had been at the gardens a few days before we were.

Her experience was not that good.

"We got there at 9:30 a.m. and it was OK, but a half hour later we were overrun," she reports.
"We couldn't even take photos for all the people crowding around us."

For us, touring all the gardens, stopping for a gelato, and even a light cafeteria-style supper, required about 2.5 hours. I'm sure if we'd been battling crowds and waiting in lines we would have needed another hour or so.  As it was, we had an hour to kill before the concert. Lucky for us, we had our Roadtrek retreat. We rested there a bit and enjoyed a glass of wine before reentering the gardens to find the concert lawn. Again, no waiting, no hassle.

PK makes his way to the concert lawn. Many people brought chairs, but we were OK with sitting on wooden benches.

The Tip
If you visit, consider the late-in-the-day option, especially during summer and early fall while days are still long and concerts are offered. (Daily until September 3 this year, with fireworks Saturday nights) . You'll miss the crush of tourists and perhaps hear some wonderful music. We loved The Oyster Band, comprising Brits and Scotts, who provided 90 minutes of lively entertainment. 

The profusion look of a country garden in the Rose Garden area.

A young visitor primps for a selfie in the Italian Garden, where we enjoyed gelato along with the lushness.

Here's my idea of a selfie. 

More Roadtrek travel posts

The Hoh, the hikes, and the bike scum - Experiencing the Olympic National Park, Hoh Rainforest, July 2016

Us and Them, Then and Now - traveling in our respective vans with our son and his girlfriend made clear some generational differences. But it was all good. June 2016

Chasing the Death Valley Super Bloom, 2016 - This was our first trip with the Roadtrek, and I was just getting used to traveling in such a luxury unit after all our years of car and tent camping, and then a pop-up camper. I didn't take photos of the van because it seemed like showing off!  March  2016

Loving Death Valley Part 2 -  March 2016

The Hoh, the hikes, and the bike scum

A big leaf maple along the ethereal Hall of Mosses Trail in the Hoh Rain Forest, Olympic National Park.

We spent a couple weeks on Vancouver Island and the Olympic Peninsula earlier this month, traveling in our Roadtrek Agile, a compact home on wheels. Everyday was dense with subject matter. 

A close encounter with a bald eagle, and later, a humpback whale; a reunion, after 40+ years, with a woman who validated my memories of the thin slice of our shared past; a music festival that challenged what I thought I knew about music-and about festivals; Victoria, a city that made me rethink my bias against cities, and a hike so beautiful it made my chest ache.

And I can't neglect the random human factor, connections and moments shared with people we meet along the way. Those rank right up there with the natural beauty we find in parks and reserves everywhere. Usually brief, the connections may be intense, moving, hilarious, or, in the case of the young man self-described as "bike scum" on this trip, just plain interesting. All share one thing - under ordinary circumstances in our ordinary lives, we would not be talking with these strangers.

If you're open to it, travel presents opportunities to stick out your hand, and maybe your neck, and interact with people you'll not see again. The encounters provide food for thought. As if I needed more "thoughts."

As a writer/blogger, a problem with frequent travel is that my brain gets buzzed with so many ideas during and after a trip, that I have big troubles producing a post or two before we leave for the next getaway. The trouble comes with sorting, sifting, and shaping details and deciding, deciding, deciding. Should I use this word or that? This photo or another? Check email or Instagram? Make a cup of tea or a gin and tonic?  

I don't expect I'll require therapy to solve my writing difficulties, but maybe I should take a course in self discipline? Or develop a method to light up, in my beleaguered brain, the best stuff.

For now, this post's title narrows the choices.

On the Hall of Mosses Trail. Or maybe it was the Giant Spruce Trail, or the few miles we hiked on the 18-mile Hoh Trail, which leads to the 7,980 foot summit of Mount Olympus. Chest is aching here with the beauty of this mossy, moist and fragrant cathedral filled with soft sounds and filtered light. It is otherworldly.

The Hoh is a remote glacial-melt river in the Olympic National Park. It lends its name to the Hoh Rainforest where three trails out of the visitors'  center pass giant Sitka spruce, western hemlocks, big leaf maples, Douglas firs, western red cedars and more, all festooned with colorful mosses and lichens. Two trails are loops around a mile long. Easy.

This moss is fluffy, soft, spongy and several inches thick.

We live a couple hours from coastal redwood forests, which are magnificent, but the Hoh Rainforest rivals the beauty, if not the size, of the redwoods. The rainforest earns its name by getting as much as 300 inches of rain a year annually. We were blessed with two sunny days. 

The Hoh Rainforest is not exactly on the way to any place else, so I guess we shouldn't have been shocked when we arrived at the Hoh Visitor Center's campground around 5 p.m. on a Saturday in mid July, the pinnacle of tourist season, and scored a campsite. Wahoo! We were fully prepared to turn back to one of the pull-offs that looked decent for boondocking - legal free camping. 

With our senior pass, camping cost just $10. Like most national park campgrounds, camp sites don't have hook-ups, but do have water and restrooms with flush toilets. (In Canada, those are called washrooms. Inquiries about "restrooms" draw blank stares and perhaps pity for weary travelers looking for a place to take a nap.)

Our home on the road, a Roadtrek SS Agile, compact comfort at its best.

Looks like a science fiction movie set.

Even with our late arrival, we had plenty of daylight to set up camp and hike the Hall of Mosses Trail, an .8 mile wonder departing from the park's visitor center, a quick walk from our campsite. 

A nurse log engendered these trees, and their tangled roots, before becoming part of the forest floor.

After hiking we returned to our camp for dinner, which was hamburgers cooked on a serving-platter-sized charcoal grill. I managed to squeeze four burgers on the thing, thinking we'd have two leftover for the next night. We had all the condiments, of course including a sweet onion from our home garden. Life is good!

Random moment arrives.....every travel day should have at least one!

It was dusk when PK noticed a man pushing a bicycle charging along a trail behind our campsite.

PK called out,  then jumped up to catch him.

"Do you mind if I invite him to dinner?" he asked, hollering over his shoulder.

Of course not!! 

A minute later a lanky young man was standing in our campsite warming up to the idea that he suddenly had a hot meal and a place to hang his hammock.

I think PK and were remembering, at that moment, the frigid December night in Death Valley when we invited a bicycling stranger we met in a convenience store to share our campsite and supper. We rescued him from a stealth camp he'd set up in the bushes along the road. He was still drying out from a violent storm the previous night.

He was gracious and grateful for a hot meal and warm conversation. We were inspired by his courage and grit as he rode solo the park's rough unpaved roads, slogging through sand and over steep grades. Plus he told a helluva story about how he'd escaped from flash flooding after water filled his tent during the storm.

We shared more stories and breakfast the next morning, then met up with him again about 15 miles down the road as we did our own cycling. He invited us to stay with him if ever we were in Denver. We never were.

Things weren't quite as cozy with the random person at the Hoh Rainforest, but just as engaging.

Setting up his hammock in the dusk. (flash photo).

Phillip from Portland, OR, is not your typical bicyclist. No Spandex, flashy bike jersey or high-tech trappings. No tent for him, but a hammock and sleeping bag covered with a tarp. No sleek, light  and costly biking shoes, but work boots.

Phillip's bike shoes. No kidding. No need for clip-in pedals.
He carried flip-flops for camp use.

After hearing him speak, I said, "If I couldn't see you, I'd guess you were a 250-pound Harley rider with a heavy cigarette habit."

He smiled and replied in his gravely voice,  "I'm a bike rider with a heavy cigarette habit."

It wasn't long before he rolled one, being super careful to blow smoke away from me.

PK was inside the van cleaning dishes. I cook. He cleans up. This gave me a chance to ask nosy questions without PK giving me "the look." Phillip didn't mind at all. One thing I know from my years as a journalist, people like to be asked questions about themselves.

I learned he rides his bike to jobs on Portland's bike-designated streets. Some good friends of ours happen to live on one of the streets he uses.

"That's the best street in the city for commuting," he said. "I can roll a cigarette and smoke it on the way to work."

He got a BS degree in electrical engineering, he said, but doesn't have a regular job. He's a disabled vet with a head injury.

"I'm not a careerist," he told me. "After the accident, I realized I didn't buy into the nine to five routine." Instead he does contract work and also teaches programming to elementary kids.

"Most of them get it by the time they reach second grade, " he said. "But trying to teach programming to most kindergarteners and first graders doesn't work."

New to biking, his first overnight trip was 50 miles one way. At the end, he and a bunch of other renegade cyclists set up in a campground and raised hell.

"We made a lot of noise and were the worst people there," he said. "We're bike scum. We don't look like most bikers or act like them.  We partied all night, and I got three hours of sleep."

Riding 50 miles back the next day wasn't all that much fun.

We saw Phillip along the road the next day, stopped at the top of a steep hill chugging from his water bottle. I didn't see any smoke so he must not have had time to roll one yet.

Us? We were headed to the northern Oregon coast with home a couple leisurely days south.   Generous and benevolent Mother Nature in summer dress loomed large in our immediate future, and perhaps more randomness. We could only hope. 

PK entering the mosses trail through a nature-built portal.Maybe we'll get
back there sometime and hike to the meadow below Mount Olympus.

More Roadtrek travel posts

Us and Them, Then and Now - traveling with our son and his girlfriend made clear some generational differences. But it was all good.

Chasing the Death Valley Super Bloom, 2016 - no mention of the Roadtrek here, or photos, because this was our first trip with it and I was still getting used to traveling in such a luxury unit after all our years of car camping, and then a pop-up camper.

Loving Death Valley Part 2 - Again, no mention of Roadtrek. I couldn't quite get over all the attention our new-to-us van attracted. We met a couple in Death Valley who had paid someone to find a used Roadtrek for them. They couldn't believe our luck in scoring a decent deal on our own.  I'm over it now!