Hiking Death Valley Part 3 — We Trek Miles Across the Desert
February 16, 2019.
Our sleep was short-lived, the wind continuing to pick up as the night wore on. In fact, this chapter technically starts on February 15th, since it was 11:45pm when we awoke to the most violent shaking of the tent I’ve ever experienced — significantly more violent than the night I spent with Monte @Blackdawg and Mike @Digiratus at the base of the Henry Mountains in Utah. I’d already gotten up once to secure the ladder, tying it to a full 5-gallon jerry can of water and the slider of the truck to ensure that the fold-out half of the tent wouldn’t make a second attempt on our lives. But as the gusts continued to increase, I finally decided that we needed to move in order to ensure the survival of the tent itself — and so it was that at midnight, we climbed down out of our cozy den and moved the truck nearer the valley walls… hopefully into a bit more of a wind-shadow.
Earplugs back in and ladder re-secured, we climbed back into bed for what would continue to be a restless night of sleep. We found out the next morning that while everyone else had fared a bit better, even Zane @Speedytech7 had resorted to bungee cords to hold down two corners of his rain fly despite having Ben’s @m3bassman truck and tent as a direct wind-block. And Mikey @pizzaviolence once again retreated to Ben’s cab, the night much too violent for his hammock-strung-between-two-trucks setup.
As morning broke, things had calmed down significantly and — as I climbed out of the tent — it was going to be a gorgeous day, not a cloud in the sky and the sun just starting to pour down into our valley.
Having been in a bit of a rush the previous afternoon when we’d been here, and then having arrived after dark the evening before, I was keen to explore around camp and see what I could find. Ben was up as well, so we spent a bit of time looking around — the highlight of our search a gypsum mine that had been carved deep into one of the mountains — apparently used from 1909 to the 1950’s by the Avawatz Salt & Gypsum Company. The shaft itself had been securely blocked by a large metal grate, but it seemed to still be in reasonably good shape for it’s age — likely the result of relatively little human activity at the site!
I spent a bit more time wandering up a nearby wash and finding a good place to avail myself of the luggable loo as Ben made coffee and checked out his brakes- topping off his brake fluid after his little incident the day before. The warm, early morning light making for some sweet displays of color.
Still early, we all had quick breakfasts and got back on the road — our plan for the day simple: park somewhere on the side of Harry Wade Road and head due west, across the desert. Once we made it the 3.5 miles to the other side and the Owlshead Mountains, we then had another 5 miles of hiking three different slot canyons before making the return trek back across the desert to our trucks.
I mean, how hard could it be, right?
At any rate, I’m getting ahead of myself, since the trip out to the valley was spectacular in itself.
Having taken a different route out of camp than we had in, we found ourselves slightly further north on Harry Wade Road, but still about an hour south of our “side of the road” trail head. It was a beautiful day, and we all enjoyed the easy, secluded drive north — once again encountering the Amargosa River in it’s flowing glory.
And once again, I made my way through with as little fanfare as possible — cognizant of the mud that could end up in my bed and all over the tent if I went too fast.
Ben — after letting us know over the CB that he was going to “take it easy” today, apparently meant that he was going to try to destroy his truck — which is exactly what it sounded like he’d done as he pulled out of the wash. Luckily for him — and to all of our surprise — he’d managed to “fold out” his wheel well liners on both sides, and they were making quite the ruckus.
Liners folded back into place (and secured only by “hope?”), we were once again on our way and it wasn’t long before we arrived at our destination, technically known as: some spot along the road. We pulled off as far as we could — careful to stay within the grading berms — and prepped ourselves for the journey ahead. Lunches were made, water bottles filled. And then, we set off across the desert. Truth be told, it didn’t look that far to the other side.
It turns out — like driving distances in Death Valley — hiking distances are also deceptive. It was in fact, that far to the other side of the valley, and in fact, the other side of the valley was simply the beginning of a long alluvial fan up the Owlshead Mountains. Perhaps 60% of the way across, we also encountered the same river we’d crossed in the trucks — now, our turn to stick our feet in water that few ever get to experience. It was cold!
As we continued up the alluvial fan — now nearly an hour after we’d started and not yet to the first slot canyon, we turned and looked for the trucks. Yep, there they were — three little ants crossing the valley, only just visible to the naked eye.
The trucks are in the very center of this photo. Seriously.
Here’s the center, zoomed in with a mountain for reference. Trucks.
Two questions remained:
1. Would we ever reach our destination?
2. What happened when that deer jumped out in front of the truck? (Yes, we hit a deer)
To discover the answers to both, check out Hiking Death Valley Part 3 — We Trek Miles Across the Desert and We Destroy a Deer at adventuretaco.com.
Originally published at adventuretaco.com.
