In Love With Death: A Blog Takeover by The Husband

I am, by nature, a very outgoing individual. I enjoy the company of others and like to be social. So, perhaps it will surprise you that I also am strongly drawn to the remote, unpopulated regions of our world. I dream of crossing the mountainous desolation of central Asia by riding my bike along the old Silk Road, or visiting the deep desert heart of central Australia. I have pushed myself across the San Rafael Swell of Utah, and ridden along the U.S./Mexico Border where the Sky Islands dominate the Sonoran landscape. However, the place that draws me back, time and time again, is Death Valley National Park. At half the size of Belgium, it is the largest national park in the contiguous United States. With few paved roads and a hostile reputation, there are regions of this park that see visitors as often as they see rain.

This Christmas, the stars aligned. The Travel Architect and I booked an unforgettable holiday stay at the Inn at Death Valley. We couldn’t explore the entire park, and in actuality only spent our time in the Death Valley portion of the park (the park consists of Death Valley, Panamint Valley, Saline Valley and Eureka Valley). We took our hiking boots, water bottles, hats, sunblock, and I took my camera…

…here is what I saw:

(Click on any of the images and cycle through)

The sunrise over Death Valley from Dante’s View. The scene is dominated by snow-capped Telescope Peak in the Panamint Range beyond.

The most visited location in the park is Badwater Basin. Sitting 279 ft below sea level, it is the lowest point on land in North America. Walk a few miles beyond the frequented tourist trail and you will find yourself in the middle of the Badwater Basin salt flat, a lifeless terrain whose beauty is stark and barren.

Truly the lowest elevation point of -282 ft, the Badwater Flats is a tangled puzzle of tortured earth.

Erosion and frequent high winds mean that areas of the park build magnificent dune fields. Mesquite Dunes are one example.

The dune fields are a geological reminder of the desert terrain; this landscape has stood in for worlds far, far away.

The Black Mountains contain numerous canyons often explored by prospectors of old, a common theme in the park. Hiking into these reveals dry waterfalls, colourful minerals, and contrasting geological forces.

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Polished stone and natural arches tell the tale of water’s presence, if only briefly.

Because Death Valley is the low point, it is the destination for all snowmelt, runoff, and storm water. With that water comes springs, oases; and with that, life.

While much of the valley can only support hardy Creosote and Mesquite, palms and desert oak flourish in oases, and along with them, crows and coyotes.

From mining camps to ghost towns, the complete history of Death Valley can never be told without considering the waves of human exploration, exploitation, settlement and collapse. Even though this incredible area has held a special designation since 1938, it only became a national park in 1998. It has seen pioneers from the earliest gold rush, farms and ranching, railway construction, booms and busts. Now a truly epic location for tourism, Death Valley National Park may never have produced the gems that were sought, but has itself become a sought-after gem.

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