A Death Valley Christmas

When we adopted our purr babies, Mango and Cheddar, we were thrown headlong into the wild world of kittenhood. Times two. At around that time, I began seeing cartoon after cartoon about the perils of mixing cats and Christmas. Though there would be a full year of growth and maturity before we needed to worry about toppled trees, wrestled wreaths, and shredded stockings, I couldn’t help envisioning the holiday season through a feline/fiasco lens.

Source: Scott Metzger on Facebook

Source: Scott Metzger on Pinterest

Ergo, I decided a decoration-free holiday of travel was in order, but to get the husband on board—literally and figuratively—after his harrowing Christmas COVID evacuation trauma the previous Christmas, I knew I needed to dangle just the right carrot.

Enter🥕Death Valley.

We’ve been to Death Valley twice before, but always in the sweaty, sweltering summer. A winter trip to the Lower 48’s largest national park had long been on our—but especially his—Dust-Farm-Pail List, and now it has a satisfying √ next to it.

We didn’t entirely miss Christmas to travel the way we have some years. The weekend before our departure we exchanged stockings, where I nestled a very timely and relevant gift:

A 90-minute delay before takeoff goes practically unnoticed when you’re engrossed in the adventures of Ace and Chance.

By necessity, we landed in Vegas and drove a rental car from there. The two-hour journey was punctuated by a gustatory stop in Pahrump, Nevada, where previous experience told us a can’t-miss French patisserie—run by real French people—was hidden away in an unassuming strip mall. As on our previous visit, Ô Pain Joyeux did not disappoint.

On arrival in the park, it became clear just what a difference two cranks of the seasonal dial can make.

Dude, why are you smiling? I’m melting.

Muuuuuuuch better.

The wintertime air, which was seasonable and reasonable, made me aware of just how much my enjoyment of Death Valley suffered in the sauna-like conditions of our sizzling summertime visits. Previous sojourns in the park had me staggering around in a heat-addled stupor, every inch of skin covered despite the sultry air, and cursing everyone who ever said “but it’s a dry heat.” For me, the park’s beauty is blunted, its colors dulled, every aspect diminished by its infamous extreme midsummer temperatures.

The Inn at Death Valley – brought to you by snowmelt and natural springs

Comfortable and happy in our cool-weather clothes, we made our way to The Inn at Death Valley, where we reacquainted ourselves with the National Register of Historic Places property that’s been catering to Hollywood’s glitterati—and glitter-free folks like us—since the Golden Age of film.

We could have used the charming front entrance . . .

. . . but opted for the Bondlike secret entrance available only to those in the know.

Fun fact: in his acting days, Ronald Reagan spent a week here for a total of $133.50. It costs just a tad more nowadays.

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Our mornings were spent exploring the eastern half of the park, including:

A sunrise visit to Dante’s View:

A 2½-mile stroll to the middle of Death Valley (the eponymous valley in the park, not the park itself) at Badwater Basin:

A Christmas morning exploration of the Mesquite Sand Dunes:

Here, we had a laugh at some wise guy’s little joke . . .

. . . which put me in a bit of a playful mood.

We did several hikes of varying length and intensity:

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  Natural Bridge Canyon

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  Natural Bridge Canyon

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  Natural Bridge Canyon

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  Desolation Canyon

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  Desolation Canyon

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  Desolation Canyon

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  Desolation Canyon

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  Golden Canyon

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  Golden Canyon

And we took in a few scenic drives:

Artist’s Palette Drive

Twenty Mule Team Canyon

Artist’s Palette Drive

Artist’s Palette Drive

Artist’s Palette Drive

Twenty Mule Team Canyon

Artist’s Palette Drive

A day trip just outside the borders of the park brought us to the ghost town of Rhyolite . . .

. . . with its here one day, gone the next history . . .

. . . and artistic touches.

We passed through Beatty, Nevada, with its wild burros, which we thought at the time were someone’s free-roaming livestock.

The final stop on our day trip was one of the trip’s two disappointments (the other being an overcrowded sunset viewing at Zabriskie Point, full of barking dogs, screaming children, crying babies, hoards of people, and one eyeroll-inducing Instagrammer in a prom dress looking utterly ridiculous against the harsh beauty of the rocky landscape she was trying to navigate in her wholly inappropriate shoes). 

The highly anticipated Area 51 Alien Center turned out to be little more than a kitted-out gas station with an interior devoted to chod, a British slang term that has no real American equivalent, but basically means cheap tourist crap like keychains, t-shirts (so many t-shirts), and bumper stickers. Still, we enjoyed the décor.

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They didn’t even sell alien head bath bombs! What?! (I got this little beauty in Sedona – another stocking stuffer for the husband.)

Afternoons were spent lounging in and around the pool, relaxing with a book, and awaiting the spectacle of the daily sunset.

On our final day, we exited the park via a little-used road that brought with it some rare water-studded scenery.

Logistics necessitated a night in Las Vegas before flying home. Extracting a promise from the husband that we would utterly avoid the Vegas Strip (been there, done that), I arranged a hotel on the west edge of town (unavoidably, a massive, smoke-filled, labyrinthine casino filled the ground floor), which gave us easy access to one of Vegas’ lesser-known attractions: Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. All we had time for was the 13-mile scenic loop drive, but it was well worth the mild annoyance of having to procure timed-entry tickets.

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Next Christmas the cats will be nearly 2½ years old. By then, I think I’ll be ready to hang a test bauble or two and see what happens, but I’m glad I was able to use their kitteny antics to get us to the husband’s favorite national park in what has to be its most pleasant season.

Cats behaving responsibly at Christmas. Take note, Mango and Cheddar.