Leaving Yosemite we headed south east to Sequoia National Park. I’ll keep this bit brief because I was very ill and spent most of that day admiring the insides of each and every one of the park’s public restrooms. Furthermore, my camera was out of batteries so there no photos. Sequoia Park in 9 words. We saw the largest trees in the world....and a marmot (look that one up).
Moving along swiftly.
We camped that night at a place called Lake Isabella. Upon our arrival the campsite’s Caucasian population increased to a grand total of 2. Following our departure that number once again returned to 0...
We had wheels rolling in good time that morning for we were on a mission. A mission for the largest-brimmed hats in all the lands. Why would we need such hats you ask? Because we were about to enter Death Valley National Park, of course. Why is it called Death Valley, you ask? Because its the hottest and driest place in North America. So yeah, big hats were a must.
Two lovely old ladies in a antiques shop outside of the Park pointed us exactly where we needed to go, but not before insisting on telling us everything about themselves, the Park, life, the universe and everything else. Something gave me the feeling they didn't get too many visitors.
The local hardware store fitted us out with 2 excellent straw hats for the fair price of $8 a piece. We may have looked like two migrant workers about to pick fruit amongst the never-ending, and perfectly spaced rows of trees in the California, but it mattered not the least.
Well pleased with our new accessories, we managed an unprecedented 16.5 mile freewheel into the park. It set the benchmark for what would turn out to be an incredible day. Mid-freewheel we were not prepared to stop at the pay station to get into the park. This may explain the expression on the ranger’s face when we turned around, having finally come to a halt, and went back. He was obviously not impressed with the two shirtless, slightly sunburned young men, wearing ridiculous hats, even more outlandish grins and driving the car with surfboards on the roof. To tell the truth I probably wouldn't be either...
It was only about 10 in the morning but the thermometer outside the Ranger Station read 109 F. It was most certainly time for an ice cream.Though they started to melt before we even got them out of the packet, the heat was no match against our jaws in this epic race against time.
How could I stay as cool as this ice cream in such a hot place, I though to myself. I was somewhere mid bite when it hit me. After several minuted rummaging through my backpack I emerged victorious with my Speedo held high. The best was to stay cool was undoubtedly to wear as little clothing as possible. And thats exactly what I did.
The events of that day are relatively disassociated in my mind yet at the same time held together by constant stops to drink from our gallon jugs of water. Conversations in the car would trail off after several minutes, then one of us would always break the drowsy silence with a complaint about the heat.
The desert is breathtaking. We passed sand dunes similar to those in the Sahara, and slat flats which stretched on for miles. The whole valley, is of course, as the ‘valley’ part of the name implies, is surrounded by mountains which soar up to 7000ft in places. Water somehow managed to trickle through the salt flats at the lowest place in the United States, -282 ft below sea level. It seemed impossible that it didn’t evaporate right away, yet there it was.
On arrow straight, un-patrolled and un-driven roads the Golf proved it still had something left in it by briefly pushing its needle over the 100mph line. A cheer rang out and we let the old girl take it easy for the rest of the trip.
Constantly looking at our map as we drove, we ruled out any sites which required more than a half mile walk due to the heat (at this point it was somewhere around 115-120 F). This may seem rather pathetic to you, but go there and try it yourself.
An experiment in which we attempted to fry an egg on the pavement failed, much to our surprise and disappointment. We figured that if we had tried it at high noon instead of 5pm we would have been successful, who knows.
Did I mention how hot Death Valley is? Oh, I did? Good.
On our way out we made a last minute decision to drive up to a place called Dante’s Peak, a foreboding name if ever there was one. The golf struggled up the last 1/4 mile which was some 14% inclined (think ski runs!). It proved to be as good as the rest of the day combined.
Stepping out of the car we were greeted by an alien feeling, coolness. The breeze was more refreshing than the vast amounts of water we had drank that day could ever be. We bathed in the wind and gulped down the refreshing air.
A man ahead of us had the right idea, and by the right idea, I mean he had a Corona in his hand, so cold drips of perspiration were falling from the bottle in a steady stream. Despite the newfound drop in temperature I wanted a swig of his icy beverage so badly that I felt like an alcoholic. Instead of a drink, he offered us his Canadian humor and endless stories from the road and his youth.
Having said our farewells we climbed back into the car and set out sights on Las Vegas...
No comments:
Post a Comment