Nevada to California

August 22

According to our GPS, we needed about 4 hours to reach Death Valley from Las Vegas. I prepared for this by studying weather charts and forecasts for Death Valley to learn that the temperature at the bottom of the valley doesn't exceed 100°F (38°C) until after 10:00 AM. It continues to climb well into the afternoon, peaking by 4:00 PM (or even later). Today's forecast was for a high of only 107°F (42°C), just like Hoover Dam yesterday. Each day after today the high temperature was predicted to be more extreme than the preceding day. By Thursday, 120°F (48°C) was predicted. It seemed reasonable that if we could get to Death Valley today by 10:00 AM we would not tax our van's systems any more than we had already anywhere else we'd been.

We rushed through breakfast and were on the road by 6:25 AM, a bit behind schedule, but not critically so. We drove toward Pahrump, NV. The desert landscape became more extreme; then a mountain range came up and had to be crossed. On the far side a wide plain stretched before us, with Joshua Trees growing on it in profusion. After about an hour, a vast collection of homes and shade trees and streets and businesses came into view: Pahrump, Nevada.

Pahrump has a museum dedicated to brothels and an ample variety of casinos. This place looks to be large enough to be self sufficient. What's it doing in this place? Who would want to move to such a place? I was mindful of Art Bell. He lived here during the years he broadcast "Coast-to-Coast with Art Bell." I was among his most intent fans; even from far-off Israel I tuned in via the Internet. I spoke with him once, from Israel on 1 January 2000, while it was still 31 December 1999 in Pahrump. From what I could see, Pahrump didn't engender pride of place – or else it did, in spades.

Our next point of interest was Amargosa Valley, NV. This valley is emptiness epitomized. It has some kind of association, if my memory serves me correctly, with atomic research and area 51. Then came Beatty, NV. This small community has a speed limit of 25 mph (40 kph) and a police car that followed me the whole way down the street to enforce this speed (if you can call it that). He made me so nervous that I pulled into a gas station to fill up the tank before turning west to enter Death Valley (actually I had planned to do this all along). Beatty, NV is one of the gateways to Death Valley. I chose this route because it would minimize the time and distance I would actually be in Death Valley.

We then officially entered Death Valley National Park. A large sign was posted so we'd know this. Shortly thereafter the thinnest stick of a marker announced that we had returned to California. It could have easily been missed had I not been watching for it.

Death Valley has such an intimidating name that Razelle finally confessed as we headed into it that she was greatly frightened about doing this. I must admit that as we descended steeply on the road down with the air conditioner off (a road sign cautioned against using it to keep engines from overheating) and as a blast of heat rushed in through the open windows, I was reminded of the guy who was falling from the top of a skyscraper, who said as the pavement below was coming up at him, "So far so good." Perhaps this blast of heat was only a foretaste of what awaited us at the bottom, as the van melted in the crucible of Death Valley, to become a molten puddle of metal with us turning into human cinders. We stopped at an intersection long enough to take a few pictures to prove we had been here, then we posed again next to the "sea level" sign as we dropped below that altitude (if you can call it that). It wasn't as extremely hot out there when you stood upon the crucible's surface. Hmmm. We came to a resort (if you can call it that) with lots of people parked there and milling around in the heat. Who would want to spend the night down here? Apparently these people did.

The bottom having been reached, and the van performing perfectly well, so far, all that was left was to get up and out of this infernal place. The road wound up interminably. The heat dissipated perceptibly but the top could not be perceived as easily. Even when we had crested the top of the ridge we thought was the end of the climb, another valley appeared below us. This valley also had to be crossed. It had a wide flat muddy saltpan-looking floor that wasn't actually level. I don't understand how this came to be. I'll have to look it up later.

Finally, Highway 395 was reached. Ahead of us was a mountain range so high that we could see patches of snow on it...in mid-August! This mountain range would have to be crossed, too, but that would be tomorrow's goal. Today we would get as far as Bridgeport, CA. It was too late in the day to enter the High Sierra.

As we drove northward I pointed out where Steve Fossett had met his tragic end. I described to Razelle how his gnawed and scattered remains had been found after a high-country hiker came upon some of his personal effects up there before the snow could fall and conceal his remains forever. Razelle asked me to change the subject.

We stopped at the Mono Lake Visitors' Center. It was very nicely put together. There was information here about campgrounds in the area, but in the end we found an RV park on our own near Bridgeport. We paid for the site of our choosing, then drove into Bridgeport because it had so much significance for Razelle, who comes from the "other" Bridgeport...in Connecticut. I took pictures of Razelle against key Bridgeport landmarks and she found appropriate mementos here to buy, then we returned to our campsite.

The owner of the place had provided us with some boards for me to drive onto so the van would be level, and he and a helper named Keith fitted us with an adapter so we could hook up out electric line to the post. Keith, who spoke with a pleasant Virginia accent, hung around to debate politics with us. We didn't agree about many things, but the debate remained friendly.

Everyone in this RV park seemed to go to sleep early, probably because of the mosquitoes, so we did the same.