The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

The Other Oregon

Currently we are in Summer Lake, OR in wild rain and hail

This was written from Plush Oregon May 23 High 52 Lo 32

There is a mindset called Oregon. Usually it revolves around lots of green and lots of rain. Images of Mt Hood, the Oregon Coast shrouded in fog, verdant green valleys dotted with farms, vineyards, little villages with covered bridges are the epitome of beautiful Oregon. But there is another Oregon, one that covers more than 2/3 of the state. The East Side as we call it, is high sage desert, bisected by Highway 395, that mythical road so many RV’rs love to travel. But even beyond 395 lies a wild and empty Oregon called by some the Oregon Outback.

There is a Scenic Back Country Byway that exits east from 395 just north of Lakeview, following Highway 140 through the Warner Canyon and then leaving the highway to travel north and east through the Warner Valley, where the pavement ends, over Hart Mountain, and crossing the open desert toward the remote wild mountains called “The Steens”.

It is a huge, vast, silent land full of nothing and everything. Several times in the last few years we have passed along the southern boundary of this wild country on our way east somewhere and looked up at Hart Mountain…saying…remember? Remember how wonderful it was?? Yes, we remembered and finally decided it was time to return to Hart Mountain and the wild Oregon Outback.

On this week long journey, we didn’t plan to go to the Steens, saving that for another time later in the season. Our decision was a good one, since the upper reaches of the Steens are still deep in snow. We planned for three nights boondocking, and knew that we didn’t really want to get to the Plush area too early in the afternoon, so had to wait until noon to leave Rocky Point. It was funny how hard it was to go slooooow, and take…our….time….before….getting….on the road. Usually on travel days we are all hot to trot and want to get moving early.

The route to Plush, Oregon, where we planned to find a boondock site, is a familiar one: traveling east on 140, through Klamath Falls, continuing east through my old survey area in remote parts of Klamath County near Beatty and Bly and finally arriving at the small town of Lakeview. Even though we were only 1/3 tank down in fuel, it was important to make sure our fuel was topped off before heading into the outback. There is no fuel out there, the distances are long, and we would need to use the generator.

Another important Lakeview stop was at the Interagency Office right on 395 just south of town. I spent $4.00 on a Lakeview District BLM map, at a scale that makes navigating the desert reasonably easy. We also have the GPS unit, (sort of useless when most of the time it says “driving on road”), and the DeLorme Benchmark maps for the area. The phone and the iPad are useless out here, since there are no signals anywhere. Well, almost no signals, but I’ll share that one later.

The cold, snowy storms that blew through this part of the west were almost gone by the time we reached Lakeview, but there were still huge clouds and some snow flurries here and there as we crossed Quartz Mountain. Once on Warner Pass, where we expected snow, we were blessed with only a little bit of rain. The skies cleared as we climbed up over the pass, turned north on the Plush Cutoff and were awed once again by the long uplifted fault block mountain that is Hart.

Home to the largest antelope refuge in the country, with a western scarp slope populated with bighorn sheep, Hart Mountain rises from the desert like some kind of mystical dream. Maybe it is only me, but this mountain calls my soul in ways that even the Steens don’t. I know, I know, it wasn’t long ago that I was raving about the east slope of the Sierras. Still, Hart Mountain looming above the Warner Valley is a sight no mountain lover should miss.

It isn’t a group of dramatic peaks. Instead it is a long linear mountain, with a steep western scarp rising 3,500 feet to the 8,000 foot summit, and an east slope that slips off gently to the eastern desert. The top looks nearly flat from a distance, but a closer inspection reveals many deeply cut canyons and cliffs that I have never seen except from the road. I think my days of exploring these rugged canyons on foot are long behind me.

On this Thursday afternoon, the early beginning to the long Memorial Holiday Weekend, we were very nearly alone on the road into Plush, a tiny community best known for its tiny grocery store and bar and its rock shop. Armed with our BLM map, however, we had no need to stop, and headed north through town on the Hogback Road. Within three miles, the road turns to rough gravel, and a few hundred yards after that, road 6175 winds up Miners Draw into the Coyote Hills. We unhooked at the turn to go check for a place to be.

Just up the road, on the crest of the hill overlooking the valley, we found a large rounded out area, flat as can be, protected on three sides by a low hill and facing the beautiful scarp of Hart Mountain in the east. The site was clean and smooth except for a small pile of firewood someone had left behind, and we couldn’t believe what perfect luck to find such a spot.

Settling in for the evening, we walked up the road into the hills for awhile, and came back to fix supper while we waited for the sunset. The full moon was coming up at 7:30 and the sun was setting at 8:30.

Spectacular, or so we thought. Even with the clouds in the west, the sunset was rather dull. I guess with zero pollution there isn’t anything around to refract the light and make color. Our night was utterly silent, utterly dark except for the moon in and out of the clouds. Boondocking at its very finest!

Late Spring Snow and we are going camping?!

Home in Rocky Point, Oregon
Current temperature: 40 degrees F, with melting snow on the ground. Lo tonight: 30 degrees F with a chance of snow
Yes, we are going camping. We are leaving tomorrow for the eastern side of Oregon, planning a combo boondocking/rv park trip to the high sagebrush desert. We did plan to leave on Tuesday afternoon, but some severe weather warnings were a bit daunting, and we decided to postpone our little journey until the weather shifted a bit. Good thing! Yesterday afternoon the snow hit and by 5pm we had snow on the trees and even some snow sticking to the ground. The weather report optimistically says that “with warming temperatures and longer days, the ground temperatures should be warm enough that the snow will not stick”. Ok then. It is now almost noon in Rocky Point, and true to the forecast, most of the snow is melting, but more may be coming tonight.
Mo is bringing the MoHo up from the shed to park in the driveway, ready for loading. As much as we love having the place in Grants Pass, it sure is wonderful to have our rig right here when we are ready to travel. No trying to remember what to take, what is at the cottage, what is in the MoHo. Just walk outside, check the cupboards, and pack accordingly. Nice.
Speaking of weather, my daughter who relocated to Texas last year has now relocated again to Grand Junction, Colorado. Closer to me, closer to her son, and better jobs for both her and for her sweetie. She drove north through Texas with a U-Haul the day of the tornados. She missed them. My son lives in Joplin Missouri, and while he was hit by the last big tornado
May flowers on May 22
there, the small twister that touched down in Carthage missed him by 15 miles. Truck driver daughter and her husband are delivering jet engines to Winnipeg, and so she is also out of the line of fire. I just can’t imagine what those people in Oklahoma are going through. Can’t imagine.
Mo and I watched the news, and said our thank you’s for the gift of living in a place without tornados, hurricanes, or major floods. It can almost make you feel guilty for being so lucky in the midst of such horror, but I do feel lucky, and blessed, and sad for those people who have lost everything. Of course, disaster can strike anywhere. We live in Earthquake country, are surrounded by volcanoes that could decided to heat up at a moment’s notice, the wildfires of our hotter and hotter summers could strike anywhere, and of course winter can deal some pretty angry blows. Nothing like a tornado though. However, I often talked to people from hurricane country or tornado country who looked at me like I was crazy for living in earthquake country California. It is all about where family is and what you are used to, I guess.

May flowers on May 19
Since we got home from Death Valley, we went over to the cottage and worked a bit, mowing and trimming and fixing up little things here and there. I was treated to a Mother’s Day brunch by my Klamath Falls daughter and family, and Mo and I did our annual outing to the Taste of Klamath event in town that we have enjoyed for several years now. Small town stuff, but nice, and it supports our local historic theater, the Ross Ragland. We are gardening, and until yesterday, the weather cooperated perfectly. It has been unseasonably warm, with temperatures in the 80’s here at Rocky Point. That is a lot more like July and less like May, but it made working in the yard an absolute delight. 80 degrees and sunny skies with a nice breeze is just about perfect as far as I am concerned.
The only thing that seems to keep eluding us is a kayak outing. On the days when it might be something to do we seem to always have something else more pressing taking up our time. Ah well….eventually those kayaks will get on the water again. We actually planned to take them on this trip to the east side, but the weather predictions have us thinking otherwise. Why load up the kayaks if it is going to be in the 50’s with possible rain?! Nah…we will wait for better days. I guess you could call us fair weather kayakers, although I do have photos from years past when we are on the water as early as March!
I did manage to get in on the Google Plus Hangout that Rick set up for us to learn a bit more about how it all works. It was great fun seeing everyone online and joining in on the conversation. I haven’t managed to do the Skype thing very much since I didn’t think I had the bandwidth. Maybe I can manage hangouts now with distant kids and friends. I hope so.
On our agenda for the next few days: Plush, Oregon, home of the famous BLM sunstone diggings. Hart Mountain Refuge, home of hundreds of pronghorns and some beautiful natural hot springs and a small developed hot spring pool. Summer Lake, Oregon, home to another wildlife refuge, more hot springs, and untold numbers of waterfowl. Ana Reservoir RV campground, on the Ana River and the reservoir, not far from summer lake will provide us with electric and water and a place to dump after three nights boondocking on BLM lands. Should be a nice trip. I don’t imagine there will be any kind of internet, or even phone connections to speak of, so I’ll just have to get caught up on photos and stories when we return to Rocky Point.
In the mean time, I thought it would be fun to put in a couple of photos from our very first camping trip to Hart Mountain back in 2004, before we had any kind of motorhome. I think this may have been the last time we tent camped. In spite of discussing carrying tents and sleeping bags in the motorhome for getting really out in the boonies, we have yet to actually do that. Somehow the comforts of home win out. I spent a bazillion years tent camping, and I do love it, but oh oh oh….it is so nice to have shelter and a bed off the ground. If I could just figure out how to see the stars at night from the MoHo the way you can seen them from a tent it would be perfect. My best memory of Hart Mountain is sitting by the campfire watching the stars come up right on the horizon, just as big and bright as they were in the entire huge sky. It was amazing.

Mammoth and Mono and Snow Monday May 6

It was cool enough in Bishop that we were glad for electric hookups so that we could take the morning chill off the MoHo with our little electric heater. The big furnace is almost as loud as the air conditioner, and I would much rather use free shore power for a little heat than listen to that thing burn up costly propane. The weather was considerably different than what we had left behind in Death Valley as we continued north on 395.

There is just so much to see in such a short distance, but the fact that the morning was cloudy, chilly, and blustery made the little side roads a bit less inviting. We decided to skip the 6 mile backtrack for another trip to Eric Schat’s Bakkery and packed up and continued on north towards Mammoth Lakes. I had never been into the town itself, the famous ski mountain and summer mountain bike destination is a mecca for all things skiing and biking.

Mammoth Mountain also happens to be the very heart of the Long Valley Caldera, source of that huge volcanic blast that went as far as Nebraska. For years I have followed the USGS monitoring of this site. I was close enough to Mt St Helens when she blew that I was buried in volcanic ash and trapped in Moscow, Idaho for three days. The fact that it was my wedding day and I had a houseful of people made it all that much more exciting. Imagine a honeymoon with all three of my teenaged girls, my foster mother, my best friend, and assorted other friends who couldn’t get out of town because the ash was choking all the auto transmissions.

Volcanoes and earthquakes are fun to study, although maybe not from such close quarters. I also live now in the shadow of Crater Lake, another huge caldera responsible for a massive eruption, and Shasta, the sleeping giant, is visible from the road south of our home. I love following the earthquake and volcano sites and seeing just how restless our earth can be. So traveling around inside the perimeter of the Long Valley Caldera is exciting.

As we approached the city center of Mammoth, we stopped at the big beautiful visitor center. The complex was beautiful with lots of interpretive signs about the caldera, Mammoth Mountain, and Mammoth Lakes, the local flora and fauna, and the restless earth. Inside the center was a live display of current earthquake activity and interesting discussions of the history of movement in the area. There are CO2 emissions from some part of the mountain that are dangerous enough to cause the trees to die off, and to elicit a warning about CO2 poisoning concerns for humans in that area. Magma is rising and the earth is bulging. Cool

Speaking of cool, by the time we found the Earthquake Fault Trail, it was snowing lightly. The trail isn’t officially open, so the signs mentioned on the web site are not yet in place, but with the help of the iPhone, we found what looked like the right road. Amazing that I had a 5 bar LTE signal up there at Mammoth. I guess rich kids with snowboards require good phone reception.

The “fault” isn’t really a fault, but a fissure from fairly recent volcanic activity. Some of the earth failures seemed to be even more recent than the 700 years or so mentioned on the sign because the fence posts had fallen in with some land failure and there was a more recent fence keeping folks away from the edge of the fissure. It was a great little walk, just 1/4 mile or so to the fissure and then some rudimentary steps and a trail around the edge.

We drove up to the main ski lodge at Mammoth Mountain surprised to discover the lifts still operating and people skiing. Amazing. My nose was still in nosebleed mode from 104 temperatures and no humidity. California is truly an amazing state and you can find just about anything you want within a few hours drive.

Back in town we were delighted to discover another Schat’s Bakkery, although this one wasn’t Eric Schats Bakkery, but just Schat’s Bakkery. Either way, the Sheepherder bread was there and the tiny difference was that Eric’s bread had olive oil in it and this bakery did not use oil in their bread. Seems as though the Schat’s had a divorce and this was the wife’s establishment. We had soup and bread in the small eatery attached to the bakery, bought a couple more pastries for the road and another loaf of that famous bread. The soup was utterly fantastic, tomato basil and turkey vegetable. The tomato soup appeared as if it had been made from a luscious medley of roasted veggies and ripe tomatoes. Yum.

It was raining fairly hard when we got back to the MoHo where we left her near the Hot Springs Geologic Site. We didn’t take time to drive out to the springs, but did see the steam from what is now a large geothermal generating plant. At one time Native Americans used these springs, then several different kinds of spas and hotels were there until the geothermal plant took over in 1983. Did I mention magma rising? Yup!

Continuing north along the highway toward our evening destination of Topaz Lake, we were happy that this time the Mono Lake Visitor Center would be open. The center is closed on Tuesday and Wednesday, so we had missed it on our way down. This visitor center is an absolute, without a doubt, must see requirement if you are on Highway 395 near Lee Vining. Lee Vining is the tiny town where the Tioga Pass Road climbs the east side of the Sierras into Yosemite, still closed this time of year. The sun even cooperated as Mono Lake came into view, slipping out of the clouds just enough to make the skies interesting.

The building is beautiful from the outside, with beautiful xeriscaping (landscaping using drought tolerant plants), a lovely interpretive nature hike, and beautiful views of the desert and the lake. As I walked through the entrance, the interior took my breath away. The center is architecturally beautiful and the exhibits are truly wonderful. The very best part for me is that I learned something completely new. You have probably seen photos of the amazing tufa pillars at Mono Lake before. There is a certain volcanic rock called “tuff”, and I had no clue that “tufa” and “tuff” are not synonymous. In the center are some informative displays of how tufa is formed under the surface of the extremely alkaline lake water where calcium rich spring waters emerge into the lake. These tufa pillars are then exposed as the lake level has receded. Mono Lake is a must return site, only next time with our kayaks. I really want to paddle around those tufa towers at the southern end of the lake, even if it means getting our boats all salty and in desperate need of a good rinse.

In addition to the natural history of the lake, the center explains the recent human history of the water wars surrounding this magnificently beautiful high desert lake. Once again, water was removed to feed the hungry masses in LA and it was only in the last few decades that a group was formed to try to save Mono Lake from complete ruin. The displays at the visitor center explain this controversy clearly and beautifully, and as yet the problem has not been solved.

Living in the Klamath Basin as I do, where these kinds of water issues are at the heart of our culture, I so wished for a beautiful, informative visitor center like this one for the Basin. The Mono visitor center was an Inyo National Forest facility, but I couldn’t help but wonder how such a state of the art, creative and informative facility was funded. We stayed a long time, perusing every exhibit and taking our time to walk the pathways.

I was shocked to realize that it was 3:30 in the afternoon when we finally left and as yet we hadn’t decided for sure on where we wanted to spend the night. Snow flurries and white on the mountains all around us precluded a boondocking night and instead we decided to forge on north toward Topaz and the Topaz Lake Casino.

We passed the road to Bodie, (which was surprisingly open already), Dogtown, Bridgeport, the beautiful campsites along the Walker River. A little roadside stop in Bridgeport gave us enough internet to do a bit of research and discover that the Topaz Lake Casino had full hookup, pull through sites for $20. per night. Not bad!, and even though the rain was getting heavier and the skies darker all the time, we made it to Topaz. For once, the weather gods weren’t with us, and Mo set up in the pouring rain while I walked in the pouring rain to secure the last pull through site available. We were both pretty wet by the time it got dark, but after a bit of relaxation with 88 tv channels and the heater going, we decided to go to the casino and take advantage of our free drink coupons.

Most of the time we can pass up the gambling, but every now and then we will donate 20 bucks each to whatever tribe is trying to make a living. It took us a few minutes to realize that we were actually in Nevada and weren’t donating to any tribe at all except the rich state of Nevada. Oh well, Nevada has better pavement than just about any state out west, so I guess it is worth it. It was also more fun than usual because I won 50 bucks, leaving the casino with $40 instead of the $20 I had walked in with, including the free drink! There isn’t a level site to be found in that place, but it still is a definite stopover on 395 if you want to save a little money. They have spaghetti for 3.99 and biscuits and gravy for 1.99, neither of which was on our radar at the moment, but still good to know.

By morning, the rain had lifted and the skies were only a bit cloudy as Mo negotiated the urban interface where 395 passes through Minden and east of Carson City, through the Reno interchanges and on north toward Susanville. There is so very much to see on this route as well, but we were ready to be home, and like a couple of barn sour horses, we just drove and drove all the way to Klamath Falls. I was missing my cat big time, and it was with great delight that I picked him up at the vet, where he gave me a good scolding and snuggled up to my chest like glue.

We stopped at the Moore Park RV dump site, which was thankfully open, flushed our tanks and then headed around the beautiful Klamath Lake, over Doak Mountain, and pulled into the driveway at Rocky Point in late afternoon. It was good to be home again in the forest.

Sunrise~Sunset~Sunrise~Sunset….Swiftly Go the Days…Saturday May 4

Many of the more well known sites in Death Valley are around the Furnace Creek area, where we finally managed to work up the nerve to leave the swimming pool and air conditioned MoHo to venture out into the heat. By 5pm it was only 96F or so, and even with the air going full blast, the inside of the MoHo was at 86F, cooling from the afternoon interior high of 91. Yeah, we are only 30 amps in the MoHo, nice when trying to find a spot to hook up in remote areas, but not as good as those big 50 amp rigs with two air conditioners in hot country. Getting outside and into the Tracker was a test in endurance until the air conditioning in the car finally caught up.

We only had a short mile to the Old Borax Mine works just north of the ranch. Even though I had been to Death Valley before, I was surprised to be reminded that the famous 20 mule team borax wagons only operated out of the valley for 5 short years. We drove through Mustard Canyon, but the overcast skies muddied up the mustard yellow color of the Furnace Creek Formation mud and silt left over from the 3 million year old lake sediments.

Of course, we had read the memo, and knew that sunset would be a great time to drive the 27 miles to Dante’s View. As we continued south past Zabriski Point toward Dante’s View, we took the one way side road into 20 Mule Team Canyon. It was just a short 5 mile loop, but incredibly fascinating to see the old sediments and the beautiful colors against the darkening skies. The storm looked like it could really do some damage, in spite of the fact that the valley only gets 2 inches of rain annual at the most.

Along the way south to the view point we passed huge open pit mines that were just outside the boundary of the park. On the narrow road we kept seeing signs saying “no trailers allowed” and then a few miles in, there would be more signs proclaiming “trailer parking”. Sure enough, at the top of the very narrow winding road, we saw a motorhome. It was a small one, a rental of course, but still the sign DID say no motorhomes or trailers.

We read the memo about sunset, but neglected to remember that we were again traveling from below sea level to more than 5,000 feet elevation. Hmmm. We are in sea level clothes at cloudy high mountain temperatures. We weren’t the only ones at least. There were some carloads of hardy souls waiting for the sunset, and some of them even had the foresight to bring along some fleece. Not us. The wind was blowing hard, the skies were dull and smoky from the huge Camarillo fires, and it was cloudy. The most fun was watching the sunset watchers. Several carloads gave up and left, but there was this thin line of clarity just over the mountains to the west that made me think that something wonderful might happen if we were patient enough.

It did. It wasn’t what I would call a spectacular sunset, but it certainly was a magical one. We watched the glowing red orb appear in the opening in the clouds as it dropped toward the mountain and then something funny started happening. As we watched, a thick, black, solid image appeared on the lower part of the sun. It didn’t look anything like a cloud, but something was definitely in the sky there between us and the sun that was really cool. Looked kinda like a coyote sun to me. It was worth the wait to then watch the clouds along the mountain horizon light up as though they were rimmed with Christmas lights. Maybe not whole sky spectacular like some sunsets I have seen, but definitely different and definitely amazing.

We slept well considering the heat, and again the air conditioner ran all night with lows in the mid 70’s. The pre-dawn alarm was set and woke us to skies that were still a bit gloomy, but the eastern horizon looked as though light might find a way through. Zabriski Point is one of the more famous viewpoints in the park, the one closest to the Furnace Creek Inn where people have come to marvel at the desert since the early part of the last century. Now the parking lot is down low and you must walk to the viewpoint, but old photos show old cars all lined up there to see the sunrise. Taking photos of a Zabriski sunrise is probably a requirement for any landscape photography course.

Once again it was fun watching the watchers. It tickled both of us to see all the different morning bed hair, on both men and women. Some people even hauled chairs and thermoses of coffee to wait for the light. Of course there were lots of cameras, lots of languages being spoken, and lots of tripods. I didn’t have mine, and instead used the interpretive signs as a makeshift tripod. Next to me, however, was a photographer. In capital letters. He had some kind of large format camera, the kind that always excites me and yet is so intimidating. I don’t even know if these cameras still use film, but I assume so. Do they have large format digital cameras now? It looked like a Hasselblad 4×5, the coveted camera of my university photography classes. I have no clue what they cost now.

I wanted to pick his brain but he was concentrating of course, using meters and such, and taking lots of prep photos as he waited for the light. I’ll bet his photos are better than mine, but a lot more expensive as well! I had fun fooling with exposures, and did a lot of really slow shutter speeds playing with the light.

Once again, as the light brightened and flattened out the shadows, it was time to return to the MoHo for a nice breakfast and a long, lazy swim in that fabulous pool before we checked out at noon to leave the valley. We will definitely go back, I am sure, probably a bit earlier in the season, however. Our drive north was a return over the two big grades that we drove in on, and we both agreed it would be a lot easier to just unhook the Tracker. We unhooked in Stovepipe Wells and ground our way up the hills. I drove the MoHo and Mo followed in the Tracker. The ups were definitely not as scary as the downs. I had to put it in 2nd because the automatic downshift just didn’t go low enough on the long 9 percent grade dropping into the Panamint Valley.

We hooked up again at the top of the grade, a few miles east of highway 136, still a bit dicey but nothing we weren’t used to traveling in the MoHo hauling the Tracker. The skies were cloudy and as we left the valley the temperatures cooled to the 70’s and the winds were getting really strong. We we descended into the Owens Valley the dust from the dry alkali lakebeds made eerie dust devils and we worried about the paint getting blown of the rig.

It was still early when we reached Bishop, and there was plenty of time to take the drive up Sabrina Canyon which we had missed the last time we passed through a few days previous. The light was opening up a bit, still cloudy, but at least a bit of sunlight to make the mountains glow. The canyon was lovely, and Bishop Creek has a lot of forest campgrounds along the way. The creek was full and there were lots of folks fishing. Once at the dam, we negotiated some construction barriers before rounding the corner to the ‘lake’.

The lake was gone. We found a huge pile of boulders, lots of sand, and a couple of small puddles where the lake used to be. The water rights are owned by Southern California Edison Co, and the water goes to LA via the aqueduct along with al the other water in the Owens Valley. There was a boat launch and resort with private docks, signs saying “keep off dock” and they were about 30 feet in the air, the boats al lined up at the closed resort in the dirt. There are no plans at this time to refill the lake. I can’t imagine just how awful this must be for the owners of that lodge, much less the people of Bishop who probably loved the fishing and boating on “their” mountain lake. It was a dam, and dams are being removed everywhere. I do get that part in some respect, but we can’t undo the damage that we have done by just pulling out the dam.

It is a bit like the controversy at Hetch Hetchy. That valley will never again be the pristine valley that once rivaled Yosemite, even if the dam is removed and the water let out. Here in the Klamath Basin, we have ‘reclaimed’ wetlands that have been unreclaimed, but they are nothing like the original natural wetland system that was once here. One of the most controversial proposals in the Klamath Basin is the removal of 4 dams on the Klamath River. I support that proposal, but looking at Sabrina Lake I can see what a hypocrite I can be as well. I wish there was still a lake there.

After that little disappointing side trip, we arrived at Brown’s Millpond Campground in time to snag the last hookup site. We had unhooked again before driving up to Sabrina Lake, so Mo took the Tracker to get groceries while I took the MoHo to check in and set up. Once again I ran into some lovely Germans from Munich in a rental rig. They were very sweet when they came over to ask, “Maybe you know this answer?”. It seems that they saw the “city water” inlet for shore water and thought it meant water in the city, so they hooked up the water to the sani flush outlet and were in a panic because their toilet was filling up and almost overflowed. I explained the difference between the two inputs to them as best I could, and once again Stacy at the campground came to the rescue with a bucket and bag saying they could empty bucketfuls from the black tank and dump them in the restroom toilets.

After all was good, they came over to thank me, and brought a big chocolate bar all wrapped up nice. Ahh, European Chocolate!!! Yum. I would imagine that they might have a stash of those bars to thank people that they meet along the way in the twelve week adventure in the United States. They had traveled from San Francisco to Yosemite and over Donner Pass and were on their way to Nevada and then to Bryce Canyon, but no desire to see Death Valley! Abby wants to know, where is the water, Mom?

Our sunset was accompanied by high wailing winds and wildly bending trees that we ardently hoped wouldn’t fall on the MoHo during the night.

Dawn at the Dunes May 4

Current Location: home in Rocky Point with thunderstorms, sun and rain. It is good to be home.

Escaping the heat isn’t the only reason for rising at dawn when visiting Death Valley. Reading Galen Rowell’s book, “Mountain Light”, reminds me again and again about that “magic hour” when taking a photo worth remembering is possible. He said, “I almost never set out to photograph a landscape. My first thought is always of light”. In spite of the fact that I am still photographing landscapes, and sometimes photographing in forgettable light because I want to remember where I have been, reading his words has reminded me to at least think of the light more than the “thing” I am trying to photograph. With that in mind, I set the alarm for 5:30 am, even though I am usually awake by then, I didn’t want to miss the sunrise over the Mesquite Dunes near Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley.

We even skipped a morning beverage, running a quick brush through our hair, and putting on shorts and tank tops to fit the 70 plus degrees outside in the thin light. The dunes are just a mile from where we were camped, so getting there wasn’t an issue. The parking lot is big, and in the comparative coolness and lack of sunshine, it was OK to let Abby wait for us while we wandered into the dunes. The hardest part about visiting a National Park is the lack of dog friendly space. There isn’t anyplace at all where a dog can walk except on the hot barren gravel around the parking lots. Obviously heat is an issue as well, which is part of the reason we didn’t hike much in Death Valley. We couldn’t leave Abby in the rig because she would bark and we couldn’t take her on the trails because of the rules, and we couldn’t leave her in the car because of the heat. A problem. But on this sort of cool morning, she was fine, and although we could hear her barking from the distant dunes, there weren’t enough people yet around for it to be a big problem.

The last time Mo and I climbed these dunes in 2004 it was in the middle of the night to the light of a full moon. Today we read the interpretive signs warning of sidewinders, and wondered if we had even thought of that danger when we hiked out there in the dark. The sun wasn’t to rise until just after 7, but there were other folks out there who had also read the memo. Just about every single brochure about Death Valley talks about getting the best photos at dawn and sunset. We saw more people on the dunes than we had seen anywhere in the park so far, except for the check-in office in Stovepipe Wells.

Another delight of early morning dune walking is discovering all the little tracks of the night animals that live in this amazing environment. We found trails of the kangaroo rat and some other interesting little tracks that I never managed to figure out. At first we thought they were sidewinder trails, but when we saw photos of the real thing, we knew better. Hiking in the dunes is a bit like walking on a sandy beach, times ten. I wouldn’t want to spend a long day trying to go anywhere very distant in this sand. We laughed a lot just trying to get up on a crest so I could wait for the coming light. We saw a few hardy souls out on the highest dune, all of 140 feet high.

Comparatively, the remote Eureka Sand Dunes rise nearly 700′ from their base and the Panamint Dunes rise 340 feet. We didn’t manage to get to either of these sand dune fields on this trip, but next time around we plan to drive in from Big Pine on a long northern route that will lead us to the Saline Valley and the Eureka Dunes. I can’t quite imagine climbing a 700 foot sand dune, since I didn’t even manage to get out to the 140 foot dune at Mesquite! Still, the light was wonderful, and watching the shadows shift and change was beautiful. Our morning was a quiet one, with no wind and a bit of softness to the light from the filtered haze and smoke sifting into the valley from the Southern California fires.

When the sun was high enough to flatten out most of the shadows, we made our way back to the car and Abby. Just west of Stovepipe Wells is a short road leading 2.5 miles to a beautiful treasure called Mosaic Canyon. At the head of the canyon is a day use area, and we knew that Abby couldn’t go there, so we hadn’t made it a priority. With the cool morning light, however, we thought we should at least go look at it. There were already a couple of rental RV’s parked there, but signs everywhere saying “no camping”. Mo said go ahead, and she stayed with Abby while I wandered up the canyon trail for a look at the narrows just 1/4 mile distant.

I am so glad I did. I am a hiker of Utah’s slot canyons, and a lover of slickrock. Instead of sandstone, though, this canyon is a study in metamorphic rock that has been polished and smoothed by wind and water in much the same way as the red sandstones of Utah. The canyon narrowed nicely, but not so much that it required moving sideways to get through. Still, it felt magical and I meandered along climbing slickrock here and there in spite of the silly Keen flip flops I had worn to hike the sand dunes. They didn’t work quite as well on the polished dolomite stone.

After my foray into the canyon, we headed back to camp for a nice breakfast and a bit of reading and photo management before our required 11am departure from the campground. When we walked outside to disconnect and hook up the Tracker, it was breathtakingly hot. Maybe only in the high 90’s, but at 10:30 in the morning, believe me, that is breathtaking!

Our move was a short 27 miles south to the Furnace Creek Ranch RV Park where we had made a reservation a few days previous. The national park campground at Furnace Creek now has 21 hookup sites with electricity and water, but the campground was closed on April 16 for repairs. Furnace Creek Ranch is quite the establishment, with a gift shop, a general store, a post office, a borax museum, a golf course, palm trees, grass, and water. And yes, a swimming pool.

By the time we were settled into our site, it was 102 degrees, and the walk to the pool was just long enough to make that water feel fantastic. The pool at Furnace Creek is fabulous, fed by warm spring water, crystalline and fresh and clear. Most of the chaises were taken, but we found one to share because I had no desire to come out of the water at all. It was a perfect way to end a hot afternoon in the hottest place on the planet. A tidbit: It used to be thought that there was a site in Libya hotter than Death Valley, but it was recently determined that the 136 F temperature recorded there was in error, and the 134 degrees F recorded on July 10, 1913, at Furnace Creek in Death Valley is the hottest recorded temperature on earth. You might not want to visit in July, although last week we heard the hottest temperature was 110 degrees F and That was in April.