Taken from The Old Trailmaster's dusty, but fascinating, journal
THE AUTHOR JOURNAL INFO EXCERPTS POETRY DESTINATIONS ORDERING
From the the Preface, A WORLD LOST IN TIME: "Chiseled from raw materials forged in the primeval planetary furnace, it has been called hell on Earth, a vast desiccated wasteland where nothing survives, a place from which anyone foolish enough to venture is likely not to return.
The immense blinding salt flat, sprawling across the foreboding center of this earthly abyss, has been proclaimed by many the exposed roof of Satan's realm. Furnace-like temperatures afflicting summer months are not verifiable on most thermometers, and rank this basin among the hottest infernos of our planet. There is no lower walkable land in North America, a deep salty sink that appears to remain relentlessly locked in death's iron grip. This is primordial Death Valley, the lost netherworld of delusional dreams, capturing the dreadful imaginations of a polished society.
The Death Valley region has long been offered for public consideration as a chasm of revulsion, a forbidding place that is contaminated by horrific creatures ready to feast on the hapless human who falters here. It has been painted by many as a mass graveyard of bodies that do not decay due to the low humidity, a place where life of any meaningful form simply does not exist. They said that nothing of value existed here.
Why have these perceptions flourished in the illumination of reality and reason?
For over 150 years, writers have focused on all that is lethal and hideous in this territory, converging on the ill fated exploits of wandering miners, for they have found that preying on personal fear markets well to a social order morbidly eager to read of such an otherworldly scourge. Many are those lured to a cursory visit so that triumphant proclamation of surviving the unsurvivable may be uttered.
The "Death" of Death Valley has been an integral part of its successful financial promotion over the years, and even to this day, the general public continues to look upon it as a place where no rational individual would visit or explore. After all, they conclude, there is nothing worth their time or life in those eternal badlands. It's the last place on Earth an intelligent and sensible person would ever journey.
Of the 270 million people who tour the National Parks of the United States each year, a little over a million of them make their way to this last place on Earth annually; no doubt the melodramatic authors of the ages have partially influenced their decision. Stained with such terrifying terminology as Coffin Peak, Hell's Gate, Starvation Canyon, Deadman Pass, Last Chance Range, Funeral Mountains, and Death Valley, how can folks not be petrified of this region?
Perhaps the labeling of the land with such traumatic nomenclature has a positive side though, in that it keeps the casual tourists on ever vigilant watch so that they too will not join the countless scores of departed wanderers whose dried bones litter the vast expanses of this most hostile of all arid and deadly deserts.
However, one notable problem demands additional examination:
Countless scores of deceased souls have never been found anywhere in the Death Valley territory, nor is the region merely merciless desert. Abundant life flourishes throughout this backcountry, sometimes in forms that are counterintuitive to common beliefs. Humans have lived here harmoniously with the land for thousands of years. Several months annually, snow blankets large forests in high mountains. A colossal lake once filled the main valley. Wildflowers cover the hillsides in spring. There is mysterious beauty to be found all over, and there are few wilderness areas that offer so much peace and contentment to the adventuresome as this supposedly most-deadly American locale.
Yes, there is another side to the story - in reality, many more sides astonishingly arise as one seeks the wisdom of fact over the folly of fantasy ..."
(continued in journal)
From the the Introduction, WILD BY NATURE:
"You and I materialized into our current life forms on the Third Outpost from the boiler - Mercury and Venus are closer, although not exactly hospitable to carbon-based creatures such as ourselves. Fortunately for us, Earth is just right, plenty warm, and provides ample opportunity for exploration. However, some places on this celestial rock are subject to temperature extremes …
From the steep frozen slopes of Telescope Peak in winter, to the flat fiery furnace of Badwater Basin in summer, this is a world of striking divergence. It is a world that decrees when and where we shall visit, and for how long. This primordial world of fire and ice exists with apparent indifference to human survival, but then inexplicably inspires our imaginations by calling us to explore its farthest reaches. The Death Valley territory is clearly wild by nature.
From hidden clusters of lush waterfalls near Darwin, to frogs, birds, and crickets that sing you to sleep in Johnson Canyon, to a silent bobcat that lazily keeps you company at Mahogany Flat, there are surprises here that are not at all apparent to the typical casual visitor. Yes, Death Valley is wild by nature, and those wilds are alive and flourishing. You just have to know where to find them.
Allow me now to cordially welcome you to backcountry adventure in a wild land of legend, country seemingly forgotten by time that has proven a luring backdrop for odd human drama amidst implausible geological forces. Welcome to a host of astounding wild places that strangely beckon those of us for whom life is not confined within the walls of suburbia - for those who have colored outside the lines since childhood. Welcome to remote outback that lies far beyond the fringes of urban sprawl - off the map, where a journey of a few hours can transport you back millions of years …
Welcome to Death Valley National Park and the remarkable neighboring lands!
Having opened this journal, you most likely feel a strong call of the wild, an inner perpetual flame that draws you into the untamed territory on the road and trail not taken. Are you drawn to the beauty and mystery of wild country? Do you long to venture into primal lands where few others dare to journey? Have you often wondered where alluring dirt roads go that you see from the pavement? Or where a narrow footpath disappearing into a constricted rock-walled canyon leads? Will primitive solitude, wilderness camping, and arising to the delights of the natural world awaken your senses? Would you like to answer the call of the wild with your spirit of adventure?
Then you'll be right at home here ...
Backcountry adventure is not so much a particular destination as it is a feeling ... the magnificent sensation of being an integral part of the natural world that so bountifully surrounds us upon escaping the restrictive boundaries of human development. Attempting to transform this mindset into the written word borders on folly, yet, if you have been to that unique faraway place, you already understand. Taking the path of greater resistance is often the way to remove ourselves, at least for a time, from all the unhealthy influences of 'civilized' humanity. To travel that path, the one seldom attempted by others, typically requires personal resolve, a four-wheel drive vehicle, and a backpack. Backroads and trails may be challenging, yet they offer us the key to meeting nature in a way that most will rarely know.
And we return with a heightened sense of accomplishment and self-worth.
Backcountry exploration helps us put our lives in proper perspective, often relieving traditional anxieties. A few days in the outback of the Death Valley territory eases the sense of urgency most of us feel in our daily time schedules ... city time fades, while wilderness time becomes our reality - we cease to worry about the frenzied demands and imposed deadlines of cultural expectations. These artifacts of modern life hold no meaning in the wild. Out here, in addition to the healthy air, our senses inhale the wonders of rugged mountains, lost canyons, hidden valleys, and sweet-smelling vegetation.
We forget about time ... and focus on life.
Therefore, if your idea of a meaningful experience is exploring remote wild places by vehicle and on foot, and you love to camp under the stars, you are the type of person for whom this journal exists. The objective of our backcountry safaris is fulfillment of our wilderness spirits, as we discover the unknown, camp out under the Milky Way, tell tales of the day's trip, and sleep heartily in the stillness of the outback, awaiting the next day to discover what adventures and scenery the trail brings our direction. We appreciate the value of the natural world, and the mysterious way it shows us the path to our primordial essence.
Are you ready to make this fundamental connection? ..."
(continued in journal)
From the the Caution, BEFORE WE HEAD OUT:
"Traveling alone in remote wild territory is not wise by conventional standard, even though I have done it for years, and still do it today. I may be a few cards short of a full deck, I may be exceptionally lucky, or I may not have any friends to go with me, being the mischievous rascal that I am. Whatever the case, if the following safari stories motivate you to come to Death Valley National Park, use your head, and remember a few worthy warnings (along with some rather dubious ones to inject a chuckle factor, thereby raising this warning above time-honored mediocrity):
Backcountry exploration, travel on unpaved primitive roads, and hiking far from human habitation can endanger you and your vehicle. Such activity carries with it inherent risks including, but not limited to, tire punctures, sheet metal damage from rocks, paint scratches, vehicular destruction, hypothermia, dehydration, starvation, wild animal attack, consequences from medical problems arising in the absence of a medical professional, and death.
You may be bitten by a cantankerous rattlesnake, stung by an anti-social scorpion, or have your eyes poked out by an inconsiderate vulture. You may fall into a bottomless mine shaft, get stuck by a prickly cactus needle, or be swept away by an inopportune flash flood. You may run out of gas ninety-seven miles from pavement, be buried by a turbulent sandstorm, or drop to the ground mumbling incoherently about needing water as you dry into a mummified carcass.
You may also be scalded by a steaming brew at Teakettle Junction, be struck by a speeding boulder at The Racetrack during hurricane-force winds, or you could beat the devil at eighteen holes on his favorite golf course (and you know where that will send you). To leave no stone unturned, you may be abducted by interstellar creatures on Sarcobatus Flat (a known good landing site in Nevada), or you may even be struck by lightning while reading this book.
Humor is refreshing and has its place, yet backcountry safaris demand serious preparation ..."
(continued in journal)
From the the chapter, SIX DAYS IN APRIL: "The exquisite call of the wilderness, flowing softly and patiently through trees backlit by the awakening sun, invited me to dance. It was such a personally influential beckoning that I could no longer disregard the yearning. It always exists within me, and necessitates attention on a recurring basis, yet this time, my siren's song was manifesting itself with a very unique implication.
Somewhere along the way of my life's journey, I had unwittingly crossed a threshold into a chapter of the book that it appears we all must experience. Whether a full-blown crisis or not, I had entered midlife, and this unfamiliar mental outlook took me by surprise because my active lifestyle was not in keeping with the ominous view that it's all slipping away too fast. But sure enough, there I was, realizing that my finiteness must be maximized, not wasted on the trivialities associated with daily rote living.
Yes, I had been aware that my viewpoint of the world was slowly changing, evolving through an enlightenment that I needed inner peace in my existence. Who I am, where I am going, and how I fit into the overall scheme of things were questions that ever more pressed me for answers. Knowing that comprehending the matters of life, which have steadfastly vexed humankind since its inception, shall forever elude me, I had to find comfort in my own relevant way. It was obvious where this cerebral transmutation was going to lead, for my entire life had been largely spent on a course that was not in keeping with the mainstream of our culture, and that path would now do its part to escort my restless mind into nirvana. Or so I hoped.
Although people generally become more cautious as they age, and the impetuous daring of youth is replaced by the wisdom of our fragility, this midlife symptom called into being a need to go beyond my usual mundane activities, including my adventures into the wilds of this land. Weekends were nice, and of course, they fit into the American five-day week quite well. Two days of backcountry exploring and hiking, along with one night spent in the wilderness used to do wonders when it came to facing Monday morning with an upbeat mood ..."
(continued in journal)
From the the chapter, TRAIL TO THE SKY: "West of Badwater Basin in Death Valley, the lowest land in America at 282 feet below sea level, towers a massive sentinel that rises over two vertical miles into the Earth's atmosphere. Visible from afar in all directions, the top of Telescope Peak is the highest elevation in Death Valley National Park, and from its piercing majestic summit in the Panamint Range to the flat salty sink below is roughly twice the depth of the Grand Canyon. To look down any greater distance, one would have to be flying in an airplane. Both of these extreme Death Valley locations are accessible by foot. Being atop this pinnacle of the Panamints proved to be yet another deeply moving awareness of my interaction with this planet I call home, a time of joyous emotion, personal reflection, and unparalleled sensations that all is at peace in my world. This is the story of my trek to the top ..."
(continued here)
From the the chapter, FOREVER WILD AND FREE: "After nearly eleven miles of adventurous driving, this backroad comes to an end, with high mountains around in every direction. The salt flats are no longer visible far below since I am this far up and have gone around so many bends in the road. A heavily flowing stream is making its way down this canyon past where I have parked. This will be the most perfect place to spend my first night of many more on this safari in this untamed land.
A dozen or so giant trees, full of thousands of green leaves, add to the wonderful ambiance of this unique natural setting. Perhaps they are Cottonwoods, but I don't know for sure. I am not here to name the flora and fauna, as is customary with so many of the human species, rather I prefer to just enjoy it as it is. Nature has not named these trees, and I, a part of nature, shall follow this lead and simply appreciate all that is displayed before me on my planetary home. Names are insignificant to me, for it is the feeling that I get as I begin to explore this area that resonates strongly within my essence. I do not have to know the name of these pretty flowers to know that they bring peace to my spirit. The multitude of croaking frogs all around me this evening do not know any names, and do not even know that they are called frogs, but does it matter to them?
Sometimes intelligence and classification get in our way of living fully! With many hours of traveling having finally ended today, I just stand and soak up with all my senses the habitat in which I now find myself. Balmy breezes gently ascend the canyon from lower elevations, and my face delights in their feathery caresses. Fluffy clouds dance among the powerful mountaintops above, allowing a few scattered rays of the sun's happy sparkle through every so often. Crystal clear waters flow from the early Spring snowmelt of the summits above, cascading over many rocks and boulders, forming intriguing waterfalls and providing the masterful music for this harmonious blend of natural wonders. Frogs add their own marvelous vocals, from nearly every direction it seems, a notable experience of many pitches in full stereo delight.
Not to be outperformed, crickets sing along, hidden in the nooks and crannies of the rocks, trees, and wild brush. Birds also chirp their peace-giving songs, and can be seen alighting hither and yon in the trees.
As the evening moves towards night, my friends the bats silently appear, using their radar to feast upon any mosquitoes that may be lurking about with ideas of dining upon me. I love these delicate little creatures, so small and so cute. Once, one whose radar system must have been momentarily deactivated, flew straight into my chest, striking with a soft gentle thud, and then flying away, probably wondering what that was. As I look westward towards the towering Panamint peaks, the sky has become a fiery red and orange, simply the crowning sight that pulls this nirvana all together this evening, and makes living so worthwhile for me!
I could wish to be no place else on Earth right now. Truly, this is the epitome of experiencing the refuge of the wild places. It is wild and natural. It is a world away from … well, that other life of artificial and mundane happenings that imprisons the collective society from which I sprang over half a century ago. I have broken away to this secret garden of nature, to know what the real world is, to get a feeling for what life was like when the first people of this land existed in this very spot ten-thousand years ago, and to seek that which is important to my emotional survival - the serenity of learning how I fit into the order of things.
I am not superior to all that surrounds me here. I may have the ability to metacognate, to think about what I'm thinking about, and analyze beyond my other animal friends' more limited talents, yet it would be arrogant to believe that I am better. For, in reality, I am also but a finite and fragile creature upon this planet, who breathes the same air, sees the same sights, and attempts to survive with the beats of my heart while avoiding dangers.
We are all here together. How many of us in the cities ever come to realize all that is so plentiful beyond the fringes of urban sprawl? How many of us really even care? For most, life seems to be burdened with a million little details as deemed appropriate by our advanced society, like achieving financial greatness, impressing the neighbors, having the best insurance plan, and blah, blah, blah. It really is all blah when compared to the sensual delights and profound realities of the natural world.
I have personally heard many times in my life, both in person and on television, where someone with a home overlooking a massive metropolitan area, will comment at night that the sight of all the lights is so pretty. "Have you ever seen a more beautiful sight?" they will ask. I submit for your consideration that we have come to a place in history where our definitions of beauty are now warped to bring us peace while in the clutches of a mechanized world that continually gobbles up more and more of nature to conform to a new characterization of what life really should be.
As fast as our culture speeds towards more sophisticated modes of living, I head in the other direction, preferring a simple life. My life insurance and health policies for living a long and vital life are not to be found in unaffordable documents obtained only with a high paying job. No - my formula is living a more natural existence, exercising daily, living in an area that is not choked with smog and pollutants, performing daily routines that do not bring the strangling yoke of stress upon my psyche that tears down so many from the inside. I eat as close to nature as is practical, stay current on medical science that allows for people to easily surpass the centenarian mark, and attempt to bring joy and smiles to all whom I meet. I am a part of nature … the carbon within my body came from supernovas … and I have no desire to destroy that which has given me life. Nature is all around me. Nature is within me. I am a microcosm of the Universe.
Tonight is a special time for me. These wild places of the Death Valley territory have once again provided the bedrock upon which I anchor my peace. For me, this tranquility cannot be found in concrete surroundings, overpopulated by humans seeking all that the convenience of metropolis living brings. I drift off to sleep early, the last sounds heard being the chorus of frogs, crickets, and flowing stream ..."
(continued in journal)
From the the chapter, THE ROADS NOT TAKEN: "Hard as it is to imagine now, there was a time in this land when roads did not exist, when the great expanse of exposed Earth that lies between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans was wilderness untouched by the activities of humans. Over the course of unimaginable time, people from many regions of the world began migrating to what is now called North America in an unending human quest to explore the unexplored. This adventurous exploration left in its wake pathways of the explorers, and little by little, organized groups of people established towns that were connected by roads.
In this progression of human development by people not unlike ourselves in most respects, history was in the making - just as history is still in the making by you, me, and the societies in which we currently live. The human drama has unfolded for eons, building towns, roads, cultures, and leaving a legacy of rich history, free for the study.
My remembrances of history in school were of a subject that was often dry and uninteresting. Despite a teacher's valiant attempt to bring it alive, history just somehow seemed so remote to my young mind that it may as well have been some fictional tale heard at storytime. My life and all its problems were what mattered, not what unknown people long ago did. Well, I don't suffer from that past lack of interest any more. Quite the opposite is true.
The Death Valley territory is so chock full of history that an area enthusiast can not help but learn of it, and all the roads in this National Park allow us to readily visit these times of yore. Roads that once were the major conduits of the era are now the roads not taken by the masses, and are all the more special due to their unpopular status. The adventurous among us can travel these little known byways today and feel as though we are living during a time long ago past. Not much has changed in this land of legend. History is alive and well in the Death Valley backcountry!
As tourist destinations go, Death Valley does not rank among the most prominent or fashionable locales for our culture. Relatively few make the journey to this territory each year. It terrifies most, even though paved roads make travel pretty straightforward. The accurate scope of this land, its geology, and amazing history however, is not fully revealed by traveling the National Park's relatively limited amount of pavement, and therein lies one of the reasons for popular misinterpretation.
Those of us who seek the backcountry found only on earthen pathways not taken, and who sleep primitively with the land each night, tend to learn considerably more about the region than the majority of tourists in air-conditioned luxury sedans who frequent the fine motel accommodations. Three basic categories may cover it fairly well: 1) those who will never consider a visit, 2) those who will visit the main attractions at least once in luxury, and 3) those who will visit repeatedly all the places that are regarded as inaccessible by the crowds. I undeniably fall into grouping number three. The call of the wild remains strong within.
My primitive outback excursion commenced the morning of Friday, October 27. As is often the case, I left from the abode of the legendary Desert Gypsy of the Mojave high country. A tough old woman of eight decades, she lives in enviable proximity to America's lowest and hottest spot, so I combine the two activities of visiting mom and then swinging back home by way of Death Valley National Park and the surrounding territory. It's a great match because my backcountry exploration vehicle (BEV) and I can be fresh and ready to go for several days in the outback after a revitalizing stay at the Gypsy's grand palace ... "
(continued in journal)
From the the chapter, RENDEZVOUS WITH A BOULDER: "Taking the road less traveled has rewards. And it's easy to do in the Death Valley territory since there are roughly 1300 miles of them in the Park and neighboring lands. I have been doing it all my life, and it has made all the difference. However, following little known paths also may provide unwelcomed consequences that are not in keeping with a safe backcountry experience. Returning to a secure and cozy abode at the end of a long safari is the usual outcome of a trek into the outback, but sometimes the best laid plans fall asunder.
Humankind always seems to have a need to conquer, tame, and improve the primal lands around it. Of course, whether or not it is actually an improvement is questionable, but one thing is not uncertain - conquering and taming nature is only an illusion of the frail human consciousness. Ultimately, nature will always prevail, be it removing a paved roadbed with water, devastating a city with wind, or altering the habitability of a planet with climate change. This knowledge nurtures respect. The natural world is a place of impeccable beauty, yet can become at times a deadly mix not conducive to human life.
With this in mind, the prudent backcountry explorer prepares wisely, gathering advance information to the extent possible to keep unpleasant surprises to a minimum. As part of my model of life, the time had again arrived for me to venture far away from the tame comings and goings of commonplace existence. It was time to take another jaunt into my secret playground of the distant northern Mojave Desert region.
This trip, I wanted to sneak in via a little know back door used only by the intrepid among us. After all, what pleasure and satisfaction is to be found smoothly sailing in at fifty-five miles per hour on human-laid pavement? For those of us with the pioneering explorer spirit, there is, of course, little to none. Why do things the normal easy way? Live a little, overcome adversity, and mingle with the natural world on terms not guaranteed by anyone.
Nowadays, most folks seem to always want guarantees, yet for this autumn trip into Death Valley National Park, no assurances were forthcoming for me. In fact, after checking the National Park Service's website for DV, it seemed certain that if anything, I was being told to stay home on the porch. Stay home? Yeah, you may as well have told Sir Edmund Hillary not to climb Mount Everest back in 1953 - while the scale of the adventure is clearly at a different level, the reasoning behind it has shared ground. It's an inner unyielding thirst to explore the unexplored, to venture out where there are no signs or guideposts … to be alone and hold your own in all the raw elements of nature.
Only weeks prior to my anticipated departure date, massive flooding had thoroughly scoured much of the inner core of this National Park; some say that it was a 100 or even 500 year event. Paved roads were torn apart like paper, concrete restroom facilities were moved to new -unplanned- locations, cars were swept down raging washes and filled with boulders, and human life was even claimed. So yes, it was a catastrophic occurrence that within 24 hours demonstrated the power of the natural world, and once again proved that human creatures are such a frail lot. For some though, this type of episode only serves to whet the appetite to get out and see for themselves what had happened.
And so, I chose to go ..."
(continued in journal)
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