Low Valleys and Lofty Heights

This morning as we drove toward Death Valley National Park we were pulled into a tourist trap that would result in one of the most healthy breakfasts that we have had yet on this trip. The trap that pulled us in, almost tractor beam like, was called

Alien Fresh Jerky. This place had billboards for miles and we couldn't help but find out what kind of stuff this place had to offer. We pulled in moments after the owner unlocked the door and found out that apart from having aliens everywhere, it was just a normal beef jerky and hot sauce shop. Now both of these things would normally excite me a great deal but at 8 a.m. I was not in the shopping mood. Regardless, I couldn't pass up the "mutilated cow" jerky and Katie and I proceeded to have it for breakfast. It tasted great but something those aliens did to this jerky made it extremely salty and the rest of our day Katie and I both felt

dehydrated, and Death Valley is a bad place to have that happen. Now Death Valley is well deserving of its name. For miles and miles around there is nothing but barren hills and desert. The landscape is remarkably beautiful but nonetheless lifeless. Again blessed with our impeccable timing, we did not have to endure the sweltering heat of summer in this godforsaken place. The threat of heat has made an impression on the area however with radiator water stations lining the road every few miles and signs anywhere that humans are present imploring you to drink and carry water at all times. We pulled into the Furnace Creek, a formidable desert oasis that was teeming with people. The population consisted mainly of elderly snowbirds who have made

Death Valley their winter RV hangout but there was also a pioneer festival going on during our visit. This produced the effect of having to walk amongst throngs of people dressed in 1800's garb and forced us to yield the right of way to passing wagon trains on occasion. We left this populous village and headed again

into the lifeless wild making for the lowest spot in the US, the Badwater Basin. This is would-be lake is now a flat, salt crusted desert, void of life apart from the occasional tourist who wanders carelessly into its depths. Which is exactly what we did. We

walked out about a mile into the middle of the blindingly bright valley where we could vividly see

the salt crystals and lattice formations. We even tasted a bit of the ground and sure enough, its salt! After our foray in the desert it was time to head back to the mountains to do a couple of canyon hikes. The first, the Golden Canyon, was fairly uneventful. It was supposed to be an interpretive hike but when we got to the trailhead there was no more pamphlets. We still did about a mile or 2 but without the guide it was much the same as our other canyon hikes, except those were noticeably better.

The next canyon we visited, however, was exceptional! It had narrows the like of which we had never seen before. The walls came together so close at points that you had to shimmy through them sideways and sometimes climb up small walls to get to the

next level. The walls were made of this smooth stone that looked like a swirling granite countertop. They were so slick that as Katie and I left the canyon we literally used the

walls as slides and slid down many of the crevasses formed by millions of years of flowing sediment and water. The geology was so unique in this area that there was even a college class taking place within its narrow slots. Katie and I had to shuffle past them awkwardly a few times in order to get deeper into the canyon. As we past the class we heard them talking about

the complex mixture of gasses and

heat that mixed here when the earths crust was still molten. But, all of this fascinating information was lost on us as we slid down the smooth sides and on to our next adventure. That night we dined at the Indian Wells Brewery which turned out to really be a fine dining steakhouse. We felt slightly out of place and very underdressed but the beer was great and the food was digestible, leaving our bodies fully prepared to lay down and rest for the night.

The following morning we headed to Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. The road heading into this park reminded me exactly of the road heading into the Yosemite Valley. From the highway there are nothing but flat farm fields which gradually shift from berry fields into orchards, then as you reach the Sierra's you begin to slowly climb the foothills until you reach the base of the mountain range just as you enter the National Park. In Sequoia we again were

faced with the problem of not knowing what to do and again went to the professionals for advise. Our first stop came in the form of a thing called Tunnel Rock. This an enormous boulder that fell on top of another pillar creating a small, door-like tunnel. Cars used to drive through this corridor but, as evidence by the many large scrapes on the top, the size of modern day cars outgrew the tunnel and now we are forced to take a bypass instead. Next we made a

quick stop to check out some old pictographs, then proceeded to climb to the top of the mountain, home to all the Giant Sequoia groves. Before we entered into these monoliths homes, we made a short hike to the top of Moro Rock. Atop this peak, we could

glimpse many of the peaks of the Sierra range and had a beautiful view of the valley below as well. It was amazing being up there and being able to see so much of the world around you. Like true hippies, the rest of our day was spent amongst the trees. We did

three moderate hikes, some of them interpretive trails, but each in a very different and distinct grove. The most

anticipated of these groves featured the largest trees in the world. These sequoias are not as tall as the coastal redwoods that we saw in Northern California but they are noticeably more thick, which makes their presence much more imposing. We visited General Sherman, the largest tree by volume in the world, and General Grant, another giant second only to Gen. Sherman. After these three hikes, the sun had all but set and we began to leave the park toward Fresno when we passed a sign for the "Big Stump." Katie remembered climbing on a large stump when she visited

this park as a child and wanted to revisit that childhood memory, so we

pulled over to take a look. After some investigation we found that it was a mile into the woods until we reached the big stump. Since we were set on not coming back to the area, we decided to race against daylight to reach this old remnant of a once proud tree. I had already taken off my hiking shoes for the day and was walking in my sandals, planning on giving my feet a rest. Normally it would not be a big deal to hike a mile in sandals but since we were in such high elevation, the ground was already covered in snow. Soon into the hike my toes were red and numb

leaving me to regret the decision not to change back into my shoes. The trail led us past an old mill site where there was a large open field with sequoia stumps scattered everywhere. A little further on we reached the Mark Twain stump right before dust and we were both stunned by its size. Katie still isn't sure whether or not it was the same stump that she visited at a kid, but we both agreed it was worth the trip, even if it didn't l

ead Katie to memory lane. The stump was so large that I couldn't even fit it into a single camera shot while standing on top of it. What is now the stump used to be the Mark Twain tree. It was felled in 1891 after 1,350 years of life. It was cut down in order to have a section of its trunk shipped to a worlds fair somewhere on the east coast as an exhibit to the natural wonders of the west. Because of this trees sacrifice, the world became aware of the unique beauty of the west and began to take action to help preserve this beauty for future generations. It was dark when we got back to the car and drove to Fresno for dinner. We found the fittingly ironic Sequoia Brewing Company which more than met our hunger needs, then carried on to a rest area for the next day.