Lou Taylor shares her experience of Death Valley.

A land
of mixed extremes from snow-capped mountains to
temperatures in excess of 50°C, this harsh desert sets
the ultimate survival test for wildlife

Anthropomorphic shadows creep across dunes. Dusk. Darkening. Darkness. A boisterous

musical wind lowers the afternoon heat that had peaked at 50°C. Stepping into our full beam,
a jumbo eared fennec fox joins an endless parade of clockwork mice in the black supernatural
night. We jerk as we break. A coyote howls. Sidewinders rattle. In this bleak desert, single-
car accidents are the main cause of death and we should’ve been on our way long ago. I take
a deep breath and hope my fear doesn’t show.

“The nearest town’s only 40 miles away,” I say, feigning assurance to my boyfriend, although
our global positioning system (GPS) does not register it. The ‘town’ called Shoshone is really
a street, where – my ten-year-old guidebook says – there’s a small motel. It’s too late to
wish I’d bought a new edition instead of using the library.
*****
Death Valley, California may not be the easiest place to get to but the contrasting salt flats,
canyons and snow-peaked mountains of the USA’s largest national park (over 5,000 square
miles or 3 million acres) make it awesome. Our desert drive takes in the ghost towns of
Panamint City and Ballarat, Stovepipe Wells and Furnace Creek.

Arriving at Panamint City in such intense sunshine, I can barely see, despite wearing
sunglasses. The barren ghost town stretches before me, borderless. It’s odd to imagine that a
thriving silver mining town with 2,000 inhabitants once stood here before floods destroyed it
in 1876. Despite being one of the hottest places in the world with temperatures regularly in
excess of 50°C, flash flooding is a serious risk and we were warned to avoid canyons in
rainstorms and to move to higher ground.

Floodlit by direct sunlight, the untouched, endless desert landscape serves to remind of the
immense power of nature, and vulnerability of life. Here, the extreme weather conditions set
the ultimate survival test for wildlife. I’m thankful for our four U.S. gallon (15 litre) water
supply, while Death Valley’s kangaroo rats are known for their ability to live their entire lives
without drinking any liquid.
We drive for miles without passing anyone; just the two of us in our sun-armoured car in the
wild. I carefully select appropriate music to heighten the atmosphere of majesty and awe: the
ominous, ambient sounds of Earth’s Omens and Portents I: The Driver and apt lyrics from
Depeche Mode ‘I’m taking a drive with my best friend’.

Driving up a narrow twisting roadway in the Furnace Creek area, we climb to 1,669m (5,400
feet) to Dante’s View lookout point where a strong, whistling wind wraps itself around me,
exposed to the elements. I’m mesmerised by the most dramatic view of the national park: up
to the rugged Telescope Peak (the highest point in the park at 3,368m or 11,049 feet) and
snow-capped peaks of the Panamint mountain range on the horizon, down to the pearl-white
salt carpet of Badwater (the lowest point in North America) below, and across over ridged,
dried out canyons of contrasting patterns.

It was around this point we should have started to head out of the park (the roads are rough
and there are no lights) but we were hooked and weren’t yet ready to leave. “Just one more
sight and then we’ll go,” we agreed. But once the sun had set, dusk came quickly – in the
Badwater Basin with its ceramic looking white tiled floor – and pitch-blackness enveloped us
within minutes.

*****

Not only was the ‘Shoshone Inn with pool’ (and cues)
still there, between Death Valley and the Mojave
National Preserve, but – at 10 past 9 - it was still
open. “It’s the last room,” a woman in overalls told us
in an endearing country accent, “If you want
something to eat, you can cross over to the Crow Bar.
Be quick mind, it closes at 9:30.” A burger and fries
later it was 9:31 and the Crow Bar café and saloon
was locked tight for the night.

Only an hour earlier, we had risked spending the night

in the car on the outskirts of a desert. I had seen us
huddled together, wearing several outfits from our
suitcases in the boot to keep warm; chewing beef
jerky to hold our appetites. Within a flash, we’d found
accommodation with amenities, heard rambling tales
from the Crow Bar waitress on French visitors,
facebook and tattoos, and been rushed back to our
fit-for-royalty room with Crow Bar carry-outs.

Not yet 10pm, the street-town of Shoshone was as

lifeless as Death Valley at mid-day.
About Death Valley
Death Valley is accessible by road, from California’s gateway airports Los Angeles and San Francisco. It’s often considered a winter
park; do plan your trip before you go - visit the official website and download the Visitor Guide at http://www.nps.gov

Approximate distances to places in Death Valley National Park, from:

• Los Angeles to Panamint City 157 miles
• San Francisco to Panamint City 460 miles
• Palm Springs to Badwater 340 miles
• Shoshone to Badwater 55 miles

Flights with major airlines (American Airlines, BA, Continental, United, Virgin, etc)
• Daily direct flights from London Heathrow to Los Angeles; approximate duration: 11 hours
• Daily direct flights from London Heathrow to San Francisco; approximate duration: 11 hours

About Shoshone
Shoshone is the southern gateway to Death Valley National Park on a crossroad that leads to Baker, California (to the south) and
Pahrump Nevada (to the north east).

Leaving Death Valley National Park, the nearest service station after Furnace Creek is at Shoshone, Inyo County. The small town
consists of a Post Office, gas station, inn, restaurant, bar and coffee house, north of the southern intersection of California State Routes
127 (to Baker) and 178 (to Death Valley).
• Shoshone population (2000): 52
• Population density: 1.7 people per square mile
• Land area: 28.7 miles square
• Time Zone: Pacific (GMT – 8)

Shoshone, California