A Symphony of Sights
Sometimes you encounter a day that makes you believe in a higher power. Perhaps you sense divine protection. Perhaps you discover impossible beauty. This was one of those days.
Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/ziQiic6yvCsJmN757
April 12th, 2023 - California Day 5
It began with a shield of clouds. We had returned to Death Valley under a sky clothed in grey. It was one of those rare desert days where you could roam without sunblock, and we were grateful. After a quick photo stop at Badwater Basin, we headed for the Artist’s Drive. In my pre-trip research, I had read that the colors of the rolling hills are best seen in low light, such as early morning or late evening. We arrived on the drive later than planned, and I was worried that it was too late to fully experience the hidden beauty of the region. How fortunate we were to have the friendly clouds above us! With only a hazy sun filtering through their layers, the shy colors of the hills revealed themselves to us. And what colors they were! Against a backdrop of snowy mountains rose mustardy browns and creamy whites, like the belly of a purring tawny cat. Blue and white striped the sky as pink and yellow patches curled around mountain bases. It was a symphony, really. A narrow black road formed the melody while layers of earth rose and fell in chords and couplets. Somewhere unseen, a conductor gently shaped the music, creating new scenery just around the next bend.
It was beautiful.
We parked our car where the colors crescendoed. I let the colors swell around me, and suddenly, I was caught in a whirl of giddy energy. Like a child, I ran for no reason, caught up in the silent music of a desert symphony. I sprinted up a sandy hill, stopping at the top to catch my breath and look around. There were blues and pinks and purple and orange in layers. It was an art gallery type of beauty, a painting that makes your breath catch even if you don’t know why. A woman in a turquoise shirt was hiking below us. Somehow, she seemed like a part of the scene. Someplace this beautiful always ought to have a hiker in it, a reverent keeper of a sacred vigil.
The desert music followed us as we journeyed on through Death Valley. On a long stretch of road, I noticed a clump of yellow wildflowers. I smiled at them, and then looked ahead. We were entering into a valley floor covered in nodding blooms. They were everywhere! They blurred yellow and white as we whizzed by. Knowing my obsession with anything floral, Tyler kindly asked, “Do you want to stop?” Wanting to be polite, I declined the offer. I immediately regretted it. We drove past thickening clumps of floral majesty, and my remorse grew. Why did I say no? We kept passing more and more wildflowers, each beautiful patch flung back by the dust of our car and the force of my regret. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Actually… could we stop for just a minute?”
I could hear Tyler’s smile. Graciously, he gave me all the time in the world to soak in the rare desert blooms. I wandered gleefully, my inner biologist marveling at the biodiversity. Tyler took a picture of me here. I’m sitting amongst the blooms, mid-examination and beaming. I was happy.
It was getting hotter, but we snuck in a hike at Mosaic Canyon before the midday heat. It was interesting to have traveled from a botanist’s dream to a geologist’s fascination. In the canyon, the rock walls were shaped and smoothed by rushing torrents of nonexistent water. It was a narrows similar to Utah, but with yellow stone. We climbed over water-soft boulders, fighting against thick gravel that heavied our steps. Feeling adventurous, we eventually abandoned the gravel for a narrow ridgeline that rose out of the river bottom. It wasn’t a challenging trail, but it was narrow, so good footing was crucial! I was so focused on my footing, in fact, that I nearly stepped on a pair of chuckwalla lizards. The wrinkly, dragon-like reptiles weren’t too offended, fortunately. In fact, they were trying to mate! Sorry to interrupt, guys.
From the rocky marriage bed of the lizards, we traveled north to the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes. The difference in scenery was so striking! Just like the symphonic hills and the miraculous wildflowers, divine artistry was evident here. Smooth beds of rippled sand softly sloped into steep peaks. The wind pushed grains of sand into my sandals. You could almost sense the dunes shifting as we watched, like clay in the hands of a sculptor. A kind French woman took our picture here, and then I took one for her. You often meet the loveliest people on the trails, and she was no exception.
It was a shame to have to leave Death Valley, a land of so many sights. Our day was far from over, however. On the edges of Death Valley, we discovered divine protection from our own tourist foolishness. Things could have easily gone worse. But they didn’t.
It all went down in a little town called Darwin.
But that’s for the next post.
Hiking trails:
Artist’s Drive and Artist’s Palette
Harmony Borax Works
Highway 190 north of Park Village (the wildflower pit stop)
Mosaic Canyon
Mesquite Flats Sand Dunes
Father Crowley Overlook
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