As with the day before, it was interesting to see the campground in daylight. The previous night had been (as every other day and night had) completely cloudless, with an increasingly full moon, so we could actually walk around without the aid of flashlights fairly easily.
Seeing Lake Isabella in moonlight was something else, and seeing it in daylight was equally as pretty. The air was so calm and the temperature was so nice that we slept with the back of the van open, for at least most of the night.
While we had provisions for breakfast, I suggested to Steph that we eat at a local establishment. She readily agreed, and we found this awesome place. If you are ever in Lake Isabella (and judging from the guest book, many people from all over the world are), I highly recommend Nelda's Diner.
Those biscuits and gravy were divine. We were going to have some pie for the road, but decided against it. I think that was the incorrect choice.
They also had this awesome clock (in the upper center of the picture) that flipped over (like an old alarm clock) different signs. Pretty neat.
Up the street was a war memorial, complete with a Korean War ear Patton tank, a DUKW and a few bits from the USS Arizona (seen behind the fenced in area).
Lake Isabella looks far more charming in photos than it did in real life, sadly.
Heading in a north-eastern direction to Death Valley, we headed through Ridgecrest into some terrifically sculpted terrain.
Oops.
Eventually we made it into a large, flat valley, and ran up CA 178, between the Naval Weapons testing base at China Lake and the Panamint Mountains. This valley roughly parallels Death Valley, nestled between the Panamints and the Sierra Nevadas.
Along the way, we saw a very small sign for "Ghost Town Ballarat", so naturally we had to stop. Three miles out into the desert was a few crumbling buildings, a mobile home and what appeared to be a general store.
Welcome to Ballarat. Apparently it's quite a famous little ghost town - a scene in Easy Rider was filmed there, and Charles Manson and his gang set up house a few miles away in the 1960's.
CA 178 had some really long, straight stretches that were ripe for a photo op.
Also Dexy got a little dirty.
104 degrees!
And soon we came to the entrance to Death Valley, although we were still one valley to the west.
Whoa. 108!
As we crossed over into Death Valley itself, we stopped at Stovepipe Wells for a few moments to get our park pass and to get some postcards. It was so hot that my sandals felt like they were going to melt on the pavement. We headed east again, and went past Mesquite Dunes. We wouldn't venture out there during the day, but at night? That's a different story...
Oof. 111.
Okay, so now it's really hot. 114. I kept watching the temperature reading go up and wondered when it would stop.
At the Furnace Creek visitor center we stopped to use the restroom and eat some lunch, sitting in the van with the AC blasting. The heat radiating from the parking lot warmed the floor, but the AC never faltered and the water temperature needle barely moved past the halfway point. Way to go Chrysler and your cooling system engineering! These two folks we saw ahead of us in the parking lot were actually attempting to fry an egg. Apparently they did, and it wasn't too bad.
Yikes. 116.
With the heat baking our brains, a scattered but coherent plan was devised. First stop was Badwater Basin, one of the lowest spots on dry land in all the world at -282 feet below sea level.
Oh, really, is it hot out?
I describe it as the feeling you get after you've been outdoors in the summertime working all day. Your internal thermostat is out of whack, your body is warm to the very core, and you just need to cool down. Only in Death Valley, it takes 8 minutes for this to happen instead of 8 hours. Still, I think that everyone should experience Death Valley in the depths of summer when it is hotter than blazes. It's just an amazing experience.
After baking our brains even further in the sun, we headed back north through the park. Artists Drive was recommended by the park ranger, and it was easy to see why. The mineral deposits had left the eroded mountainside an amazing palette of colors.
By this time, we were exhausted from the heat, and attempted to figure out what to do next. We stopped for a few minutes at the resort at Furnace Creek, and found out something amazing: for $5 you could get a pass for all day access to the pool and showers.
Back in the car, we finally hit the hottest it would be that day: 119.
Instead of taking it easy and resting at Furnace Creek, we headed towards another ghost town, Rhyolite. It was 30 miles away, and the drive there it felt like 130 miles. We had to cross over another mountain range into Nevada, where it was mercifully cooler. 95 degrees to be exact, and it felt comfortable.
Rhyolite was an amazing place, even if it is one of the more "touristy" ghost towns.
You can read about the history of Rhyolite over on Wikipedia. I highly recommend you do, as it has a brief, but fascinating history.
The Rhyolite Train Depot is one of the more fascinating places I've ever seen, situated such that it is way out in the middle of nowhere.
This building is the Cook Bank.
This building is the eight room schoolhouse.
Not sure what this structure is/was, I think it might have been a general store, judging from the huge pile of squashed tin cans in what was the basement.
As the sun was setting, we headed back towards Death Valley proper, in hopes that the temperature had dropped enough for us to camp in Furnace Creek, and not trek an hour to the north for a campground at higher elevation.
This was not to be. It was still 105 when we crossed back over into Death Valley, and would remain so for the rest of the time we were in the Valley proper. We took advantage of that great deal for $5, and went for several swims in the pool, had a nice shower, and lounged under the moonlight for awhile. Once we had cooled down sufficiently, we headed back towards Mesquite Dunes for a little romp under the moonlight.
There are really no good pictures (of my own, or on the internet) of the dunes at night, and that's just as well. It was hot (105 according to Dexy's dashboard) but the sun wasn't out, so it wasn't unbearable. We wandered around in as little clothing as possible (I had on just my shoes/socks and shorts, Steph was down to a bra and her PJ shorts), and walked quite a bit out into the dunes. The sand was amazingly cool (until you dug down into it a bit), and I avoided bushes due to the threat of rattlesnakes (and kept thinking random twigs were snakes!).
After wandering around for a bit, we decided to go for the dark-horse, third option for a campground: Wildrose. We were told it was primitive, with only pit toilets, 22 miles off the road, and at around 5,000 feet it would be much cooler. Furnace Creek campground was still boiling hot, and Mesquite Springs was just too far out of the way.
Up into the canyon we headed, mile after mile further from the main road and whatever passed for civilization at Stovepipe Wells. We counted over 20 hares (rabbits), countless birds (including one that was splattered on the grill of Dexy), and three coyotes.
We finally made it to the campground, to find that it was pleasantly filled with people, many from the Sierra Club. We made camp, and even as exhausted as we were we managed to put together a delicious fajita, drink some wine and watch an episode of Orphan Black.
It was one of the best nights sleep I've ever had, and it was a shame that we had to wake up to make the trek back north.
