Returning home from a couple of days in Death Valley, I decided to stop and visit a bizarre attraction that I had read about a few months ago. Just on the outskirts of the lonely Nevada mining community of Goldfield, two artists have created the International Car Forest of the Last Church.
You may be asking yourself "what exactly is a car forest?". The pictures here should give you some idea, but essentially, these artists have taken a number of cars, trucks, vans, and even buses and partially buried them in the ground, with most of the junkers standing on end to form something of a 'forest' of cars. It's a bizarre idea and perhaps even more bizarre to see in person.
In addition to just placing the vehicles in the ground, most of them have been elaborately spray-painted with various strange murals and other graffiti can be found on them as well.
Walking among these car-trees in the hills above Goldfield, the frigid winter winds are making my hands cold, but it is such a bizarre and perhaps post-apocalyptic scene that I can't help by continuing exploring and taking pictures.
As for the meaning or inspiration of the artwork, who can say, but it certainly is an attention grabber. As I depart, I note a line of half-buried motorcycles and bicycles, further adding to the oddity of this place. With that said, I'll just leave these pictures right here and let you reach your own conclusion.
For our final hike in the park today, Bill and I decide to check out the Natural Bridge just north of Badwater Basin. The rough gravel road leading to the trail head is traversed by a surprising number of sports cars today, but the jeep is made for this sort of thing and we barely notice the damage caused to the road by the recent rains.
Again, this trail is very popular. Perhaps, the closure of so much of the park is just concentrating visitors into the open areas. Either way, we join a number of other hikers as we hike up the soft wash into yet another canyon. As with the others we have hiked today, the colors are beautiful shades of gold and red, though here, they seem to be more muted for some reason.
After only about a third of a mile, we reach the obvious feature for which the hike is named. A large span of sandstone crosses overhead to form a natural bridge over the canyon. Carved over the eons by the rushing rain waters that formed the canyon, the bridge shows signs of cracks throughout. One day it will ceasing being a bridge and collapse onto the wash below. Hopefully, not today. It is a very impressive sight, but wanting a few more miles, Bill and I continue up the wash to see what else there is to explore.
Climbing up a couple of eroded and nearly dry waterfalls, we finally reach a dead end - a vertical cliff approximately 15 feet high, which probably itself forms a waterfall during a rain shower. Bill, being the adventurous sort he is, wants to try to climb it, but suggest that we turn back and he agrees. Again, the risk just didn't seem worth the reward to me in this case and with all of the other trips I have planned this year, I wasn't willing to risk breaking a leg just to see what was above the cliff.
We head back to the jeep and head for home. This was short hike of only about a mile, but the Natural Bridge was definitely worth seeing.
With the heavy rains, the park service had closed off and gated a number of gravel roads within the park, which left Bill and my choices a bit slimmer than normal for doing some day hikes in Death Valley. After camping the previous night at Stovepipe Wells and exploring Mosaic Canyon, we decided to make Golden Canyon, just south of Furnace Creek, our next adventure of the day.
This is a very popular trail and while the road just north and just south of the trail head is covered with muddy run-off, it doesn't stop visitors from parking along side the road when the parking lot is full. Luckily, the trail head sits a little above the flooded areas.
Entering the canyon, it's no wonder how it acquired its name. The canyon walls are shades of gold and sulfur yellow, and the wash is much like we found Mosaic Canyon - a bit soft, but easily passable.
Making our way up the richly colored canyons, we notice a large number of side canyons and semi-dry waterfalls from the cliffs above and in the distance, some beautiful red sandstone cliffs. This canyon is obviously more popular than Mosaic, as there are dozens of people walking up the wash alongside us.
Reaching a sign post at a fork in the trail, we opt to head towards Red Cathedral. The canyon twists and turns as it makes its way towards the red cliffs we have seen from the distance, eventually reaching an area that requires us to do a little climbing both under and through the damp rock formations. While it appears to be a bit dangerous, seeing people on the top of a large red knoll sticking out from the cliff, makes me think the views from there would be fantastic. Bill agrees and we make our way up the steep trail.
Reaching the top, we join a number of other adventurers looking out over a sea of undulating golden hills. It reminds me very much of the view from nearby Zabriskie Point, but not quite so grand. It was still well worth the climb. As we make our way down, Bill notes and comments on a middle-aged woman ahead of us wearing high-heeled boots, not exactly the style to take into the back country. We chuckle and move on.
We finish our descent and follow the wash back out to the trail head, logging nearly 3.4 miles on this little trail. Not a long distance, but lots of short trails can add up to big mileage.
This holiday weekend was supposed to be a three day, two night backpacking trip on the Cottonwood and Marble Canyon Loop in Death Valley. Monitoring the weather reports closely in the days leading up to the trip, my friend, Bill, and I expected a modest chance of rain early Saturday morning, but we got a bit more than that. Death Valley receives just over two inches of rainfall a year. It seems all of that was to fall this Friday and Saturday. The heavy rains resulted in a number of flooded areas along the parks highways and even closed the northern section of the giant park to vehicle traffic.
Arriving at the park on Saturday morning, we stopped in to a ranger station to inquire about the conditions of our planned trip. Without hesitation the ranger said "I wouldn't go". He elaborated that the gravel roads and jeep trails leading to the trail head were nearly impassible due to mudslides and washes. With that in mind, Bill and I weighed our options. We decided to turn the backpacking trip into a car camping trip. Securing a campsite at Stovepipe Wells, we picked up an assortment of beer to enjoy while the rains stopped and the ground dried a bit before putting our tents up.
Waking early Sunday morning, we were amazed at the humidity and amount of condensation on everything. It was a wet, muddy mess, but we quickly broke camp and headed for the first of our day hikes, Mosaic Canyon.
A road leading south out of Stovepipe Wells leads to the trail head for Mosaic Canyon. Once there, we found the trail, which simply follows a wash up a shallow, but narrow canyon, to be passable. The wash is mostly made of sand, and while still a bit wet, was not nearly as bad as we would have expected. Initially, the canyon is very wide, but quickly narrows as it passes through polished sandstone and gypsum, which makes for a very pretty site.
After about a half-a-mile, the trail turns sharply and we have to climb up a slippery section of the polished surface. Making the turn, the canyon once again opens up into a wide vista. It must have taken an amazing amount of water to carve the landscape so widely here. The rocks here and throughout the canyon are a veritable palette of desert reds, oranges and golds.
After another three-quarters of a mile, we hit a narrow section plugged with boulders and while we look for a way to climb over, I mention to bill that I just didn't think the risk was worth the reward in this case. The boulders are slippery and any fall from them would be onto other hard boulders below. Not knowing that the canyon above the plug was any different than what we had already seen, Bill agrees and we turn back and head for the jeep. This short hike was only about 2.5 miles, but it was only the first of the day.
After looking over maps of the area, I discovered a little coastal park nearby Guerneville and decided to make this my next stop for the day. Besides, who am to deny myself a visit to see the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean.
The short drive takes follows the Russian River as it empties into the ocean. The recent rains have caused considerable flooding along the river's shores, but the Pacific doesn't seem to notice. As I turn down the road to Goat Rock, I am greeted by what I came to see, the ocean.
I park the jeep and head out to the dark sands of the beach. A number of other people are here taking in all that the undulating waves have to offer. They are soothing in some way. Their regular motion has a way of relieving stress and making one forget about their worries. The ocean is infinite and perhaps that it is why it so hypnotic.
Along the shore, I find a number remains of some interesting sea-plants. They have a large bulb at the bottom and a long stalk. They feel like rubber and have a strange orange hue. The ocean is such a foreign place to me. Perhaps someday, I will take my adventurous spirit under the waves.
I make my way to the rocks surrounding Goat Rock, but find no path leading over them that doesn't come with significant risk. That will cut my hike quite short, but before I depart, I have to stop for some pictures from the cliffs above. I find a place to park and head out to the edge of the cliffs. The view from there is amazing. I can see miles down the rock shore below.
In the distance, a notable landmark suffers eternally from the pounding of waves. Arch Rock stands as a bastion to the rolling waters of the Pacific Ocean as they flow into the shore. It's an incredible formation, formed eons ago by the same forces that now batter it.
As expected, the winds and the waves refresh me like few other forces can. As I depart this place, I feel recharged and ready for the world anew.
In years past, I have visited many groves of the giant coastal redwoods, but as I was going to be in and around Santa Rosa today, I thought I would take some time to hike through a medium aged grove just northeast of town, the Armstrong Redwoods Preserve. I arrived in Santa Rosa about 9:45 after rising early and driving over the pass from Reno. After tending to some other business, I headed for the grove and after a relaxing drive along the swollen Russian River, arrived in the town of Guerneville. Just a few miles north and I was at the visitor center of the grove.
As I park the jeep and put on some hiking shoes, I'm overwhelmed by the humidity here. It has been an incredibly wet year so far, but this is on another level . . . rain forest level. It's no wonder the mighty redwoods thrive here. They seem to love the humidity and some scientists have even speculated that they are able to extract moisture from the fog that dominates valleys in this coastal region.
I pop my head in the visitor center and a friendly ranger offers me a basic map of the trails. As I'm on a schedule, I don't intend to do more than a couple of miles, but judging from the map, that should take me past most of the members of the grove. I head out along the gravel trail. Recent rains have made it something of a muddy mess in places, but it's not terrible. A mint-greenish creek rush alongside much of the trail, carrying rainwater into the Russian River and a very short distance away into the Pacific. The greens of the creek along with the myriad of greens of the moss and ferns, makes for a veritable pallet of life in this wet forest.
As I make my way up the trail, I never cease to be amazed by these mighty trees. They stand like telephone polls stabbing at the sky. So tall and so lean, in comparison to their cousins, the giant sequoias that grow at higher elevations. The coastal redwoods are the tallest trees on Earth, many reaching over 300 feet tall. If I'm not mistaken, the current record-holder is a tree further north known as Hyperion and reaching a height of 376 feet tall. Growing up near St. Louis, I can't help but imagine this giant tree standing near the Gateway Arch, which stands 630' tall. Many trees would be insignificant next to such a man-made monument, but not the redwoods. They demand attention.
Continuing on, I pass the Parson-Jones Tree, 1300 year old 310 foot specimen. The trail crisscrosses the road and eventually doubles back on itself, but I opt to take a side trail to visit the Colonel Armstrong Tree, the patriarch of the grove. This example is slightly shorter at 308 feet tall, but is an additional foot and a half in diameter (14.6 feet) and a century older than it's nearby friend.
While these giants are the ones that steal the show, this entire wet forest is crowded with many younger examples, that given time and left alone from the 'good intentions' of humans may surpass their massive forefathers. The trail dumps back out at the visitor center and I clean the mud off of my boots. I'm sweaty, but not due to hiking hard. It's simply like a cool sauna in the grove - good for the trees! Just a quick 2 miles, but well worth the visit.
After driving all the way to Death Valley for the half-marathon, I couldn't justify not doing a least a little hiking while I was there. Before leaving home, I had done a little research and settled on Darwin Falls as a destination. It's a short hike and I wasn't sure how my legs would feel after the long run. Besides, a waterfall in lush vegetation in the backcountry of Death Valley seems pretty out of place and like something worth seeing.
Departing Furnace Creek, where the race finished, I headed north on highway 190 and quickly came across a hitchhiking backpacker. As I've been 'that guy' before, I decided to offer him a ride. I told him that I was only headed up to the turn towards Stove Pipe wells, which is only about 15 miles up the road, but that he was welcome to hop in if it would help him out. Patrick, as he would introduce himself as, was ecstatic and jumped in with his pack on his lap. We spoke of trails in the park other adventures and life in general. He is a Chicago Cubs fan, which was almost a deal breaker, but seemed a good guy otherwise. As he got out of my jeep at the junction, I wished him well and told him to keep doing what he was doing.
Driving west towards the trailhead, I finally see the worn sign on the south side of the road just past Panamint Springs. A gravel road leads three or four miles up into the hills, finally dumping out at the mouth of a dry wash, where I park among a number of other vehicles.
The trail itself starts following the gravel wash and as I encounter a few other hikers returning to the parking lot as I make my way towards the falls. An old pipe follows the trail along the western cliff, presumably carrying water from the springs in these hills back to the settlement. Soon the water from the springs starts to become a small stream and enabling the vegetation to grow thick and lush. The trail crosses back and forth over the stream and requires some rock scrambling over slick limestone before eventually reaching the lower falls.
The waterfall looks so out of place as it forms a narrow stream pour out of the cliff 30-ish feet above me, drops most of that distance before hitting a moss-covered rock and splitting into two nearly symmetrical streams just before hitting the surface of a large rich pool at the bottom. Some other hikers are making their way up the cliffside to the east in search of the upper falls. From my reading, it is every reachable with a short climb, but as my legs are still a bit unstable from the half-marathon I just ran, I decided that it might be best to leave that rock climbing to another day. I turn and head back down the wash towards the jeep. It was only a two-ish mile hike, but the scenery was well worth it, even on tired old legs.
The only time of year when a visit to Death Valley is practical is during the winter months. From about November to March, temperatures are mild enough to actually enjoy the raw beauty this underrated park has to offer, but during the rest of the year, it is may seem like hell with temperatures occasionally crossing the 120 degree mark. However, the other thing that the valley offers is extremely low elevation, much of it below sea level. With that said, it seems like a great place to hold a marathon/half-marathon during the winter months and as I'm training for multiple events later in the year, I decided to participate.
I left work a couple of hours early on Friday and drove down to Beatty, NV, which is just outside of the park. I was able to get an inexpensive but comfortable hotel room that allow me to crash for a few hours before the race. I awoke just before 5:00 AM and made my way to Furnace Creek, where the half-marathon would start.
I spent a few minutes picking up my bib, chatting with other runners, and hydrating myself before the start. Just after 8:00, the first wave, those running the full marathon, left the finish line. A few minutes after that, they lined up my group, those running the half-marathon. They counted down and a hundred or so of us were off. While I was already on my way down Highway 190, I believe a third wave of 10k-ers departed a few minutes after my group.
The first mile or two of the course followed a wide bike path that runs parallel to the highway, but after that it rejoins the road. I felt really strong along this first section and passed a number of other runners, averaging a pace around 8:45 during this section. The low elevation and thick oxygen made it a little easier than in my home in Reno (4,000'). After rejoining the road, the course heads up steeply into some yellow hills, but it doesn't last long and soon we are running along the gentle rolling hills of of the valley.
I still felt strong as I follow the undulating hills overlooking the expansive salt flats of the floor of the valley. At the 3-mile mark, I grab a cup of water. Hydration in this arid environment is absolutely essential for runners. We push on and as I make the turn just after the 6.5 mile mark, I can feel myself starting to tire a bit, but I refuse to give up.
Heading back down the hills that I earlier climbed, the Furnace Creek oasis comes back into view and I know the finish line is close. I reach down and grab my second wind and make a break for the finish line, pushing my pace pretty hard for the last stretch. Checking my time, I crossed the finish line at just over 2:08, which beats my previous time (my only previous half-marathon) for a 13.1 mile run. The elevation certainly helped, but having the amazing desert scenery probably helped to some degree as well.
