此刻的眼睛不仅习惯了极度的干涸景象还开始对比如祖布瑞斯基景点的地方十分欣赏。曾几何时,这里是火炉湖(Furnace Lake )的湖底。那湖几百万年前就干涸了,只剩下一些岩石和沟壑在这里以光滑鲜艳的颜色展示其美丽的彩饰,简直就是一幅艺术作品,带有现代主义的特色,抽象里不失和谐。这里的世界以清晰和大块的颜色和形状独树一帜,吸引眼球。 祖布瑞斯基景点显得人多,停车场就在景点旁边,下车就到,一时车水马龙,熙熙攘攘。从这里往前去有很多类似的景象,岩石着鲜艳之色,连接起伏的沟壑山梁,可惜我们必须忙着赶路。
Spring Break called for a get-away trip. Death Valley came to mind largely because it was said that wild flowers might put on a spectacular show there at this time. The main consideration, however, was that the temperature in the Valley at this time of the year was mild enough to enjoy, for summer heat there could be suffocating, if not outright deadly.
Camping came to mind first. But, all the campgrounds in and around the Valley were booked out, some of them 6 mouths in advance. There were first come first serve campgrounds aplenty; but, it didn't sound prudent to travel a whole day, over 400 miles to try one's luck in the middle of a vast desert, a place that may be fascinating to look at but extremely harsh to live in. The day temperature could easily reach 80 degrees Fahrenheit in April but at night it would drop below freezing. To play it safe, we reserved a motel room in Bishop, California, approximately 50 miles northwest of Death Valley.
The obstacles didn’t entirely disappear with motel reservation. The wonderful spring season had, indeed, brought spectacular lights and colors to the Pacific Coast. While the valleys on West side of the High Sierras were soaked in lush green, the mountains, however, were still buried under deep snow. Consequently, many high mountain passes, such as Tioga Pass, Sonora Pass, Ebbetts Pass and Monitor Pass, remained closed to automobile traffic for the foreseeable future. In order to reach Bishop which was almost directly east of where we live, we must drive up North almost 50 to 60 miles to cross the High Sierras then travel a straight line down south to Bishop. Heaven bless Lake Tahoe. For the winter businesses around Lake Tahoe, a large numbers of snow plows were employed not only to keep Interstate 80 and California Highway 50 but also California Scenic By Path 88 open for traffic all year long. I was thrilled to learn that my favorite scenic bypath, Route 88, offered the shortest distance to Bishop for this trip. I knew almost by heart most of the curves of this scenic route through the high mountains.
Rain had been scarce this year. For some reason, as the trip drew closer, a few rain showers passed through the area and marched towards the High Sierras. That was an unsettling scene. A few calls were made to the ranger stations in the mountains to make sure that Kit Carson Pass wouldn't be shut down on travel day. The pass was open all right; but snow chains may be required. So we were told. We purchased a set of chains and kept them in the trunk just in case. I for one was happy that the chains was never required during the trip, for I didn't fancy the task of having to putting on chains in a snow blizzard and then take them off a few miles later in screaming traffic.
The High Sierras was our favorite place for day trips or overnight camping trips during the summer. It had never crossed our mind to extend the drive to the vast, arid and empty Nevada Desert. For this trip, however, the dry land offered a safe haven away from deep snow. We took Route 88 all the way to Minden, Nevada, to make a connection with Highway 395, the only way to Bishop and Death Valley during this time. Along the way the High Sierras and its many majestic snow peaks lined up on the right side of the highway, providing wonderful views for long distance travelers.
Before Bishop, Highway 395 had to dive into Owens Valley. The first major attraction we saw was this age old salk lake. Mono Lake is one of the oldest lakes of Continent America, part of the old Ocean that is left standing alongside with Salt Lake in Utah. Because of massive evaporation and underground leaking, Mono Lake has much higher salt content than the Ocean itself and the Great Salt Lake. In the early 1940s Los Angeles with its exploding population diverted a large amount of water from Owens River, a devastation that dried up the vast Owens Lake and took away most of the water supply for Mono Lake. As a result, Mono Lake was reduced almost by 30 perscent and the lake's ecosystem had been badly damaged. Salt towers rose above the water, living things in water died off and migrate birds had to go elsewhere for refuge. Only after some grass roots movements and legal battles in the 1970s and 1980s by folks from the San Francisco Bay Area, Los Angeles finally stopped drawing water from tributaries to Mono Lake in 1990s. The recover has been painfully slow. The days of the lake returning to its former self are still quite a few decades away. Such a series of drama of struggle and triumph should serve as a pungent lesson for development.
Bishop didn’t really have much to offer. For those in love with towering snow mountains, Bishop was located too much to the east side of the Owens Valley thus away from the jagged snow peaks in the West. This roadside town embraces too much of the desert-like landscape. However, Bishop was a sizeable town in the area thus offered tourists with many restaurants, hotels and motels and gas stations. After checking into the motel, we decided to go into the snow capped mountains in the West side. It was bitter cold and the evening light was fading away; still in half an hour, we managed to drive up and down a few valleys of snow, rocks and cacti. When we came out of the shadows of the mountains, a nice full moon rose above the desert in the east.
The day scheduled for Death Valley was beautiful for a drive. Except some faint haze on the horizon, the day offered fantastic visibility. There isn't much rain here anyway. The temperature was just ideal, starting in the 60s in the morning and warming to low 80s in the afternoon. One had to bear in mind that this part of the world 100 degrees Fahrenheit was the norm, reaching over 130 on occasions, hotter than human body temperature.
Owens Valley we left behind was dry enough and painful to look at; and yet, Death Valley took this aridity a few notches up even. In such an alarming environment, those Joshua Trees stood up tall like heroes in the middle of dilapidated ruins of the world. We entered the Valley from the West side. Before the main valley, we saw some great wild flowers in bunches in yellowish orange. Up close, the aroma made a mockery of any expensive fragrances. I believed that I took some beautiful pictures of the flowers and the valleys in the foreground. But they were lost while being transferred to the computer. That still hurts.
As a newcomer, I seemed to notice a long ribbon or many ribbons stretching across the vast desert. It could be sand dunes or simply fields of borax on the desert floor that stretched itself immeasurably into the horizon; or, rocks of the same color pattern passed through hills and canyons around the desert valley. The landscape may appear listless at first glance; but, there were color patterns, all kinds of fantastic colors connecting mountains and valleys, hills and canyons all around and into the yonder. Fantastic colors provided some much needed harmony in the land of death to console the souls that were saddened, pierced and crying.
No, a single gaze could never cover anything in this valley. Everything stretched infinitely into the past and future. One's head must turn slowly for a few minutes to take in the message manifested in silence and sadness. The desert sent a unique signal to the heart and soul, though no word was ever spoken. Only a few could hear it. Fewer yet could size up the proportion into believable bits and go away with a message with certain degree of wholesomeness.
Our universe is much, much older than the current life form we represent as intelligent beings. For one thing, water was painfully absent here, and now. Water, the gentle hand that holds up life in its variety of forms, seemed to have abandoned this corner of the world. However, let's not forget that this dusty valley was once the bottom of the ocean. Mosaic Canyon displayed fantastic rocks in the quality of marbles that bore footprints of the mountain making days of our young planet and the unbearable pressure of deep sea water. In the long corridor of time, water receded; water evaporated; water sank into underground; water left with tears in her eyes. With Earth's every crust movement, i.e., earthquake, the majestic mountains around the Valley grew a few inches or feet thus kept the ocean that still has the greatest body of water further away from the abandoned cousin here and from ancient memory. Death Valley keeps on sinking. Sand dunes enlarge themselves and waterless existence persists on and on. Maybe this was why a group of men were lost in this huge maze in search of gold. They struggled for days to escape the trap of vast size and unforgiving heat. Some members died thus Death Valley became the name for this place. Yet, long preceding that unfortunate incident, Native Indians spent generations here and learned to adapt with the Valley. They must be the first ones who enjoyed the wild beauty of this great land. In short, we shouldn’t give in, for eternality is an alien concept in our university. Death Valley once resided in the bottom of an ocean and may well return to an ocean in a few millennia. One must have faith in the dimension of time. One must learn to harmonize with the world outside.
That day we took a short hike into the narrow gorges of Mosaic Canyon and were immediately attracted by smooth marble as a major part of the geology. This was once the ocean floor and flood in the past few millenia had polished the rocks to such adorability. Maybe the glaciers of previous Ice Age also lent a helping hand. Still the overwhelming sensation was the immense dryness. A few plants, ordinary plants with small flowers looked so gorgeous and courageous and offered so much comfort to the eye.
By the time we threw ourselves into the open arms of the sand dunes, the eyes had acclimated themselves to the ghostly colors of the landscape and powdery nature of the environment. The sand dunes were huge hills and ten thousand visitors could disappear into them without a trace. And yet the valley made it appear like a sandlot in a large playground. People, children and adults, loved to play in the sand and the hills made them look like little toddlers of nature. Oh, rocks with red, purple, yellow, orange, pink, and other rings lined up the hills and valley around the main valley. It was as if a giant hand painted the playground for happy children. We were, indeed, children of this fantastic universe. Today there was nothing to worry, just go and play in the sand.
The size of this valley blows one's mind: it's about 3040 miles or so wide (from east to west) and 140-150 miles long. We had to choose our spots to visit for the day; otherwise, we would have trouble getting back to our motel at night. After Sand Dunes, we stopped by Furnace Creek, the de facto capital of The Valley, to have a quick lunch. There we decided to visit only Zubriskie Point, Badwater and drive through Artist Drive.
By now, not only did the eyes get acclimated to the valley's aridity but also start to enjoyed places like Zabriskie Point. This point was once at the bottom of Furnace Lake that dried up many millions of years ago, there are now rocks and valleys extending themselves in beautifully smooth waves into distance. The place was like art work, modern, abstract and yet harmonious. Vivid colors and shapes came close to the eye and made the world a very interesting place to behold. Zabriskie Point was a popular destination as the parking lot was practically next to the vista point thus not much walk was required. Along the same route one could travel miles to see a different version of the same landscape, painted rocks that linked many valleys and ridges. But we had to move on.
Our next stop was Badwater. This low and salty pool was probably the best known and most visited place in Death Valley, largely because everyone heard the lowest point (-282 feet) in the whole continent of America was here. But there was nothing to it, besides the unusual water with borax and other yucky stuff sticking out on the edge of a long stretch of borax field. We didn't stay there for long.
Artist Drive was next and provided basically the same view that Zabriskie Point did. But from the bottom of the valley we could look up at all the mosaic colored peaks and valleys. And the best part was that the sun was behind us thus cast a nice clear light onto them artistic rocks. The narrow road of Artist Drive was paved. At a couple of points there was parking space so people could stop to take a hike up and down the canyons or take pictures. Kids could run around and throw themselves onto the rocks and valley floors. It was truly up-close with the desert.
We didn't keep time for most of that day. However, we knew by 5 o'clock we had to depart. We might have talked about hiking up Golden Canyon but time was running out as we had 150 miles to travel to our motel. In the meantime, I didn't want to go back via the same route. So, instead of West, we headed North towards Scotty's Castle. Walter Scott (Death Valley Scotty in the 1930s) was a famed con-artist who successfully persuaded Chicago millionaire Albert Johnson that there were gold mines in the vincinity of Death Valley. Albert's wife, Bessie, loved the area so they built this castle as their vacation home. But Scotty went around and bragged about "his" castle in his con-artist business. As a result, the castle which is now owned by the Federal Government as part of the national park is named after Scotty the non-stop talking con-man. The castle was closed for tours but the rangers graciously allowed us to take pictures of the external and use the facilities. That was very nice as we were, indeed, in need of such relief and getting some drinking water.
One sad note is that Bessie Johnson died of automobile accident at Townes Pass in Death Valley, a place she fell in love with; also, Dave Gaines the Stanford University graduate student who started the Save Mono Lake campaign also dies of automobile accident near Mono Lake. Karma in this part of the world was a bit distorted.
The idea of going through Scotty's Castle was to reach Bishop via some of the straight line freeways of Nevada. Those freeways were straight and free of traffic all right. But little did I know that to come back from Nevada to California I must go over not one, not two but three sizeable mountains. Those roads may be very scenic under daylight. But at night they were barely navigable. Sharp curves were followed by sharp curves; the car was reduced to a crawl; yet, the mind must remain fully alert. High beams had to be on all the way. I knew that my back was wet. What a relief to be back to Highway 395 at Big Pine. A merely 15 minutes later we were back in Bishop. The time was 8:45 and some restaurants were already closed.
Home bound return trip was a breeze because we knew what to expect. Those jagged snow peaks appeared simply regal in the soft morning sunlight. Rain showers were numerous, mist and snow flurries occurred along the way. Some mountain tops were enshrouded in heavy mist, putting on some rather dramatic and shocking shows from one moment to the next. We wanted to stop by Mono Lake for a closer look. But when we got there, the lake was under dark clouds and rain was pouring on to part of valley floor. Before the Lake, we checked into the Yosemite Visitor's Center as it offered some wonderful shelter with a museum, a theater, a bookstore and marvelous facilities. By the time we came out of the Visitor's Center, soft sunlight cast onto Mono Lake to reveal a trembling reality. Strong odor was a bit hard to swallow. Birds were shrieking. I loved the lake because it was part of our world, sad yet beautiful.
We went up north along Highway 395, taking pictures of snow peaks once we determined that they looked majestic. We stopped by the Walker River because the river flow appeared quite energetic and the highway was right next to it. There was some heavy downpour before Minden, just in time to wash the car clean. After lunch at Minden, the trip across the High Sierras via Kit Carson Pass seemed enjoyable. It was 2 o'clock in the afternoon; no chains were required at the Pass. We took our time and picked wherever we deemed best for pictures of the pine trees with best snow hanging on their branches and leaves. The rest of the way was smooth abut a bit tiring. When we pulled up to the house, it was about 6 o'clock. The sun was still shining enthusiastically.