Sand Dunes at Sunset

The Sand Dunes at sunset created lovely almost art deco configurations of sand and shadow. 

How Did They Get Here ~ Part 2

 Next stop: Aguereberry Mine. Peter Aguereberry lived and mined there until his death in 1945, making more money it is said by showing tourists around than from gold in the later years. Here I saw for the first time outside a crossword puzzle the word “adit” ~ meaning “mine entrance”.

An Adit

Up from there to Aguereberry Point at 6433 feet from where we could see Mt. Charleston (in NV) at 11,000 ft (the tiny pointy mountain in the far distance), Furnace Creek at -191 ft (the green area in the center of the picture), and the Badwater Salt Flats close to the lowest point in the continental US (the white stretch across the center of the picture). 

One more mine on the side of a hill so far away that the last 50 ft of “road” scared me it was so bumpy, so twisty, so high with the plunge on my side. 

How Did They Get Here??

How Did They Get Here? I know Why ~ the why was gold, that amazingly enticing metal that brings great wealth or poverty with lots of hard work in between. So the why is easy. The how not so much so. 

We drove of course. Long winding roads that disappeared into the desert only to still be there when we came around a curve to continue on our way toward emptiness. 

First stop on this day’s trek: the Borax mines. Are you old enough to remember when “20 Mule Team Borax” was a product on the grocery and pantry shelves? I am. I remember when it was called that. I remember the product sponsoring a couple of the early TV westerns ~ and seeing on both the box and the screen the actual 20 mule team hauling the wagons. 

This was the borax mine in the middle of Death Valley. Here it was mined, processed and carried in huge wagons with a water wagon as well behind 20 mules 25 miles across the desert to its delivery point. 

Back into our modern transportation and off to the charcoal kilns ~ located miles from where the charcoal was needed to be in the midst of a forest. Designed by Swiss engineers, built by Chinese laborers, these 10 kilns burned 4 cords of wood at a time for 4 days. Six days after cooling down the charcoal was carried to the smelting plant 25 miles away. And that’s all I know. Did they stack the wood in from the bottom? Toss it in from the top? Once it started burning did the air holes around the bottom keep it burning? Was the charcoal shoveled out? Help! Google here I come. 

On we go up to Mahogany Camp Ground, lunching at a table on the way. By the time we reach 8133 feet, it is 60 degrees around noon. When we arrive back at our camp ground about 7:35 that evening, it will still be 89 ~ and our camp was at Furnace Creek, - 191 feet (Yes, that is a minus sign).

From the heights around Mahogany Camp, we look down more than 8133 feet to the Badwater salt flats. 

Maundy Thursday in the Desert

The world gathered at Zabriski Point to watch the sunset over the desert. I recognized French, German and Spanish. Based on the physical characteristics of the speakers, there was Hindi and Chinese, and at least two accents speaking English made me think Eastern European. I was very aware that it was Maundy Thursday and it was appropriate for the world to come to the desert. Scripture says Jesus went away to pray so there was a spiritual symbolism in being here this night and participating in the prayer vigil with my friends. 

The fire burns low. The stars cover the sky. The moon has not yet appeared although it will very soon. There is activity - bedtime in camp. Time for prayer and meditation. I have decided to just be quiet tonight and not listen to music other than the sounds of camp and the silence of the world around. 

~ looking back on my prayer time from 9 to 9:30, midnight to 12:30 in VA where the prayer vigil took place, I would have done something differently ~ or maybe the same. I usually listen to meditation music during this time. This night as I said, I decided to just be in my space. I either should have listened to music or driven out of camp to a road side and prayed there. The camp sounds were just a bit much even though I am usually capable of blocking out sound. I read the story from Luke of the processional into Jerusalem through the crucifixion. I prayed. Still . . . maybe I was expecting too much. 

Into The Desert

Thus begins the diary of a trip into Death Valley. In many ways it was an ordinary camping vacation. In other ways it inspired thought and ideas and being. Follow along if you will. Just as it took 5 days to make the trip, it will take several days to blog about it.

Spiritual and religious tradition tells of leaders and prophets who went to the desert to pray, find enlightenment, be strengthened in their faith. In Christian tradition, not only Jesus, but also people known not only for their faith but also for their place, the Desert Fathers, the Desert Mothers, found solace in those empty spaces. 

Today we enter the desert in a whole different way. We drive in ~ in cars, RVs, in our case in a truck towing a camper.

We come to isolated areas that are still marked off in camping sites. We come to clustered camp sites where the people next door greet you with energy and smiles. If you don’t have them for yourself, personal amenities like toilets and sinks for washing your dishes, are just around the bush on the corner. 

In spite of all this 21st century paraphernalia, there is something about driving into the desert. The road stretches out ahead, straight on forever until it disappears between two hills. On either side great rocks are thrust up out of the flat sand, still bearing marks of the trauma that pushed them there millions of years before. The sky is wide and barren. The landscape is mysterious and huge.

Everything shrinks next to the size of the environment. Telephone poles just off the road look like toothpicks stuck in the sand. A car coming toward you down the road is a tiny dot until it is right upon you. You feel that your large truck pulling what seemed like such a large camper has shrunk to a miniature size as it moves across such a landscape. And your soul acknowledges that you are in a different place. 

What will you find here? What changes? What enlightenment? What knowledge or wisdom you have never recognized in yourself? The desert has been waiting for you for thousands of years. You are only a blip on the time of its existence. It will accept you though and offer you peace and wisdom, blessing and calm if you will but listen. It is worth the drive.

Fasten Your Seat Belt!

Tradition has it that deaths come in threes.

Yesterday two family friends died ~ different ages, different circumstances, good men, sadness in our souls.

Please, be careful out there. Fasten your seat belts. Take care. Stay with us. We love you.

Two Different Lives

Sylvia Plath died 50 years ago, age 30, by her own hand. Her two young children slept in the next room. She left behind poetry and writings that explore the darker side of life. Literary critics have picked apart her words trying to find the reasons for her life and early death. Two new books about those very things have just been published. 

When Plath died I was 20, married, in college, still three years away from having my first child. I am not famous. No one examines my writings to discover any deeper meaning. And yet ~ I have had daughters and watched them grow into lovely, accomplished women. I have been and am loved by two wonderful men. I have a wonderful family and eleven (almost 12) amazing grandchildren. I am in touch with students of mine from when I directed a high school drama program in the 70s. I go to the gym three times a week, hike, swim, read, write, and watch movies. I have a deeply spiritual background and meditative practice. I laugh. I cry. I am always grateful to see the sunrise. I have been touched by many lives and have given love and friendship in return. 

I feel sorry for Sylvia Plath who became so depressed that she thought it better to die than to see another sunrise. Famous she may be. And she lost out on a Lot of life. I am grateful for Susan. Famous she may Not be. And she has seen, experienced and continues to enjoy a Lot of life. I’ll take me.