Part Twenty-Three: Death Valley Waterfalls
(First time reading this 'Desert Daze' story? Scroll down to 'Older Posts' to start with Part One)
A river runs through it. No really – as I drive across the park, each time I reach a low point in the road, a stream is running across it causing me to have to slow down, as the water is up to a foot deep in places. Bizarre, considering where I am.
Almost all the other roads in the park are still closed - washed out, sand covered or, in the case of higher elevations, snowy and icy. These conditions deny me access to most of the park and make me a little claustrophobic. After a week and a half of solitude and open spaces, of seeing few vehicles and even fewer people, this feels like a small city – hustle and bustle, traffic and people milling about - all trapped in this one section of the park.
As mentioned in an earlier post, I no longer visit most National Parks because they have become so crowded they no longer feel wild at all. (I call the valley portion of Yosemite “Yosemi-City”; there is no longer a ‘slow season’ there to visit, just always lots of vehicles spewing exhaust with long lines of traffic commonplace.) DV has never suffered this problem because it’s vast and, with the exception of today, visitors are usually spread out over the entire park.
Therefore, I need to escape. My plan: I’ll hike to a couple of remote waterfalls. Waterfalls you say? In DV? No, not the extremely temporary kind created by all the rain whose lives can be measured in hours, but one that is year-round and another that, fed by snowmelt from the surrounding mountains, runs for about six months of the year. Both hikes are upstream and long enough to discourage those who aren’t willing (or able) to make the effort – and that’s most people – so I’m assuming I’ll encounter few others. I’m right; in fact, I do not see another soul in either location. I have my tranquility back.
I decide to hike to Darwin Falls first. This waterfall is truly an anomaly in the middle of the desert. It's fed by the China Garden Spring high up in the hills which consistently produces enough water to supply the creek and falls all year (along with the nearby tiny settlement of Panamint Springs.) I make my way upstream towards the falls through luxuriant growth that effectively shields the creek bed from the parched desert all around it. If I had somehow been plopped down here with no clue as to where I was and without seeing the surrounding desert, even my wildest guesses probably wouldn’t include DV.
Almost all the other roads in the park are still closed - washed out, sand covered or, in the case of higher elevations, snowy and icy. These conditions deny me access to most of the park and make me a little claustrophobic. After a week and a half of solitude and open spaces, of seeing few vehicles and even fewer people, this feels like a small city – hustle and bustle, traffic and people milling about - all trapped in this one section of the park.
As mentioned in an earlier post, I no longer visit most National Parks because they have become so crowded they no longer feel wild at all. (I call the valley portion of Yosemite “Yosemi-City”; there is no longer a ‘slow season’ there to visit, just always lots of vehicles spewing exhaust with long lines of traffic commonplace.) DV has never suffered this problem because it’s vast and, with the exception of today, visitors are usually spread out over the entire park.
Therefore, I need to escape. My plan: I’ll hike to a couple of remote waterfalls. Waterfalls you say? In DV? No, not the extremely temporary kind created by all the rain whose lives can be measured in hours, but one that is year-round and another that, fed by snowmelt from the surrounding mountains, runs for about six months of the year. Both hikes are upstream and long enough to discourage those who aren’t willing (or able) to make the effort – and that’s most people – so I’m assuming I’ll encounter few others. I’m right; in fact, I do not see another soul in either location. I have my tranquility back.
I decide to hike to Darwin Falls first. This waterfall is truly an anomaly in the middle of the desert. It's fed by the China Garden Spring high up in the hills which consistently produces enough water to supply the creek and falls all year (along with the nearby tiny settlement of Panamint Springs.) I make my way upstream towards the falls through luxuriant growth that effectively shields the creek bed from the parched desert all around it. If I had somehow been plopped down here with no clue as to where I was and without seeing the surrounding desert, even my wildest guesses probably wouldn’t include DV.
I spy a pipe running alongside the creek – it’s no larger than a few inches in diameter. The entire water supply of Panamint Springs runs through this conduit. I reach the falls. A single ‘fall’ charmingly splits into two as it makes its way down the rock face. Small by almost any standard, these falls may as well be Niagara Falls to me today - I think they are just spectacular. Surrounded by lush growth - trees, shrubs, and even several hanging fern gardens
and with birds high up in the trees singing praises of the place, I feel like I have found the mythical Garden of Eden. I sit down in the shade to eat my lunch serenaded by the always alluring melodies of falling water and beautiful birdsong – in the middle of the desert - magical!Next: Willow Creek Canyon Falls and the Bighorn Sheep
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