Like almost everything, when we think about animals, we think in stereotypes. And, like almost everything, the animals are individuals. My stereotype of cobras – especially King Cobras – is of an almost relentless killing machine. This is partly because – when I was young, say about ten – I read in a book on big game hunting in Africa that snakes killed more people than any other animal and that has stuck with me.

As an aside, about that time, my mother – as a conscience and continuing act of self improvement – was going to lunches in which the entertainment was a lecture by an author hawking their book. I would often end up with the book and they were often a book I would otherwise never have read. In this case, it was a book by – what was called in those days – a White Hunter. I don’t remember the author’s name or the book title, but the subtitle was The truth about animals lying in wait and hunters lying in print. All I remember about the book – aside from it being a fascinating look into a world I had no idea existed – was that the author claimed the Cape Buffalo was the most dangerous animal to hunt and the snake meme. End aside.

So, I know King Cobras to be ruthless killing machines. Of course they are not; they are more like ruthless scaring machines trying to save their venom to be used against something they will eat, like a Rat Snake.  Knowing that doesn’t make this video any less scary.

All day yesterday – yesterday, blog time; Saturday May 7th, real time – it was slowly getting cloudier. In the desert, this does not – necessarily – mean it is going to rain, this is a desert because it does not rain very much. It is often cloudy, but – after having the rain squeezed out by the Sierra Nevadas, in which we are in the rain shadow – the clouds usually just move east to rain in Kansas or somewhere wetter. So, when we got up in the morning, it was not raining but it had turned cooler.

Our plan was to go over Hunter Mountain and then down into the Panamint Valley where we were going to spend the night. Panamint Valley is considerably lower than where we were camped, so the temperature turning cooler was very welcome. But the road over Hunter Mountain tops out at at a little higher than 7,000 feet and I was concerned about snow. I had asked the Ranger about Hunter Mountain when we had gone to Scotty’s Castle two days ago and they said it was clear with a few wet spots. My experience with rangers in Death Valley is that they have a tendency to make the roads sound worse than they are to keep the amateurs out – I guess – and the road from Ubehebe Crater – while dirt – had been graded within the last couple of weeks so we stayed with our plan. The road was great for the entire way, another small sign that this trip was working. .

As we climbed, everything got bigger, greener, lusher. We passed a gorgeous plant in full bloom by the side of the road that I was convinced was a form of creosote with lots of water. After much discussion – lasting until after we got home, Michele convinced me that it was member of the rose family.

While the road was smoothly graded, it was dusty. Very dusty; amazing us with the dust’s ability to stick to the license plate letters.

Mountain tops in the desert are like islands in the ocean. Five thousand feet below is an entirely different ecosystem. Any mouse – or desert chipmunk or beetle for that matter – is pretty much trapped on this mountain; twenty five miles from the next 7,000 foot mountain. Over the years – lots of years – the Hunter Mountain mouse has changed from the mouse over at Telescope Peak or Tin Mountain. They are like Darwin’s Finches. Except the finches and hawks can go from mountain top to mountain top.

Michele, who is our resident bird identifier, was kept busy driving, looking at birds,  and, – then – looking down into the Panamint Valley. Where we were, it was calm with big puffy clouds, but, to the south, it looked like the wind was picking up. The clouds were getting rounded rather than puffy and the desert looked dusty. We were heading south as we dropped off of Hunter Mountain, so neither one a good sign.

From the top of Hunter Mountain down into the upper Panamint Valley is a long downhill, through a series of eco-zones including a landscape of Joshua trees.

We stopped for lunch at a new overlook that had just been built using funds from the Recovery Act. I am all for that. It sort of echo the Roosevelt Public Works Administration. As we ate lunch, we could see the wind picking up along the valley floor, a couple of thousand feet below.

When it is windy, a good way to stay out of it is to stay in the canyons along the sides of the valley, in this case, the canyon leading to Darwin Falls. Darwin Falls is pretty puny and  probably wouldn’t even have a name most places, here it is a big deal. At the start of the walk, there is no water in the creekbed because it has all sunk into the gravel. The water is there but running underground. As we get closer and run into water, the plants become much more lush and the walk becomes a matter of hunt and pecking our way. About half way up, Michele pointed out a couple of clumps of wild orchids that I had walked by. Finally, at the end, was the “waterfall” and other visitors. Darwin Falls, after all is a major destination. One of the other visitor groups was a lovely young couple taking time off from their job of designing weapons at the China Lake Naval Air Station.

There was something jarring about coming back into Civilization by casually talking about designing weapons with a pleasant young couple. Last year, we got some help from a couple of guys on the road to Stripped Butte, one of whom was a Predator pilot so – I guess – it shouldn’t be jarring. It is who we are. The most powerful war making country in the history of humankind.  I am not happy about that and it is not how I want to think about my country; but – even in remote death Valley – the signs are all around us.

Outside our cool canyon, the wind was blowing  and I suggested that we have dinner at Panamint Springs and see if the wind blows itself out. Basha suggested that we have dinner and spend the night at the motel – using the term very loosely – at Panamint Springs, Howard and her treat. Her suggestion won, four to zero. The next day, we fully immersed ourselves in civilization by driving home for ten hours, finally running into the storm that we had seen hints of the day before.

that NASA had such cool posters. Now I find out that  it is a NASA tradition to make a cool poster for each flight. When I was in my twenties and NASA was gearing up, the Astronauts were made to seem as whitebread as possible. This impression  was helped by all the astronauts being white guys – usually military. It was only after reading Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff that I realized this was a group of pretty wild guys. Of course!  They were test pilots. High risk takers. And – apparently – geeks. Check them out.

At the start of our trip, we ran into a guy dragging a cross between San Francisco and Missouri – in a very peaceful and open way.  I told him that I would link to his blog and then lost the address. Here is the link.

The camping spot we picked last night on the road up to the Lost Burro mine worked great and we agreed to stay here for another night. Rather than cook breakfast, we decided to walk the rest of the road up to the mine first thing while it was still pretty cool. Working around the heat was our priority.

We walked up past our cactus friends E. mojavensis growing out of the face of a cliff and then past the mine shack on a trail behind the mine to a stunning view.

Then it was back to our camp for breakfast. As the sun came up, it got hot. And bright. Absolute heat is not the main quality of the mountain desert – by now it was probably in the low to mid 80’s – the brightness and the intensity of the sun are the overwhelming considerations. Oh! and the dryness. There is no shade and the sun beating down gives the impression that it is much hotter than it really is. We knew that we wanted to end the day at the Race Track and that we would spend the middle of the day trying to find shade, so we started off our our exploration. Past Teakettle Junction and past the Race Track to a pass that overlooks Saline Valley about 3000 feet below us.

I am not sure what I was hoping for – maybe a little wind coming up the pass – but the day stayed pretty still and got very bright. And very dry. We spent the middle of it, drinking water and thinking about being hot while sitting in the shade of the truck. Inside with the doors open, sitting on the tailgate, sitting on the ice-chest in the shady side when the sun moved past high noon. There was no question that it was uncomfortable and we didn’t have any choice but to be in it.

I want to say Be in it and sweating. which we were but it is so dry that the sweat drys as fast as we are making it and we never seem to be sweating. Also, in the desert, we don’t seem as grubby as we are.

Anyway, in the late afternoon, we went over to the Race Track. It was packed at the south end with – around – ten other people in three vehicles. Two of them looked like  rental jeeps and, it turned out, one of the groups were two guys from New Zealand. We went to the north end of the Race Track to an area called The Grandstand which was less crowded and in the shade. It was a surreal spot.

The Racetrack is a flat playa a little more than one mile wide and a little less than three miles long. It is in the corner of a basin which drains into the playa and is really the remnant of a lake that used to be at the bottom of the basin. Years ago – maybe twenty or thirty thousand years ago – when the northern US and the Sierra area of California were covered in glaciers, this area was much wetter and the lake probably drained down into the saline Valley. As the area got dryer, the silt matched the lake surface and now all that is left is the flat, flat, dried lake bed. Sprinkled with rocks that seem to slide across the dried lake leaving mysterious trails.

It is very austere, even by deep desert standards, but – in the low light of the afternoon – very beautiful. If you are into that sort of thing. We stayed for awhile and enjoyed the wonders.

At the end of the day, we went back to our new home, just in time to see the sun go down.

To be continued..