Death Valley – Weird or Wonderful? – Feb.16 – Feb. 19 2007 Alicia Scotter, Hank Moon, Randi Poer, Dave Pitney Well, what was the weekend to be? Celebrating Mardi Gras with Mo in JH? Or a run to Death Valley with the Merry Hankster? Of course, Death Valley wins out (see title) and Hank and I agree to be on the road by 2:30 PM. At 5 I’m mixing second rounds of gin and tonics and haven’t even packed my technical gear. But, even belatedly, the road is good. It takes the entire trip to Vegas to catch up the complex mix my life is right now and Hank is in a zone of his own, his stories become long pauses of revelations, which I am hoping will finally reveal his original loss of innocence. Anything to keep these green mileage signs counting down… Road monotony is temporarily diverted with one of Hank’s (regular) cigarettes accidentally blowing under the seat; an opportunity I used to hysterically call various people for their Trader Joe orders. I just love blowing through Vegas. Who needs this place? We only stop for the requisite In and Out burger and a fast grocery stomp. We refuse to pay the 45 cent credit fee at the Arco in favor of driving out into the desert with uncertain possibilities for gas and the negated service fee paid multiple times by the increased cost per gallon of gas at Indian Springs – but the principle of things is SO important! It is 3:30 AM when we land at the overflow DV camp and throw ourselves into our sleeping bags under the open sky. I woke up in a blur with the first real sunshine and heat that I have felt in 4 months. A few feet away is an old couple sitting in lawn chairs staring intently at – well, nothing, It was the dune buggy camp across from us that had unhappily awoken us. It seemed like mid morning – long past rendezvous hour with Randi and The Pit, but amazingly a watch check revealed it was only 7:57! Three minutes was all we needed to break camp and drive around the corner to the VC! I had barely scoped out the boxes of National Park Animal Cookies for Hank when Randi and The Pitney arrived. One look at us and we all understood it was going to be a Tourist Day. I felt like I was 10 years old again, driving with my family in the Impala. Hank and I were in the back seat, zoning out between Novelty Stops. The Moving Rocks, the Meteor Crater, Scotty’s Castle, The Evil Ranger, Joshua Trees, great commentary from Randi - but it was essentially all about the sleep. Last Billboard before Death...

Alicia, pining after margaritas.

Rock so pretty...

By evening Hank and I were fully revitalized. We needed action. So Randi and Pitney took off to arrange the Big Canyon Day coming up and Hank and I drove to Golden Canyon. Half way up there was this so inviting little side slot, and what could we do? We abandoned the trail and started up, learning quickly why Death Valley is NOT exactly a reknowned climber’s mecca. The whole place, appropriately, is composed of Death Rock, the stuff that makes 3 points of contact seem suicidal. Even boulders the size of your body just crumbled away. It was an as yet unrealized omen of the Day to Come. However, the view from the top was amazing. The sun setting over the salt flat playa, starlight – sweet, indeed. So, then we needed to find camp at “Slabby Acres” - a now-abandoned trailer home park, where all that remains are the gravel roads and cement pads, which I must say, make wonderful gear organization stations. Randi treated us to a killer dinner – which fortunately I took full advantage of – ‘cause I was gonna need all the calories I could get the following day. So, we really are up at the ungodly hour of 5:30, after how many margaritas? I cannot eat a thing. Not good for a Canyon Day that is supposed to be 13 hours and 25 rappels long. We drive to Dante’s Peak and set out. Our group’s collective lack of navigating skills becomes immediately apparent. We loose at least an hour wandering aimlessly around until we stumble into a canyon that may or may not be The One. But whatever, it’s a canyon and we’re gonna do it. Randi is a tough girl – strong, brave, and a lot of fun, but she is suffering from Canyon Confusion. The “What Canyon Are We In?” game continues rappel after rappel. Memories of the Girl Horror Film “The Descent” begin to surface. Hank becomes ever more my hero as he manages one blind drop in the encroaching darkness after another. Randy 'Navigates'; Alicia tries to be supportive.

Hank: hey Randi - ya gotta remember this! Randi: Nah, everything looks the same around here... Hank: Y'mean every canyon starts with gargantuan pink and red fins of unparalleled beauty? Randi: I'm afraaaiid so.