Driving through the rugged Panamint Mountains, visitors to Death Valley National Park wind down the narrow, twisting road of Highway 190. After about an hour of navigating the mountainous terrain, the valley floor finally emerges in the distance—a stark, vast basin stretching out beneath the cliffs, signaling the descent into the first of two valleys that make up this otherworldly landscape.
Known for its extreme weather with temperatures ranging from 39 degrees in December nights and exceeding 117 degrees in the summer, and for having the steepest elevation change from Mount Whitney (14,505 feet) to the lowest part of Badwater Basin (-282 feet), Death Valley is often described as one of the harshest places on Earth.
But from late fall through spring, when temperatures cool, visitors from around the world come to experience its rare beauty. The park’s diverse terrain is a showcase of natural wonders, from sprawling sand dunes and volcanic craters to multicolored mountains and the salt flats of Badwater Basin, the lowest point in North America.
Tourists from around the world flock to the park to experience a beauty different from the comfort of their home.
Canadian Tourist Richard Jones and his wife Maureen were on a three-week trip from Vancouver Island, Victoria.
“When you first come into Death Valley and you see all the shapes, it looks like toffee colored candy and whatnot,” said Jones.
London-based flight attendants Daniel Smith and Victoria West were staying in Las Vegas due to a layover, but instead of spending the day roaming the strip they decided to visit Death Valley. Victoria West is an avid explorer, and said she has visited almost 20 national parks and ranked Death Valley in the top 10.
“You’ve got it all, to be honest,” West said. “You have the mountains, you’ve got the desert, you’ve got the beaches, you’ve got forests.”
Visitor Daniel Smith enjoyed the diversity of the desert and remarked about how different the landscape is to his home country.
“The scenery, it looks out of this world. You could be on Mars right now. It looks alien,” Smith said. “I think America should be really proud of its national parks.”
Upon entering the park, visitors who are staying overnight are required to stop by a ranger station or visitor center to pay a $15-30 fee for a park pass. An $80 annual pass also is available, which gives access to multiple national parks, state parks and national recreation areas.
There are various developed and primitive campgrounds where tourists can stay, but it’s important to check for any restrictions on campfires and vehicles and to verify what kinds of amenities are provided. In a developed campground, water, toilets and waste bins are usually provided.
For visitors not looking to camp, lodging is available at Stovepipe Wells Village, The Inn at Death Valley, The Ranch At Furnace Creek and Panamint Springs Resort. Information about prices and reservations can be found at the national park service website, nps.gov.
Tourist Char Miller, an historian and professor at Pomona College, tries to maintain an understanding of—and respect for—the history of the park. Miller wrote a book about the history of Death Valley called “Death Valley National Park: A History,” where he includes the much neglected history of the natives who have inhabited the valley for thousands of years.
“I think to be a good tourist is to be a respecter of the place that you tour and that you recreate in, and one way to be that good tourist is to do a bit of reading beforehand about why that place is the way it is,” Miller said. “There are origin stories here that need to be explored, because otherwise you walk into this place and you don’t understand why you’re there.”
Death Valley has been inhabited by the Timbisha Shoshone people for 1,000 YEARS, a nomadic tribe who transitioned between the valley floor and the Panamint Mountains throughout the year and who now have a village near Furnace Creek.
The solitude of the canyon suffocates the visitor more attuned to big city life with a deafening silence that’s almost meditative.
“Even in the daytime, go down a road, pull off to the side, get out, turn the engine off, close everything up and just stand there,” Miller said. “And the solitude and the quiet and the peace that comes with that is pretty magical.”
