National Parks, part 2 (Death Valley)

While they had been comparing Zion's orange mud with walking on pumpkin pie and likening Bryce's switchbacks to throwing wet noodles on the map, in Death Valley there were suddenly fewer similes from the boys. Although not one giant brushstroke of brown - enough green rock for a few things to be named after bullfrogs - the desert landscape did remind me of the loneliest colors in the crayon box. What Death Valley lacked in vibrancy, though, it made up for by pulling the curtains on a vast stage of cosmic drama AND bathing suit weather!

For Tolliver, Death Valley offered plenty more things to climb. Plus it was a place to walk where Native Americans live. He became very engaged in conversation with our trail guide, Max, who introduced Tols to the wild horse crisis on American rangeland (which led to lots of questions about natural resources and fiscal responsibility and even whether drones could deliver fertility control). Along with his animal welfare wonderings, Tollie carried a single battery and a foil gum wrapper in his pocket all week, making note of mesquite bean pods and small cave locations, anything that could meet a basic need. 

Accessed after more than two miles on an unmarked high-clearance road, the trail to Darwin Falls began innocently at the mouth of a gravel canyon bottom. Despite the initial construction site vibe, this turned out to be a Goldilocks hike, pleasing from five to forty three, not too much and not too little, just right for a preteen and a mountain goat. As we hiked it was like the world dialed up the saturation. Drab colors were slowly replaced by tall reeds and weeping willows. Opportunities to scramble and multiple creek crossings culminated in a rare middle-desert oasis.

Still often crouched at ground level, refining his observation skills, Tuck caught up occasionally to squeeze conversation into slender moments. He circulated new information in gusts of gladness, regaling us with facts about the pupfish found in Salt Creek drainage, how this endangered species can withstand such harsh conditions, and how the males turn bright blue during mating season. Not solitary or serious the entire time, Tuck also discovered the marble slide in Mosaic Canyon and invited us all to follow him down over and over again.

Looking up at night, in the largest certified dark sky park in the country, it felt as if we peeled a film from our eyes. One evening we joined a ranger under a brand new moon. Necks craned to see the giant swath of Milky Way, a swooning moment, I was reminded of my own borrowed stardust. The boys learned to spot Polaris and the Pleiades, to trace Orion's bow, to recalibrate hope. We listened to the native story of Ursa Major and the hunter who lost his mitten, spotted meteors from the Quadrantid showers, contemplated infinity.

Hank kept a running list of desert wildlife, despite the fact that he was asleep for at least half of the sightings: a kit fox, two coyotes, six road runners, a pack of wild burros and one lizard 

He danced and skipped and held our hands on every trail, while punctuating the barren landscape with his voice: It's hard to play shadowlands in the desert, do you know why? Because there aren't any shadows! How do you spell DIE because my legs feel like they might die. Is that why they call it Death Valley? Do you think Santa could bring us Celia? I'm not sure he's that magic. But did Celia have any perfume when she was young?

On the other hand, Andy took more of an HDMI approach, like that cable that used to connect a television to a stereo or something, so coupled there's no reason to speak <Will he ever stop talking?> <Have you seen a liquor store?> <Stop, we're fine. This is safe. Please wipe the panic off your face.> <Want to just leave the boys here?> <How lucky are we?> 

And I found myself thinking the very same things. 

 

We have been blessed with boys who show uncommon stamina, infinite curiosity and a solid sense of adventure. We took them west to ride horses and the waves of some new, unknown family narrative. To see the orange sun sink early behind tall peaks, glimpse an unusually ornate blanket of stars, appreciate the native poetry of nature. To remind them that we are not their only source of advice or wisdom, that there are stories in the sky and sermons in the canyons and history in the hills. 

To pin joy, like a moth, to a few special days together.  

As we settle back into the small, fragile present my fervent wish is that they will forever travel on the wings of memory and imagination.

Death Valley hikes:

Mosaic Canyon

Darwin Falls

Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes

Salt Creek Trail

Badwater Salt Flat

We also wandered Harmony Borax Works, Devil's Golf Course and Rhyolite ghost town