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Big Pine-Death Valley Road @ the DVNP boundary in the Inyo Range.

Wednesday, February 12, 2003 was a rainy day in Big Pine. A short distance above, it was snowing. Cabin fever for sure! What a day for exploring! But where to go?

I had been hankering to head out to Eureka Valley and the sand dunes, a nice short jaunt away. Thinking that location being much closer to Death Valley that it might yield a break in the clouds and rain - thus the prospect of some interesting photography - I decided to head east over the Inyos. My plan also included returning to Big Pine by a roundabout way via North Eureka Road and Fish Lake Valley, thence back to Big Pine via CA168, would be fun.

Joshua and piñon at Joshua Flat.

It was raining pretty hard in Big Pine when I left at 10:30 a.m, which turned to snow as I climbed into the Inyos via the Big Pine-Death Valley Road. As I turned off CA168 onto the BP-DV road, two 4x4 trucks were coming out, each having plastered snow on their muzzles. The rain turned to snow at the Harkless Flat road about two thirds the way to the summit of the Inyos. At the Saline Valley road junction, a 1964 Chevrolet Surburban two-wheel-drive was parked next to an older Airstream travel trailer and covered with the falling snow. It was evident that the two trucks I had passed earlier had come out from Saline Valley, as I passed the junction mine were the only ones to break the several inches of snow on the road. At the Death Valley National Park sign at the east edge of Little Cowhorn Valley, it was snowing moderately - an oxymoron of what Death Valley stands for in the blistering summer heat.

Snow turned to rain and I dropped out of the clouds as I exited the canyon and into Eureka Valley. The valley was heavy and gray with somber rainfall, the cloud ceiling hovering only a few hundred feet above the valley. The sand dunes were invisible from my vantage. The BP-DV road was slimy and squishy in its rain soaked state. A 4x4 Ford van passed me by heading west.

Turning onto the sand dunes road.

The sand dunes were all mine. No one was around. Fresh tracks through the mud indicated that likely the van driver had been here just before me, enjoying the solitude of the wide open Eureka Valley. Putting on my sweatshirt over my digital and video cameras, I set out onto the dunes. The sand was nearly rock hard, my foot never penetrated the crust except on slopes more than 45º. The sand was streaked black, looking much like Hershey’s chocolate syrup over pumpkin pie ice cream. The air was silent except for the purring of the rain hitting the sand and the occasional call of the raven. I climbed higher and higher, topping out on a large arm projecting west to the valley floor, my perch about 500 feet elevation higher than my truck. The rain never stopped, alternating between light and moderate.

Interpretive display at the sand dunes.

Lonely tracks through the wet sand.

View south along the dune structure.

A small and twisted stump of a dead bush of the dunes, only about eight inches high.

Picnic/camping area at the dunes.

At the dunes, the Park Service has provided a prefab concrete and stone outhouse, an information board, an interpretive display, and four concrete tables with fire rings. At each spot there is a space for parking and a tent. Pack out your own trash. Checking the information board I deduce that camping is permitted here.

At the dunes, the Park Service has provided a prefab concrete and stone outhouse, an information board, an interpretive display, and four concrete tables with fire rings. At each spot there is a space for parking and a tent. Pack out your own trash. Checking the information board I deduce that camping is permitted here.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, the meaning of this sign became evident a half mile further.

After an hour spent on the dunes I decided to head north to Fish Lake Valley. I had been this way before, but several years ago. Puddles and mud on the road back out to the BP-DV road had increased in size and number during my brief stay at the dunes. Turning north on North Eureka Road (signed), I aimed the nose of my truck for Fish Lake Valley. Arriving at the mouth of Willow Wash Canyon, I found that someone with a bit of humor had modified a caution sign that once read "DANGER - WASHOUT," it now reading "DANG! WASHOUT." I would find out a half mile later the reason for the sign.

The "dang" washout. I had a more colorful name for it when I came upon it ...

A deep cut in the roadway hampered further progress. Approaching this spot, my stomach was rumbling due to eight hours since breakfast, and my mind was dwelling on a hot, juicy chili dog at the Esmeralda General Store over at Dyer, NV; about twenty five miles north of my location. But that thought went poof! When I rounded the corner and found two red cones and rocks across the roadway. I exited the truck to ascertain the impediment of my plans, big, fat flakes of snow were falling. An alternate route would be to go up Cucomungo Canyon, but that road went into the high country of the Sylvania Mountains to Pigeon Spring near Nevada Highway 266, near the ruins of Palmetto and would likely be impassable due to snow. Both exits north were impassable, so my only recourse was to backtrack to Big Pine the same way I came in.

Goodbye, Death Valley!

Driving further into the canyon, a late model Toyota Tacoma 4x4 truck came around a banked corner at about 35-40mph; my lane on the low side. Obviously he was surprised to find me there and he hit the brake, then struggled along with the brake’s anti-lock system to keep from loosing control. His rear end slid in my direction, but I passed through without a sickening thud and crunch. I turned around to ensure the truck had not slid off the apex of his corner and into the 20 foot deep canyon bottom, but his tracks indicated that his rear end slid in that direction, his tires dug into the dirt and mud of the road’s shoulder, and he regained control. I’m sure his seat had a little peak from the driver’s pucker power on his backside!

The snow increased to heavy snowfall as I reached the lower end of Joshua Flats, greatly reducing vision. By the time I reached Little Cowhorn Valley the snow was nearly a foot deep. Reaching the Saline Valley road, I found the Suburban and Airstream gone. I hope the rig made it safely wherever he was headed in the heavy snow. Ironically, the snow turned back to rain at the Harkless Flat road, well above the approximately 3,800 foot snow level on the east side of the Inyos.