My buddy Kent and I arrived in Stovepipe Wells, three days ahead of my attempted crossing of Death Valley, and it was already smoking hot outside when we got out of our truck.
My goal was to complete, what I had set out to do last year after completing six months of chemo; start from the far northern border of Death Valley National Park, and head south, roughly 170km cross country, to the lowest point in North America, Badwater Basin.
For more background on my first attempted crossing, and the lead up to this one, read more here(Opens in a new window).
We checked into the hotel at Stovepipe, with the intention of scouting a few southern sections of my route, as there had been lots of flash flooding last summer and after several previous scouting trips, I knew the landscape had changed. So much so, that my route had to be altered from the west side of Death Valley to the eastern side, so that I could reach resupply points that Kent would meet me at.
After making the final plans on my resupply locations (which were basically planned around where a vehicle could get them to), we determined that the distances between each resupply would range from 5-30km. Average would be about 15km, which is a desperately long distance when moving cross country in Death Valley in the extreme heat of summer. I knew what to expect- at least I thought I did-based on previous summer off road crossings of Death Valley, and my previous crossings of most of the largest deserts on the planet.
But even my previous scouting trips earlier in the winter and spring didn’t prepare me for our next few days of scouting.
Kent dropped me on the side of the road near Salt Spring, and I made my way across rocky boulder filled plateau to meet my planned route. This section would be approximately 16km in a straight line, and would end at Borax, where I would resupply. In my actual crossing, this section would begin at around the 120km mark.
After a few miles, the terrain became instantly unfamiliar. I had crossed this area before on prior Death Valley adventures, but it was always dry, salty and uneven. But never underwater! A few more miles in and I was up to my knees in salty water and clay: a remnant of the flooding from the year previous. This area has natural salt springs so it does have wet areas, but now it was basically a massive lake that had not had the chance to dry up yet.
After several miles of trekking through scalding hot salty water, I finally found a route out, and rejoined Kent on a dry patch that eventually led to Borax where he was parked. We determined that this whole section would have to be rerouted, adding several kilometres, and time, but I super grateful I showed up early, because if I had hit this section in the middle of the night, finding a route out of the salt lake could have been disastrous.
Stakes would be high and my hydration strategy was to carry 4-5 litres between my resupplies. Any additional time lost with navigational errors or, for example, running into a massive salt lake, could result in dehydration or worse.
With a reroute nailed down, and all my supplies ready, Kent, and my other two buddies Jesse and Simon, drove me to my starting point, in the northern end of Death Valley NP, at around 6900ft of elevation. We drove way up into the mountains, and after several miles of winding, narrow 4x4 road, the guys dropped me off for a July 1, 8:00 am start.
I had with me my Osprey Talon Velocity 20, the perfect pack for the start of my adventure through the hottest place on Earth. I had on board food, five litres of Xact hydration mix, and other necessary survival gear in case things went sideways. My first resupply would be several thousand feet lower, and roughly 30km away.
I waved goodbye to the guys and headed to the rim of what would eventually become the Death Valley Wash. A series of very narrow- a meter wide at points- canyons that shot straight down through mountains into Death Valley as we know it.
I’ve navigated this maze of narrow canyons on previous trips so I somehow made my way through without any nav errors and was dropping gin altitude quickly. My first challenge of the crossing was one I didn’t expect: at around 15km I came around a bend in the canyon (which by this point had flattened out and widened) and ran right into a herd of cattle that somehow found their way down into this area. I immediately stopped and tried not to freak them out; I grew up on a farm, and I knew that this herd would no doubt start running downhill, and away from me once they saw me! What if they ended up much lower and in a much hotter area of death valley? They wouldn’t last very long- and then I thought about the rancher that would be wondering where in the heck are their cows?!
I had to find a way around them, and as I attempted to scramble out of the canyon, they caught site of me…..and did exactly what I thought they would. And ran down!!! I spent the next hour, carefully picking my way down the canyon, and listening for them with each bend, I crept quietly, and then could hear them. I again scrambled up the side of the canyon, and once on top, I hit the gas a sprinted for the next few miles to try and get ahead of them! After what I thought was enough distance, I dropped back into the canyon…thinking I must be ahead of them by now. Yes, I used up a lot of energy, but at least I knew the cows were safe!!!!
I reached my first resupply, Kent dropped my cooler (that wouldn’t be cool for long) and I re-filled my hydration bladders and drank another few litres while re packing for the next leg.
I was glad to get the first 30km under my belt, and I was super pumped for the next 20km or so before my next resupply.
With my Arctic, Antarctic and Siberia expeditions, I typically go unsupported: meaning I drag all of my supplies need for the entirety of my expedition, with me in a sled. That could be for five days to 30 days and beyond! But on summer desert expeditions, I really on minimal, but supported resupply going as far as I can cross-country, before requiring resupply. Or as far as I need to, based on where a 4x4 can get to, to provide resupply. This is the way I’ve crossed deserts ranging from 250-7,500km in length! All of my resupplies in Death Valley would be at road crossings, and for some of my resupplies, I would need to leave my route and essentially ‘go the wrong way’ to reach the guys, then return to my route after resupply.
Things were going well, and the heat of the sun dropped behind the Panamint Mountains, and I started my first night in the desert, at around the 80km mark. This is also where I began to notice a stark change in terrain from previous trips. Likely all the flash flooding from the previous year of crazy weather dramatically changed the landscape. I was following the Death Valley Wash, which up until now, was hard pack and fairly smooth, with occasional rocky sections. But now, it was like a river of boulders, loose rock and soft sand.
By middle of night and my next resupply, I started feeling trashed. The terrain, the heat, and the constant concentration on train navigation was exhausting me. I stopped and napped (after this moment I took naps whenever I was feeling wrecked). After 30 minutes or so, I switched out my pack to my Duro 15, and pushed on through the night. The skies were incredible. Filled with stars so deep it felt like you could reach in and grab a handful. It was motivating.
By the next morning, I continued to fight the rocky terrain, and once the sun came up it was blistering hot again. Daytime temps were in the 120+ range, and at night it was 100F.
After hours in the heat of day, multiple resupplies, a few naps, a longer rest break and a terrain change to small dunes and this crazy gnarly grass, I reached the previously scouted Salt Spring area. It was late afternoon, going into early evening…and I was super glad I had scouted this just days before.
Although it added several kilometres to go around the Salt Spring area, I was super appreciative as night fell, and how dark it got; and that I wasn’t stuck out there trying to find a way out of the temporary lake that had formed. I made it to Borax late at night, took a break, slept for an hour, then kept going through the night and into the next morning. The night and next morning were spent crossing a massive salt flat that was a mix of damp muddy terrain, soft sinky clay-like surface, and crusty salt ridges. I reached my third last resupply and as the sun rose, it felt hotter than the previous day. I was drinking like crazy to try and keep myself cool, but by now I was feeling fried. I made the decision to push as hard as I could - the finish at Badwater Basin felt so close - it was only 20km to go - but at the same time it felt so far away.
I saw the guys a few more times, then in the last stretch to the basin, as I got forced closer to the road in the last few kilometres from the muddy valley floor- I was able to see the guys again, and that boosted my energy.
With just a kilometre to go, I climbed up onto the shoulder of the road and crossed into the Badwater Basin where tourists were everywhere taking pictures of the snow-white salt pan that was much larger in appearance since the lake that was here a few months ago began to evaporate. Like I felt my body was doing!
I’ve spent the last 20 years crossing most of the largest deserts on the planet, the Sahara, Atacama, Gobi, etc. Close to 20,000km. But there’s something about this place I love so much. It’s so remote in parts, but also, so accessible in parts.
It’s treacherous. But it’s beautiful.
This desert, that is in the United States is the hottest place on Earth, but in all of the amazing places I’ve been able to explore, in the remotest parts of the world, Death Valley is just plain special.
