Telescope Peak is the highest point of the gigantic Panamint Mountains as well as of the entire Death Valley National Park. The Panamints form the western boundary of the Death Valley depression, with Telescope Peak itself rising to over 11,000 feet above sea level. Given that points in the salt pan in Death Valley are at -282 feet, the vertical differential (over two miles) is some of the greatest in the world, especially considering the horizontal distance between the two points isn't terribly far. The great height of the Panamints are a major reason why Death Valley is such a hot, dry place: any storm coming in from the Pacific runs up against the Panamints and very little cloud cover or moisture gets through. The Panamints themselves can get a considerable amount of snow; it's not uncommon for the Panamints to have snow while Death Valley itself is starting in to the triple digits during the shoulder seasons (e.g. April).

Death Valley is an amazing place and one of my favorites. I visited numerous times during my college years, roughly 1988 through 1992. It was in 1991 that I proposed this hike to my roommate at the time, Victor (with whom I would climb Mount Rainier in 1997). Victor was already a knowledgable climber while I was completely new to the hobby, other than hiking in the local peaks around Riverside. I had read about Telescope Peak and it seemed to be a good way to get into "mountaineering". The route to the top is long: 7 miles one way with about 3,000 feet of gain, but otherwise, not technical at all. For me, this would be my first time above 11,000 feet ever. In fact, I am hard-pressed to think of a time in my life up to that point when I had been at 10,000 feet. I was curious how I would do.

We left in Vic's truck from Riverside, following US-395 up the Cajon Pass through Adelanto and Kramer Junction to Red Mountain, there catching Trona Road into Trona, where we stocked up on groceries. Trona is a horrible place, a company town dominated by a gigantic Kerr-McGee chemical processing plant. The town runs along the dry lake bed of Searles Lake, abutting against some desert mountains. A very strong sulphur scent pervades the whole area. It is very remote and very, very hot. But for what we needed, it served our purposes well. Past Trona the drive became interesting as we descended into the broad Panamint Valley, the big basin west of the Panamint Range (i.e. paralleling Death Valley). The land out here is gloriously remote, and the scale is unbelievable. The Panamints rise up nearly two vertical miles over the desert floor. It is utterly awe-inspiring. In the early 1990s this was just BLM land, but in 1994 it became a part of Death Valley National Park. We followed Trona Road to Wildrose Road, a "short-cut" that would lead us directly to Mahogany Flat, a camping area in the mountains itself, elevation roughly 8,000 feet. We were the only ones here. The weather was very nice and somewhat cool once the sun set, but never cold. There were some large thunderstorms to the east.

We started hiking the next morning, following the trail all the way to the top. At first the trail sidehills for awhile along east-facing slopes, mostly open country with sparse stands of trees and grasses. The grade was gentle but consistent and in time we eventually came upon the broader highlands of the mountains. We would periodically gain up some slopes, then cross meadows, then pass through stands of pine. The variety was quite enjoyable, and I made surprisingly good time as far as I was considered, since this was all brand new to me. I was feeling very good, no hint of any altitude issues. I even hiked ahead of Vic for awhile, but never so far as not to see him. We stopped a few times to break and check the map. The weather was stunning and the views amazing, including points where we could peer down at Badwater, -282 feet, then over to Mount WHitney, elevation 14,495 feet - the lowest and highest points in the coterminous United States.

The summit is often in view and after another hour or two I was on the last leg, switchbacking up the open slopes, dotted with the sparsest krumholz, occasional bristlecone and the odd tree split into two by past lightning strikes. Vix was maybe 10 minutes behind me. Finally, I came to the top, roughly 4 hours after starting, in beautiful clear conditions. My first major summit! My first elevener too! I was happy to be here, I felt good, and I stopped to wait for Vic, who came up not too long after me. We had an extended break to eat, get some photos, and of course, play catch. We had brought along our baseball gloves and "Incrediball", a cloth-covered faux-baseball we'd found lying on the ground at U.C. Riverside. How do we know it was called Incrediball? That's what was written across it. The summit is big enough so that we could stand maybe 40 feet apart and toss the ball back and forth, but the fear of throwing away the ball forever made us "think too hard" and our throws weren't natural at all. And yes, Incrediball got thrown away, rolling down the slope to who knows where, to begin yet another chapter of its amazing journey through the cosmos.

The hike down went very well and we were back to Vic's truck by about 3 p.m. I don't think I'd hiked 14 miles in a day in many years and I was quite sore. We drove down into Death Valley itself, to take some showers at the camping area near Furnace Creek. The temperature was easily above 120, possibly nearing 125, just blazingly hot. Imagine a blowtorch directly on your face. That would feel good compared to how it felt here. We showered up, drove south into Baker, got some grub, then drove on back to Riverside. The hike had gone very well, and yes, I was hooked!

For more Death Valley photos, see Death Valley, 2005.