During my last couple of years in California (roughly 1990-92), I often made journeys to Death Valley National Monument (It became a National Park in 1994). From my home in Riverside, where I was finishing up my graduate studies, the drive to DVNM took about 4 hours, and was often half the fun. I pretty much camped, hiked and explored the old ghost towns and paraphernalia. I was there in December 1990 when the daytime high at Furnace Creek was 39 F, which set a record for lowest high temperature. I have also visited twice during the summer when temperatures zoom above 120 F easily. The sight of sweater-wearing Europeans snapping photos from their vehicles is quite amusing.

Anyway, during the summer of 1991, I proposed to my roommate Victor Caro (who later climbed Mt Rainier with me in 1997) that we go for a hike/climb up Telescope Peak. Up to this period, I had never done any major hiking, much less climb a peak above 11,000 feet. This would be my introduction to the wonderful world of climbing, peakbagging, and eventually mountaineering. Telescope Peak is the highest peak in the Panamint Mountains, which loom high above the salt-pan basins of Death Valley. It is quite a startling sight to be at Badwater, elevation -282 feet and the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, and to look across the salt pans and stare at a mountain a full two miles into the sky. The elevation difference here (almost 11,400 feet) and the lack of intervening mountains makes for a direct line-of-sight viewing and is one of the largest such escarpments on earth. Victor was all for the hike.

We left Riverside and headed up the usual western route toward Death Valley- up US-395 through Adelanto and an old relic mining town called Red Mountain, then towards Trona. Let me take a few minutes to properly describe Trona. Imagine the ugliest company town you can picture, with dumpy little homes, all sitting underneath an enormous Kerr-McGee chemical plant, tucked hard against a small range and above a dry lake bed (Searles Lake). Now imagine the stench of sulphur and potash permeating the air. Add to that temps in the mid 110s, and the utter isolation, and you have a reasonable description of Trona. Arguably the anus of the nation. Enough kind words. After Trona, we headed up through the desolate Panamint Valley, made somewhat famous as one of the hideouts of the Manson Family in the 1960s. We took some side roads and eventually made our way up to a campground near Mahogany Flat, about at 8,000 feet elevation. This put us above the main brunt of the heat. We camped here that night, and started the hike the next morning.

The hike to Telescope Peak is pretty simple: a fine trail leads to the top. It's 7 miles one way with about 3,000 feet of gain. But the gradient is nice. The hike is above treeline for the most part; what few trees existed were gnarled Bristlecone Pines, krumholz and sparse juniper- the usual Basin-Range flora. Many trees were violently split down the middle- testament to the lightning storms that build high on these slopes! We made the top after about 4 hours. There, we decided to play a game of catch. Believe it or not, we'd packed up our mitts and a cloth fake baseball. Unfortunately, I threw one wide and the ball was lost forever. At the summit, we could look down into the dead whiteness of Death Valley, and then glance west and look at Mt. Whitney- the lowest and highest points of the contiguous United States. The weather was awesome and we were back to Vic's truck after a few hours.

We drove down to Furnace Creek in Death Valley proper for showers. It was blazing hot- easily 120. Then from there it was a long drive back to Riverside. I was happy to have summitted this peak, and more importantly, I was hooked! Thus beginneth my obsession.