The rain hits Death Valley hard in October. Back to back storms dump a deluge of water on the hottest, driest place in the country. Paul Forward, the Death Valley District Ranger, recalls seeing the vast accumulation of water firsthand:
“It started with heavy hail. Three hours later, the dry wash was transformed into floodwaters 100 feet wide with 20-foot waves. The air was filled with the sounds of massive boulders grinding against each other as they rolled down the canyon.”
The storms cause extensive damage to a number of the park’s roadways and historic structures, but create an exciting possibility; the stage is set for a rare wildflower super bloom.
In January, El Niño drenches the west coast with some much-needed rainfall. It’s also the final ingredient needed for a super bloom. For the first time since 2005, the wildflowers of Death Valley burst from their tough, waxy seeds by the millions, filling the valley with color.
MARCH 19, 2016
I’m here in Death Valley National Park with my sister Sophie to witness the rare flower phenomenon. Upon driving into the valley, we find ourselves frequently pulling over to marvel at the unique botany & geology. Flowers carpet the valley floor with yellow.
THE DEVIL'S GOLF COURSE
In the afternoon, harsh sunlight brings the air temperature in the valley up to 90°F. It’s nowhere near the hottest air temperature ever recorded on Earth, the sweltering 134.1°F measurement that was taken in Death Valley in 1913, but it’s a great deal hotter than Spring in San Francisco.
On the valley floor, every gust of wind is a cool relief. We stare out across the salt pan, where two millennia of wind and weather have sculpted the halite salt crystals into a jagged expanse of pinnacled formations.
I give one of the pinnacles a lick. Tastes like salt, alright.
NATURAL BRIDGE CANYON
We retreat from the sun-cooked valley into the shade of a canyon. Evidence of the flash floods that have enabled blooms throughout the millennia is all around; dry waterfalls, polished rock, and an enormous natural bridge adorn the golden canyon.
ARTIST'S DRIVE
As Sophie drives us through the aptly-named Artist’s Drive, I laugh at how little I expected of Death Valley. I was just hoping to see some nice wildflowers.
But now, gazing at an alien landscape of purple & teal ridges, I realize my imagination has been outmatched.
BADWATER BASIN
The sun dips below the mountains as Sophie & I venture onto the Badwater Basin. Rough hexagonal honeycomb shapes structure the glowing white crust. Boots crunch across billions of salt crystals.
Standing still, I hear a silence that is nearly absolute. It mirrors the stark landscape.
This national park has thoroughly inspired me. Lying atop my sleeping bag in the middle of the warm night, I drift through imaginations of tomorrow’s adventure.
ZABRISKIE POINT
At sunrise, Sophie & I hike into the canyons below Zabriskie Point. The landscape is exceptionally decorated with stripes & texture.
All along the way on this trip, we find wildflowers: tucked into the small canyons below Zabriskie Point, scattered atop Dante’s Peak at 6000 feet, and carpeted across alluvial fans stretching 100 feet below sea level. The ground is littered with beauty.
The star of the show is the elusive Desert Five Spot, Eremalche rotundifolia. The flower’s pink petals curl together in a spherical teacup shape, sheltering its charming interior.
UBEHEBE CRATER & LITTLE HEBE
After a long drive to the north end of the park, we arrive at the scarred landscape of Ubehebe Crater. Trudging up the gravelly black slopes along the edge of the crater, we’re buffeted by powerful gusts of wind.
The bigger plants here are bent and mangled by the ceaseless wind, but small wildflowers have no trouble growing in the dark volcanic soil. In fact, flowers seem to be more abundant here than in most parts of the park. We spot blankets of desert gold, pink mat, and a few desert five-spots above the orange and tan runnels of the crater wall.
MESQUITE FLAT SAND DUNES
Death Valley greets us with a colorful sunrise on the last morning of our trip. Before we go home, Sophie & I make one last stop to the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes. The sand is cool and smooth after a windy night.
A group of tall, remote dunes is our target as we shuffle our way across the sandy ridges. Sophie peels off to the left, and I pause to take it all in. Minuscule grains of sand from all over the valley accumulate here, as do my memories of the weekend.
Looking back, I see my footprints trace the top of the otherwise pristine ridge. Gusts of wind slowly begin their work erasing the tracks. I turn ahead.
Yellow sunlight highlights a perfect curve up the razor-ridge dune. Sophie stands at the top, waving to me. With the wind in my face, I tread lightly ahead to join her at the peak.
Footnotes:
Thanks to El Niño for the rain, & Sophie for the impromptu trip idea.