Hotel Introspections VIII

DEATH VALLEY (RV)

Aug 2017

Our preparation for escaping Mammoth Lakes and heading into the desert involved a lot of fretting and a meek trip to the gas station to establish if our RV had sufficient water and propane. It did, by a long way. The internet catches many paranoid fish and when it comes to taking a large vehicle into 40+ degrees; many of these glassy-eyed crazies are desperate to tell you that you are in fact GOING TO DIE. The Muse has become increasingly fretful; the signs being a mid-distance stare, tetchiness and lip-biting.

She has already decided to return the dusty sub a day early, booking us into what looks like a decent hotel on the outskirts of Vegas; but first we must get into DEATH Valley, stay a night and then leave DEATH Valley for Vegas. Simples.

We escape the RV park at about 5am. I drive the first leg. The gloom and the plains add to the drama. I half expect to see Clint Eastwood atop a trusty steed, smoking a cheroot. Or maybe a Walker. I feel absolutely wired as we drone steadily in the direction of DV; our journey complicated by the fact that some of the road is flooded.

For the record, should you ever be driving a large vehicle through the desert please do the following: air con off, windows open, speed steady, take gallons of water and leave early. We made it with minimal fuss and I had plenty of time to stare out the window, having completed my stint, at real-life Joshua Trees.

Like many over-educated/stimulated western twits I do spend a lot of time seeking out spiritual meaning (NB I do not mean religious faith), whether that be in music, alcohol, an interesting conversation or exercise. Death Valley was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. As I write this some months later I can still feel its unrelenting heat and expanse. Its Miltonesque desolation transcendental, in complete contrast to how the highlands and hills of the northern UK make me depressed. If I had the money I would go back there every year and I will return one day. It takes hold of you and tells you very simply – ‘you are tiny, shut the fuck up’. Heavy Metal nature. It was over 100 degrees by 9.30am. And it is only in the USA by mistake. This is not America, in fact it doesn’t even feel like it is of this Earth.

The settlement at which we have stopped, and will stay for the night, is staffed predominantly by young representatives of the counter-culture. I don’t mean hipsters, beards and tattoos were relatively underrepresented. It felt like being in a 90s cult movie especially when greeted at reception by a cute female complete with buzz-cut and nose-ring. The plot would have posed the early question, why are these youngsters hiding out here in the desert? Drugs? On the run? Vampires? Our receptionist was very helpful and directed us to where the RV needed to be hooked-up. Her composure briefly ruffled when she realised we had just come from the ‘dangerous’ direction, risking engine failure and explosion. Wimps.

Our pioneering spirit was diluted later when a large plume of smoke appeared a few miles back from the direction we had come. What was particularly impressive was the emergency services were on hand relatively quickly for such an isolated part of the world. That evening we took a break from what I named ‘European Soup’ (a swimming pool crammed with French people) and I attempted to take some arty photos. The hush arrived just before the burnt-out bus. It was gutted. Fortunately the tourists on board escaped unharmed but it was sobering. Remember leave early, air-con off...

The theme of heat and fire ran through the entire day. On arrival we had a disappointing breakfast in a sticky restaurant. I attempted to excite my eggs by adding some unknown chilli sauce. Funny but regretted quite quickly. My tongue was literally disabled by the burn.

The RV area could have accommodated hundreds of vehicles, but today it is only us. That is because no-one would be stupid enough to hit DV in August and sleep in their RV. By nightfall we were joined by two other vehicles, which just made me feel nervous. The air con clanged and thrummed all night and we sort of slept. For the first time in my life, I slept with a large knife under my pillow. In space no-one can hear you scream.