Wednesday, April 1, 2009

First Time for Everything: Larry's Planning Goes Awry

We've decided to spend spring break in Death Valley (again) to enjoy the sun and warm weather. When we arrived, this is what we found:




The next day looked like this:




Larry spent months planning this trip. He purchased and studied every map and guide book known to man. He had planned a motorcycle trip through Titus Canyon and was not about to let a little rain disrupt the plan. Larry got the cycles ready while I secretly decided the ride was a bad idea.




Despite the impending rain, we followed the almighty plan. We spent all afternoon racing to stay ahead of the storm.




The next day the plan called for a backpack trip up Fall Canyon, around the top, and back down via Red Wall Canyon. After my lack of preparation last year found us lost and out of water in Marble Canyon, Larry spent days finely honing his backpacking plan. He knew the route, had the maps, and even talked a ranger into disclosing the location of a top-secret spring. He was Callister-Quality prepared. The plan could not fail. We headed into Fall Canyon with upmost confidence.




Due to Larry's research, this 18' impassible dry fall and bypass trail came as no surprise. 




When the load got too heavy, Larry mercifully let me stop to rest.




The canyon was full of amazing things like a blue lizzard, plants growing out of cracks, and weird rock formations.








We trudged along, using the GPS, maps, and laminated copies from the guidebook to find our way. Nothing could go wrong with Larry so prepared. It was nearing dark when we came around the corner and found this unexpected disaster. It doesn't look like much in the picture, but we ran smack into another dry fall, this one 15' of polished dolomite with no easy way around.




Unable to get around, we made camp. Larry worked into the night reading maps, studying the GPS, and pouring over the alphabetized, color-coded, and laminated photocopied pages of the guide book he'd brought along. I pretended to be worried, but after screwing up my planning so badly last year, I secretly rejoiced at Larry's misfortune.  It looked like Larry's planning sucked, too, making us even.




The next morning, Larry risked his life scaling the fall and then pulled up the packs.




I played the grandma card and climbed around on the terrific trail Larry helped me find.




Whew, we made it! But wait--what's this? Another dry fall, again not mentioned in the books nor by the ranger. This one consisted of a jumble of colossal boulders wedged between sheer canyon walls.




We spent five hours trying to get around. We tried to climb the rocks in three different places. We tried to climb out of the canyon and go around. Each time, we came to a life-risking place and chickened out. Our friend the Chuckwalla advised us to give up, so we did. All of Larry's planning had failed.




While we walked out, the way we'd come, I asked Larry a million questions: How did it feel to be a failure? Was this the first time his planning had not paid off? Did this inspire him to do more planning next time, or less?




After a seven-mile hike back out, we reached the motorcycle shuttle only to find a minor mechanical problem. Grumpy Larry fixed it right up.




After abandoning our hike, we took the bikes into the Panamint Mountains for more exploration.






I rode with great caution and stunningly bad clothes.  I've set a goal to do something about both of these problems (but probably won't).




Along the way, we found all kinds of interesting things.

An abandoned mine:




Weird rocks:




Fossils:




Wildlife:




Petroglyphs:



Mysterious moving rocks at the "racetrack." Apparently howling winds slide the rocks over the dry lakebed when it's muddy or frozen.




We said good-bye to Death Valley for at least another year. As I work on this blog tonight, Larry's already making plans to return. He's found an photo journal online posted by some guys who made it over the dry fall that stopped us in our tracks. "If they can do it, so can we," he says and pounds the table.  "With a little more preparation," he tells me, "we can make it over next year." Apparently, more planning has begun.  Fall Canyon, here we come.