7. The Trek: Stovepipe Wells to Ubehebe Crater

Following is an excerpt from the working draft of my book:

…The sunrise shot boldly through the valley that morning like it had countless times through the window of my childhood home.  I would often lie on a warm and bright patch of carpet in my living room on a cool day, absorbing the heat down to my bones.  I would follow this square of light as it made its slow voyage across the room before it would eventually climb the wall and slip quietly out of the window. 

This feeling of comfort the sun provides is no different in the backcountry.  I refused to leave the comfort of my sleeping bag that morning until the bands of sunlight discovered my reclusive hiding place.  Chunks of ice in my water bottle hinted at the overnight drop in temperature, though I hadn’t really noticed it, except for a few waking moments before sunrise. 

I had slept in my down sweater for a little insurance, and it was nice not to have to expose my torso to coolness in the air that morning.  I could simply crawl my upper body out of my sleeping bag and spark up my stove.  I then began melting the chunks of ice that had clunked into the bottom of my pot. 

I boasted at the marvel of my sunrise, much like I had at the sunset I viewed from the other side of this lonely valley.  Shadows from the vegetation created a rich texture upon the playa surface I had walked upon the previous evening.  A cough had developed in my chest from the cool dry air and it kept interrupting my otherwise perfect experience.  I decided to replace my morning coffee with some tea and honey, hoping that it would provide some relief.  

Eventually, I reached the bottom of my mug and the time had come to break camp.  I remarked to myself how the wind never revealed itself over the course of the night.  I questioned its future intensions as I packed away my tarp, wondering how much protection it would offer.  I then shouldered my home and took my first stiff strides of the morning.

The blend of flowing blood and sunlight seemed to be working to thaw my sore muscles as I climbed up to a remote pocket in the mountains east of Racetrack Valley.  I followed a large flat wash through this hidden area until it dead-ended at a rocky ledge, providing a stunning reveal of the Racetrack Playa. 

This dry lake measures around three miles long and appears unearthly from this high vantage point.  The cracked mud of its wide spanning surface reflects brightly against the darker earth and vegetation found at the Racetrack’s perimeter.  The huge granite island known as The Grandstand reached high above the playa’s surface and Ubehebe Peak appears to keep a watchful eye on the area from high above the other side of the valley.

I made a rather steep and precarious decent from the overlook by following a rocky wash that could have proven itself dangerous with a heavier pack.  This wash eventually spills onto the floor of the valley amidst the dark vegetation surrounding the bright playa surface.  A short walk lead me to the hard edge of the lakebed and I soon was moving quickly over the flat expanse of reticulated mud. 

The large size of this playa instills a much different feeling than the smaller lake beds that I had previously crossed.  I felt completely enveloped in this landscape, as if my world was limited to only this geography.  I was no longer walking through the park.  I was no longer walking through the valley.  The only space I was conscious of at the time was this dry and ancient lake.  I pondered how it lay deep beneath the surrounding mountains like an empty ocean floor, alone below the continents.

Intrigued by the mysterious sliding rocks the Racetrack is known for, I made a detour down to the southern end of the playa where they are known to live.  I saw nothing but a mile of flat playa floor ahead of me as I headed towards the area in which I was told to expect the secretly active rocks.  The very rocks that are said to move great distances when nobody’s watching. 

A large dark object eventually broke the line of the horizon like a small island in the distance.  I couldn’t tell at the moment if this was indeed a close encounter with an unexplained phenomenon, or just an ordinary rock.  I approached the suspect slow, as if I anticipated it to dash away like a spooked animal.  I was soon close enough to notice a faint line, intensified by shadow, emerging behind the stone.  This caused my pulse to race.  Then, as I curiously approached the stone, the line turned into a deep groove, aggressively carved into the hard mud of the playa.  That’s where I froze… in that very spot.  

There it stood, silently, secretive… content to hold its secrets.  I initially kept an observant distance between the object and myself in order to contemplate the happening as a whole.  All that I could surmise was that a large boulder had moved a great distance along an erratic path, leaving a deep and clear trail behind it. 

Now, I had been told of the multiple ‘definite’ explanations as to what motivates these rocks to move.  The summaries consist of wet mud, a little ice and forceful winds, but the lack of a single witness allowed my mind to remain free from such logic.  As far as I was concerned, the rocks moved across the land simply because they wished to do so.  Maybe they desired a change in scenery, or possibly, they travel for the very same reasons as myself.  Either way, we were both fulfilling a roll against the backdrop of a much bigger story, regardless of any clear explanation.