The Gates of Hell Loom Near

6/4/2018

Ok, yeah, that’s a pretty dramatic post title. But it is appropriate.

I had another long drive ahead of me today, though fortunately this time through beautiful country. The destination? Valley of Fire State Park. For 7.5 hours Jane and I meandered our way through incredible sandstone cliffs, soft shale hills, and wide grassy plains towards the park, taking back roads through reservation land and avoiding highways wherever possible.

The problem was, it was 105*F. And the temperature wasn’t really even the problem, it was more that the grommet separating the accelerator pedal from the engine compartment had ripped after 52 years of service. So every time I pushed the pedal down enough to go highway speeds, or any time I accelerated even a little bit, that rip opened up and created a direct path from the engine bay to my foot. Hello, 200+ degree air! I’m sure it was hotter than that, but I have not figured out how to measure that yet, so… just know that it was really hot. Blisteringly hot. So hot that it completely negated my air conditioning in any capacity. So hot that my eyeballs dried up as if I had just looked in an oven. So hot that it evaporated any sweat on my body at the time.

So here I am. I’ve got a fast car. I’ve got open roads with high speed limits. And I have a direct line to the fires of hell in my gas pedal. Either I would have to go slowly, or I would have to sacrifice the foot.

Obviously, I sacrificed the foot.

When we arrived at the Valley of Fire, my poor right foot was lobster red and thoroughly cooked. But I didn’t have time to worry about that, as I was way more enthralled with this amazing place I had just entered. One moment, I was driving through a placid almost colorless valley filled with gray-green scrub, ringed by gray-green cliffs. And then I rounded a corner and was greeted by an incredible splash of color – the deep red rocks of the Valley of Fire.

You don't say.

Jane and I puttered our way among the rocks, and I did my part trying not to drive off the road while goggling at all of the awesome outcrops. This place is truly a geologist’s dream. Little did I know that there was so much more in store for me the following day.

We soon reached the turnout for the campground. Where I had expected a kind of crappy campground laid out in the middle of the not-so-scenic plain adjacent to the valley, I instead encountered one of the best campgrounds I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. Lying in a bowl bordered entirely by red rocks, it was more than a little scenic and wonderfully shady. Since it was 109*F at the time that I reached camp, the shade was important.

I set up camp in a nice site that was sure to be shady in the evenings – since the sun sets late here, I didn’t want to be sitting around cooking in my skin while I made dinner. Jane, of course, looked right at home. She did to me, at least.

I realized that I had quite a few hours of sunlight left, despite arriving at 6PM, so I took the opportunity to hike to Arch Rock and Atlatl Rock before making dinner. The Valley of Fire was apparently used by quite a few native tribes over the past few thousand years, many of which left behind petroglyphs carved into the desert varnish.

At last I watched the sun set, casting the valley into soft shadows even as it lit the rocks up with brilliant reds, setting them aflame. The Valley of Fire is aptly named indeed. And if it’s named for its proximity to hell, well, it’s still worth being in. So there’s the second meaning of my dramatic post title.

After the valley had descended into night, I settled down to enjoy my first night of camping on this trip. And then I waited… and waited… and waited… for the valley to cool down. Turns out that it kind of doesn’t. So at 9PM at night, it was still 102*F out. And when I finally put myself to bed at midnight, it was still in the low 90’s.

Valley of Fire, indeed.

Kelly signing out.