It is not often that you go to sleep in one millennium and wake up in another. But that is exactly what I did New Year’s Eve 2000, atop the Panamint Range in Death Valley National Park. Fresh off the heels of an invigorating jaunt in Joshua Tree with my cousin the day before, I set out early on New Year’s Eve to make the most of the final day of the 2nd millennium. It would become an epic adventure for me: an exhilarating and deeply personal journey. I am still reaping the rewards of what this trip taught me and instilled in my soul.
Even a journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step, or so the Zen-like saying goes. My first steps on this trek were to carefully tip-toe out of my cousin’s house at 4:00 a.m. I then headed northeast out of Upland, CA, to watch the first rays of light illuminate the desert near the mining town of Boron. After tuning off of Route 395, towards the equally terse named Trona, the road got very lonely indeed. Besides a massive chemical plant, there is literally nothing else out here. No lights, no boats no motorcars … Not a single luxury. In fact, my circuit through Death Valley and south onto Shoshone and Barstow would see me travel over an hour at one point without passing another car. It is a queer feeling to have so much open land all to yourself. You might not think so but it plays on your mind. Isolation can be both frightening and exhilarating. However, to imply I conducted this trip in perfect solitude would be misleading. I saw people on my venture, no doubt, but not the throngs that usually clog the trails and roads back East.
I arrived at the trailhead, in fact, to see a couple packing up from a night’s stay. They hadn’t gone to the summit of telescope but mumbled something about it being a very cold night. The thermometer in my rented Blazer said 46 degrees at 9:00 a.m. In the valley below at dawn I had noted 23 degrees. Undeterred, I repacked my warm clothes and another party arrived. Dayhikers, they sprinted out in front of me on route to our common destination. They would be the only other people I would see on the trail that day and the next.
I started out to the summit with a good 50 lbs on my back. Being alone I figured it prudent to have a little extra of almost everything in case there came the need. Like Joshua Tree in the days before, the trail ahead was largely a mystery. I had only sketchy information about what to expect and what the conditions might be. By and large this was another blind stab. All I knew for sure is that Telescope Peak lay about 3,000 feet above and 7 miles in front of me. I knew that this would not be a walk in the park, of that I was prepared. But I didn't know exactly how I would be affected (if at all) by altitude. Until this point I had only twice been above 8,000 feet and only once before above 10,000. Suffice to say there were plenty of unknowns. There were plenty of variables. Yet risks are what make life worth savoring. The lure of the unknown was just too irresistible to ignore.
Some secrets though, the desert has a lot of trouble keeping. Clear dry air meant that my views would be superb. Sparse vegetation meant that they would be anything but obstructed. I had clear views of the trail ahead of me for much of the trek. And once I rounded the shoulder of Mt. Rogers (about 1 mile in) I had a clear line of sight to my objective as well. What I saw encouraged me. The trail was largely open along the ridge. The summit appeared to be snow free. Now if the weather turned there could be a problem. It looked like a few miles of open country ahead with nowhere to hide. But there was not a hint of turbulence in the skies. The temperature had actually warmed to the point that it was time for me to contemplate removing some clothing. It was hard to believe this was late December. It was harder still to fathom that it could be this warm at that time of year at this altitude.
If the weather was friendly, there were other pitfalls to be wary of in its place. From the trailhead to the saddle between Mts. Rogers and Bennett, the trail is little more than an animal run cutting across the crazy angle of the slope. Indeed at times the slope is so steep that if one were to carelessly tumble it would be as detrimental to one’s health as stepping out in front of a train. I estimate that the grade could be as much as 60 degrees in some spots, maybe more. I had to be constantly alert to where and what I was stepping on. Loose rock and gravel abound on this section of trail. A patch of rime ice would have made the traverse very treacherous. I had to keep my enthusiasm in check.
At about 9,500 feet I came to the saddle between Bennett (9,980) and Rogers (9,996). It was here I took a well-deserved break and scouted for a camp among the bristlecone pines. My lodgings for the night would be a small camp someone had already made against the hulk of a rather large specimen of pine. After a quick lunch I was headed to the summit once more. It was a relief to loose the extra weight. But there still was over 1,000 feet and a 5-mile roundtrip hike ahead. Noon had come and gone. It was best I get going too. I wanted to have plenty of time to stretch out in camp and enjoy the views over dinner before the last sunset.
Upon the final ascent my steps drew closer together and so did the pace of my breaths. I tried to train for this trip by increasing my running. However, treadmill miles at or near sea-level do not prepare you for a brutal incline over 10K. The summit now loomed above somewhere but cocked at such an angle as to keep teasingly out of view. Fortunately there was little snow on the trail. A few patches hid in the sheltered glens and folds of the east side of the mountain. For the most part though, the trail was clear. The party that had set out before me now passed on their return voyage. I would have the summit to myself; they encouraged me, and wished me a Happy New Year before scampering off down the trail. There was weariness in their eyes and breath but a glow on their faces that spoke volumes. I felt an immediate kinship with them. Though we spoke but a few sentences in passing, it was clear that there was a bond between us. Weary travelers we, in a vast empty tract of vacant mountains and deep forbidding valleys.
Rounding the crest of the final ridge, the summit cone came into view. It was a pleasing sight, almost mesmerizing. I felt a joy well up inside me that overshadowed the pain in my legs, my feet, my back. I could not have known sadness at that moment. My world was complete and I was at peace.
It is indeed a humbling experience to stand atop such a great mountain and stare out onto empty nothingness. Granted, this is not the emptiest quadrant of the lower 48. Those honors go to parts of neighboring Nevada. But the deserts and mountains around Death Valley certainly mark my farthest foray into the wilderness alone. What struck me most was how quiet it all was. I could not get over the pervasive silence. What little wind there had no power to drown out the crushing silence that engulfed me when my breathing slowed to a whisper. It was silence like I had never experienced before. It was a silence that one could almost reach out and clutch.
I loved that feeling of perfect isolation and tranquility. I reveled in it as long as I could. For those fleeting moments it was as if all time and humanity had ceased to exist. And as such, my cares and worries had temporarily vanished as well. All that remained was the mountain, myself and the moment. Having experienced this gift, I could never be the same again.
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Date of Hike: December 31, 2000 & January 01, 2001 Trail Name: Telescope Peak Trail
Distance: 14 miles RT Elevation: 8,100 at trailhead 11,049 at summit
Camping: Yes ... permitted 2 miles from trailhead/500 feet off trail/no fires
Weather: Sunny & Cool (High: near 60 Low: teens)
Other: Bring Water. None on the trail.