Hottest, Driest Place in North America

Jill's Journal: It was a huge treat to visit Death Valley National Park. Disclaimer: we probably feel that way because we visited in November and not a few months earlier. We enjoyed a gorgeous fall day with temperatures in the 70s, a little more than double what they were in Lone Pine at our campsite. But Death Valley is not known for its pleasant days. It is famous for the unmerciful five or so months of extreme summers with brutal, soaring temperatures.

Death Valley is the hottest and driest place in North America, but there are lots of deserts around. What makes this one so hot and so dry? It is a long, narrow basin dipping to 282 feet below sea level, but it is walled in by steep, high mountain ranges. Heat becomes trapped in the valley, only to rise and be recycled down to the valley floor, getting heated even more by the low elevation air pressure. This super-heated air reached a world record high of 134 degrees in 1913. In fact, for five consecutive days that year, it was 129 degrees or higher. (The current world record of 136 degrees occurred in Libya’s Sahara Desert in 1922.) It’s just about as hot these days. For example, in 1996, 40 days in Death Valley registered over 120 degrees (plus 105 days over 110 degrees). When it’s this hot, nights don’t cool down below 100 degrees.

The ground temperature here is even hotter (generally about 40% hotter) than the air. It’s not unusual for ground temperatures on the valley floor to reach a blistering 200 degrees.

As for the dryness, there are four major mountain ranges between the ocean and Death Valley. By the time any moisture might get as far as this particular desert, there’s very little left. A number of years have passed with no rainfall at all, although the average rainfall annually may get up to a whooping two inches. The driest stretch on record occurred in 1931-34, when it rained a grand total of .64 inches during a period of 40 months.

Where did Death Valley gets its morbid name? In 1849, a small group of pioneers heading to the Gold Rush looked for an alternate route to Sutter’s Fort. Winter was setting in and they knew they wouldn’t make it over the Sierra Nevadas. They trusted a crude, hand-sketched map and found themselves in an unforgiving desert. After losing one member of their party, their oxen, and their wagons, they assumed the desert would be their grave. Amazingly, they were eventually rescued by two members of their party who had gone on ahead. As they climbed the Panamint Mountains in their escape, one of these “Lost ‘49ers” looked back and said, “Goodbye, death valley.” As they told their tale of human suffering and near death, the name stuck.

Death Valley became a national monument in 1933 and a national park in 1994.

One of our first stops in Death Valley, coming in from the west, was Father Crowley Point. The girls weren’t too impressed yet…

…but their tune changed when we visited the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes. At 14 square miles across the widest part of Death Valley, the sand dunes are a realization of every child’s dream. A giant sandbox!

It got even better when they met two other little girls around their ages.

The five soon set off in search of adventure, leaving the four adults to chase after them.

We so enjoyed this lovely family, one of several we met in Death Valley. Moms don’t come more fun than Linda, who impressed me by getting down in the sand to capture images. She is clearly a more dedicated photographer than I am!

“Sand is everywhere in the desert, but sand dunes are not. For sand to gather into dunes, it takes three things: a supply of sand, a strong wind, and something to slow that wind. Sand erodes from the mountains around Death Valley. Winds from the north carry sand down the valley until they hit the bulk of Tucki Mountain…, causing the sand to collect at its foot. Southerly winds form a huge eddy in the leeward side of the same mountain, adding even more sand. The sands shift with every windstorm, but the dunes are trapped in place.” --National Park Service literature

An hour’s drive away from the sand dunes is Badwater Basin with its 200 square miles of salt flats. These are among the largest protected salt flats in the world. This is also the area resting 282 feet below sea level, the lowest in North America and second-lowest in the Western Hemisphere.

The area got the name from this pond. It was labeled as having “bad water” by a surveyor mapping the area when his mule refused to drink the salty water.

With water nearly four times saltier than the ocean, who could blame the poor beast? The name Badwater stuck.

Over 90% of the salt here is sodium chloride, which is regular table salt. The stark, flat white path has been trampled by lots of human feet. The “puffier” white and brown hasn’t had quite the amount of human traffic.

The girls badly wanted to taste the salt…so we all did! All five of us. A tiny drop is super salty. Erika, our little salt lover, thought it was wonderful.

The source of salt comes from Death Valley’s large drainage system of 9,000 square miles (an area bigger than the state of New Hampshire). The arid climate here causes evaporation to exceed precipitation, meaning just the salt mixed with fine silt is left behind.

We left the salt flats to take in Artist’s Drive and Palette, a scenic nine-mile route among the foothills of the Black Mountains. This area gets its name from the striking colors in the rocks.

Death Valley is huge at 140 miles long along the valley floor. After a full day, we had time for just one last stop to witness the sunset: Zabriskie Point, which overlooks Death Valley's badlands.

We have so much more to see in Death Valley and we hope to do it from the eastern side in a few weeks. What a starkly beautiful place. We feel so fortunate to have gotten this little taste of it.