Near fatal attraction

Author: By Dolores Kong, Globe Staff

Date: SUNDAY, April 28, 1996

Page: B1

Section: Travel

At one moment, the desert appears full of life, with creosote and cactuses blooming, ancient pupfish spawning and canyon wrens singing. At other times, nothing is as it seems or as it should be, with rocks sliding across mud flats, and the lowest point in North America appearing to shift from place to place.

Forget any notion you may have that Death Valley is nothing more than a barren, monotonous desert with only Sahara-like sand dunes to distinguish it. The place is rich and sensuous, and full of surprises.

My husband and I have traveled across the continent to visit Death Valley twice, once on our honeymoon. We've four-wheeled to remote canyons to hike and camp; we've snacked on fresh fruit, a wedding gift from friends, while we sat in the desert heat looking up at the snow-capped Panamint Range; and we've seen the sandstone badlands change colors, from blinding white and yellow to soft orange and pink, with the movement of the sun across the sky.

We've also had somewhat hellish experiences, reminding us that travelers caught unprepared pay a price in Death Valley. We once spent a night more than 15 miles from a paved road with a flat tire and ruined rim. Another time, we had to slosh across a marsh to return to a back-country hiking trail we'd wandered off.

But to us, those experiences were part of the adventure, and we'd willingly go back for more.

Death Valley, a national monument since 1933, became one of the country's newest national parks with the passage of legislation in 1994. Within a two-hour drive of Las Vegas and about five hours from Los Angeles, this Southern California spot is a close-enough oasis for those seeking an escape from the neon and decadence of the one city and the smog and traffic of the other.

Native Americans lived in the valley as long as 10,000 years ago, dining on pine nuts, mesquite beans, small game and a lizard called chuckwalla. Petroglyphs are dotted throughout the area, in places like Grapevine and Marble canyons.

The valley reportedly got its modern-day name after a group of '49ers in search of gold barely escaped the heat and lack of water with their lives. A member of the party looked back upon the site of their trials and tribulations and reportedly said, ``Goodbye, Death Valley!''

Ever since, man has sought his fortunes, chased his dreams and capitalized on the public's fascination with the strange beauty in Death Valley. Even Charles Manson was mesmerized, once hiding out in the area in the belief that the desert held an underground entrance that would allow his followers to survive Helter Skelter.

For a taste of man's follies in Death Valley, visit the ghost towns of Rhyolite or Leadfield, or the unfinished Scotty's Castle.

One morning, we had breakfast at Beatty's Burro Inn, over the Nevada line, and decided to play the slot machines first, before heading over to Rhyolite, where people once sought their fortune another way, by prospecting for gold. We didn't hit the jackpot, but we did discover a gem in Rhyolite.

Walking the abandoned town's main street, passing remnants of Cook Bank and Bullfrog Ice House (named after the big gold mine in the area), we came upon an intact but odd-looking house made of bottles. Tom Kelley built the Bottle House in 1906, using 50,000 beer and liquor bottles that had been emptied by his fellow miners during the wild and drunken start of Rhyolite's boom years. The gold ran out by 1911, and the town, once home to 8,000, soon bit the dust.

Even more fleeting was Leadfield in Titus Canyon, founded in the 1920s by a huckster who sold shares to a phony lead mine in the area and spread rumors that Wrigley, ``the chewing gum king,'' was building a hotel there.

The biggest folly of them all was Scotty's Castle, built by a con man and gold digger who convinced a Chicago financier to pay for the $1.5-million provincial Spanish-style castle in the desert. The nicely preserved and richly furnished mansion, in Grapevine Canyon in the northern part of the monument, is open to visitors.

But the natural wonders of Death Valley, the elements of oasis and mirage, are what most capture the imagination and never let go.

One of the most enigmatic sites is in the remote northwestern corner of the monument -- the sliding rocks, found in the area known as The Racetrack.

Most people see only the tracks left by the rocks in the vast dried mud flats and not the sliding, because the movement occurs only when conditions are just right -- cold enough to create a thin layer of slippery ice on the flats, windy enough to blow the rocks around and wet enough to create impressions in the mud.

The Racetrack, accessible only by a 20-mile graded dirt road, got its name from a legend that Native Americans watched horse races on the sand flats while perched on the Grandstand, an odd set of rocky spires rising in the middle of the flats. According to one geological theory, the spires were once the top of a mountain, until silt filled in around it and made a dry lakebed.

Four-wheel drive is recommended to get to The Racetrack, although that did not prevent us from getting a flat tire and ruined rim on our trip out there. We had planned to camp in the area, anyway, and were luckily able to change the tire the next morning.

Another place where nothing is as it seems is Badwater, where a sign marks sea level at more than 200 feet above the parking area. Many visitors think that is the lowest point in North America.

In fact, surveys have shown that the lowest point, 282 feet below sea level, is truly in an unmarked spot a half mile away, in the middle of an expansive salt flat. You can hike west southwest from the intersection of Natural Bridge Road and Badwater Highway, to get to the true low point, but bring water and wear appropriate shoes. The salt flat can be either crunchy or soggy underfoot, depending on the water table.

Aside from having the lowest point in North America, Death Valley has also been claimed to be the hottest place on earth, and to include a view of the highest spot in the United States.

However, a 134-degree temperature recorded in Death Valley's fittingly named Furnace Creek was bested by a 136-degree temperature reached in the Sahara in 1922. And as to some tourism entrepreneurs' claim that Death Valley contains a view of both the lowest and highest points in the United States, they conveniently gave nearby Mount Whitney the title of being the highest, when there are much higher peaks in Alaska.

What cannot be disputed, however, is Death Valley's beauty.

Sunrise and sunset paint the badlands of Zabriskie Point with rich gold, orange and pink, inviting visitors to take photographs or to hike into the unmarked hills.

The colors of the dunes in the north-central part of the monument also shift with the sunlight, luring shutterbugs and hikers there as well. This is the one part of Death Valley that seems to fit the stereotype of monotonous Sahara-like sand, but the story behind the dunes is anything but boring. Formed by wind-whipped sand grains that blow up the valley and bounce off the Tucki mountains behind, the dunes always return to their natural shape, no matter how many visitors walk up and down.

There are many more sites for the discovering -- the Salt Creek Nature Trail where the ancient pupfish spawn in spring, and where we had to wade through a salt marsh to get back onto the back-country portion of the trail; Ubehebe Crater, a huge pit formed by volcanic activity; Hole-in-the-Wall Canyon, where the most true-to-life echoes can be heard; dramatic viewpoints like Dante's View and Aguereberry Point; and the Borax and Death Valley museums. Some places can be reached by paved road, while others require high-clearance four-wheel drive to navigate.

The best time to visit the Death Valley lowlands is in fall, winter and spring. In summer, the mountain trails are the best bet, although much of the lower elevation is still manageable with good air conditioning in the car and plenty of water. Lodging is available in the monument through Furnace Creek Inn and Ranch and Stovepipe Wells Village. Some campgrounds are open all year, while others are open either from October to April, or April to October. For more information, write to the park superintendent at Death Valley, CA 92328.

But no matter when you visit, and what you choose to see there, Death Valley is sure to cast its spell, as it already has on us.