The Racetrack

In a Christmas letter we received last year, one of my old friends mentioned that something she'd done that year had been a "bucket list" item for her. And I thought, bucket list? When I was younger I had a long mental list of big things I wanted to do, and I did a lot of them, too. But right now I'm mainly living day to day. Oh sure, I've got some vague plans and dreams. For instance, when the boys are a little older (i.e., old enough to know what a state is), I'd like us to visit a few different states each summer, so they gradually get to know the country. Also, I'd like to have a novel or other book published someday, but even that is all wrapped up in just wanting to do lots of writing, make it better and better -- if I do publish something someday, I won't consider that item checked off, but rather only just begun.

But once in a while I remember that there are a few very specific things I really want to do.

We've been wanting to go to Death Valley for several weeks now, but it keeps getting put off. Finally we decided that yesterday was do or die, because very soon it's going to be too hot for us to go there again until next November. "Is there any place special you want to go?" Rocket Boy asked me, because Death Valley is a Really Big Place and you kind of have to decide what you want to do there.

"I want to go to the Racetrack," I said. Ding! Bucket list item.

The Racetrack is a dry lakebed in the northern section of Death Valley, and it's home to an interesting phenomenon -- rocks that move around the lakebed seemingly by themselves. When you read articles about Death Valley, the Racetrack is always mentioned, and it sounds so intriguing. I've always wanted to go. But what we learned when we moved here and started visiting Death Valley is that it's almost impossible to get to the Racetrack and the rangers don't really want you to try. Each time we've asked a ranger at Stovepipe Wells or Furnace Creek about going to the Racetrack, they've always told us we have the wrong type of car, the wrong type of wheels, the road is in worse shape than usual, try again some other time....

This time we were going. We just absolutely were. Nothing was going to stop us. We packed a picnic lunch, lots of water, extra clothes for the twins, sunscreen, money, everything we could think of. We even left the house really early (for us) -- we were out the door by 9 am.

Of course then we had to stop for gas, and put some air in the tires, and get Starbursts for the road, and that took half an hour. Then we drove to Stovepipe Wells, which is 100 miles. There we stopped and talked to the ranger. "We were thinking about going to the Racetrack," I said casually.

"Oh, you don't want to go in that car," the ranger told me immediately.

"It has really heavy duty tires," I pointed out. We had brought Rocket Boy's Ford Escape, which has huge thick tires.

The ranger took the time to actually look out the window at the car. "It does have high clearance," he admitted. "But you know, punctures are really a problem out there. The rocks on that road are chert, which is volcanic and very sharp."

"I'll talk to my husband about it," I told him, and we were off to the Racetrack.

First we had to drive the road to Scotty's Castle, which takes forever (about 45 miles), except that you turn off just before it and go to Ubehebe Crater instead. We got to the crater parking lot around 12:30 and decided to have lunch. I hadn't seen Ubehebe Crater before either and it's really something. Here are Rocket Boy and Baby B looking down into it.

 

We hiked around there a bit and then ate our nice picnic lunch. No picnic tables, but there's a ledge to sit on, which was an acceptable substitute. You can see our new picnic "basket" in the picture -- Rocket Boy got it from Blue Cross as a thank-you for attending one of their lunchtime wellness talks at the base.

So now it was 1:30 pm, time to drive to the Racetrack, which is 27 miles from Ubehebe Crater. Since we knew it was a bad road, we figured it would take us about an hour. Ha ha ha.

First you drive 20 miles to Teakettle Junction,

then 7 more miles to the Racetrack.On the Worst Road Ever. It took us just under 2 hours, which meant that we arrived at 3:30 -- yes, that's right, six and a half hours after leaving home. We did not get a flat tire, but we worried about it a lot. Each time we stopped, we checked all the tires, and we agreed that if we got a flat, after changing the tire we would turn around and drive straight back, no matter how far we'd gotten. It's not like there's anyone around to help you out if you get stuck. But we didn't get a flat. And we made it to the Racetrack.

Was it worth it? Yes and no. It's quite a sight, though not exactly what I was expecting. I did find a rock with a visible trail behind it (showing that it had mysteriously moved).

 

But what we also found was evidence that people have been doing what all the literature says you must NEVER do -- drive on the playa. That seemed sad. Maybe that's why the rangers try to keep people from visiting it.

The boys had fun climbing on the weird mass of rocks in the middle of the Racetrack, called the Grandstand. And Baby A and I walked way way out in the middle of the Racetrack, looking for rocks. And now I can say I was there.

And I suspect I will never go again. Because then we had to drive back. We only spent about 45 minutes at the Racetrack, leaving a little after 4 pm. We drove the bad road a little faster going out, but it was still slow. We stopped at Stovepipe Wells for a quick dinner, and then drove on toward home -- with just one little detour to Panamint Springs to buy fabulously expensive gas (almost $5.50/gallon) when we realized we didn't have enough to get to Ridgecrest (there's no gas in Trona right now). Got back to the house around 10:15 pm, the latest we've gotten home in just ages. It was an insane trip. But hey, I finally saw the Racetrack!

April Update

Where has the month gone? I just checked this blog and realized I'd only posted once in April. It's not as though we didn't do anything this month... gosh, there was Easter, and the Wildflower Festival, and we went to Los Angeles... I don't know! I can't explain it. Guess I just haven't felt like writing. Well anyway, here's a quick recap of this month before we move on to the next one.

The day before Easter we took a trip to the Desert Tortoise Natural Area, and actually SAW TORTOISES! First time ever (at least without the ranger's help). It was very hard to remember that they are wild and not to be touched! Here's one:

It was so dry and desolate there, though. Just nothing is blooming this year, because we didn't have rain in December/January. We've had several small rains in the last month or two, but it's too late.

 I can't post any Easter photos because this year the boos did what they do quite often these days -- they took their diapers off when they got up (yes they still wear diapers at night) and ran around in their pajama tops and nothing else. I finally got them to put on underpants, but every picture of them with their goodies is pretty much not ready for primetime. So instead I will post a photo from the park in Lone Pine, where we went Easter afternoon:

That really is a cool park -- wish we had something like that here. Of course, part of its appeal is that Lone Pine is in fact cool -- completely different climate from Ridgecrest.

So the next weekend was the Wildflower Festival, which was a bit lackluster, seeing as how there were no flowers. I did sit at booths for both the tortoise club and my writers club, and on Sunday we went to Short Canyon, where we were told there were flowers. Gosh, not many. One or two of each variety, in many cases. But it was something. Here's a photo of a coreopsis (I think):

I don't have a single photo of the boos from that trip, because they were soooo naughty that I didn't feel like recording their behavior. But here's one from around the same time. They're sitting on the back of the loveseat in their room, so you can see the view out their window. My cute, though impossible, boys:

The next weekend we went to Los Angeles for a birthday party for two of their cousins (actually first cousins once removed, but who's counting). Lots of fun. Here's a photo of the party, showing the racetrack cake and the tower of cupcakes:

And that pretty much sums up the month. We've had some very hot weather, learned that the air conditioner in the new house does work, so that's good, though we wish the swamp cooler did too. Boos have been playing with their water table, as they always do when it's hot. And tomorrow, if all goes well, we are planning to visit Death Valley -- because once it gets hot here, it's impossible there, and we feel that we haven't been there enough this year. Supposed to be 88 here tomorrow, 98 in Death Valley. We'll see. I'll blog about it if we do go, I promise. And I'll try to do better about posting in May...

Pie Bear lost and found

Last Saturday morning (NOT April Fool's Day, I should note, but the day before), the twins woke us up at some ungodly hour (OK, it might have been 7:30), and eventually we got up and everyone got dressed and had breakfast, and around about 8:30 am Rocket Boy said, "where's Pie?"

Pie Bear, you'll remember, is our big fat black cat, currently our only companion animal. He normally spends the last part of the night on our bed and wakes us up before the twins do, wanting his breakfast (so as to get even fatter). But that morning there was no sign of him.

Immediately RB and I were panic stricken. Pie Bear has a cat door to the garage and a hole in the garage wall leading to the front yard. He wanders in and out during the night, interacting with other cats and who knows what else. Anything could have happened to him. A car could have run him over. A coyote could have eaten him (though it would have to be a pretty ambitious coyote).

We looked under the bed and in the closet and on all the various chairs and sofas where he likes to sleep. No Pie Bear.

I put on my shoes and went out to see if his enormous black body was lying dead in the street. The twins went with me as we walked up and down the street. No Pie Bear, though we did find a garage sale.

When we got home again, Rocket Boy was in the backyard, where there is a locked gate leading to a sort of alley. He had taken the gate's hinges off and was exploring the alley. But no Pie Bear.

Rocket Boy was ready to take action. "I'm going to talk to the neighbors," he said.

"Wait," I said. "Let me make a flyer."

"OK, you do that, and I'll call the animal shelter." I hastily put together a Lost Cat flyer, while Rocket Boy phoned. However, it was only a little after 9 am and the shelter didn't open until 10. So, taking some flyers, he went out to tape them to things and talk to people.

"Be sure to ask the people having the garage sale," I told him.

"Why didn't you ask them?"

"I was shy."

Shaking his head, he grabbed his wallet and went out.

A while later he came back to drop off the items he'd purchased at the garage sale, to get more flyers, and to report on his progress. He'd met several neighbors to the east of us and given them copies of the flyer. No one had seen Pie Bear recently, in fact no one had EVER seen Pie Bear, but they promised to watch for him.

"Why don't you call the shelter again," I suggested. It was just after 10 am. So he called them and explained our plight. "Yes, a male cat, black with just one tiny white spot under his chin, about 20 pounds." The person at the shelter said they'd keep an eye out for him.

Rocket Boy went out to post more flyers and meet the neighbors to the west of us.

Finally he returned, having met and told at least eight of our neighbors. "I don't know what else I can do," he said in despair. "We shouldn't have moved to Ridgecrest. First Whiskers dies and now Pie. It's just not worth it!"

Just then, Pie Bear emerged from the guest room, yawning and stretching.

Screams, swearing. With great effort I picked Pie up and hugged him.

I took down the flyers and called the shelter, but I made Rocket Boy tell all the neighbors. At least now everyone knows us, though their opinion of us may not be very high.

On Monday, as it happened, Pie Bear had his yearly vet appointment. He now weighs 22 pounds.