In the lead up to spring break, we had been referring to the trip as an adventure. After the crazy start before we even left (including a black eye for Alva) and the shenanigans on the drive to the first destination, that seemed to be an appropriate description.
Our first leg of the journey was from San Francisco to Death Valley with an overnight in Fresno to break up the trip and allow for a late start on Sunday after Oskar’s soccer game. The first half was uneventful with limited traffic, a Thai dinner in Modesto and a familiar, nondescript Hyatt Place in Fresno. The next morning was a bit more remote and wild.
After just an hour’s drive from Fresno, we found ourselves in what felt like the middle of nowhere California. There were stretches of rolling roads with no one on them and no cars to be seen in either direction. So of course Martin took the opportunity to explain physics, objects in motion or who knows what else by shifting the car into neutral and seeing how far we could coast until we stopped moving. We made it almost up the next big hill before we sighted another car in the rearview mirror and figured we should actually start driving again.
A little further on, at an intersection of two roads leading to nowhere, we were greeted by a lone black cat who strolled to the middle of the road and refused to move. Still no cars or people, just that one black cat. Thankfully Martin was able to slow down enough before we got too close, but it cast an ominous cloud over the next few miles.
When we finally passed the Death Valley sign, and declared we were in the park, Alva responded casually: “How is this a park?!”
And I can’t lie, part of me started to wonder, after two trips to a desert already in the books this year alone, and my general lack of enthusiasm for deserts, why I was so adamant that we check out Death Valley, another very hot desert. We had two nights to make the most of it.
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