A British Man Vomits, I Stand the Lowest Point in North America, and a Bustling Ghost Town: Part 2

(A Trip to Death Valley National Park, continued)

Note: sorry for the extended suspense, applying for jobs takes priority right now....

Anyways, where were we? So, after a lousy, noisy night's sleep, Hiking Buddy and I mark our new campsite and head off to Badwater, the lowest point in North America.  And also a pretty popular spot!

Look how much snow there is! 

Just kidding, that's salt. The ground at Badwater is covered in salts that have leached up from the ground.  There's a small pool of water there, undoubtedly very salty and not good to drink...hence the name.  After walking around a bit, standing around to experience being 282 feet below sea level, taking our picture with the sign to prove we've been here, and dodging other visitors left and right, we get back in the car and head over to the Devil's Golf Course. Despite being just off the main road, there are far fewer people here. They were missing out on this:

Again, like at Badwater, that's salty dirt! When it rains (which is rare here), the salts leach out of the ground and crystallize into strange formations.

Things were feeling pretty surreal between the lack of sleep, the glaring sun, and the crazy alien-like geology we were encountering. So back to the campsite it was, for a gourmet campfire cooked lunch of portobello mushroom sandwiches!!! (Who says camping has to be "primitive" or "roughing it"?) Quite an exquisite camping meal, and really easy to make!  After lunch, we hang out a bit and then go for a short hike in yet more crazy mixed-up geologic fantasies (or nightmares, depending on your experience in Geology 101).

Our second evening in the RV/tent parking lot was much less eventful. Once the sun had set, we went huntin'. Scorpion huntin'! Scorpions glow neon green under UV light, so Hiking Buddy had acquired a UV flashlight for the purpose of tracking some down. We searched the desert pavement for quite some time, but no luck.  I've yet to see a scorpion out here in the desert, neon green or not... maybe that's a good thing! 

The next day we packed up camp again and hit the road to Vegas.  On the way back we stopped at Rhyolite, a pretty well-known ghost town.  Rhyolite was born when gold mines were established nearby. At one point in history it boasted a population of over 10,000; electric lighting, a school, and a three-story bank, among other things. Now it is mostly in varying degrees of ruin. One really fascinating spot is the Bottle House, built in 1906 using 50,000 bottles.

The desert sure is full of surprises! Rhyolite was quite busy with groups of motorcycle riders and families in transit.  We wandered around for a bit (there's not much to stop you from walking all over the place, short of going inside buildings) then stopped at a picnic table for lunch before the long drive back home.

What an adventure!