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March 25, 2009 Regional Cultural Decadence
The Sheboygan Bratwurst - being Prepared in the only Conceivable Manner OK, I just completed four weeks of relatively Whole Foods organic healthy California eating. I love it. Yet there are times when I am pulled back to my cultural past and have no choice but to break the rules and have a double brat. After all, in looking at the label, the saturated fat of just one of these juicy guys is now only 38% (it used to be 50). Besides, if grilled properly on a charcoal grill, some of that fat feeds the fire (and adds to the favor). The proper grilling technique is simply described here: Sheboygan Purist Grilled Bratwurst. Of course in Sheboygan, it is properly call a "Brat Fry." Johnsonville Brats sell all over the country (not considered totally authentic, but OK). But I bet 95% of those who buy them don't have a clue on how to prepare them (I'm thinking boiled in sauerkraut, or some other gawd-awful manner). Even if they are smart enough to grill them outdoors (on real charcoal, not propane), they likely put them on a hotdog bun (so gross).
Close, but no cigar - missing: beer-simmered onions and a fresh City Bakery Sheboygan Hard Roll Even I took a shortcut as I didn't have beer in the house, as after grilling, the brats are to be simmered in beer & onions, and the flavorful onions placed on the roll with nothing more than ketchup, mustard, pickles and, if you are from Sheboygan, butter (which I shy away from even when visiting). No matter, as the absolutely essential element of the perfect double brat is missing unless you live in Sheboygan: The Sheboygan Hard Roll. Without it, it just ain't a brat. I had to compromise using a whole wheat Kaiser Roll, as I live nowhere near Sheboygan, and real Hard Rolls are optimum only for a day (like good Italian bread). Well, my cravings are long since past, and next week I head back to the healthy confines of Southern California where everyone has a hard body (and no brat butts to be seen). I'll return to grilled seafood and organic fruits & veggies, and expect I'll have all that saturated fat worked out in no time - provided it didn't stick to my arteries! Oh, I'm still planning to add the some noticeably absent text to Death Valley and Ports O Call photos below - before the end of the month anyway. Soon I can take my blogging (and photography) a bit more seriously. Right now I'm still weeks behind in my work - you know - the stuff I do that pays the bills. March 22, 2009 LAX to IAD - Again!
My four week stay in Los Angeles flew by with a hectic schedule but with thankful weekends free to recover. I took my standard Virgin America 1st Class flight home, and had an engaging four-hour discussion with a likeable, well-traveled college student returning to College Park, MD after spring break. His biggest concern after graduation this Spring: finding a job! He's not alone. My LA supplier had a 10% labor reduction on Friday and, given their work statement, they should be hiring, not firing. The horrific scope of this recession means little until it hits those you know and meet at random. I have one glorious week at home, and then repeat my four weeks in LA, perhaps for the last time. I may finally be able to use the million plus air miles and hotel points this summer, thinking maybe a return trip to Korea and a few weeks in Spain before it gets too hot. We'll see. Meanwhile I do want to revisit my Death Valley experience and hope to update that tonight. March 8, 2009 Death Valley Zabriskie Point - Day 3
The quintessential Death Valley landmark with a twist - that kid can jump! Holy Crap - no time to update the Blog and so much to say. Thank god I don't Tweet on Twitter. Dialog is coming soon. March 7, 2009 Death Valley Artist Drive - Day 2
The Artist's Palette - I hiked into that canyon as far as I dared - awesome! As said earlier, I awoke before the 4:00 AM alarm, with only the slightest of hangovers, and hopped immediately into the shower without shaving. It was invigorating to say the least, as the water fluctuated between icy cold and scalding hot - something you'd expect in a one star Manhattan hotel. No matter as this was Furnace Creek and the hotel was built in 1927. The soap and shampoo were four-star anyway. I prepared some in-room coffee, grabbed a few liters of water and headed down to the Pathfinder well before sunrise. I charged the batteries for the D300 and D90 the night before and had backups for both and spare memory cards to boot. I had even cleaned the sensors and UV filters in advance. My trusty park newsletter and map (reviewed the night before) told me that a sharp lest turn fifty feet west of the Inn on Hwy 190 would take me to the heart of death Valley, and to Artist's Drive. After an eight mile drive I was there. One problem - the sun had not yet risen, but I took the ten mile one-way drive in the predawn light in awe of the possibilities. Then it hit me - Artist Drive was not a sunrise location, as it was on the east side of Death Valley and the Black Mountains would obscure the direct sunlight for hours. No matter, as when I got through the pre-dawn loop of Artist Drive I took a gravel road (comically called Westside Highway) deep into the valley heading for the sunrise on the Panamint Mountains. When the road veer to the south, I took the more challenging Trail Canyon Road west to the mountains. Now I figured out why I opted for the 4WD Pathfinder that was freshly washed as I just pulled into the Executive lot at LAX National Car Rental (I had grabbed a Ford Escape and re-parked it in favor of the Pathfinder that was just driven in). The road was rocky and getting rockier by the foot. The campground, seemingly the on the end of the road, still seemed miles away and not a spot worth the time unless I were to actually camp there. Finally I stopped, took a pee, snapped a few photos of the expansive desert valley and Telescope Peak and headed back to the asphalt of Badwater Road with the intend to revisit Artist Drive now that the sun was hitting some of the unique features of that famed spot. It felt good to get back on a real road. Four-wheeling is not my thing! This time Artist Drive was alive with color. I stopped numerous times just to get out and take in the awe. I photographed Artist Palette from a high vantage point, and then took the dead-end road to glimpse at the tourist view. I headed immediately down to the stony canyon and then directly up the most direct canyon to the pastel-colored mud (to call these rocks is misleading as it is a mix of mud and shale). I ventured up one canyon as far as I dared being alone and found the trip down to be far more challenging to my poor knees. My biggest fear was sliding uncontrollably down this weird mix of stone and mud. Oddly the areas of pure mud were more predictable to handle, as my feet sank in for added traction. So up and down, two, three, four and maybe five canyons, with so many more unexplored - and I forgot my water. After about two hours I headed back to the truck and moved on down Artist Drive, making perhaps four or five more stops before returning to Badwater Road.
The day had just begun. More
coming . . .
Artist's Drive with the salt encrusted Death Valley below and snow-capped Telescope Peak on the left March 6, 2009 Death Valley - Day 1
My first stop inside Death Valley I encounter a curious Raven - a sign of things to come? I left Manhattan Beach mid-morning on a Friday, later than I had planned as I failed to shut of my computer and got sucked into a 10 AM WebEx. Finally, lightly packed and on the road at precisely 10:30, I left my nüvi guide me north on the 405, thinking it would instruct me to take the 10 through downtown LA and out to San Bernardino, and finally I-15 through the mountains - the same route one would take to Las Vegas. To my surprise my little GPS instructed me to pass I-10 and takes me north to I-5 and finally northeast on Hwy 14 to the high desert, though Palmdale and ultimately to Mojave. I stop to fill-up the Pathfinder noting that gas in the desert in over three dollars a gallon. I also picked up a twelve inch turkey-on-whole-wheat subway, eating half of it, saving the rest for later - in the event I didn't arrive at the Furnace Creek Inn as planned for dinner. Of course I already packed plenty of water and a big bag of trail mix, all of which I'd fully consume before my visit to the low desert was over. The last time I was in Mojave was about 1983, interviewing for a job with Burt Ruttan. He paid crap and I didn't get the job. The city has changed little since then, mostly a switching yard for carrying boron and other minerals mined in from the area out to wherever they go. Perhaps it will look less impoverished when good old Burt actually starts flying people into space! After leaving Mojave, Hwy 14 becomes a two-lane road, and one begins feeling the isolation of the desert. I stop at a scenic wayside and get out to take a few photos noticing it is damn cold relative to the sunny warmth of LA I left a few hours ago. This is, indeed, the high desert. Since I am now at the mercy of my nüvi and now in the middle of nowhere, I do a reality check from my new purchased California road map. Ah, this route does make sense as Hwy 14 will lead me to Hwy 395 to Olancha, finally turning east on Hwy 190 which takes me into the heart of Death Valley. But my nüvi surprises me again, taking me off Hwy 14 prematurely on a local road through Cantil, Saltdale and Garklock. This road runs through Fremont valley parallel to the El Paso Mountains to the North and the Rand Mountains far across the valley to the South - and it was desolate. After ten or so miles I did hit Hwy 395 again, but wondered the wisdom of the nüvi as it appeared that staying on Hwy 14 would have been a much shorter route. Ah, but I was wrong again, as after less than a mile on Hwy 395, I was politely instructed to turn east on an even more remote local road. It take me through Searless, bypassing Ridgecrest, the largest city outside of the park. Ridgecrest is at the bottom (south) of the famed China Lake Navel Weapons Center, and I have some latent regrets of not actually seeing that city. Anyway, I rejoin Hwy 176 and head north through Westend, Argus, Trona and Pioneer Point. Now the Argus Range is to the West and Searless Dry Lake to the East. These burgs are, for the most part, forgotten mining towns, with only Trona having enough character to be recognizable as a town (with a local cop checking for speeders).
The mighty Panamint Range is to the to the East with Death Valley directly on the other side. A snowcapped Telescope Peak (11,049 ft) is the dominate feature for miles through the valley.
As I crossed into Death Valley Park I approached a
fork in the road, and I made the wrong choice. I should have
continued on through to Wildrose on the local road, crossing the
Panamint Range on a more scenic route. Instead I chose to head
further north along the valley, intersecting Hwy 190 a few mile East
of Panamint Springs. Darn, as that is the entry city to the
park, but the sun was getting lower in the sky and I had perhaps
another 70 mile to So I crossed the range in a manner millions have done if they enter the park form the east - over Towne Pass at an elevation of 4956 feet, almost a mile above Death Valley. Suddenly is was like leaving the planet. The Panamint Valley was now off in the distance and it seemed to stretch into infinity. The Panamint Range became a hue of multi-color pastels, and the air become clear and cool. Finally after five hours on the rode I was descending into Death Valley. The views were breathtaking, but alas the natural haze made capturing much of it on the camera pointless. It was all too big to capture anyway; it was simply to be enjoyed for the moment. As I enter the valley my ears were plugged as if landing in an airplane. After few miles of driving in the valley itself with the view of the road ahead seemingly endless, I pass through the first sign of human presence - the gateway to the real desert, two brick structures mostly vacant except for restrooms and a payphone. No water here. A large group of youthful campers off to the north, me thinking I'm glad I have a reserved room fifty miles down the road. I grab an official park newsletter with map and continue my journey. However, a hundreds yards past the gateway I see what I think are two ravens by the roadside. I stop and get out with my D90. One is a bit shy (perhaps the female) is flies off a safe distance. The other, perhaps expecting a handout, allows me to approach within five feet. I get my photos, but the poor birds get nothing to eat. I should have grabbed a handful of my Trail Mix. Oh well, more tourist will likely make the stop later. These are smart birds. I drive on to Stovepipe Wells, one of a handful of small towns within the park that has food, gas and lodging. Turns out its bigger than Furnace Creek but I'm glad no rooms were available and the town was tacky and lacked any charm. I did pickup my $20 vehicle pass for a weekly stay in the park and drove on.
These incredible sand dunes were off a bit too far to hike, given the sun was setting and I had yet to find my hotel I continued on about two miles where the Death Valley Sand Dunes are clearly visible from the highway. Of course they are too far to photograph, so I hike maybe a quarter mile to get, at least, a few good shots. Haze again makes getting a perfect shot (at least of the mountains in the distance), and I debate if I should venture further in waiting for the sun to set and capture these awesome dunes during what landscape photographers call the "golden hour." I opted not to as I wished to see the remainder of the trip to Furnace Creek during daylight hours. It proved to be a good choice. From the dunes to my luxury hotel I encountered a full range geographical and botanical oddities unique to Death Valley. However, as the sun was closing to setting, I did but a few quick stops.
Furnace Creek Inn with the Black Mountains and a glimpse of Death Valley It took about another thirty minute drive to finally reach Furnace Creek (the actual name of the small town is Death Valley but everyone refers to it as Furnace Creek). The community consists fully of the Furnace Creek Ranch, a trailer camping ground across the highway and the oasis pictured above, the Furnace Creek Inn. Of course there's a golf course at the ranch. It's all run by Xanterra Parks & Resorts and has been for years. All the residents live on the ranch in private trailers. I originally tried to book a room in the Furnace Creek Ranch at a comfortable (and billable) $90 a night. But there were no rooms to be had at that rate either at the Ranch or in Stovepipe Wells. How wonderful is that? At $370 a night, the Jewel of Death Valley is not for those on a travel budget, but what luck not to have any other rooms available. I arrived at the Inn, but opted not to use the valet parking, stopping in the parking lot off the highway and venturing through a tunnel to take an elevator up to the third floor lobby. It's a pretty cool way to enter - kind of eerie for some unknown reason. At the lobby I was greeted by a friendly white-haired gentleman, who promptly gave me the passkey to my pool and desert view room (lucky I was told to get it on a weekend) and ask if I would like dinner reservations. Of course, I was starving, as the other half of the Subway was long since devoured. I ask for 7:00 PM (giving me time to shower and change) but nothing was available until 7:45 PM. Fine. I headed to my room, dropped off my cameras and computers and returned to the truck to get my freshly pressed shirts and pants and carry-on. By 6:15 PM I changed to Nike running shorts (to double as a swimsuit if I dared going in the pool), a sharp new polo shirt and my worn-only-once Keen beach sandals. The pool area was about deserted and I promptly ordered a large margarita on the rocks made from a mellow Tequila Extra Añejo, who's exact name I don't recall. As I was famished from the drive and moderate hiking, I ordered a serving of Ahi tuna sashimi and some sort of stuffed wild mushrooms. Both were excellent and the margarita kicked in comfortably. It was mildly warm and a slight breeze stirred though the date palms as the sun finally set over the Panamint Mountains. By the time I had finished my delightful snack and ordered a second margarita, I had the entire pool area to myself. There was a group of six in the Jacuzzi way off to the side of the pool, but they were preoccupied in a robust discussion. So, I slipped off the shirt and sandals and slid into the pool. Given I have yet to reclaim my 30 inch waistline, this is something I rarely do in public! All I needed was a few gentle laps and one could say that I achieved a full state of utter relaxation. The Inn is indeed the Jewel of Death Valley. This level of comfort would have been impossible at the ranch, with, no doubt, a hoards of screaming kids. I'm loving this place and I have yet even to eat or sleep!
The waiter was naturally polite and quite knowledge of both the menu and wine list (and I told him so). I mentioned that I had my appetizers pool side and now just wanted something light.
He immediately suggested the Inn House
Salad and the special of the night, which was Cioppino.
I ordered both on the spot with a reasonably priced Pinot Giorgio.
The cost of the room came out of my pocket, but meals were still
billable!
The crowd was mostly white middle-aged couples, most, but not all, noticeably affluent. There where some Hollywood types and a fair number of gay couples, which seemed odd for Death Valley - but this was, after all, the Jewel of Death Valley. With the wine came a remarkable variety of warm breads and seasoned butters; so remarkable that I had to try a bit of each combination. The house salad a visually pleasing, organic and came with a crispy breadstick with a garlic and cheese favor. Oh well, I guess it was not going to be a low carb night. The Cioppino was a hardy blend of all the expected fruit-of-the sea, simmered in a near perfect sauce, served over a mound of fresh bread - definitely not a low carb night. By this time I had forgotten that I even worked for a living, which was fairly remarkable as I had been putting in some 16 hour days. But I was well aware that I had two full days ahead of me to explore Death Valley. I actually looked at the desert menu but thankfully passed, left the waiter a darn good tip and floated back to my room.
The desert now was dark as the moon had set over the mountains hours before. Only Furnace Creek Ranch was visible about a mile down the run and maybe a hundred feet lower. Thank goodness there were no $90 rooms available or I'd be Motel Sixing it at the Ranch. I got back to my modest room (well appointed but small) and set the alarm for 4:00 AM. I wanted to see Artist Drive at sunrise. As I laid in bed, it occurred to me, as did often throughout the weekend, what was missing. I made a silent promise to myself that I would bring her here someday. After that I slept soundly all night, and awoke before the alarm. A modest room for $370 a night - it's the location and exclusivity that's priceless! March 1, 2009 Ports 0 Calls More on this on weekend adventure and thoughts on Ports O Call coming shortly.
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Now
things get exciting as I take an incredibly winding road hugging the
edge of Augus Range, down, down, down, into the Panamint Valley.
Now I am finally in the low desert, but still above sea level.
I stop to take in the view a number of times and note the
temperature is again a comfortable mid-seventies.
Furnace Creek. 
After
my refreshing dip above the desert, I downed the rest of my
margarita and headed back to my room for a quick change of clothes.
I was seated in a quaint dining room promptly at 7:45 PM. It
was still full of guests bubbling with dialogue. 
