In narrows of Dry Bone Canyon I see spine and haunch bones, so perfectly preserved and white, below 30-60 foot unassailable pour offs–how did this animal get down here and why? but whaddayaknow, there are fresh hoof prints from bighorn sheep and burros headed straight for them. So are we, but we have a book about hiking in Death Valley to tell us how to go around them.
Was it the close encounter with a bighorn sheep in a narrow canyon that cemented my love for this park? Or realizing the immensity of barren landscape of rock, sand and creosote, the hardest terrain I’ve ever traveled on foot, when I gave up on a cross-country climb to Panamint Pass, turned around, saw an orange pink sunset, and got scared by the things that come out at night under a million stars in this great big magnificent glitch.