Weeks 19&20: We Are Desert People

Hi friend!

This week we’re exploring the deserts of Southern California. After the two weeks we spent adventuring, I may or may not have spent a lot of my time taking pictures. As a result, Future Editor Kes was left with a mountain of raw images that needed to be adjusted. Thankfully, I have quite the talented writer on speed dial, so I asked Sam to help me out with this update. He wrote while I tried my best to make a dent in that mountain of photos.

In the end, I think we made a fantastic post and I can’t wait for you to see what we’ve been up to.

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Slab City & The Salton Sea,

California

written by Sam

Slab City is one of the strangest places I’ve been to.

Affectionately known as “The Last Free Place in America”, this settlement sits on the edge of the Salton Sea deep in the Mojave Desert. This was one of those places that I put on my travel list long ago, never expecting to actually visit. As I did more research on the Sea and Slab City, learning about their very quirky histories, I realized there was no way we could miss these stops on the trip.

Slab City gets its name from the many concrete slabs that once were the foundation of a military base around World War II. Over time the buildings were dismantled and eventually the land exchanged hands into ownership by the State of California.

Since then a community of essentially squatters have set up camp in the area and many now consider it their permanent home. However, I think the word ‘squatter’ doesn’t quite capture the essence of these people. When I think of squatters, I think of people that have no respect and no right to be where they are. Slabbies, as they call themselves, seem to be almost the opposite of this. These are people who are pretty much at the end of their rope. They have nowhere else to go, and as a result they put a lot of effort into making an inhospitable area hospitable.

This painted entrance station is just one example of how Slab City has redefined its past.

Now for our personal experience at Slab City.

I can confidently say that we both were outside of our comfort zone coming into the area. The Last Free Place in America has a lot of weight associated with it. After all, that could mean people are as free to break into our car as they are to do anything else, right?

As we drove closer to the city, the paved road slowly became rougher and rougher before morphing into one of the roughest dirt roads I’ve driven - and that’s saying something. Our first stop, Salvation Mountain, was outside of Slab City itself and, for probably the first time in my life, I was glad to see other tourists visiting the area.

The sheer size of Salvation Mountain is a triumph in and of itself.

It was really exciting to finally be visiting this place in person after seeing so many pictures and videos of it online. We walked around the area for about 30 minutes taking in not only the painted mountain itself, but also all of the painted cars, signs, and empty cans of paint lying around the perimeter. The amount of effort put into this project is remarkable, and knowing it was done almost entirely by one man is truly awe inspiring.

Underneath all that paint is a mosh posh of adobe, hay, tires, and whatever other trash Leonard Knight could find lying around.

There were huge piles of these paint cans just scattered about. I wonder just how many gallons of paint are actually on Salvation Mountain.

Leaving Salvation Mountain, I was starting to feel a bit more comfortable with Slab City. However, that feeling didn’t last long as we approached the front gate of Slab City and saw three people hanging out and stopping cars as they entered. I thought that my worst fears were coming to fruition and that, at best, we were going to be charged to get in or, at worst, we were about to have the Jeep stolen right from under us.

As we got closer we soon realized these three people were actually three children. I rolled down my window like they motioned and was pleasantly surprised when I realized that they were just trying to sell some candy. “Do you want to buy a piece of candy for 25 cents?” It took me a second to understand that something bad, in fact, was not happening to me before I responded, “Sure! But I only have a couple quarters here.. I’m sorry I don’t have more.” The kid’s response is something that has stuck with me ever since. With an attitude that was way more mature than I expected, he simply said “Money is money, man. Have a great day!”

So, with a couple unexpected tootsie rolls in tow, we finally made it to Slab City. As anticipated, there were really no permanent buildings to be seen. Mostly the town was made up of campers, trash, and, something I didn’t expect - signs. It seems that not only did every resident in the area have opinions that they wanted you to know about, but also that there was a pretty well designated road system. There were signs pointing towards a library, hostel, skate park, and East Jesus, our destination.

This was just a small section of East Jesus. In the background you can even see a plane that's found a new home in this art installation.

I like this picture because Kes is looking into the eyes of this scary monster not with fear, but with curiosity.

Just another random art piece. What do you think the meaning behind this piece is?

East Jesus is an open air art gallery where you can pretty much do whatever you like. Everything you see is open to being touched, stepped on, photographed, and even licked (according to the caretaker). Again, Kes and I had a good time messing around on the countless contraptions and doohikies, but there was something deeper that struck me about this place.

I'm glad I look as cool from the outside as I felt on the inside of this Galactic Cruiser.

Throughout East Jesus I kept thinking to myself 'Who brought all this stuff to Slab City, and why?'

I'd happily roll with a car that has this much style.

An altar made out of used liquor bottles? Interesting.

Like Salvation Mountain, I was deeply impressed by the tenacity of the people at Slab City. Here we were, in one of the hottest and driest places on Earth, miles away from the nearest gas station or grocery store, and yet it seemed as though the Slabbies were thriving here. These people had turned empty slabs into homes, created art from trash, and formed a community out of a bunch of misfits.

Talking with one of the locals really drove in this idea of community that was pretty much that last thing I expected to find at Slab City. He said that everybody at Slab City was there because they had nowhere else to go. Many had mental illness and dark pasts, but somehow by putting all of these people that would typically be unable to function in ‘normal’ society together, they were able to create a place that worked for them. And in a strange way, I think that’s really beautiful.

This guy popped his head over the fence as we were reading some of his signs. Through our conversation he gave us a little glimpse into what life in Slab City is like.

With the experience of the Slab City behind us, we headed on towards the Salton Sea. Now the Salton Sea, in particular, has a really interesting history that I just can’t pass up sharing. In the early 1900’s an irrigation canal was built, leading from the Colorado River into the Salton Sink which, at the time, was a dry lake bed. It only took a couple of years for silt to build up in the canal and this, combined with a very wet year, caused the canal to fail. The result was the entirety of the Colorado River flowing without resistance into the valley, forming the Salton Sea.

Now this is where it starts to get interesting. Eventually the canals were fixed and the water stopped flowing directly into the basin. With time the sea would have eventually dried up and this little accident would just be another hiccup in history. HOWEVER, farmers in the area continued to drain their excess water into the sea and, instead of drying out, the body of water became a dumping ground for all sorts of (not so) good salts and fertilizers. The harm from this wouldn’t be felt for another 50 years until more efficient farming techniques would finally be implemented and water levels began to lower.

Until then, the Salton Sea became a sort of oasis. Towns around the sea were booming. People came from all around to stay at one of the many resorts and soak up the sun. There were golf courses, yacht clubs, concerts, fishing, and wildlife viewing all to be had at this improbable place. But the good times weren’t to last.

On our way to the town, we passed a bill board for the once bustling Bombay Beach. It looked like something straight out of the 50s.

As the sea started drying up all those chemicals became much more concentrated in the water. Fish started to die off in massive quantities, leading to disease that further killed off much of the resident bird population. The water started to stink and tourism became a thing of the past. Now, as more of the lake bed is exposed, toxic dust clouds regularly hang over the surrounding communities. Many of the once booming towns, such as Bombay Beach, are now ghost towns.

While all this history is not so great for the surrounding economy, it does make for quite the dark tourist destination for travelers such as Kes and I. There’s so much to explore in the area, but with only half the day left we set our sights on visiting the crumbling town of Bombay Beach.

The first thing that struck me about Bombay Beach was that it was not, in fact, entirely abandoned. One of the first buildings we passed on our way in was a hostel and bar with a lit OPEN sign. There were even cars parked outside! We also found a few houses that were obviously occupied, but what these people do out in the middle of nowhere is beyond me.

We made a beeline to the beach where, again, I was surprised to see other tourists. There were a few art installations, including a mock beach bar, empty telephone booth, and swing out in the water. There was no chance I was going out there to use it, though. The beach was made up entirely of fish bones, some more decomposed than others.

I like to think the swing has been there since the 40s or 50s when the water was actually swimmable.

The true gem of Bombay Beach was not the beach. Kes and I stumbled upon what must’ve once been a gated community, but was now just an empty group of buildings slowly crumbling away. Or, at least they looked empty from the outside. Stepping into them, we discovered that each room of each house had been meticulously decorated according to a unique and weird theme.

It looks like this used to be a very desirable place to live. Now, not so much.

My favorite room had to be the one that featured a jacuzzi, except instead of water the tub was lined with shaggy carpet. Soaking in the tub gave you a great view of the kitchen which was painted lime green and had dozens of toilet brushes hanging from the ceiling. Yummy.

No fighting? Easy. No pooping? Not so much.

As per usual I'm the first one to enter these abandoned buildings while Kes stays behind to "take pictures".

Pages like this were all over the place. Some were gibberish while others were quite existential.

Each room in each house was painted differently, and this hall shows the blending of these themes in one space.

These graffitied ice cream cones were really mesmerizing to look at for some reason...

Our last stop in Bombay Beach was the drive-in theater. I wish they were actually playing movies there. Maybe, with enough wishing, someday they will.

What movie would you want to watch here?

As we left the Salton Sea, I couldn’t help but think about how much the area had defied my expectations. From the outside, both Bombay Beach and Slab City were quite intimidating. I mean they both just seemed like areas where life once thrived but now was barely hanging on. Not to mention that I wasn’t even sure I would be safe, much less welcome, at either area.

It didn’t take much exploring to realize that the exact opposite of what I expected was true. People here weren’t living day to day. No, they were breathing a new life into the area. A community of exiles had somehow found a home amongst one another and, though the exterior of Bombay Beach was deteriorating, the inside was vibrant and filled with love. Not only did I feel safe, but I also felt as though the purpose of all the art and friendly people was to show people like me that sometimes all the research in the world still won’t tell you exactly what you want to know. Sometimes you just have to go check it out for yourself.

With that profound thought in mind we set up camp in the dark that night to wake up in what would soon become one of my favorite places yet - Anza Borrego Desert State Park.

I don’t know how I heard of Anza Borrego. I don’t even really remember researching it that much before the gap year. All I know is that in our schedule we had set aside a solid five days for this mysterious place. I think Kes thought I was crazy for vouching for so much time here, but in the end I think we both wish we had even more time to explore the park.

Anza Borrego Desert State Park is basically a desert jeeping paradise. The park is absolutely massive; I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s one of the largest state parks in the country. There are only a couple paved roads running through the park and, aside from those, the rest of the roads are all dirt. Hiking trails are pretty much nonexistent as well, so its up to you to choose your own adventure.

Kes and I did a lot during our days here, but I think one story in particular really captures the essence of our time here. We were heading towards Sandstone Canyon - a popular area that’s basically like a slot canyon for your Jeep. Me being me, I planned a scenic route to the canyon that was a bit out of the way but, I hoped, would be worth the extra effort.

This slot canyon was one of the first hikes we did in the park.

Sandstone Canyon, our final destination.

The first half of the drive was spectacular. We entered a very secluded valley with views to die for. On the map I expected there to be a ‘drop-off’, a steep section of road that could only be taken one way, but naivety led me to believe this section wouldn’t be anything out of the norm for us. Oh, how naïve I was.

Views like this were routine for the area.

Driving next to this wall was really sketchy - it felt like if just one rock moved the entire wall would collapse.

As we drove further the canyon walls began to close in around us until finally we encountered it: the Pinyon Drop Off. What was expected to be just a steep hill turned out to actually be an extremely difficult three obstacle course, each with its own terrifying name. And even scarier yet: once you passed the first obstacle, there was no turning back. It was an all or none endeavor.

The first obstacle, Tight Squeeze, was unfortunately the easiest of the three. This one led you down a narrow section of the wash which was about the width of a Jeep and dropped three or four feet in the same distance. We completed Tight Squeeze with relative ease, and just like that we were lured into the goblet like moths to the flame, not knowing just how intense the next two obstacles would be.

The next obstacle was Window Breaker. This one was like Tight Squeeze, except this time the obstacle stretched about fifty feet in total. This, combined with the fact that we were going up a wash, made the obstacle a much bigger challenge. As I drove past a rock that jutted into the road I looked down and saw a million different shards of glass on the ground and realized Window Breaker was very aptly named.

We completed the first two obstacles in one piece, although I think both of our hearts were just about ready to jump out of our mouths. But the worst was yet to come. Heart Attack Hill was the last and most difficult of them all. The hill was at about a 50 degree angle and had two routes down, neither of which was better than the other. We decided to play it safe and wager some paint off the Jeep to make sure nothing worse happened.

Finally, after half the day had passed, we had completed all of the obstacles and were at the end of the “drop-off”. What was intended to just be a fun way to get to Sandstone Canyon turned out to be something far more intense. Kes and I were elated to be done and I think we both learned a lot about both our own and the Jeep’s capabilities. Suffice to say if the Jeep wasn’t broken in before this trip, it surely was after.

So I guess the moral of the story is that Anza Borrego has many faces. While many of them are tame, there are a few that can really scare the snot out of you. I think an experience like this would have scared off most people for good (Kes was close to this herself), but it just makes me want to come back and do better next time.

I had no idea desert Oases even existed, but at Anza Borrego they were a common sight. This one had a waterfall and pool too, just like you see in the movies.

Finding a dry lake bed was the cherry on top for me.

These badlands were such a cool color. Pink, tan, and even a hint of purple.

Another slot canyon we just stumbled upon.

Anza Borrego really hit home something I’ve been experiencing this entire trip, and that’s the fact that I could spend an entire lifetime exploring any single park, forest, or state. The unfortunate fact is that there is just not enough time to see every little nook and cranny of every place I visit. Maybe someday I will come to terms with this, but for now my hunger for travel has only increased.

Now onto one of Kes and I’s most anticipated parks of the gap year: Death Valley.

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Death Valley

National Park, California

written by Kes the Photobean

If you’ve heard of this park before, you probably asked yourself “What’s the deal with the Death part?” Maybe in the midst of pondering, you remembered that Death Valley can be one of the hottest places on Earth, where summer temperatures can reach up to 134 degrees (F) during the day. I know Death Valley is at the bottom of many people’s must-see-national-parks list for these very reasons, partly because it never ranked very high on my own list.

That was before I visited this magnificent park.

During a winter break road trip in 2019, Sam and I were looking for adventure. I really should start calling him my personal tour guide instead of my partner because he’s really good at taking me to mysteriously beautiful places.

As per usual, I didn’t really have an idea of what to expect from Death Valley. Maybe the dried-out husk of a cow?

Without going into too many details (yet), all I’ll say is this:

My first experience of Death Valley was one of wonder, amazement, creativity, and flat-out gobbsmackery. It was during this very trip that I finally began to understand what goes into capturing the vast landscapes in front of me. Would you believe me if I told you my portfolio was predominantly portraits before then? Although many of those photos wouldn’t make the cut today, I will forever be grateful for this first trip into Death Valley.

Now, in February of 2022, we were destined to return to this magical place. Would the park meet my expectations? Did I romanticize our last trip too much? What if it’s different than I remembered?

Every anxious question would soon be answered. But, first, we had to drive into the park.

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Arctic winds from the north pushed a massive cold front down and across the country. While the rest of the country was being pelted with heavy thunderstorms and blizzards, we were terrorized by gigantic, fluffy clouds.

I don’t think I could have been a happier photographer than at that very moment.

This was our view, just from the drive in. Our first destination was Dante’s View, an overlook we didn’t get the chance to see the first time we visited.

I’m not entirely sure how long it took to get to Dante’s View. Frankly, I was so infatuated with the clouds above that we could have driven for days and I wouldn’t have noticed. All I know is that one second, we were surrounded by snow-capped mountains, then BAM we were on top of one.

It’s safe to say I caught a slight case of the Photobean Jitters. I tried to take way too many panoramas of the valley below, only to annoy Future Editor Kes with a harder job. I couldn't help myself, though. Not only were we staring at the lowest point in North America - the bottom of Badwater Basin is over 200 ft below sea level - but we were witnessing the most beautiful clouds I have ever seen.

If it weren’t for the freezing temperatures literally slowing my pointer finger down, I could have stayed there all day. Alas, I chose instead to allow popsicle Sam to dethaw on the way down.

Clouds and cloud shadows? I just about fainted when I saw this low hanging fluff ball lazily drifting over the ridge.

My favorite clouds were the wispy ones that seem to rise from the mountains themselves.

The road leading up to Dante's view is a view in itself.

Our first day was spent in preparation for our first night in Death Valley. The name really should be Death Valleys, because there are more than one. That evening, we set our sights on falling asleep in Panamint Valley. The first night of our first trip in 2019 was also spent in the same valley, where we woke up to the sight of distant sand dunes. For the sake of time, we didn’t get the chance to hike towards those dunes.

Now, in 2022, our goal was to climb to the top.

The hilly patch of white is Panamint Dunes. The clouds above look like they're about to abduct the dunes themselves.

With such magnificent clouds, I was counting the minutes until sunset.

I had to steal moments away from setting up camp in order to take these photos of the sunset. Don't tell Sam.

The foothills of Panamint Dunes lay three and a half miles from the parking lot. Feeling quite confident, we left with picnic gear in tow and pep in our step. The trail soon gave way to plants and sand alike. Eventually, we were left to follow our own path to the landmark ahead. One look behind me, and I saw how small the Jeep looked underneath the mountains. A second look showed me only a glint of windshield in the sun. By the time we reached the first small dune, I couldn’t see the Jeep at all.

Soon, we had to make a gamble. Of the three peaks ahead, which is the tallest? The furthest left seemed promising, and, with no other bearings to read, we set out to climb the sandy peak.

How does Sam always look so magnificent?

How??

Once we climbed our way to the top, I noticed we weren’t the only ones to seek out such tall places. Small footprints appeared along the ridge and disappeared just as quickly. The image of a raven searching for something popped into my head.

It was there, on top of the dunes on the side of the valley, that we ate Cheese-Whiz for lunch.

Cheese-Whiz . . . among other things. We aren’t animals!

I’ll never forget sitting there, joking and laughing with Sam in the middle of this surreal landscape.

I’ll also never forget the military jet airplane that boomed beside our heads during that lunch. Yeah, you heard me right. I said beside. That means this plane, which flies faster than the speed of sound, flew not above but beside our heads.

Sam and I sat slack jawed as we watched the pilot bank off the mountains beside the teardrop and narrowly turn in time to clear a further range. I slowly remembered something Sam told me about the military testing planes in Death Valley. We never saw any in 2019, so I didn’t expect to see one now.

Who knew we’d end up seeing nearly 20 more during the rest of our time in the park?

Those two dots in the sky are another jet flying through the valley. There are two planes because this photo is actually a panorama of two photos taken just seconds after each other. Isn't that a fun effect?

As we started on our way back to the Jeep, I really regretted forgetting to wear socks that morning.

That night we stayed outside after dark as long as possible. The New Moon graced us with an opportunity to see the Milky Way stretch across the valley. Without the sun’s warmth, the desert night’s chill eventually coaxed us inside the teardrop.

I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well.

This photo has no chronological bearing on our story. I just wanted to squeeze it in somewhere because I love clouds so much.

The next day we decided we wanted to stay another day, but didn’t want to drive too much. Fun fact: Only one gas station in Death Valley sells diesel, and it costs about $7.80 a gallon. Instead, we wanted to stay around camp and see what kind of exploring we could do by foot.

Sam suggested we walk to the playa in the valley’s basin.

While walking around on the sunbaked clay, we found an old fire ring sunken into the playa.

Rusted nails were all that remained of pallets burned long ago. Not too far from the fire ring was the hood of an old car. I asked Sam how long he thought this had been here, and he said 50 years.

Once we got close enough to the mass of volcanic rock that rose from the playa, Sam and I were sold on scaling it.

Yes, the rocks were spiky. Sure, it was probably dangerous. But Sam and I are nothing if not great wanderers, and we knew the reward was well worth the risk.

As we grew closer to the top of the smallest peak, I realized that we weren’t climbing a hill, we were climbing half of a mini-valley. At the visitor center, I learned that Death Valley is the result of tectonic plates pulling apart, causing rock to slide sideways into a series of mountain ranges and basins. Were these volcanic rocks a result of that splitting? I should ask my Pocket Geologist.

On top of the first volcanic hill, we got a new perspective of the mountain beside the teardrop. If you look just off the road to the left, you’ll see a small speck where we set up camp.

When we finally stepped back onto the playa, the tread on my hiking boots felt definitively lighter. Oops.

We took a break at camp, ate delicious veggie sandwiches, and decided to embark on one more quest before the sun set. The base of the mountain beside camp didn’t look too far away, and I wanted to see how close we could get.

The incline began very gradually, and our walk was quite leisurely. Soon, however, that changed. I found myself huffing and puffing as the gravel started to loosen. After a few breaks, we set our sights on some dry falls just at the base of the mountain. As the incline grew steeper and steeper, the washes began to grow as well. Soon, we had to strategically choose which ones to cross, or else we’d be stranded on an island of loose rock.

So many of the rocks we passed caught my eyes. Many of them looked like this one. The black rock seemed related to the volcanic mounds we climbed earlier, but I wasn’t sure what the reddish blobs were. After passing so many related rocks, I came up with a theory: if this rock is volcanic, then the magma could have had iron in it. I wish I had a magnet to test this theory.

Alas, I fell while trying to cross into one of those washes. With a silent look, Sam and I knew that it was getting too dangerous to get any closer. Before turning back, we thought of giving the dry falls a name: Second Chance Dry Falls. Maybe our next trip to Death Valley will be our second chance to see them up close. I hope so.

Our time in Panamint valley was incredibly special to me. We got to see the valley at not one, not two, but three entirely different angles. This land carries so many mysteries, and I want to unlock each and every one. Unfortunately, a few questions must remain unanswered. For now.

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We spent a full week in Death Valley. During that time, we stopped by abandoned mines, a playa full of moving rocks, and drove some incredibly scenic dirt roads.

Near the end of our week, we found ourselves at the foot of a different dune field. Eureka dunes, the tallest dunes in California, are set in the middle of Eureka Valley, where it takes hours of driving on washboard roads to reach them. Once we did, though, we felt at home.

Sam and I spent New Years 2020 beside these very dunes. Of course we had to visit them again. But, this time, we would climb to the very top.

Hello Jet #17, how's the view?

This photo right here gives me wanderlust, and I'm the one who took it. How cruel.

This plane (yes, there's only one plane), was weird to see. It was bigger, slower, and not nearly as annoying as the Jets.

There's always a great meal cookin' if Sam has anything to do with it.

Our last day in Death Valley was full of tanning, painting, and reading to our heart’s content. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend it. By the time we needed to go, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little sad about it. After all, this is one of my favorite places in the world. There is so much more knowledge to be gained from these lands and the people who occupied them, past and present.

If our fridge weren’t nearly licked clean, we probably would have stayed longer, too.

But all good things must come to an end, even if we don’t want them to. As we said goodbye to Death Valley, we were also saying farewell to the 20th National Park visited on Gap Year. Within the next few weeks we’d also be hitting our sixth month on the road. And my birthday!

So, as the last of Death Valley faded from view, I had no reason but to be excited for the road ahead. Oh, and did I mention the drive out of Death Valley was just as stunning as the drive in?

I mean, come on. How beautiful can one place be?

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Hi there!

I really hope you enjoyed this week’s update.

I’m really thankful that Sam offered his help. Without him, I’d be half bald from pulling my hair out while trying to stay on track. After reading his part of the update, do you think you’d visit Slab City?

Oh, and remember how I mentioned our first trip to Death Valley? Well, if you’re curious about the photos I took back then, you can look at them here. Compare them to those in this post and let me know what you think! I personally can see a lot of growth, from composition to editing.

Of course, I’d still love to hear which photos were your favorite. I must admit, though, I don’t think I can choose just one. Today, each photo is like my child, and I don’t want to make any of them feel left out. If I had to choose, I’d say one of the ones with clouds ;)

Speaking of commenting, I’ve noticed that if you leave a comment from your mobile phone that it sometimes won’t go through. I’m really sorry about that! And I’m working on fixing it, but the internet and time is few and far between. Until I find a way to fix it, the safer way to comment is from your computer. Thank you for being patient with me, and I look forward to hearing from you!

Next week, you’ll hear about our road trip through Nevada and one of Sam’s favorite national parks. Old mines, ghost towns, and lots of snow? What more could you want?

Until then, I hope you have a very wonderful rest of your week!

Sam and Kes the Photobean