Ash Meadows NWR

Didn't take long for me to have my fill of Death Valley and before you could say 'Jumping Cholla' I was over the border in Nevada, exploring Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge. At first the refuge looks like someone forgot to install... you know, the refuge. But as you move through it, you find this is no 'bit of scrub, there's a frog' refuge. As I neared the end of the long cutoff to 'Point of Rocks' I was knocked over by the v. new interpretive displays. There was were some major bucks splurged on this dessert oasis. I took my time admiring it all.

At the start of the Point of Rocks boardwalk, this colorful
interpretive wall had tons of information in 2 languages

Placards were mounted on bases with wonderful carvings in relief

 

 Of course, I lazily leaned on the first information station I came to, causing it to flip up and show an identical picture, but in Spanish on the reverse side - clever!

I could hear birds singing and calling all over the place, but couldn't see a one of them - devious little skulkers.

I reckon there was a chance of stepping over the tiny creek without noticing it
but there was no way you would not notice it for the incredible ironwork just above it

If you looked below, into the creek, tiny fish darted about.
Their image is on grill decoration - so pretty.

Here, for really no good reason - though it does explain why Scorsese is in no danger from me for Best Director accolades - is a v. brief peek at the water running by the Point of Rocks boardwalk. Oh, and note the birdsong and calls that permeates the last few seconds of the video.


I told you it was short. A little beyond the bridge was a small pond the color of tropical waters, and in that pond were Pupfish! You may remember that pupfish were the species that made non-conservationists nutty over the idea of protecting fish no bigger than one's pinky. Well I'm glad they protected the Ash Meadow Pupfish.

Pupfish watching

There are approximately 10 species of desert pupfish and each is pretty much found in one spot, with one special habitat they are able to survive in.





To the right is a male Ash Meadow Pupfish. While I stood staring at the fish, the tiny males, each about the size of a penny, fought to keep each other out of their private territories. They reminded me of hummingbirds fighting over a nectar feeder. 











And dead center to the left - um... and out of focus - is a tiny, green, female Ash Meadow Pupfish. Frankly, this little gal seemed to not care what the heck the male pupfish were up to. She had places to swim and algae to eat.









I stared at all the little pupfish for a long time. Then I headed off to search for the reasons I visited the refuge for in the first place - desert birds. Shortly thereafter, I found a spot the signage bragged was a hot spot for loads of bird species.

Loved the curvy beaked, Crissal's Thrasher of this post

The info station touted Brown-crested & Vermillion Flycatchers, Lucy's Warblers and other desert habitat birds I don't get to see often due to my tendency to melt and cry when exposed to extreme heat. I knew some of the species would not be present as yet, but as loads were singing their tiny feathered arses off, I thought I'd see a few anyway.

I decided I would hang out as long as necessary to see some birds. And I waited. I can't really fuss; a Rock Wren flew in to keep me company.

Rock Wren that kept me company

I did spot 3 tiny, feathery balls, ricocheting through the trees. Got enough of a look to ID them as  Verdin - yellow-headed tits, that bullet-ed through  folliage as if playing hide and seek with my camera. Other than those two species, and the male Phainopepla that flew over my head as I drove in to Point of Rocks - no other birdies for Claire.  If you weep in the desert and the hot air evaporates your tears as they exit your tear ducts, is that a birding moment? Thought not. Ok, and it wasn't really all that warm out, but my disappointment was real. Decided MUST make a point to see desert birds again, hopefully this year.

 Eventually I dragged myself away from the boardwalks of Point of Rocks for the Visitor's Center. At the visitor's center I learned in addition to the endangered pupfish species at Ash Meadow, there are also endangered flowers, beetles, snails, and others. Many of the endangered/threatened species are unique to the refuge, making the area highly worthy of protection. 

I got a long distance look at the Devil's Hole, where the rare & endemic Devil's Hole Pupfish dwell. I also visited the Crystal Reservoir where Coots, Ruddy Ducks and such took refuge from the desert.
Then I actually - wait for it... wait for it... got out of the car yet again! Where I walked along the boardwalk, to see a little cabin that belonged to a strange desert dweller, the one-eared gun slinger, Jack Stone. 

Boardwalk out to the cabin

Jack Stone's middle-of-nowhere cabin

Loved the clever little shelves built into the wall

The entire cabin was reconstructed, with the use
of photos, stone by stone, after a mudslide destroyed it

I love cabins. I always imagine what it would be like to live in one. Then I think about the lack of wifi and cell phone service and feel grateful for my little California home. Of course, Stone's cabin had something I would have enjoyed. If you step through the front door seen above, you face a little paradise.

A short, short walk from the door of the cabin

A fresh water pool, complete with desert Pupfish

Honestly - don't you want to leap into that turquoise water? I can imagine the occasional visitor in the summer, ignoring postings and climbing into that beautiful oasis. I could see little pupfish swimming around in the rocks by the pool's edges. Imagine having that just outside the door of your cabin; what a lucky s.o.b. Jack stone was.

One of many iron effigies of bat, dace fish, coyote, birds
and such that ornamented the Point of Rocks boardwalk

Desert Bonus!  On my drive to the wildlife refuge, I had passed a strange white adobe structure, 'The Armargosa Opera House' and I couldn't quite drop it from mind. It wasn't until I was driving out of Nevada & into the near ghost town, Death Valley Junction it came to me. I'd heard the name of the opera house on who knows how many ghost hunting TV shows.

Armagosa... Armagosa... NOW I REMEMBER!

The Opera House's front entrance

I later looked up the Opera House and found out a little about its history which is quite beyond the norm, not only for the haunts that are supposed to reside there, but for the wildly imaginative art work throughout the Opera house and its neighboring hotel.  Won't be staying there ever, but I would like to someday get a look at the troupe d'oeil artwork that fills the opera house.

At the Armagosa, the peppers, scarf and hat on the left are not really there; they are painted on the wall.

The Opera House & Hotel are famous for the paintings throughout. 

Inside the opera house, elizabethan audience views the stage, 24/7

Cool, eh? I stopped at Death Valley Junction's one greasy spoon, but rather than stay for a full meal, I bought a nice blueberry smoothie and headed back to Death Valley. I did some more touring around until I was done in. I did drive out around 10 PM to the Sand Dunes to see the darkest sky with the brightest stars and planets I've seen in a long time, and I hoped to perhaps see a nocturnal desert fox or Kangaroo rat, but had no such luck. Still, I enjoyed my visit to the park and maybe... only maybe... I'll visit again some time. 

Death Valley done right; no heat stroke

Although I am more a fan of desserts, than deserts I though as Death Valley National Park is a California park and therefor more or less in the neighborhood, I ought to check it out.

As I approached the park I noted there is a lot of ear popping necessary to getting there. Loads of lovely & scenic long distance shots beckoned, although as you can see below, the majesty of distant grandeur does not easily translate into good photos.  It's almost like you need a great photographer handling the equipment to capture the 3D quality of far off vistas.

Really, Death Valley could just as well been called Depth Valley.

Frankly, as I approached the desert floor, the gloom that hoovers over me when I'm in a hot climate desended on me, and I batted it off with thoughts of roadrunners and wildflowers. I ought to have mentioned wildflowers at the off; blossoms are the only reason I even considered visiting a *gasp* desert and I wasn't disappointed.

I barreled down a long descending highway and just as I was starting to note tufts of color, I spotted a gaggle of fellow wildflower enthusiasts. There were even a few birders sprinkled amidst the group.






Hurrah!  There was no vast plain filled the horizon with blossoms, but there were loads of bright flowers popped up on the rocky ground.

The prominent Golden Evening Primroses
Also called Desert Suncups

Brilliant Desert Globemallow

Mojave Aster - there was only one of these beauties

Tiny, but bright-eyed Desert Gold

Death Valley Phacelia

Desert Chicory

California Gilia that or very nearly that 

Flower with a Lacewing friend

Ought to mention, no, I am not a walking repository of desert wildflower identification. I cheat - photograph now, look up later. I took along my Audubon Deserts nature guide  and Audubon Wildflower book (Thanks Joann!).

Wildflowers weren't the only things around that begged a name placement. This little fellow landed in front of me and posed - yes, that tiny bright spot of the desert, posed for me.

Desert Checkerspot

And not to be overlooked, this little Rock Wren bounced around in my vicinity also.

a true Lord of the Desert

The wildflower volley was a nice quick intro to Death Valley. Just down the hill from wildflower alley was Stovepile Wells, where I had a room booked for two nights.  I was starving, so checked out my room, had lunch at the little Stovepipe wells restaurant, then lit out for some touring.

My first stop was the Furnace Creek Visitor's Center for my obligatory National Park stamp and cloisonne pin.
 

Then it was off to the Artist's Drive, a one way drive that winds through some hills that seemed to escalated in color as I drove along. Eons ago, the hills were splattered with mineral laden volcanic ash, which then weathered, creating an artist's palette of colors.

The colors start to show early on; here reds, greens and creams get a start

Bright malachite green outcroppings dot the road

Rouge in the Hills

At the Artist's Palette Vista

Next, I headed downhill, to the lowest point in the United States, the notorious Bad Water bottoms. The first thing I noticed was lots of people photographing the mountain behind us on the walkway.
Had to stare a bit before I noticed a little sign, labeled "Sea Level".  

The Sea Level sign is on the left, just below the center.

Bad Water Spreading in the lowest spot in north America

More ambitious visitors hiked miles out on Bad Water's  alkaline plain 

After sinking - below sea level - I drove up & eastward, to drive the 20 mule team scenic drive. It all looked like an Egyptian landscape to me. 

Sort of like a Sphinx, right?

Whew! It was a long, l-o-n-g day when I headed back to my snug little room in Stovepipe wells. Where I had a good night's sleep while visions of roadrunners danced in my head.

'Shikataganai': Manzanar NHS

Snow Crusted Sierras

I decided I have been home for too long, so decided a car trip was what is wanted, so bright and early
I took off east, driving past Lake Tahoe, through sleepy little Markleeville, and on through a mountain pass to Mono Lake. Next I wanted to stop at a park I've had my eye on for ages but haven't gotten around to visiting yet - Devil's Postpile National Park. Well, it being winter, Mono Lake is pretty much shuttered up, so I was thrilled to find the Mono Lake Committee Center (Visitor Center) in Lee Vining open and staffed by a friendly woman. She looked up the road conditions the hour's drive on to Devil's Postpile for me; the road was shut tight. Rats. So I headed south to Bishop where I had a great stay at a motel that not only included a hot breakfast, but at 5PM serves up hot soups and at 7PM fresh baked cookies - ah! Paradise.

Next morning I was toodling down the east side of the snow crusted Sierras and I spied another park I have always meant to visit and which, I hadn't realized I was on a route that passed it - Manzanar National Historic Site.

I've known about the horrible imprisonment of American Japanese citizens. On short notice, entire families were notified they were going to be held captive, and they had only a few days to dispose of their property. They were only allowed to take with them what they could carry, and soon they found themselves in places like Manzanar - broiling in summers, freezing in winters. Still, the unjustly punished citizens maintained what they could of normal family lives. Considering that American citizens of German origins were not tossed into interment camps, it is all the more amazing that so many of our fellow Japanese-American citizens came out of the experience with far more grace than anyone had a right to expect.

I was there before the park really even opened, so I thought - incorrectly - that I'd have the park to myself, and I nearly did. I started my visit with the self guided auto tour.

Bachelor's Barracks

The barracks were dismal. Mothers of the families that were barracked together hung curtains and bright papers on the walls to keep the setting as happy as possible for their husbands and children. One can only imagine the difficulty of keep a smile on one's face during such hardship

I was particularly touched by the sight - startling at first glance - of cherry trees, bright with rosy pink blossoms, contrasting the stark scenery.

Two small cherry trees, planted by the American Japanese just outside the mess building.

The mess hall and vintage truck - the man in the 
doorway is a black & white photo of a cook

The Japanese had to hike to the mess hall three times a day for meals. There were long lines and a common saying was that everyone had to 'Hurry up and wait!' for their meals. Californians outside of the prison camp fussed that the interred Japanese had sugar and meat all the time, and frankly, if they did, that was, at least, some eensie comfort for spending years under the eye of guard towers with loaded guns.

View from the kitchen - screen with pics of life sized photos fill areas in the rear

Drop down screens with superimposed photo of the
mess when it doubled as a dance hall

The auto tour route took me past some amazing things - some, such as places of worship are no longer standing, and others are shadows of their former glory, such as no less than two locations with  inspirational water ponds.

 

This inspirational pond must have been beautiful in its day

By the time I finished driving the auto tour, the main Visitor Center, which in the days the camp was occupied served as an auditorium. I have no photos to share of the Center, but it was scary in one part that showed how anti-Japanese-ism worked, and it was touching to see the gifts left at Manaznar by visitors - decendents and/or actual former occupants of the camp. You know I also got my National Park Passport book stamped and got my obligatory cloisonne park pin. Oh! And I bought a rock. Yes, you read that correctly, a rock. It is polished and ingraved with the unofficial Japanese motto for the interment camp: Shikataganai. Shikataganai, loosely translated means, "It can't be helped".

The remainder of the day I thoughtfully drove south to Death Valley, but that is another post for another day.

Another look at the brilliant cherry blossoms of Manzanar