Ghost towns, mysterious moving rocks, acrid salt flats, sweeping sand dunes, chiseled canyons, surreal landscapes, and a posh desert castle. Death Valley was just the sort of quirky place I was looking to spend a few, cherished vacation days. Situated in Southeastern California, Death Valley National Park spans over 3 million acres, is the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, and one of the hottest places on earth. I traveled there in January, when the climate is temperate and the numbers of tourists are at a low.

Perusing a map of the area before leaving, I noted places such as Dead Man Pass, Last Chance Range, Dry Bone Canyon, and Devil's Cornfield - they sound like attractions at a Disney Land located in hell. What I found was far from hell, although the unfortunate pioneers who named Death Valley in 1849 would disagree. They barely survived the trip through this merciless valley nestled between the Panamint and Amargosa mountain ranges. Nowadays, it's much easier to travel through Death Valley in the comfort of a 4-wheel drive vehicle (a must in the rough desert topography).

We entered the park on Highway 190, a scenic two-lane road that winds along the Furnace Creek Wash, and crossed a threshold to the past; the history of Death Valley speaks through the land. Curvaceous sandstone hills resembling giant wads of kneaded dough rise from the desert floor. A kaleidoscope of chalky colors and shadows play upon the surrounding mountains and salt-encrusted valley. Millions of years ago, a sea covered the area, leaving behind layers of sediment that striate the landscape and salt deposits that sparkle in the sun. Ruts from wagon wheels dating back to the gold rush days scar the ground.

My travel partner, Benjamin, and I flew from San Francisco to Las Vegas and drove 2 hours to the valley in a rented SUV. We had two backpacks and a giant duffle bag stuffed with gear for our air-borne camping trip. Death Valley is a popular destination for backpackers, tent campers, and RV retirees, as well as those looking for more indulgent lodging. In addition to backcountry camping and 9 well-maintained campgrounds with drinking water, clean bathrooms, fire pits, and BBQs, Death Valley also has two hotels: the 4-diamond Furnace Creek Inn, and the more reasonably priced Furnace Creek Ranch.

We camped for three nights at Furnace Creek and Mesquite Springs, two of Death Valley's more pleasant sites (a few of the park's campgrounds are colossal, paved parking lots). The campsites were picturesque, with willowy pine trees and low brush providing shade and privacy. At sunset, the sky glowed hot pink and vivid orange, silhouetting jagged black mountains against the horizon. We spent our evenings gazing at the massive star-studded sky or gathered around a blazing fire to hear park rangers spin a yarn about Death Valley's history. Hugh, our geologist-turned-ranger, spoke of the valley's gold and borax mines and told tales of lone prospectors and their harrowing travails. Drifting off to sleep, my thoughts were filled with grainy images of life in the old west. The lonely howls of coyotes reverberated in my dreams and greeted me as I woke at the crack of dawn each day, ready to explore.

Our schedule was leisurely, but packed with things to do and see. Death Valley's geologic oddities, dead mining boomtowns, hiking trails, driving tours, and museums could easily fill several weeks and we only had 4 days. The visitor center is a great place to get acquainted with the abundance of sights and activities. A veritable "gold mine" of information, it's the home of the Death Valley Museum with helpful park rangers on hand to answer questions. Just down the way is the Borax Museum. A well-preserved office built in 1883, the museum displays a large collection of minerals, mining tools, and Shoshone Indian artifacts. The lanterns and bench on the porch, as with most of the objects in and around the building, are relics from the early mining days.

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