After boldly proclaiming that we were kicking off our maiden voyage with Death Valley National Park…we didn’t.
Perhaps in the future with better preparation we may return but for several reasons, we didn’t end up visiting the park.
For starters, we learned our first “Road Rules” lesson:
Avoid putting yourself in a situation where you have to leave a location in a hurry. Especially if you end up having to arrive at an unfamiliar location in the dark.
Road rule #1
In this case, pitch dark with zero cell service.
A Hectic Departure
I was fed up after weeks of long hours getting the house in order – packing, moving, cleaning, painting, fixing, patching, cleaning some more. Read – on hands and knees scraping paint splatter off the floor. The original plan was to sell the house and be on the road by the beginning of April. We ultimately decided to rent instead of sell but with all the work required, weeks passed and soon the beginning of May loomed near.
“That’s it,” I declared, “May 1st. We are out of here.” It seemed doable; all we had left was some light cleaning and packing. Well apparently time doesn’t just fly when you’re having fun – it can also break sound barriers when you’re frustrated and miserable. There was no way we would arrive at our destination during daylight but I was still adamant. I had made a reservation at Tecopa Hot Springs Resort and I was laser focused on our reward for the past month: slipping into the relaxing embrace of “healing” natural spring waters. The resort’s website boasted that the mineral-rich hot spring could ease an assortment of ailments:
“Improve circulation
Allow absorption of the minerals through the skin aiding in muscle recovery
Reduce stress
Promote relaxation and help you sleep better
Soothe aches and pains”
So that was my light at the end of the tunnel. All I could think about was that magical moment of exhale when we could finally let go, breathe, free of imprisonment from space and time constraints.
Unfortunately that’s not really how it went down.
We feverishly crammed the motorhome and my car full of our remaining possessions, including Trevor, a full grown Snake Plant and Figgy Azalea, a 7-foot tall Fiddle-leaf Fig plant. It was pure chaos.
I saw an opportunity for us to say goodbye to a local restaurant owner we had grown close with over the years. I called and told him that we were finally leaving town and wanted to order a few things we could snack on while we drove. His restaurant specialized in our hangover favorite food, Pho, which is not a car-friendly food (trust me, I tried once to prove a point and it did not end well). He said he would put something together and with that, we snapped a quick selfie with Holly (our motorhome) and the house, and pulled out of the driveway of our home for the past two and a half years.
When we arrived to the restaurant, Jelly Donut, the owner brought out three bags filled with Vietnamese fusion deliciousness. And then refused to let us pay. Holy crap.
We dropped off the house plants and said a rushed goodbye to my friend and former co-worker. After completing our last errand at the local post office, we laid out our gifted feast and scarfed some down in grateful silence. I didn’t know at the time that this stressful afternoon would foreshadow a valuable lesson:
Even if you’re in a tough spot, making time for the people you care about is always worth it in some way.
And with that, we left Twentynine Palms and drove off into the literal sunset.
Chasing Sunsets
We currently travel with a method called “Chasing.” Chris drives the motorhome and I follow in my SUV, the “chase vehicle.” Because the car was packed to the gills, both the dog and cat ride in the motorhome. I’ll get into this decision more in a future post but I bring it up just to mention a funny tidbit. Five minutes into the drive, Chris calls me. “Hello?” I answer, “Everything okay?”
“Hi love, just calling to let you know how much fun we’re having up here,” he yells sarcastically into the speakerphone over the road and engine rumble. “The cat has peed somewhere and it’s like 100 degrees in here. I don’t know where but I can smell it.” If you’ve ever smelled cat pee or been in the desert on a hot day you know this must be what hell is like.
I felt terrible for Chris (and the poor cat) but couldn’t help but laugh. After thirty minutes of riding in my nicely air conditioned and fresh smelling car, he calls again. “Now the cat’s taken the biggest dump in the litter box. Oh God it smells so bad.” The litter box is on the floor in front of the passenger seat. I’m still nearly in tears laughing at this mental image two weeks later.
“On the bright side,” I choke out through laughter, “At least he made it in the litter box this time!”
Tecopa Hot Springs Resort
I first learned about this town from a recommendation for Delight’s Hot Springs Resort in a Facebook group for RVers. Upon further research of the area I found Tecopa Hot Springs Resort. I was initially drawn to the better pricing, trippy website design, and intrigue of their onsite labyrinth. What sealed the deal however was the “About Us” page where the owner Amy detailed in first person her longtime love affair with the Mojave Desert and Death Valley. I’m a sucker for a good story.
Ironically, I had not read the “About Us & Gift Cards” page for Delight’s until I was writing this post and their story is actually even more fascinating. But I think I would have come to the same decision. Aside from being put off by the choice to combine “About Us” and “Gift Cards,” (gives an air of suspicious intentions if you ask me), Amy’s story ultimately moves me more. It’s one of a girl with a dream.
She found something she lusted for and wandered after it, guided by her passion. It’s the same feeling for which I named this blog.
Some Like It Hot
We finally arrived flustered and exhausted after 10:00 PM. Sleep and everything else be damned, I was determined to get in the spring water. We each made a drink, grabbed a towel, and went to the bath house. I won’t be posting any photos from the actual bath house because to be honest, it wasn’t particularly photogenic. A large hot tub structure occupied each of the four small rooms. They had metal stall doors and cracking sky blue walls. The other reason I won’t post photos is because it’s recommended to not wear bathing suits.
There were rules posted on the wall in English and Korean. “Recommended soaking time not to exceed thirty minutes.” Well, let me tell you. It took damn near half that time just to full submerge my body in the tub. The website claims the tubs are regulated at approximately 104 degrees, with the source water averaging 118 degrees. A quick Google search reveals that the average temperature of hot spas is 100-102 degrees, with 104 as the standard maximum temperature. “I feel my leg hairs singeing!” Chris exclaimed. We were both turning visibly scarlet. I was burning but determined to go all the way in. “Oh my God, is this how lobsters feel?” I puffed and gasped for air. “This is terrible. How is this relaxing?” My cherished image of slipping into a peaceful experience in the water went up in flames.
“I don’t know,” Chris responded, standing on the steps, submerged to mid-thigh level. “But if I go in any further we’re going to have cooked sausage…”
When I did finally get all the way in, it did feel kind of good. But I couldn’t stay in long. Chris never did get in past his thighs and our alcoholic beverages remained untouched. The water was silky from the minerals, which I’d never felt before. Hopefully next time we’ll stay in long enough to truly feel the healing benefits.
Death Valley Brewing
Even though we decided to skip the park this time around, we couldn’t resist checking out the local brewery. Sharing a building with a restaurant, we actually missed it the first time. We got a second chance when the lack of cell service caused a geographically confused Google Maps to route us in a circle and return us back to the brewery’s doorstep. Perhaps a higher power knew we’d enjoy the brews.
The man I presumed to be the brewmaster was immediately intriguing and likeable. He wore a shirt that resembled the Jaws movie poster. But instead of a shark it was a kitten, mouth agape showing sharp tiny teeth and bold red text proclaimed, “PAWS.” According to Death Valley Brewing’s website and Facebook page, this man is Dan. His stepfather started the brewery in 2014 and it has been family owned and operated ever since. Dan spends the roughly half year that the brewery is open living and working in Tecopa, crafting a variety of unique and flavorful beers. Their brewing method is a nod to the town’s old west roots, “using historic equipment, creative engineering, and common sense as well as many natural local resources” to create an unpasteurized, unfiltered small batch beer.
Because of Death Valley’s limited tourist season, the brewery may soon be closing its doors until autumn. However, if you’re in the area while it’s open, stop in! Especially if you’re, as their slogan advertises, “Dyin’ for a cold one!”
Next stop, Pahrump, Nevada.