Back To Death Valley Badwater With Jason & Joey

A few days ago photos showed up in the daily Microsoft OneDrive Memories of this Day email of the time, way back in August, in one of the final years of the previous decade, when my nephews, Jason and Joey, flew me to Las Vegas for a few days of Super Sunshine.

I made a blog post of the photos I saw that day, including one I thought was Jason and Joey at Badwater in Death Valley, that being the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, a couple hundred feet below sea level.

Well, today more OneDrive Death Valley photos showed up, with one I can clearly tell is at Badwater. 

That is nephew Joey walking on the Badwater salt flat, whilst his big brother, Jason, closely inspects the salt flat.

That white dot you see high on the cliff, that marks sea level.

It seems as if it should be a bit unsettling to be so far below sea level.

But, it actually is not.

It never crossed my mind to worry what if the Pacific Ocean suddenly sprung a leak and started flooding Death Valley. I wonder how big a lake would be the result?

Spencer Jack's Dad Asking What The Point Is In Las Vegas

When I woke up my phone this morning among the text messages were three from Spencer Jack's dad, my favorite nephew, Jason.

The three text messages included two photos, which Jason said had been sent to him by Spencer Jack's uncle, my favorite nephew, Joey.

Jason indicated he had no memory of when these photos were taken,  but guessed that the first one you see here was taken atop the Stratosphere Tower in Las Vegas.

Jason wondered if, due to my youthful appearance in this photo, that he and his brother had taken me to Vegas to celebrate my 21st birthday.

Well, on my 21st birthday, if I remember right, the arrival of nephews on the planet was a few years into the future.

I do not know how Jason managed to forget  that during August of 1998, months before I moved to Texas, Jason and Joey flew me to Las Vegas for four days, staying at Excalibur.

This trip to Vegas was documented via a webpage, years ago, titled, if memory serves, Nephews in Vegas.

That webpage documentation documented, in detail, the troubling incident which found us stranded for hours atop the Stratosphere Tower, waiting for electricity to be restored. It was well over 100 degrees, which soon had the Stratosphere Tower interior heating up to an uncomfortable level. Eventually cooling libations were provided. When we finally were able to get back to ground level we were greeted by the casino's manager who comped us a buffet dinner after I told him we were starving after the lengthy ordeal.

The other photo which Joey sent Jason which Jason then sent me is that which you see below, which had Jason asking me if I remembered to what Joey and I are pointing.

Again, I am shocked Jason does not remember these type important details.

On the second day of our four days in Las Vegas we learned that on that day there was a chance that Death Valley would break its temperature record at the lowest location in the Western Hemisphere. A location in Death Valley called Badwater, a couple hundred feet below sea level.

The nephews were onboard with driving to extreme heat. We loaded up with plenty of liquid and headed west.

In Pahrump we stopped to get gas. Hovering overhead a billboard advertised Pahrump's Bordello Museum. The nephews thought going to the Pahrump Bordello Museum would be a good Nephews in Danger experience, but I nixed that idea, and so we continued west to begin the long descent into the Valley of Death.

Badwater was HOT, but several degrees short of the record. We continued on, eventually getting to that which Jason asked what Joey and I were pointing at.

It was Zabriskie Point to which we pointed.

The memory of being in Vegas with my two oldest nephews seems recent, but so much has happened, and changed since then. In 1998 I still had a house in Mount Vernon, Bill Clinton was president, 9/11 was just a date which occurred every year. Donald Trump was a sleazy philanderer.

And, apparently, I looked to be only 21....

Spencer Jack & My Favorite Ex-Sister-In-Law Have Me Feeling Like Rip Van Winkle Hiking Up The Mount Baker Volcano

In the picture you are looking at my Super Nephew, Spencer Jack, and his grandma, she being my favorite ex-sister-in-law, Cindy.

I call Spencer Jack my Super Nephew because I can never remember if the right relation term is grand nephew or great nephew, but since Spencer Jack is a super duper nephew, Super Nephew seems to work for me.

Lately it seems not a day goes by when I don't get reminded of the speed by which time seems to be passing me by.

I often think I have some sort of Rip Van Winkle complex. Like I took a long nap and 20 years disappeared.

In the picture, judging by the evidence of other pictures, which I found on Facebook, via Spencer Jack's dad, I think Spencer and his Grandma are hiking to Mount Baker, via the Schrieber's Meadow route.

Here is where the Rip Van Winkle thing kicks in. I think the last time I hiked to Mount Baker, via Schrieber's Meadow, was with Spencer Jack's uncle, my nephew, Joey.

If I remember right Joey was 13 when we hiked up Mount Baker. Spencer Jack is currently 5 years, 4 months, 4 weeks and 2 days old. I got that precise age from Spencer Jack's infrequently updated blog.

In less than 8 years Spencer Jack will be the same age his Uncle Joey was when Joey and I did some mountain climbing up a volcano.

Back when Spencer Jack's grandma was still my sister-in-law, I never would have imagined there would come a day when she would turn into a mountain hiker.

Joey, if you are reading this, in about 8 years it is your uncle duty to take Spencer Jack hiking up Sauk Mountain during an icy snowstorm. And in about 10 years it is your uncle duty to take Spencer Jack to Las Vegas to get stuck for hours on top of the Stratosphere Tower, in addition to passing for 21 at the Hard Rock Casino and getting overheated in Death Valley.

Up Early In Texas Well Before My Local Yellow Dwarf

I am up way before the sun, looking closely through the bars of my patio prison cell at the hot tub and pool below me, on this 19th Day of August.

That hot plasma yellow dwarf, around which the solar system where I currently reside revolves, has not yet arrived for its daily heating duties and already the outer world, at my Texas location, is heated to 86.9, heading to a scheduled high today of 108.

What is the all-time record high temperature recorded at the official temperature recording station at D/FW Airport? I just realized I do not believe I have ever read what the all-time high has been in North Texas.

My personal all-time high temperature was experienced in August of 1998 at Badwater in Death Valley. It was 124.

I think I will go swimming before the sun arrives. I've not gone swimming in the morning darkness in awhile.

High Anxiety Hiking The Tandy Hills Thinking About Getting Hot in Death Valley

It is currently only 99 degrees. With the humidity making it feel like 102. It was 92 when I took my Hiking Club to the Tandy Hills today. It felt like it was 110.

In the picture you are looking north on the trail you access the Tandy Hills from via the park on View Street.

The hottest I have ever experienced was Death Valley in August of 1998. I was in Las Vegas with my two oldest nephews. The morning paper had the news that conditions were such that Death Valley might break its temperature record that day.

My nephews were up for chasing a record high temperature, so it was off to Badwater in Death Valley we drove.

Unfortunately the temperature did not break the record. If I remember right it only reached 124. Being in 124 degree heat in Death Valley does not feel as HOT as Texas HEAT feels.

When you are at 124 degrees in the super dry desert you drink copious amounts of liquid. But you do not perspire, for the most part. Nor do you find yourself needing to find a restroom facility to void excess liquid. Getting super HOT in the desert is quite a different experience from getting super HOT in Texas.

I woke up this morning feeling a bit of angst, with no reason for the angst. I thought swimming would alter the feeling of foreboding. Post-swim, I still felt angst. Usually over-stimulating myself on the Tandy Hills restores my usual good mood.

But, not today.

I'm sure my high anxiety will dissipate by tomorrow.

104 At 2 In The Afternoon In North Texas Targeting Target & Wal-Mart

As you can see, the temperature hit 104 around 2 this afternoon, heading to a high of 106. 106 is currently the Heat Index temperature. The humidity has dropped, so it doesn't feel as HOT out there.

I think I mentioned yesterday that a cool Washingtonian was sending her now HOT husband to LA today. To Monroe, Louisiana.

I figured Monroe was likely hotter than here. As I so often am, I was wrong. Monroe is east of Shreveport about 60 or 70 miles on Interstate 20.

Right now, with it 104 in Fort Worth, it is 95 in Monroe.

But.

In Monroe the humidity is at 53%, compared with 22% here. Consequently the Heat Index in Monroe is 116. 116. That is HOT.

I've been in HEAT that HOT before, in Nevada. 124 or more out in Death Valley, 117 in Las Vegas. But that is dry desert heat. A Heat Index of 116 has to be pretty miserable.

My hiking today consisted of going shopping at Target and the Wal-Mart Supercenter across the freeway from Target. I don't see how Target stays in business. There are never very many shoppers in Target. Only 2 checkouts needed at the front of the store. Meanwhile Wal-Mart today was its usual busy zoo.

Near Death Experiences

There are bad days. And then there are even worse days. Today fell into the latter category. As in Near Death Trauma type bad day. Combined with having to go to the airport to get a militant Puerto Rican.

I don't know if I'm going to muster the energy to stay up til 8 to watch El Presidente give his last State of the Union speech. Last based on assuming, of course, that he does not stage a coup near the end of his term and declare himself President for Life.

So, I needed to be at the airport by 2 to get the aforementioned Puerto Rican. About 11am I decided to go back to Oakland Park. It's about 3 miles from here. I was driving, singing along with Pink about what I could do with my hand tonight, when suddenly my van started making a horrible noise. And shuddering. I quickly pulled off the road into a parking lot.

Flat tire.

No problem. I've had a flat tire before. In Death Valley, back in 1994. Same vehicle. I really hate to shop for cars. I recollect the same problem that time. As in we could not figure out how to get the spare tire loose from the thing that held it to the underside of the van. Luckily that time I was traveling with a group of 6, two of whom were in another van. Their spare fit mine. So, no problem, we drove the 5 miles to where we were staying that night, Stovepipe Wells, and then the next day got the tire fixed in Bishop, California, where Lulu found us a great place to have lunch. Yes. Lulu was along on this trip.

So, what to do. I'm stranded, I can't get my spare. But I did have my bike. So, I got the bike out and head back here where I could get another car. The only route back to here is through this zone called Boca Raton. Boca Raton being an extreme high crime area with gangs and random murders. The pedaling was being real difficult and then I realized my rear bike tire was low. I pedaled now in fear of an eminent bike tire flat. I make it back here to find the other car would not start. After fiddling with the ignition it finally ignited. Then I drove back to the van and took off the tire.

I was running out of time to get to the airport. I called one of the Puerto Rican's other friends to see if she could run to the airport. She couldn't.

So, I get to the tire store. Bought 2 new tires. The tire guy put the new tire on the rim. I headed back to the van, certain it would be stripped to total nakedness due to the bad area it was stranded in. But it wasn't.

I got the new tire back on the van. Now I had a new problem. I had 2 vehicles. I did not want to leave one behind. I called for help and got another driver. It was now coming up on 2pm. I'd not had lunch. I was dirty. I had grease on my hands. I should have been at the airport.

And then the phone rang. It was the Puerto Rican, already on the ground, waiting. I told her it would be a half hour. She didn't seem too annoyed. And she seemed relatively sober.

I was finally on my way to the airport, had dodged the possible much worse outcome of having a tire blow out at freeway speeds where I could easily have lost control and ended up toasted in a fiery multi-car accident. Little did I know, as I drove onto the airport property, that I was heading towards an even bigger, toasty, fiery, blowout.

I got to Terminal C, drove to Arrivals, easily parked and saw the Puerto Rican standing on the sidewalk waiting to be picked up, talking on her phone.

So, I'm thinking this has all worked out well. I walk across the street, certain she has seen me. I walk up to her. She pays no attention to me. Her luggage with wheels is sitting next to her. So, I wheel off with it and head to the van. Certain she'd see me. I look back after I cross the street and she is still just talking away.

I put her luggage in the van and as I slam the door shut I hear an eruption of screaming "help, police, I've been robbed". A couple of women next to her were laughing and pointing at me. And that's when the Puerto Rican got real loud. And it was all in Spanish.

She got mad at Arnold Swarzenegger once for saying that Puerto Rican's were angry people with bad tempers. I told her, uh, you are angry people with bad tempers. And she goes, well, that may be true but he shouldn't be saying it.

Anyway, those were the two explosive events in my day in Texas this fine January day, both violent, both life threatening and both likely preventable with better maintenance and attention to details.