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STORY: This is part of the Golden Canyon Interpretive Trail below Zibriskie Point in Death Valley NP, CA. This storm came upon us both with lightning and lightning speed as ferocious winds drove the heavy rain towards me and my companion from the east, south and west. Still a couple of minutes inside the canyon from the trailhead, the sky to the south grew black as the landscape caught an irridescent glow from the rest of the sky. I took a couple of quick minutes to capture the storm, and had I taken more time, we'd have been stuck in the dark and drowned!...
There was a flash flood in Death Valley Sunday, Aug. 15, 2004, unparalleled in 100 yrs of recorded history. Unfortunately, I had to live through it and make it through the night! Two fatalaties did occur two miles to the east. It must have been quick, as their car was still in drive and the keys were in the ignition when the wreck was towed away.
I went on a desert fashion shoot with my friend Amanda, and found that there were some flash flood warnings for parts of the park that we were not exploring. No warnings whatsoever for our neck of the woods. No one expected this. We had contact with park rangers twice and checked out bulletin boards, but no expectation of flooding was given for Zibriskie Point area, Golden Canyon and Echo Canyon where we were near the Golden Cyn Trailhead. The storm wasn't even near us nor too threatening until just before sunset, and by then we of course had hiked nearly out of the canyon. Lightning to thunderclap gap told us the brunt of the storm was near 20 to 30 mi away before we got to the car, but it came up FAST. The flash flooding water had apparently beaten the storm to us, as we would soon see. Zibriskie was actually higher ground (but that didn't matter), and it was recommended that we stay there for a few hours or continue immediately on the 190 west to Furnace Creek, which was such a bad idea I can't even believe they recommended it because Zibriskie is 1000 ft above sea level and Furnace Creek is -180 below! But the information the Rangers had from weather services was all they had to go on. By 8pm, when the Ranger came by to everyone at the Point, the rain and wind were a roar, and all light had escaped the valley except for our headlights. The Ranger had to shout at the top of his lungs to be heard at arm's length through the din.
As the torrential downpour set upon us, we had just made it to the car, it had just become dark, and I had just made the most amazing photograph of my career (IMHO above). Soon the Ranger was knocking on our window and shouting to us above the roar of heavy rains to leave immediately and head west on the 190 towards Furnace Creek or stay at Zibriskie for a few hours. Fortunately, we left, because as some Czechs informed us, Zibriskie was obliterated soon after and throughout the night - road buried or upheaved, bathrooms moved and buried, parking lot washed away.
So bad postings, bad weather predictions, bad advice from rangers, and no expectation of total park damage contributed to our experience of being washed into a newly gorged gully Sunday night and barely escaping with our wits. As soon as the ranger had left and we had got on our way in caravan with the Czechs, it became apparent that the whole road was subjected to random washes of varying intensities. We navigated a few, and on our last attempt, a river of plantlife and small trees, mud, rocks of all sizes, and a few hundred thousand cubic meters of rushing water heaved us off the road into a gully that the storm had cut into the left side of the road (one which we found the next morning to be a hundred yard wide wash between the canyon foothills and the roadside). For the third time, my BMW saved my life, this time by having enough power and traction to allow me to find the road and steer back up onto it in the knick of time. The force of the water and debris had pushed us off the road, but the accumulation of those same rocks allowed me to find purchase and escape. The water level reached my window on the left side, but on the right, it was only a foot above the road, so you can imagine, we had almost been completely tipped over! Fortunately Amanda kept as cool as she could and didn't stress me or freak me out (wouldn't happen anyways) except that moment of shock and realization when we were tilted for a few seconds. Pretty scary. Don't need that again...
We found a place in the road between the powerful and growing washes of two canyons to the north/east side where we would hopefully be protected from further flash flooding. Had we known what was going on a 1/4 mi behind us, we would have abandoned the car for higher ground. Back there, the entire road itself was being crushed and buried and upheaved and deposited carelessly around the little canyon valley we were in. Fortune would have it that the rain subsided after a while, picking up now and again, but never disturbing the 30' area we had come to know as safe haven, although it had encroached close enough.
By midnight a few hours later, Amanda had been able to fall asleep after the rain had subsided. The Milky Way shone like I'd never seen it, and after an inspection of the area and after the sound of rushing water had died off, I was able to sleep a little myself.
Before the crack of dawn I was restless and awoke, and was able to comprehend the total loss the park and some visitors and Inn employees had experienced. The place we had come to rest was so apparently fortunate; behind us a low wash of rock and rubble covered the road for about a 1/4 to 1/8 mi where severe damage uncovered the fact that there had been three one-to-two foot thick layers of highway constructed over each other throughout the years. A person could fit underneath the oldest layer of highway at some points, there had been so much earth removed and washed away. Other parts in front of us to the west were covered with 1-6 foot debris fields. A couple miles ahead, at the 49ers Gateway marker at the Furnace Creek Inn, the entire road had vanished and an 8 foot deep gully remained, still a small river 10 hours after the flooding. Part of the Inn is missing. Power and water are out. Vans and broncos are so pummeled it looks like vandalism except that they are stuffed with mud and trees.
To top it all off, Cal Trans, and the CHP were having a power struggle over the Federal Park Rangers, and were bickering over who was in charge and who should get the press for damage control and rescue efforts. Some big heads have developed with all the press, resulting in misinformation to the Park Rangers and victims of the flash flood. We were ordered to abondon our vehicles and evacuate the valley, and so I found myself home after hitchhiking and caravaning all of Monday. We were told and fully expected it would be days before we could get our vehicles, then Monday night at 10:30 I get a call saying they had cleared enough for a flatbed four-wheel drive towtruck to pull out our vehicles and tow them 120mi away to Lone Pine for $800 bucks a pop at our expense at CalTrans's order.
Back at the car on the morning after at the crack of dawn I was able to make some Panoramas of the damage. Shortly after, around 8am, a plane flew by and asked how we were over the PA. Soon a Ranger drove up and evacuated us to the nearby Furnace Creek Ranch, which, like the Inn, was sans H2O and electric, except for some limited generators. So, the whole area was evacuated except for employees, and Amanda and I hitchhiked out in two separate cars with the first caravan that was headed for Lone Pine 109mi West past Panamint Valley. If it wasn't enough to be caught in a storm, trapped in a car together for the night, to share in the awe and devastation by the morning light, and then be forced to leave it later, with no place to stay, we were abruptly split up. It didn't seem right, but it's the way it was. Both of our rides went to Ochala to the South instead of North to Lone Pine, and we were able to see each other briefly again before parting ways for separate destinations.
I was able to get the car back after a few days. Some extensive cosmetic damage, but no apparent water damage occured as yet - there's no smell, but there may be water damage in the engine and electrical systems. The Czechs stayed a while and went their separate ways. Their car was still at the lot in Lone Pine when I picked mine up. It'll be a while before I can see Death Valley again. But I will go.
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