Cents Per Gallon

This gas pump is so old it gives a price in only “cents per gallon”.

Seems to reflect the overall situation in Gold Point pretty well… it’s pretty much an open-air museum too. There are a few houses around the area that don’t look abandoned, but also quite a lot of “No Trespassing” signs and fences, too. The Post Office looks like it’s in good shape.

You try to open the door, but it’s apparently locked.  So you try knocking… and you hear that same bizarre shuffling inside.

No one ever opens or answers. Whatever that sound was, it doesn’t seem eager to help. That same unsettling feeling… Nothing like that was ever mentioned in the Disney films, you think almost out loud.

You notice the sun is starting to go down; maybe you should just leave the area completely and head towards Tonopah?

Or you can brave the evening here in Gold Point and wait for someone to appear. After all… someone has to live in this town, right?

RUSTEZ3

As you approach what you think must be Gold Point, you notice a bunch of old trucks lined up as if on display. Laying on the ground next to this one, you notice a homemade sign that still barely reads “WE SHADOW FORTH…”  whatever that means. You can’t help but notice that the truck appears to have an almost cartoonish face to it.

There’s another vaguely familiar truck-face nearby… or you can just Git-R-Done and head over to what looks like the town’s Post Office.

Daisy Dukes Was Here

These shorts have seen some wild times, it looks like.

Somebody decided the base of Icara makes a decent altar. Business cards, bottle caps, a busted watch, and now apparently a well-worn pair of daisy dukes- all left behind like the statue’s some kind of confessional.

You’ve got nothing on you worth leaving. Not that you’d leave a business card out here anyway.

Might be worth checking on those ghosts Icara pointed you toward, or you could just get moving before the heat gets any worse.

Union Pacific Caboose

Looks like this caboose was repurposed into gas station or something before being left to it’s own accord. Other than some still-standing powerlines, not much indicates that it’s been used for anything recently.

You consider entering the caboose, but you can tell that someone has taken effort to prevent entry. The ubiquitous warning signs are posted, and what appears to be a tripwire inside the doorway cues you in on the possibility that the signs aren’t just for show.

Other than some stones, accumulated litter, and what appears to be dozens of small holes burrowed into the dirt floor, you really see nothing inside to risk going in for.

Nearby, a motionless, shrouded white form (ghosts?) appears to beckon you away from this relic.

Will you go inside the caboose anyway, or head over to this ghostly apparition?

 

Venus of Nevada

Welcome to Nevada!

Your vehicle, driven slowly and with the heater fully cranked, maintained its uphill composure pretty well.

Now that you’ve gotten out of the depths of Death Valley, it appears to be holding up just fine. In fact, the air itself is slightly less hot. It’s only 113F out here, yay!

The first thing you notice as you approach Rhyolite is some garish, 25-foot-tall pink sculpture off in the distance…  some sort of homage to pixel art, perhaps? Ah, this is the Goldwell Open Air Museum. You can stick around to check out the other artifacts here, or continue towards the town itself.

At least, what’s left of it…

Sixteen Fathoms Below the Sea

One word: Hot.

It’s over 120F here in the lowest point of North America.

You’ve drank almost a gallon of water just getting to this point, and yet your sweat feels like it’s nearly boiling.

If the ocean could be here with you right now, you’d be more than one hundred feet below the surface. Despite the thought of those depths, you still wonder if it wouldn’t be at least a slight improvement of this situation.

You struggle to squint through the windless miasma, but don’t see much beyond the dusty playas and outstretched road. A couple Joshua trees and Creosote bushes dot the desert floor.

For a while you’ve noticed the increased crush of air pressure… it reminds you of pressurized cabins on commercial flights, when your ears start popping and the wee babies start crying.

The heat is incredibly intense and your skin isn’t taking to it very well. Your vehicle is nearly overheating, so it’s probably best to stay the night rather than risk getting stranded. Maybe there’s some shade around here you could faint in? 

Well, let’s decide- you can either head back towards Nevada now and maybe risk overheating the vehicle, or you can look for some kind of shade and make camp. It’s gotta be easier to travel in this desert at night, right?

Poker Face?

The trickster coyote often works in a group to overwhelm and/or snatch from their prey.

One trick I find fascinating is when one (usually the youngest or smallest coyote) acts like they are tame, injured, or even playful. Meanwhile, the rest of the group flanks you while you take photos…

Death Valley, CA really has some hardened (and beautiful) coyotes. You find some shade under a big creosote bush to wait them out.

That Roadkill Feeling

Well this is awkward.

These decent-sized creosote bushes don’t really account for a lot of shade, but it’s more comfortable than being under the vehicle.

There’s no way you could handle staying inside that thing, even with the windows down. So yeah- a nap under the biggest, shadiest bush you could find made sense considering your options. Until (and well after sunset) you woke up from your hazy fade to a snake slowly brushing by your neck.

You reflexively swipe at it but in doing so you also whack it right in the mouth. The snake’s fangs are stuck in your palm! You throw your arm in a wild arc, trying to sling the snake off. This works, but you also feel the heat from it’s venom start to throb in your wrist.

It’s pumped ever faster by your own startled heart up into your armpit, tingling. This is happening way too fast. 

You immediately jump up and rush to the driver’s side door trying to escape this waking nightmare, but you feel a tingling in your neck and nausea start to take over. You stumble over the asphalt shoulder as you swing around the front of the vehicle, splaying headlong into the road itself. You can barely get your hands out to stop your fall and your head just

donks

off the asphalt like some cartoon sound effect. You note the sound well, because it seems so much louder than the blood that’s pounding through your eardrums.

What’s in a name like Death Valley, right?

Your arms feel like they aren’t yours anymore.

You taste something like metal in your mouth. Your vision begins to tunnel.

Your chest shudders. You can barely see down the road anymore…

Can’t even move… and so you wait; with a faintly sinking, almost roadkill feeling?

 

You can start over, if you’d like.