![]() ![]() Here was one of the great icons of desert travel, a dried salt lake. Instead of the same brownish hues dotted with sage I was astounded to see a gleaming white dot that reflected the sunlight like a misplaced snow bank. The low spot of the valley - that's what caught my eye. The rugged mountain walls eroded into smoother, more gradual slopes and descended like the sides of an English garden pond toward the low spot of the valley. Sagebrush dotted the landscape like nubs from a missed razor. The brown haze turned into alluvial fans that graced their way from a canyon apex to blend with other fans to their left and right. From my distant perch it looked like a mere brown haze that stretched laterally across the base of the skyrocketing mountains.Īs the black asphalt ribbon descended steeper and deeper into the expanding valley, my idea of what I thought was valley floor expanded. Of course, from the mountain saddle I was on, all I could see was a smidgen of valley floor, or what I thought was valley floor. Far beyond was another ridge and in between, way, way, down was an awesome valley. California 190 heading toward Death Valley rolled over another ridge.
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