Historic Rain, Pop-Up Lakes, Meth Labs, and Cacti Portals
The 10,000 year Lake Manly, and the many manly deaths of Death Valley
Last week, I wrote about experiencing a historic heat wave and I offered a list of relatable dystopian novels, but I realized, the heat wave wasn’t the only extraordinary weather I experienced this year, in this era I’m now calling The Hot Age.
Back in February, I also witnessed a twice-in-10,000-year rain that formed the pluvial and rare Lake Manly in Death Valley’s Badwater Basin. Finding myself at the right place at the right time, I took off my shoes and waded into this once-in-a-lifetime floating oasis along with a gaggle of hippies who’d also trekked out to see the spectacle.
As the water reached my knees, I wondered what the odds were that I’d be born, travel here on this exact day, and experience this ephemeral, reflective lake.
So, I felt very blessed. Plus, the day of our Basin visit was the only time during our trip when the rains took a break, and we received a perfect, sunny day with a lake and sky as fresh as a newborn baby.
I say twice-in-10,000-year-lake because back in 2023, Hurricane Hilary, which turned Burning Man into a mud pit, also created Lake Manly, but before that, no one alive today got to experience it like this.
The Death Valley lake I experienced was also the deepest version in recorded history. NASA documented water depths while I was there to be between 1.5 feet and 3 feet.
The lake was warm, and the ground felt like pure silk. All sorts of critters were bubbling up too and swimming around in the sand. I guess they’d been living in the grounds of Death Valley and now were confused by the rains, or perhaps delighted, like kids on an unexpected snow day. Who knows?
The water was shallow on the shore, then grew deeper the further we walked. It seemed to extend for miles and merge with the horizon.
Badwater Basin, where the lake formed, is the lowest place in America, resting 282 feet below sea level. It’s also the driest place in America. It is endorheic nature, meaning water comes in, but doesn’t flow back out, so the lake only ends due to evaporation. Yet, it used to be an ocean, a shallow sea, back in the Paleozoic Era, between 542-251 million years ago.
Then, during the Ice Age, between 30,000 and 11,000 years ago, it became a system of lakes that eventually evaporated into the present desert.
Because it was once the ocean, the sand is covered in salt deposits, making Lake Manly a saltwater lake. I could feel clumps of hardened salt crunching under my feet and the water left a gritty salt residue on my calves.
As we walked around, soaking our feet and trying not to sink too deeply into the wet sand, we imagined the land underwater and chit-chatted and fantasized about how whales might have swum through the space, between the mountains, or at least large fish. Maybe dinosaurs caught fish from the shore or waded in for swims. Archeologists found dinosaur tracks in sandstone just south of the park, and in an area known as “The Barnyard,” there are preserved tracks from mastodons, five species of camels, horses, and cats the size of leopards, likely made around five million years ago in the Pliocene Epoch.
It was so magical and surreal to imagine ourselves in the once-underwater kingdom.
On the mountains facing the basin, you can still see the line where the ocean used to stop.
When the pop-up lakes of Death Valley recede, they are sometimes replaced by wildflowers, which happened this spring too, in another rare event for the area that brought in bees and butterflies.
As the botanist explains in the video below, the unusual February rain I experienced caused enormous plants to grow in the Valley. This is sometimes referred to as a “superbloom.”
While weather can seem so fleeting to us humans, with our ant-sized attention spans and short lives, I’m reminded that one of the Ice Ages, as far as scientists can tell, lasted 300 million years, which makes me wonder, how long will this Hot Age last? And will it bring so much rain that the lakes of Death Valley take up permanent residence?
But It Wasn’t All Sunshine and Rainbows
Despite the splendor of our day at the Bad Water Basin and Manly Lake, these unusual rains also almost ruined our Death Valley trip.
As the week progressed, the rains flooded and blocked off entrance roads to the park. They choked the night skies with clouds, making it difficult to see any stars—the real purpose behind our journey, which I’d been planning for years, in pursuit of total darkness and a vivid view of the Milky Way, something adjacent to mankind’s impact on Earth: escape from light pollution.
I think I’ll write more about light pollution and this pursuit of darkness and stars next week, as this post has gotten long. I want to turn instead to books about Death Valley, since this Lagoon is always on a mission to encourage you to read more, dream more, and imagine more.
Death Valley Victims
Another wonderful thing I discovered on this trip to Death Valley was the book Death Valley’s Victims: A Descriptive Chronology 1849-1980, by Daniel Cronkhite, which was in our Airbnb.
The book chronicles deaths, unknown bodies, and murders that occurred in Death Valley. The author even includes REAL photos of some of the dead bodies, which I considered adding here, but they’re so gruesome that I decided against sharing them; a worthy reminder, however, of our own fragility.
I was so taken with this book, and sad that I had to leave it behind, but a few weeks later my partner located a used copy, and gifted it to me for Valentine’s Day! Yes, I’m not a girl who needs heart-shaped lockets or rose bouquets, I prefer grisly accounts of human melting. I was delighted.
As a novelist, I take grist for the story mill any way I can get it, and this book is packed like a kid’s sand pail at the beach with true tales begging to be retold as works of fiction.
Many of the valley’s deceased are foolish seekers, roaming in search of mystical experiences, mineral fortunes, or extreme adventures, like Donald Blackwell, 23, a theology student from Chicago, who came to Death Valley with nothing but a white suit, white dress shoes, and a lust for Jesus. Intending to do a 40-day fast, he perished halfway up Death Valley’s Tin Mountain, baked to a crisp by the 120-degree July sun.
Or Val Nolan, a “prospector” who, in July 1939, ran into car trouble driving through the valley. He set out for help and shade but instead found death. His body was discovered sometime later, burrowing into the sand, presumably in search of an underground spring.
Death Valley Kings
The book also introduces some of the few permanent residents of Death Valley, those who triumphed over the scorching hellscape, real wild men like the infamous “Death Valley Scotty,” AKA Walter Scott, who built and lived in his own castle in Death Valley.
I wanted to see the castle, but unfortunately, this was one of the roads blocked by the unexpected flood; so I wasn’t able to go.
However, it must be noted that the longtime residents in the book are included not for their longevity or colorful lives, but because they still eventually died in Death Valley.
Even kings must pass.
Walter Scott was buried alongside his dog Windy in a grave overlooking the castle. Tourists brave enough to make the hike, rub his tombstone’s nose for good luck.
Death Valley Scotty’s Rules for Life:
Don’t say nothing that will hurt anybody.
Don’t give advice—nobody will take it anyway.
Don’t complain.
Don’t explain.
Putting the Man in Manly Lake
Interestingly, almost all the deaths in Death Valley were men. The Death Valley’s Victims book only records the deaths of three women among hundreds of men.
A woman’s body, never identified, buried in a shallow grave, wrapped in a calico dress, 1861, found amongst abandoned wagons
Donna Clark, 24, from Philadelphia, went with friends in August 1973 to see the Natural Bridge canyon, but decided it was way too hot, left the group to head back to their car, but collapsed before reaching the vehicle.
Sue Blanchard, 38, went hiking up a hill with her husband in 1976, trying to get a better view of the Badwater Basin, but she slipped, fell, and fractured her skull.
This gender death divide seems to hold true for all national park deaths, as according to data from the National Park Service, men make up 83% of all U.S. National Park deaths.
Breaking Bad Valley
Nowadays, I think the Valley is less dangerous because we have cell phones and park rangers, yet, every year, people still die there. I found an online running list of Death Valley “incidents” that picks up where the book leaves off, beginning in the 80s and going to the present day.
As recent as May 1st of this year, a hiker passed away in the Valley. Vehicles also frequently catch fire there because it’s TOO hot.
Also, long before the TV show Breaking Bad, in the 90s, park rangers and police uncovered multiple hidden desert meth labs in Death Valley, with some containing over $500,000 dollars worth of meth. (Also recorded on the list linked above.)
I couldn’t find images from the Death Valley math lab busts, but I did find a hilarious-looking movie someone made about it.
Death Valley Fantasies
Furthermore, there are numerous novels written about or inspired by Death Valley, and I can understand why, because the area is enchanting, strange, harsh, otherworldly, and haunted by all these tragic deaths. After all, it’s called Death Valley for a reason. It’s literally a murderous place, completely dangerous for humans most of the time, utterly inhospitable, inhabited by strange, loner characters, and perfect for calamity, tragedy, and brutality.
Probably the best-known of these books in recent times is the novel Death Valley by Melissa Broder. I haven’t read it yet, but it’s in my Kindle queue. The description sounds right up my magical realism alley…
…A woman arrives alone at a Best Western seeking respite from an emptiness that plagues her. She has fled to the California high desert to escape a cloud of sorrow… Out along the sun-scorched trail, the narrator encounters a towering cactus whose size and shape mean it should not exist in California. Yet the cactus is there, with a gash through its side that beckons like a familiar door. So she enters it. What awaits her inside this mystical succulent sets her on a journey at once desolate and rich, hilarious, and poignant.
Now You
Have you been to Death Valley? What was your experience?
Does this post bring up any other books or reactions for you?
Should I host a monthly book club and group read novels like Death Valley?
And if you like magical realism, romance, and desert cacti, but you haven’t read my novel Cactus Friends, you might want to give it a read.
That’s all. This Death Valley Manly Lake experience was honestly one of the most magical days of my life, and if you read this far, I want to thank you so much for being here, and for giving me an outlet to revisit this incredible moment in nature and history. Thank you.
XXXOOO
Charlotte Dune
Fascinating post.
The closest I ever got to Death Valley was driving through Barstow on our way in California is 1971.
My son spend time at the army training fort nearby where they replicate life in Iraq / Afghanistan prior to deployment. He was there in June. It's so realistic, one soldier committed suicide because he didn't want to go back. Someone else died from dehydration due to running / marching.
I love your experience of it as a cosmic connection with nature. The lesson seems to be that beauty isn't always found where you look for it, and this planet is far more complex that we typically realize.
I think I passed through Death Valley on the way to Vegas as a kid. Your fascination with the area is understandable, especially as you learn more about it. My parents lived in Oroville, CA, out in the countryside and got excellent views of the milky way. I fondly remember the starry sky and appreciating the less light pollution. Do you have anything to say about noise pollution? I'd love to find a spot where there is neither and have that experience. Hard to find a place not under some flight path.
And what an opportunity to get to wade in an ancient lake! I thought at first it was a different lake that appeared earlier in the year with all the rain - Lake Tulare in the San Joaquin Valley, now a bunch of farmland started filling the basin. So that's interesting that CA got enough rain to start filling 2 ancient lake beds! Here's more info on Lake Tulare:
https://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/images/151174/return-of-tulare-lake