Death Valley

The plan was to get from San Francisco to Telluride in time for the Bluegrass festival but without a tire crossing the Utah border. We figured that once we're back in UT, the walkabout is pretty much done, so we should save that for last. The solution was to drive south toward Flagstaff, with a stopover in Death Valley. Most years, Death Valley by mid-June is pretty toasty, but we lucked out with weather that was fine and hot but perfectly comfortable. The time we spent after leaving I-5 turned out magical, especially our overnight at the eccentric, partly crumbled, completely uncanny Amargosa Opera House in Death Valley Junction. That combination motel, nonprofit historic site, and working theater felt like walking onto the set of an unknown David Lynch movie, replete with evening magic show. It was the weirdest spot we'd stumbled onto since the bizarre Wycliffe Well Roadhouse in Australia's NT and yet also the serenest, most unexpectedly satisfying corner since Fort Sesfontein, Namibia. It made us wonderfully happy to feel that, even back in the States, serendipity lurks around every bend.