Death Valley boasts spectacular sights

Unless you have access to a light aircraft, getting to Death Valley in California involves driving.

From Las Vegas, it's two hours and 15 minutes and, in our case, it's about a five-hour drive from Los Angeles.

The first thing that struck me about our handsome, well-appointed all-wheel-drive Buick Enclave is the quietness. I could barely hear the starter when I fired it up and had to check the tachometer to see if it was actually running.

Five hours of quiet is a fitting prelude for what my wife, Lisa, and I have in store. Death Valley is a place where, if you listen carefully, you just might hear your own heartbeat. About twice the size of the state of Delaware, the lowest place of elevation in the Western Hemisphere is the quintessential place to unwind.

So swap your Blackberry, cell phone and e-mail thirst for a camera, hiking boots and a reliable set of wheels to get you around the stark desolation of one of the most amazing spots on the planet.

Escaping the beck and call of the outside world is a proper way to experience this spectacular landscape. And even though Death Valley National Park is the driest, hottest place in North America, two of the busiest months for visitors is smack dab in the middle of the summer. The world obviously loves superlatives.

It's almost dark when we descend into the valley and check into the Furnace Creek Inn & Ranch Resort at the foot of the Funeral Mountains. Our room is at the inn. This exceptional blend of retro and luxury that opened in 1927 is the perfect place from which to explore the virtually untouched and extraordinarily distinct region.

From the vantage point of our room I stare into dark, still silence. Between the hushed interior of the Buick Enclave and the tranquility of the valley beyond, it has indeed been a quiet day. Sleep comes easily.

Morning brings the view. The area of the valley beyond the terrace of our room is all below sea level and musters thoughts of the lost city of Atlantis. The rising sun renders the walls of the distant Panamint Mountain Range pink, then dusty rose as the sun launches another assault on Death Valley. I can't wait to get down there.

Over breakfast we check our guide book for options. Badwater, Dante's View, Devil's Cornfield, Devil's Golf Course, Scotty's Castle. Sounds like we're holed up somewhere between heaven and hell. If we want something more worldly, there is golf at the lowest golf course in the world, horseback riding at the ranch, lounging around the spring-fed swimming pool at the Furnace Creek Inn or even order up a massage.

We go for the road and soon find ourselves back in the opulence of the Buick Enclave maneuvering through Artist's Drive, a paved 9-mile loop winding through technicolor washes and passes that offer stunning views of the salt flats below.

Lisa drives to Badwater, the lowest place in the valley, while I sit in the back and stare up through the second row skylight. I consider the Jayhawkers, a group of prospecting families who entered the long narrow valley looking for a shortcut to the California goldfields on Christmas Day, 1849.

The group couldn't find a route from the valley and holed up near Furnace Creek while two of the ablest bodied went looking for a way out. When they returned three weeks later only a few Jayhawkers remained. As they were led out of their desolation, one of the surviving women apparently looked back one last time and said "Goodbye, Death Valley." The name apparently stuck.

In the afternoon, the Enclave soaks up the dusty trail through Twenty-Mule Team Canyon, named after the tandem wagons that the Harmony Borax Company used to haul its booty to the rail head in Mojave 125 years ago. I reflect on the few hours this would take in our state-of-the-art Enclave compared to the 10-day trek those intrepid mule drivers encountered.

But alas, after two and a half days of fun and fascination, it's time to go. We decide to return to Los Angeles via the northern route through Stovepipe Wells and up the long grade over the Panamint Range.

Over the next eight miles, we climb from sea level to almost 6,000 feet. I watch the valley in the rearview mirror and as we peak the summit and the scene disappears, I sadly whisper, "Goodbye, Death Valley."

Garry Sowerby, author of Sowerby's Road, Adventures of a Driven Mind, is a four-time Guinness World Record holder for long-distance driving. His exploits, good, bad and just plain harrowing, are the subject of World Odyssey, produced in conjunction with Wheelbase Media. Wheelbase Media is a worldwide provider of automotive news and features stories.