A century ago last week, Death Valley hit 56.7degC, the highest temperature recorded on Earth. Dunedin man Damian George reports from the hot spot.
There is something just a little bit eerie about driving down a seemingly endless stretch of road in the middle of the desert, especially as dusk falls on your lonesome vehicle and the vast nothingness surrounding you.
Mostly, though, it's just fun.
Death Valley, in California's Mojave Desert, is not nearly as uninviting as the name suggests.
About five hours drive northeast of Los Angeles (or two and a-half hours northwest of Las Vegas), Death Valley National Park is an adults' adventure playground, boasting canyons, sand dunes, badlands and salt flats, to name just a few of the attractions.
The fatalistic appellation was reportedly given to the area by a group of pioneers, the Lost 149ers, who became lost there in 1849, although only one is known to have died.
While the words ''national park'' conjure images of crowds, ticket gates and park rangers, Death Valley has a different sort of ambience.
Yes, people do visit here, and certain spots are scattered with fellow sightseers.
But apart from a pay machine as you enter its territory; the odd restroom block; and a lone motel at Furnace Creek, you really can't help but feel you're in the middle of nowhere.
And that's what makes the whole experience so surreal.
The United States is littered with national parks, but this one would surely have to offer one of the most authentic experiences of the environment it takes in, and it is some environment.
Coming from New Zealand, there's not a lot of natural terrain you can't experience in at least some capacity - mountains, lakes, volcanoes, rivers, forests, waterfalls. The one thing we don't have in this fine country, though, is desert.
Vast, unforgiving, arid, foreboding - the desert is a fascinating series of natural phenomena that constantly make you question whether you're seeing the real thing.
So, armed with a phone, some water, and a few printouts of the best spots to hit, my travel buddy and I took the gung-ho ''she'll be right'' Kiwi attitude right into the middle of the Mojave.
Death Valley, home to North America's lowest elevation point - the Badwater Basin, at 86m below sea level - boasts the highest recorded temperature on Earth, 56.7degC.
It also has great diversity, with its peaks frosted with winter snow, rare rainstorms bringing fields of wildflowers, and more than 1000 varieties of plants.
Mostly, though, it's hot, which is why travel is not advised at the height of summer.
One could spend a week in Death Valley; we had only a few hours, so we had to pick our spots carefully.
First up we stopped at the Zabriskie Point lookout in Furnace Creek to snap some shots of the desert badlands - remarkable gullied terrain formed by eroded mudstone and bright clay.
It is an overwhelming way to start your Death Valley experience - beige-coloured, undulating, low-lying hills stretch for kilometres, with no obvious sign of life. They appear like ancient city remains as you walk the short distance from your car.
In a moment, any doubts you may have had about the worthiness of this destination, during the nearly 500km drive to get here, are swept away.
A trip to the scenic Artist's Drive loop (multihued volcanic and sedimentary hills) had been on the cards, but, with just a few hours until sunset, we had bigger fish to fry.
Next on our agenda was Golden Canyon - a veritable playground for the outdoors types.
This massive, brightly coloured canyon was just begging to be explored.
A steep, narrow track of sorts has been carved out and, after less than 15 minutes of charging up the rocky, rugged steps, we had already climbed several hundred metres up through the deep canyon and turned around to see the most remarkable views of the desert floor below us, flanked by the steep canyon face.
It was an eye-popping experience, and proof again there is no better way to see something than to get amongst it.
In Furnace Creek, we also stumbled upon the village of the Timbisha tribe, who have inhabited the valley for at least the past 1000 years and are the only remaining tribe in the region.
Whether we were welcome there or not we weren't sure, but we didn't stay long enough to find out.
From Furnace Creek our adventure continued north to Stovepipe Wells, following the main road through the valley.
This area offers enough to keep someone occupied for days: the seasonal stream of water at Salt Creek (the only home of the rare pupfish); Titus Canyon, entailing volcanic deposits, petroglyphs (prehistoric rock carvings), bighorn sheep, winding narrows and even a ghost town; and the polished marble walls of Mosaic Canyon.
At the top of our list, though, bearing in mind the time factor, was the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes. Sand dunes make up only 1% of Death Valley's geography as there are not many places for sand to settle. The Eureka Dunes in the Scotty's Castle area are the highest at about 200m.
They, however, were another 140km away and, more importantly, would not have been easy climbing.
The vast Mesquite Flat dunes - some rising 30m - on the other hand, provided a perfect challenge for a couple of Kiwis keen to get acquainted with terrain they'd only seen in movies.
The desert dunes, commonly associated with places such as the Middle East, were yet another striking reminder of what a remarkably diverse piece of land the state of California really is.
In the distance, we spotted the highest dune visible from where we were, topped by dots that signified fellow trekkers, and decided to take it on before sundown.
I've done a lot of running in my time, but running through desert sand dunes definitely takes the cake.
The picturesque, wavy dunes formed a unique backdrop; thoughts of early European travellers trekking for days through brutal summer heat to reach their destination (such as The Lost 149ers) ran through my mind.
Below our feet, the clay of an ancient lake bed had cracked into a polygon pattern, while, almost inexplicably, Mesquite trees grew sporadically out of the sand.
As we reached the summit, about 3km from our starting point, we were met by looks of surprise - it seemed taking the express route barefoot to the top of the steepest dune wasn't the normal thing to do.
If that wasn't normal, then running the 100m or so to the bottom like a giggling school child probably wasn't either.
Of course, although it all sounds a bit casual, it's wise to exercise a touch of common sense here.
There's no danger in getting lost as long as there are other people around, but it is a good idea to keep an eye on the sun to make sure you are at least back at your vehicle before it gets dark.
If you are foolhardy enough to trek during the warm season, be aware of sidewinder rattlesnakes. While our Death Valley experience ended at the dunes, the park has a lot more to offer.
There are tours through Scotty's Castle, an elaborate Spanish-style mansion built in the heady days of the 1920s; the Ubehebe Crater, the result of a volcanic explosion 300 years ago; and The Racetrack, where rocks mysteriously slide across a dry lakebed, leaving long tracks for visitors to ponder. Further down, Panamint Springs includes the ''miracle in the desert'' - the year-round Darwin Falls spring-fed waterfall; the Lee Flat Joshua trees; and the preserved Wildrose Charcoal Kilns, built in 1876 to provide fuel to process silver and lead ore, and still smelling like smoke today.
Do not be put off by the name. If you are planning to visit California or Nevada, it is worth a detour to Death Valley.
If you go
• Accommodation is available if you feel one day here won't cut it, and guided tours are provided seasonally at certain locations.
• All you need to know about Death Valley, or any other of the US national parks, can be found at www.nps.gov/deva.
• And as a side note, when you leave Death Valley, be sure to check you have enough petrol in the car to get you to the nearest town. It is about two and a-half hours to Las Vegas and about five hours to Los Angeles.
Footnote: A heatwave in the area recently sent the mercury soaring to 54.4degC, a June record.
