When my husband suggested a trip to Death Valley National Park in February, I hesitated. I’m a mountain girl, after all. Give me misty forests, alpine lakes, and snow-dusted peaks, and I’m content. The thought of trading all that for barren salt flats and endless desert seemed… well, a little bleak.
But what I found there? It took my breath away.
Furnace Creek Campground
We rolled into Furnace Creek in our Winnebago Solis campervan, the desert sun charging the van’s solar panels while cool breezes threaded through the open windows. There’s something oddly luxurious about winter camping in a place that bakes in summer—like we’d slipped in through a secret backdoor, welcomed by the land before the heat arrived.
So much to see
Our days were full of wonder. We hiked the golden Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, half-hoping to spot a lost droid or two from Star Wars fame (See title photo above). We drove the winding curves of Artist’s Drive, where the rocks are splashed with wild colors—lavender, green, rose, ochre—as if God got playful with a paintbrush.
We watched the sun melt into the horizon at Zabriskie Point, bathing the landscape in molten light. The view was so dramatic, it felt almost sacred. I thought of Psalm 23:4:
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. [NASB]
I find it interesting that in The Message, author Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of this verse refers to Death Valley by name:
Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side.
Your trusty shepherd’s crook makes me feel secure. [MSG]
Standing there, in a place literally called Death Valley, I didn’t feel fear. I felt awe. And presence. And peace.
We visited the Natural Bridge, wandered through the salt-encrusted cracks of the Badwater Basin (the lowest point in North America!), and had fun discussing geology. With two advanced degrees in geography between us, you can bet we were totally nerding out. Being in the “lowest place” felt almost poetic—like tracing the contours of Earth’s story with our own feet.
We tried to spot fighter jets roaring through Rainbow Canyon (aka Star Wars Canyon), but the Air Force didn’t get our memo. Still, the canyon was worth the visit.
Our favorite hike
Our favorite hike, hands-down, was the loop around Ubehebe Crater. The crater is massive—half a mile wide and over 700 feet deep—and hiking its rim gave us sweeping views of volcanic drama and desert solitude. The stillness of the place gave a sense of the sacred.
The People of Death Valley
We also made a stop at the Harmony Borax Works, wandering through the remnants of the 20-mule team days. There’s something humbling about the grit and determination it took to survive and work in this landscape. Much of the labor was done by Chinese immigrants who spent long days in the heat scraping borax from the salt flats. At night, they camped on-site in tents and crude shelters while the other employees bunked at nearby Furnace Creek Ranch.
Final thoughts
What I expected to be dry and desolate turned out to be deeply moving. Death Valley isn’t barren—it’s honest. Even around the remains of the Borax works, life still clings: desert blooms, curious ravens, resilient lizards. In the park’s wild silence, I found a kind of clarity I hadn’t known I was missing.
I came home with sand in my shoes, salt on my skin, and a heart full of unexpected gratitude. Sometimes it’s in the starkest places that God reminds us—we’re never truly alone.
Have you ever visited Death Valley—or a place that surprised you? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!
