Lisa at the Artist's Palette, on the face of the Black Mountains. The colorful rocks and mountains are caused by the oxidation of different metals.  Red, pink and yellow is from iron salts, green is from decomposing tuff-derived mica, and manganese produces the purple.

Much of the scenery of Death Valley reminded me of Ladakh, and I half-expected to come across monasteries of Buddhist monks chanting.

 

December 31st.  New Year's Eve.  We got our room at Stovepipe Wells. But before the celebration, Lisa and I went out into the nearby Mesquite Sand Dunes in the evening to see the full moon.

Technical mumbo-jumbo:  Taken with a Nikon D50 on a Jobe Gorillapod, leaving the shutter open for 30 seconds, ISO 200, f3/5.

Death Valley in December dips below freezing at night.  When we were at the Amargosa Hotel, the water pipes froze during the night.

Lisa wore her black hooded parka.  I thought she was a striking figure against the night desert sky and the stark sandscape, shrouded in the dark.  She stood perfectly still for 30 seconds to get this exposure.

On the way out, we ran into a guy.  "Have you seen my cameras?"  He had left three cameras on tripods in the dunes for long time exposures, and couldn't find two of them.  We wished him luck.

We went back to the Stovepipe Wells, where we were staying for two nights, and where locals and guests ushered in the new year, with Europeans, Asians, everyone welcoming in a new decade.

Scotty's Castle.  Of course, it's not a castle, nor was it ever owned by Scotty.

How did someone come to build a two-story Mediterranean villa in the middle of Death Valley?

Rodeo star turned con man Walter Scott, or "Death Valley Scotty", convinced quiet religious insurance millionaire Albert Johnson of Chicago to invest in his desert gold mine.  Problem was, Scotty had no gold mine.

Johnson came to Death Valley on numerous trips, hanging out in the desert and, oddly, becoming friends with the boisterous, outgoing cowboy con man Scotty, a rather odd pairing.

Eventually, Johnson and investors caught wind of Scotty's con.  He had no gold mine.  Nonetheless, Johnson forgave him, and the two became fast friends.

Scotty continued his tall tales, telling visitors that he had built the castle for himself from money made from his gold mine, and it became known as "Scotty's Castle". Scott put in regular appearances at the castle to entertain Johnson's dinner guests with his stories, spinning unbelievable tales about his life and mine. Johnson did nothing to discourage Scott's tall tales.  On the contrary, he found it utterly entertaining.

The Johnsons ran short on funds during the Great Depression in 1929.  But they ran into another snag that halted construction of their desert dream home.

Surveyors discovered that the original homesteader surveys were incorrect, and that Johnson didn't actually own the land that his home was built on.  The Johnsons immediately stopped construction of their pool, clock tower, and other parts of the home, and were ensnared in a five-year legal fiasco that was finally resolved by Presidential intervention in 1935, which allowed Johnson to purchase the property.

The Johnsons continued to pay for Death Valley Scotty to live on the premises, giving him a monthly allowance.  Scotty lived in a guesthouse near the "castle", happy to hang out with his dog and his beloved mules and drink and smoke and tell tall tales to visitors.

He rarely saw his wife.  She eventually sued him for half of his stakes in his gold mine, only to get nothing since he had no gold mine.

Death Valley Scotty passed away in the 1950s, but is buried on a hill overlooking the castle so he can keep watch over "his castle".  Buried next to him is his dog.  His wife is buried elsewhere.