A lesson in elevation change: do not attempt to move 9,000 feet in elevation and expect that the weather is pleasant in both places. After leaving Mt. Charleston we headed down to the lowest point in North America: Death Valley. After spending a sweltering night at 190 feet below sea level it was nearly the death of all of us (Braden, me, and the Pig). Braden and I were up at midnight sweating and had to check the temperature at the ranger station: it dropped from 115 to a relaxing 102. Phew! In the morning, the Pig (van) pulled out of the valley at a staggering 35 mph; luckily it neither burned up its breaks on the downhill nor overheated on the uphill (thanks to our turning the heat on high – we all sacrificed).
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