Part IV: The Racetrack

The Racetrack is a roughly kidney-shaped playa, a dry lakebed that is the dead-end for a few very intermittent streams in the northern section of the park. So when it does actually rain, the water in Racetrack Valley collects at its southern end, where it is trapped in the occasional lake that is the Racetrack. The water evaporates, leaving its silt behind, resulting in the remarkably flat surface of the Racetrack: it's about 3mi long north-to-south and the northern end is a mere four inches higher than the southern end.

 Melissa from atop The Grandstand

The Grandstand is what's left of a mountain of dolomite that was gradually eroded away by the streams that feed the Racetrack. In addition to being eroded away by rain from above, stream-borne sediment buries it at its base. The picture above is from as high up as I could climb. The picture below is from the reverse perspective-me on top taken by Melissa from the playa.

 Mitch from below the Grandstand

 A racer and its path. The Grandstand is in the background at center-right, more than 2.5mi distant.

Racers are rocks that fall off the mountains that abut the southern end of the Racetrack, (and sometimes off the Grandstand at the northern end). When conditions are just right, the rocks move across the playa leaving tracks behind. Exactly what these conditions are isn't entirely clear: amazingly, no one has ever seen the rocks move. Along with strong gusty winds, it's suspected that the surface has to be saturated with water. Some scientists think a thin layer of ice has to form. In any case, the rocks move, sometimes dozens of yards all in one go. Some of the racers have had their movements tracked since the 1940s.

 Melissa interpreting racer movements

Imagining how the racers could move at all is hard enough; it's almost completely unbelievable when you see how big some of them are. They range in size from that of a small book to bigger than a television. The bigger ones weigh well in excess of 250lbs, yet even these clearly have moved and left trails to prove it. (Apparently once in a while a racer is lost to a visitor with a truck. If the road in were better, more racers would probably disappear this way; hence, the rangers like the road just how it is.)

some racers' criss-crossing paths 

Racers' tracks run in long sweeping curves, squiggles, sharp u-turns and zig-zags. I wonder how often there's a collision (probably not often).

 Lunch with Ludwig at The Racetrack. Don't let the presence of that Honda or whatever it is lead you to think I've misled you about the awfulness of the Racetrack Valley Road; earlier we saw that they sacrificed a tire to it.


All this mention of water might mislead one into thinking that Death Valley is a wet place. Not so. Though these processes are dependent upon water, water there is so rare that it makes you pause when you think how grindingly long it has taken for all this--the formation of the playa, the eroding of the Grandstand, and the creation of the racers themselves--to occur. And that though a racer might move a few dozen yards in a shot, it might not move again for decades. The world and its workings really are stranger and more magical than any story made up by people.


(next: driving home in second gear)