The Badlands of Death Valley spread like crystallized sugar for miles toward the horizon. The ground stretched, dried cracks like wrinkles on a spinster’s face pulled outward, trying to connect to anything within its grasp. A fine dust covered the earth in places, kicked up by the occasional hot breeze. My throat stiffened with each breath.

If a place could be a hyperbole, then Death Valley would win. it is the hottest, driest and lowest point in the United States, and by any common sense accounts, those things would make it a nightmare to visit. It is a place where a person can sweat profusely without showing any signs of moisture depletion. A place where lips stay chapped and hands are void of moisture. A place where most living things have escaped or died out, never to return to such a harsh environment.

At Badwater, 282 feet below sea level, I drain my water bottle, eager to refill it when I get the chance. A murky puddle is roped off, a delicate ecosystem that can easily be damaged by wandering feet. Along a short walk into the desert landscape, we find yet another puddle called Devil’s Hole, where a few pupfish swim in it. The fish has lived in isolation in Death Valley for an estimated 25,000 years, surviving and thriving in water that is 93 degrees Fahrenheit.

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