To the Top of (the Funeral Mountains') Pyramid Peak | Rain #1

The last quarter of 2025 has not been kind to Death Valley National Park. Major flooding occurred on September 19th, wiping out many roads that'd only recently reopened after hurricane Hillary went through in 2023.

The September rains couldn't have happened at a worse time. The NPS - already historically underfunded in my opinion - had been gutted by asinine firings and government cutbacks. Budgets for managing and maintaining our National Treasures had been reduced dramatically. This resulted in cleanups that took longer than ever, a situation that was further exacerbated by a government shutdown - over the availability of affordable healthcare (how can this be something that is controversial?) - that began October 1, 2025.

Still, the NPS worked through the shutdown to clear the roads, and on November 14, two days after the shutdown ended, they reopened several major arterials that they'd cleared and repaired in the interim.

The reopening lasted all of one day. We were in the park on November 14th, having experienced the first of the rain that arrived the previous evening. In fact, after summiting Funeral Peak in rain showers, we opted to head home early in order to avoid the weather event that was on the way. It was a good call, because by November 16, everything was a mess. The damage was done.

Death Valley broke a 115-year record after the driest place in North America was hit by more than 1.75 inches of rain in November, making it the rainiest November on record, the San Francisco Chronicle reported.

All the roads that had been reopened (and more) were once again damaged and closed.

And now, we're headed back. Back to explore a few places that are still accessible After the Rain.

- - - - -

Following a familiar pattern, we deplaned in Las Vegas and headed straight to In-N-Out before filling up the fridge and heading west toward Death Valley. We'd arrive - just outside the eastern edge of the Park - just before midnight, quickly setting up the tent and climbing into bed. We were going to need every minute of sleep that we could get in preparation for the hike I'd planned the next day.

Tiny Tacoma. Imposing peak.

Even before the sun crested the horizon we were out of the tent. Temperatures were pleasant - in the mid-50s °F - and there in front of us, Pyramid Peak filled our view. Some 3,700 feet above our current position, this 6-mile-one-way hike is not for the faint of heart. Nearly all of the elevation comes in the final 2 miles, a steep slog up slippery slopes of scree.

We'd be hiking the visible ridgeline, with little opportunity for anything but up.

There was only one reason we were hiking Pyramid Peak, a strikingly beautiful landmark - that we've passed countless times as we've wound our way into Death Valley - along CA-190. We wanted to tick off another summit on my list of Death Valley mountain range high points, a bee I'd gotten in my bonnet when we discovered that - on our recent summit of Funeral Peak - we'd unknowingly reached the highest point in the Black Mountains.

But that wasn't the only excitement on tap for the day. We were also meeting up with Michael @Mr E30 and his wife Stacy for the first time, having previously only communicated about our love for adventure on the internet. What could possibly go wrong?

(Strangely, many of those I now call my best of friends are folks I've met on the internet.)

It was 7:32am when we pulled up to the trailhead and parked the Tacoma next to the much-larger 3rd gen that Michael and Stacy call home. Warm greetings all around, they were already packed up and ready to go, and soon we were headed up the gentle alluvial fan as we discussed the most basic of questions to get to know each other.

Beginnings.

We'd discover -over the next two full days - that the four of us had a lot in common. A love for the outdoors, a developing preference for foot-based - rather than wheel-based - exploration, a daily routine that largely followed that of the sun, and wives thankful to have another woman around on a "truck trip," just to name a few. Of course, they had us beat by a good margin on age, and I found it fun trying to keep up with a couple whippersnappers on our long hikes!

Anyhow, the first three-and-a-half miles were reasonably easy for the entire crowd, and lost in conversation, it was easy to miss the fact that we were walking through a stunning landscape on a morning that couldn't have been more ideal. Still, every now and then I'd glance this way or that before pulling out the camera for a quick shot.

Behind us, a snow-capped Telescope Peak gleamed under blue skies.

The higher we got, the more we could see.

I love the look of hedgehog cacti, and these two wore dramatically different suits of spikes even though they were only a few dozen feet apart.

Three miles into the hike, we reached the end of the leisurely alluvial fan and the beginning of our climb. This wasn't a gradual transition. Rather, our initial ascent entailed slipping and scrambling our way up a faint use trail through marble-sized scree scattered over rock-hard sand. No one said anything, but it wouldn't surprise me if Michael and Stacy wondered what this crazy couple had gotten them into, as @mrs.turbodb and I quickly realized - gleefully in my case - that we'd met our match from a fitness and hiking perspective.

The way up.

As is always the case with a mountain like this, every torturous step comes with reward, and Pyramid Peak was no different. Our heart rates rising with the elevation, we slowly climbed one steep section after another. Each steep section was separated by a too-short, slightly-less-steep ascent - a literal uphill battle we were all determined to win. And with every step higher, it was clear that we were in fact winning. The views - initially territorial - were soon magnificent, and only got better as we climbed.

Shadows and golden light on the backside of the Black Mountains.

Upon reaching the ridge, we got our first glimpse of Armargosa Valley.

Kaleidoscope of color.

Of course, there were things to see immediately around us as well.

I really liked chainmail pattern of the leaves on this plant (what is it?) and expected it to be soft to the touch. However, it was amazingly rough and dry, a bit like manzanita.

I thought this rock looked like a stack of chocolate wafers, tied up with a nice white string.

Rising up behind the Black Mountains, the Panamints - and Telescope Peak - owned the horizon.

Dwarfed.

Half a mile - and still 700 vertical feet - from the top, @mrs.turbodb reached her limit. Finding a small saddle, she urged the rest of us to continue on to the summit while she allowed her body a few minutes to recover before we all joined back up for the equally difficult slog back down the scree-covered sides of the mountain.

Michael, Stacy, and I pushed on, finding the trail where we could, making one up where we couldn't. One foot in front of the other, one switchback after the next, we continued up - through bands of orange, black, and white, millions of years old - until all we could see above us was blue.

"I'm not sure where the trail goes," said Stacy  - currently leading the way - as she reached a pile of car-sized boulders.

"I think we just go up, and then we're at the top," replied Michael, as we each began hopping from one rock to the next, hoping he was right.

Made it! Three survey markers - two reference marks (left, right) and one triangulation (center) - at the summit.

As our heart rates slowly regained some semblance of sanity, we swept our gaze across a series of views that were unbelievably spectacular. The highest point around, we could see hundreds of miles in every direction. It was the perfect time for lunch.

West, across the Black Mountains, Death Valley, Panamint Mountains, and in the far distance, the Sierra photobombing the scene.

Northwest, the southern end of the Funeral Mountains, the northern flank of the Panamints, and the snow-covered Sierra and White Mountains along the horizon.

Northeast, the colorful Funeral Mountains reached up below us.

South, the final flanks of the Funerals.

The badlands of Corkscrew Canyon, Twenty-Mule-Team Canyon, and Zabriskie Point.

Working through our sandwiches, wraps, and dried mangos - of which Stacy and Michael had graciously brought along plenty extra - we soaked it all in, pointing out various landmarks we'd visited on previous adventures, as well as those we had on our radar for the future. And of course, we perused - and left our own witty messages - those who'd summited before us.

Shared moment.

This guy Jeremy always seems to find himself in the coolest spots.

Following in Mike Reynold's footsteps, it was a good day to have a great day!

Knowing that we wanted to get back down to @mrs.turbodb - who I'd texted once we'd reached the summit to let her know we'd made it - we didn't spend any more time at the top than we had to. Soon enough flung ourselves over the edge and began the long, torturous descent that would leave our legs, knees, and toes tired by the time we reached the bottom.

An orange mallow was nestled into the rocks as I departed the summit.

We were still taking in the views on the way back down.

Telescope Peak wasn't the only one with a dusting of snow. In the opposite direction, Mt. Charleston was looking fine as well.

Soon enough we were once again four, picking our way down the slippery scree toward the Tacomas. By the time we were down, each of us had taken at least one spill, a flurry of windmilling arms and jello-like legs preceding each impact. And still, it all seemed to be worth the trouble.

Halfway down and still a long way to go.

Soaking in the views and afternoon sun.

It was nearly 3:45pm - eight hours and one minute after we'd met - when we flopped ourselves down next to our trucks and simultaneously asked each other the same question:

"You guys want to hang out tomorrow, too?"

The answer was easy and after we drug ourselves into our Tacomas, we were on our way into Death Valley National Park for the second time in less than twelve hours. We'd arrive at our destination well after dark - and yet, on these short winter days, still before 6:00pm - ready for a quick bite to eat and as many hours of sleep as we could muster.

Cottonwood sunset.

The next day would bring another long trek - through four branches of the South Fork of Lemoigne Canyon - as we searched for all manner of interesting artifacts, left behind by a Death Valley legend.

 

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