On the 12th anniversary of my dad’s passing, I looked back at photos from our 2023 trip to Death Valley. This anniversary was a moment to reflect on the process of grief and healing I had been on.
As I thought about the trip, I felt a sense of sadness and closure. Scattering my dad’s remains at Dante’s View felt like an act of honoring his memory and spirit.
I’ve wanted to visit Death Valley because of its harsh terrain and beautiful views. The contradictions of nature exist in this one place. The high and low points of Dante’s View (5,575 feet) and Badwater Basin (282 feet below sea level) mirror the ups and downs I’ve experienced since my dad’s passing.
Unexpected Support & Small Miracles
Death Valley is more than 600 miles from where we live in Northern California, and getting there is not a straightforward or easy trip.
As I always do before any trip, I map out the route, identifying the least-congested path with many rest stops along the way. Gone are the days of driving long stretches. Experience has taught me to take it easy and not rush to get to our destination.
Even though I had reserved the campsite six months ahead, two weeks before our trip, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. There was a deep-seated fear and anxiety about embarking on such a journey after a long hiatus. We hadn’t taken an extended Airstream trip in a while, and I felt out of practice. Memories of past trips and all of the unexpected challenges lingered in my mind.
Would we face unfavorable weather? How would Airstream Bambi hold up in a desert sandstorm? Most importantly, how will I feel when I let my dad’s remains go? My mind held many scenarios, each feeding my hesitation. However, the desire to honor my dad at Dante’s View was stronger than the imagined situations in my head.
Securing the permit
While getting ready for the trip, I was surprised to learn that scattering someone’s remains in a National Park requires a permit. And usually 30 days’ notice. With less than three days before our trip, I nervously emailed the permit office to explain my need, and they responded with:
Thank you for reaching out to the park and I hope the trip out here is valuable and healing for you. I will have enough time to process this for you.
The kindness and support from the office were a sign that I was doing the right thing for my dad, at the right time and location.
Securing the route
I read through many RV forums, looking for route advice and trying to figure out what to expect. The Towne Pass (CA-190) road is steep, and if you’re towing a trailer or driving an RV, your brakes can overheat if you don’t know how to downshift.
I came across a helpful comment from an RVer:
We took a slightly longer, but comfortable route. We took I-5 South to CA-58E to I-15N to CA-127N to CA-190E.
Not wanting to push my luck and remembering what experience has taught me (i.e., that things go wrong on the road), I chose the longer but more comfortable route. It turned out to be the right choice.
Another small miracle occurred. Just days before we embarked on the alternate route, the road reopened after being pummeled by record-breaking rain that caused major flooding.
A full hookup campsite
We continued to experience good luck.
When we arrived at the Furnace Creek Campsite, the park ranger offered us a full hookup site instead of the dry-camping spot I’d reserved. Having running water and air conditioning felt like a luxury, so I gladly accepted. It turned out our trailer batteries were failing and couldn’t hold a charge, so being hooked up with electricity was a gift.
The Climb to Dante’s View
The drive up to Dante’s View was steep and winding. I wondered if we would ever reach the top. As we climbed higher, I couldn’t quite pinpoint how I felt. Was it relief, happiness, or nerves? I wasn’t sure.
Once we reached the top, the view was spectacular.
The sky was bright blue, streaked with clouds, and Badwater Basin lay below, its rim edged in pure white salt. Mountains surrounded the basin, calm and welcoming.
Jay and I walked over the rocky ground and found the spot where I would release my dad’s remains. I held the bag of ashes in my arms. The pile of remains was not him anymore, but it was a physical reminder of who he once was, my dad, who loved road trips, who tried his best in this world. My dad, whom I wish I could have known better.
I felt sadness and relief, along with gratitude and love.
I said a few words of remembrance and released my dad’s remains into the air. Some of the ashes landed on the cliff, while parts of him swirled away into the sky.
I had come full circle… from deciding to get an Airstream while at my dad’s hospital bedside, to taking my parents on a couple of trips, to my dad’s passing on December 10, 2013.
And all the personal growth since then.
This journey, both physical and emotional, has changed me. I have learned to accept that grief is not linear and that there is no end. Sometimes grief gently nudges you; other times, it’s a sharp pain. Grief will always be part of my life.
Remembering the 2023 Visit
Today, when I think back to that moment at Dante’s View, I feel sadness but also peace.
I miss my dad and wish he could have stayed on this earth a little longer to meet Jay, Rosie, and Lonnie.
In my heart, I know he’s out there, somewhere, watching out for all of us. That thought continues to ground me.
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