Turn Around, Don’t Drown

Death Valley, August 2022

Oh my! The images and videos of the August 2022 flooding in Death Valley, California, are certainly impressive. Only 1.46 inches of rainfall were recorded at the Furnace Creek Visitor’s Center, but that was enough, considering the area’s arid climate and the impermeability of the surface — whatever falls from the sky cannot penetrate the hardpan (a.k.a. caliche), and simply runs off. This type of rapid response in arid lands can result in what’s called a flash flood.

What a mess!

One of the videos on the noon news showed a pair of rocket scientists walking with determination into the surging waters, and it got me thinking about the power of moving water (along with the absurdity of some people’s thought processes — or lack thereof). Click here to review an earlier blog post about kinetic energy and how the formula works.

Welcome back. A bit more physics: A cubic foot of water weighs 62.4 pounds. A volume of water eighteen inches on a side — about the distance from your fingers to your elbow — weighs over two hundred pounds. Put it in motion and this much fluid has more than enough kinetic energy to sweep you off your feet and wash you away.

Adios, as they would say in the arid Southwest…

Not even a Toyota is proof against the power of water in motion

Not everyone understands this, or how dangerous moving water can be. It happens again and again: the rains fall and the flooding surges down what are typically dry canyons, and whatever may happen to be there is in trouble.

Slot canyon with high water marks

The image above was taken in a “slot canyon” along the Utah/Arizona border. It’s a hot and arid land, and any opportunity to spend a summer day along a watercourse is welcomed by one and all.

Most of us would have enough sense to run like hell if it started raining, but the reality of thunderstorm events in the desert means that the actual storm can be miles to tens — possibly hundreds — of miles away. You can’t always see or hear or even smell the storm, but the flooding can reach you before you even know you’re in trouble. Hence the adjective “flash.”

Look at the dashed lines I added in the image. Each shows the high water mark of past flooding events that inundated this particular slot canyon. It is safe to assume that none of the humans (or canines) pictured here could survive even the least of these flash floods.

That would be bad.

So… my recommendation? Always check the REGIONAL weather report whenever spending the day along a watercourse, especially in an area prone to thunderstorms and flash flooding (click here for more on the difference between regional and local views of the earth). If storms are predicted anywhere upstream from where you hope to be, maybe you should plan a different outing for the day. Your kids and dogs will thank you…

What sign and barricade?

Like it says at the top: “Turn around, don’t drown.” This is as true for us as it is for our cars and trucks (and four-legged friends).

(BTW: Beginning what has become an all too familiar and recurring pattern, I did some mighty stupid things in my younger days. One of the better ones was in early November of 1975 when I got caught on the wrong side of Josephine Creek after two weeks in the field on a copper/gold prospect. Colin and I really wanted to get home, but the rain machine was on and the creek was raging. To complicate the issue, the boulder-strewn low-water crossing actually ran upstream against the current for fifty feet or so before climbing out the other side. Before entering the flood, we pulled the fan belt so water wouldn’t be blown back on the distributor cap, killing the engine. I turned on the windshield wipers so I could see where I was going, hit the gas, and barrelled into the creek.

(We made it that time, but a couple weeks later (in a different rig with a different driver) we had to do the whole thing again and weren’t so lucky. Dutch refused to put his foot in the carburetor going across, and at an idle his truck didn’t even get close. Susie was along for this one and I still remember carrying her through the water to the safety of the east bank, and then hiking out the ten miles to arrange a way to get Dutch’s 4X4 out of the ford.)

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4 Responses

  1. Jim says:

    whoa! I don’t remember ever hearing either of those two Josephine Creek stories! holy carbon conversion.

    • GeoMan says:

      Hey Jim,

      I’m not surprised, but that’s possibly one of the reasons I’m doing this blog.

      What I shared here is actually just the beginning of that particular adventure — I’m pretty sure that some of the issues I’m starting to have with my traitorous body date back to what happened over the course of the following two weeks. That may, or may not, be for a later post..

  2. Linda says:

    Folks who have never lived in the desert or experienced a “monsoon” storm just don’t understand that here in AZ it doesn’t just rain, it dumps water. July 30, 2022 some of our suburbs got 2″ of rain in about 45 minutes. When it rains an inch in an hour where I live we have white caps in the street. Now we have “dumb motorist” laws so we taxpayers don’t have to pay for the rescues that take place most every summer. I sure wish we had one for all the rescues made for hikers who try to hike up mountains during our hot spells. Yesterday Flagstaff had shelter in place orders because of flash flooding through the burn scars. We have huge pumps on our freeways and one failed on Interstate 10 a couple of years ago while it was still dark out and the cars that drove into it were literally floating on the freeway. One of these days tell us about some of the floods on the Klamath River.

    • GeoMan says:

      No doubt! It’s hard for anyone to understand the reality of a monsoon deluge if you have never experienced it! I remember a time in Colorado Springs many years ago when Susie and I parked in the sunshine and went into the store for a bottle of water. Fifteen minutes later — when we tried to leave the market — the parking lot was under water. With discretion being the better part of valor, we waited a couple minutes for the storm to pass, the flood to drain, and we made it back to our car… still bone dry.

      Re: the Klamath River. I lived and worked out of Seiad Valley (chromite) for several years in the late 70s and early 80s, and have far too many memories of what it was like. I’ll try to put together an appropriate blog as time allows.