128 in the Shade

"What's not to love?" enthuses Chris Morgan of Lone Pine, Calif. "It's my favorite park, there's nothing else like it." He's standing -- and panting -- in the Furnace Creek Visitor Center, which contains low-tech displays and killer air conditioning. He and friend Hollie McGill of Ventura, Calif., got word of the possible record-in-the-making and road-tripped 100 miles to be a part of it.

"I had to feel this for myself. After 115 degrees, it gets a little hard to handle," says Morgan. He may be the ultimate hot head: Upon reaching the park, he turned off the car's AC and opened windows and the sunroof so that he could get an early taste.

McGill looks as if she's already had enough, but the two 32-year-olds jump back in the car and head about 18 miles south to Badwater Basin. At 282 feet below sea level, it's the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere. It could also be the brightest.

Badwater is the site of a lake that evaporated thousands of years ago, leaving a layer of blinding white table salt stretching to the horizon; a pond remains, though in the summer months it's an unimpressive if pungent puddle. Park rangers advise visitors to stay close to the boardwalk at the salt flat's edge, though few do. All should. After straying a couple of hundred feet onto the desert floor and becoming overwhelmed by the blistering glare, you'll wish you were under the boardwalk.

Still, visiting the lowest point (a sign marking sea level is embedded on a nearby cliff) is a high point at Death Valley -- even in the summer.

Geoff and Eunice Appleton of Banbridge, Northern Ireland, are sniffing around Badwater at about 5 p.m., the temperature still a disorienting 126. The Appletons first visited the park 27 years ago and decided to return when they won two free tickets to the States. This time they took their children, Aaron, 15, and Kelli, 11.

"Ideally, we wouldn't have come now, but this is when we had our holiday, and we're not disappointed," says Geoff, who seems to be enjoying himself -- despite his wardrobe, which consists of long pants, a long-sleeve dress shirt, no hat. Just looking at him adds about 10 degrees to your discomfort level. When the rest of his family surrenders to the cooling confines of the rental, however, Geoff tromps off the boardwalk and onto the salt.

A few miles away, the enticingly named Devil's Golf Course awaits. There's an actual 18-hole course back at the ranch (to no one's surprise, it's duffer-free this afternoon), but you can't play it from your car and, from all reports, Satan doesn't frequent it. After a jaw-rattling ride down a dirt road, cars come to a rest at the edge of a vast expanse of what appears to be salt pimples. The mounds, each a foot or so high, are all that remain from another lake, and the effect is mesmerizing.

Once outside the car and into the blast furnace, however, you can understand why Beelzebub would take to this area.

Nighttime brings little comfort to the Death Valley summer. Daily lows in July and August are 85 and above, though the high-90s are more common when the thermometer strains to its upper limits. The window AC units in the Furnace Creek Ranch cottages -- standard national park fare, with double beds, coffeemakers, TVs and small fridges -- are working hard to keep rooms cool, but not hard enough. Fortunately, ceiling fans keep the warm air moving.

At 8:30 p.m., it's still 111. About a dozen heads are poking out of the ranch pool, but the crowd is weirdly muted. It's been a long, hot day, leading into a long, hot night. Furnace Creek's two restaurants, a steakhouse and a cafe serving diner-style food, are packed with the Euro-crowd, accustomed to eating later than the early-bird-special brigade.

Back at Badwater Basin, a nearly full moon is casting a surreal glow on the encroaching flats. The silence is complete. There are no coyotes howling into the night sky, no tourists puttering about. Soon the Death Valley air is alive, gushing fiercely as the desert floor begins to cool.

But it's time to go. The eyelids have started to quiver.

John Deiner will be online to discuss this story Monday at 2 p.m. during the Travel section's regular weekly chat onhttp://www.washingtonpost.com.