November 19, 2025.
We parked again at Hell’s Gate, a place I’d already used as a trailhead for hikes to Corkscrew Peak and Death Valley Buttes. So, where to next? I opted this time to head out to Lower Monarch Canyon. I read that this canyon has water year-round, and after the recent rains I thought it might be even more spectacular.
My walk began down the closed Beatty Cutoff Road. When I approached the trailhead described in my hiking book, I wandered cross-country across the open desert, roughly following a dotted line on Google Maps. Though it was still miles away, the gaping canyon mouth was pretty obvious. I walked in that general direction, navigating around several little draws and bumps along the way.
By mile three, I stood at the canyon’s entrance. The walls were still pretty far apart, but soon they began to converge. At that point, I slowed down. There was so much to investigate. An old mining camp? Desert tortoise burrows? Melons?! Everything around me attracted my interest. I enjoyed all the shapes, colors and textures in the organic and inorganic matter in the canyon. Shiny rocks made seemingly entirely of clear, plasticky sheets of mica glittered in the ambient light, The Death Valley night club scene, perhaps.
But I had a destination: the waterfall. I continued. I could hear it before I could see it. After scrambling up some tight twists in the canyon, I saw the lower falls. At about 16 feet tall, it didn’t exactly take my breath away. But I climbed above it and then tipped my head back to take in the next tier, reaching over 100 feet tall.
I grabbed a seat, ate my lunch and took out my watercolors. By the time I finished my painting, my hands were freezing and it was starting to drizzle. Not what most people expect on a trip to the hottest place on the continent.
A canyon is the last place you want to be when it’s raining. I packed up and hightailed it out of there, though I could have lingered for several more hours discovering its secrets.
Carefully, I downclimbed the smooth rocks that were now spattered with raindrops. Once I reached flatter ground, I picked up the pace. Just one thing made me do a double take: a blooming wild buckwheat. I cannot tell you how much joy I feel when I encounter one of these alien creatures. This was a small plant with impossibly tiny flowers, so I dropped to my belly and zoomed way in to take some photos. Was it the pagoda buckwheat I’d been looking for? No time to run through an identification key now, I thought. I’d wait til I got back.
Once I exited the canyon, I set my sights on Death Valley Buttes as a navigation target and headed for the road. Every now and again I looked back at Monarch Canyon. Dark, gray clouds descended, threatening to swallow the canyon hole. I walked a little faster. Though the forecast didn’t call for rain that afternoon, it sure looked threatening.
I made it back to the van without getting caught in a thunderstorm. What a unique day.
Visiting Monarch Canyon requires some navigation skills and good timing. There is no shade in the miles leading up to the canyon, which could be deadly on a hot, sunny day. I had the unusual experience of doing this hike in cool, cloudy weather in which hypothermia was more of a concern than heat stroke.