# Furnace Creek > In the middle of one of the harshest deserts in the world, Furnace Creek Golf Club lies in wait for those wanting to experience one of the most absurd rounds of golf on the planet. Words & Photography by William Watt. Published on contours.golf 10 October 2025. Where: Death Valley, California, United States (36.4587, -116.8747). Tags: Golf Culture. Cover photograph: A lone palm beside a pond on the course at Furnace Creek, the mountains pink in low light. The page, with its photographs: https://contours.golf/journal/furnace-creek/ --- ## “Why do they have a golf course here again?” It’s called Death Valley for a reason. Not much can survive out here. For hundreds of miles in every direction from the road town of Furnace Creek, population 24, there isn’t a splash of green to be seen. It’s all a million shades of brown, the bare earth scorched by a relentless sun that send temperatures into the fifties on a regular basis. The average high in July here is 47 °c (116.5 °f). I suppose there is a certain facisnation with experiencing these temperatures, and seeing their affect on the land, which is why Death Valley has been a surprisingly popular tourist destination since the early days of the motor car made it vaguely accessible. Black and white photos of folks visiting from San Franscisco in the early 1900s dot the walls of the Furnace Creek Inn, along with advertising posters exclaiming the virtues of seeing one of the worlds greatest wonders. And indeed there are some amazing rock formations, unexpected sand dunes and vast landscapes to be seen out here. Photograph: A desert road runs downhill through scrub toward a vast pale valley floor and bare mountains. Photograph: A road winds down into a wide desert valley past a yellow sign: 8% grade, 5 miles. Photograph: Two people on rippled sand dunes in low sun, one crouched with a phone, folded mountains behind. Photograph: Wind-rippled white sand and green desert shrubs, a line of mountains under a pale sky. Photograph: From the air, a tree-lined fairway and pond edged by bare white desert and a road. Photograph: From the air, green fairways, ponds and rows of trees in a bare desert valley, mountains in haze. Photograph: A row of tall palms in silhouette against a pale blue sky, a fairway in front. One of the main attractions are the natural springs in the nearby Amargosa Range created a natural oasis at Furnace Creek, which is where the golf course (I almost can’t believe I’m writing this) is now located. Carved out of pure, powder dry desert, a full 18-hole layout exists and offers one of the most absurd golf experiences in the world. We arrived just before dawn to tee off, keen to miss the heat of the day and make it back to the air conditioned comfort of our RV before we fry alive. The pro shop is deserted (no pun intended) and most crucially, there are no golf carts to be seen. We consider just walking the course, but decide that could actually be dangerous (particularly given our already dehydrated state after a few too many beverages at the Inn last night and a hot, sleepless night in the RV). Photograph: A red stone sign: Furnace Creek Golf Course, 214 feet below sea level, the lowest on Earth. Finally a staff member arrives, and we pester them that we’re in a hurry and need to tee off as soon as possible, which is only half a lie. Apparently they normally don’t open until 9am, which makes zero sense to be as at that point the temperature is already nudging 40°. Maybe that really is part of the attraction. Maybe we’re doing this wrong and we should instead aim for midday? Just go full sauna mode – saunter around in a towel and sandals, dripping with sweat and breathing heavily as the sun beats down on us. Golf cart secured, we try and get a few holes under our belt before the sun has any real strength in it. We get about as far as the photograph taken right (obligatory drone shot) before things start to rapidly, and inevitably, heat up. Before long, the jokes about saunas are coming true, and it’s not a pretty sight. Fortunately there’s no-one else on the course at this early hour … Wait, what the fuck are we doing here again? This entire place is so confusing. It’s definitely one of those ‘only in America’ moments, not the first nor the last of this three week road trip. > Apparently they normally don’t open until 9am, which makes zero sense to be as at that point the temperature is already nudging 40°. Maybe that just is part of the attraction? Photograph: A scorecard and pencil clipped to the steering wheel of a golf cart, a sunlit fairway beyond. Photograph: A man in a cap lines up a drive beside a reedy pond, bare mountains beyond. Photograph: A golfer in a bucket hat swings on a sandy path, dust flying, under feathery trees. Photograph: A golfer in a cap watches his drive in hazy low sun, big grey-green trees behind. The round is a bit of a blur, as the last few holes are somewhat rushed as we really did want to hit the road by this point. But not before a quick swim in the resort pool to cool off, fed by the same natural springs that water the golf course. I jump in, ready finally for a moment of cool refreshment. To my horror, the water is bath temperature, at least 37 degrees. There is zero refreshment there. No matter, there are public showers in the pool bathrooms, I can still cool off there before we head back to the van. I ignore the hot tap and just run the cold, but it’s even warmer than the pool water. I try the other tap, hoping maybe there’s a plumbing mixup. As imaginary horror movie violins shreak in my head, it turns out that BOTH TAPS ARE HOT. A sick joke? Or just life in Furnace Creek. Either way, get me the fuck out of here. After a rapid pack up, we pull back out onto the highway, relieved to have some airflow back onto our dry, cracked skin. “STOP!” I hear from someone down the back of the van. “The awning is still out!” I peer in the A4 sized side mirror and, sure enough, the 4 metre extendable cloth awning is flailing in the wind like a giant land sail. I thought the accelerator felt a bit sticky today but figured it was just the large proportion of engine resources devoted to the aircon. It’s just too fucking hot out here. Why do they have a golf course here again? Photograph: A white flag on a green, a ball nearby, scrub and bare desert mountains beyond. Photograph: A green and white hole sign giving the par and four tee distances, feathery dark green trees behind. Photograph: A broad fairway in long shadows between rows of grey-green trees under a clear blue sky. Photograph: A fairway and tall palms below layered bare mountains, a branch hanging across the top. Photograph: A red flag on a green, a ball beside it, sandy waste, palms and pale mountains beyond. Photograph: A fairway running to a distant white flag below palms, hedges and eroded hills in blue haze. --- © 2025 Contours. No content may be reproduced in any form without express permission. will@contours.agency