Death Valley Daze X

Over the past weekend my neighbor Jim and I travelled to Death Valley on our motorcycles. The occassion was Death Valley Daze, a Rally organized by BMW riders and some Adventure riders. We departed Thursday night at 5pm and took highway 152 east to the 99 south and ended up in Bakersfield. We stopped off at a bar called Fishlips for a drink. It was open mic night and some young guys were jamming on stage. I asked the host if I could perform and he said go for it. I preformed the old “Dirty Song - A night at the Deli.” While playing I noticed a few people paying attention to my illicit/descriptive lyrics and that was good. The last time I played this tune was last June, so this time I dissapointedly missed the punch line of the song – “How could I replied. It looks like a taco cut up with a cleaver.” When I was done I got off the stage and wanted to get the hell out of there. Jim was laughing. A couple of people complimented me. We rode over to the EZ-8 Motel and got a room for $46 and grabbed a quick meal at Denny’s. It was raining in the morning and we had to depart for Death Valley. We took the Tehachapi pass east throught the rain and as we got into the Death Valley area the rain stopped. I managed to stay dry by putting on my rain suit over my Aerostich. Although the ’Stich is considered waterproof, now was not the time to test it. We stopped in Ridgecrest to stock up on vodka, Chunky, Gatorade, warm gloves, tarps and a colapsable camping chair. In the parking lot of the Big K we met Joe Denton another BMW rider, who knew Jim. He too was heading to the rally. We arrived at the Furnace Creek campground around 5:30pm and set up camp. We just drove up to a site that was occupied and we were invited to camp there. An older gentleman, Mike from Burbank on a Suzuki DR-650 was our host. I learned the proper meaning of “pillion” from him. We also met Vance a GS rider who is taking a year off to travel around the US and Baja. Last October Sharon and I had a German couple, Henno and Alex stay at our house as they were riding around the world. Coincidentally, Vance hung out with them in Baja, Mexico in November. Small world. After our Chunky dinner and the beginnings of our vodka consumption we headed over to Gerg’s campsite to enjoy comraderie and a warm fire. I met many interesting characters that evening and we all had at least one thing in common; the love of motorcycles. Saturday was not a good day for Jim as he drank too much vodka, which he rarely drinks. He slept all morning and moped around the visitor center trying to recover. I dried out my sleeping bag and some other items at the laudromat. Camping tip: never put a tarp under your tent that is considerably larger than your tent. The excess tarp collects water and then puddles it under your tent if you are unlucky. Although a little damp around my feet the inaugural launch of my Marmot down sleeping bag was successful. I treated myself to a buffalo burger at the 49er Cafe and had a $3 shower at the Furnace Creek Ranch. That evening at the campground was a bit more tame as everyone had a long ride home the next day. We sat around the fire at the site next to us with about ten guys and exchanged stories until I hit the sack at 11pm. It was a real treat to get offered some Korean barbequed steak on a tortilla. There was and interesting crowd there; an attorney, a young guy just out of the Marine Corps, a retired under-Sheriff who was interviewed on 60 minutes by Morley Safer (learned that Morley is only about 5 feet tall) and a geeky PERL coder with a sprained wrist from a wipe-out that day. I was known as “The Canadian.” We woke up at 6am, packed up our bikes and rode out of Death Valley on the 190 east. We got up to an elevation of 4956 feet at the Towne Pass and it was quite cold. The cold wind was blowing hard on the long stretch into Olancha. My fingers were frozen and it was a good thing we stopped for gas to warm up and put on another layer to prepare to cross the Sierras. The 178 east led us through the Walker Pass, past Lake Isabella. We stopped in Wofford Heights for lunch at Gary’s Diner and to get some gas. We turned off onto the 155 which goes up to 8000 feet elevation. This means snow. The roads were lightly covered with snow, slush and ice patches. We crawled down the steep grade in first gear taking our time. Soon we where out of the snow and blazing down the road through lush green rolling hills with cattle grazing on them. We bolted up the 99 to the 152 at mach speed and arrived home at around 7pm.

Getting home with bike and I in one piece and going places I’ve never been = a successful trip.