rod mclaughlinDeath Valley (05 mar 09)
I'm writing this in a hotel in Ridgecrest, after six days of riding through Death Valley and its environs. Naturally, Ridgecrest is on a flat plain at the bottom of a valley. I entered Death Valley from the South East, riding a gentle uphill over a 5000 ft. pass to a place called Tecopa, then camped in the desert, then rode over a slight pass to Shoshone, where there was a bike ride in progress. Then a long downhill, a night in the desert in the National partk, then I arrived at Furnace Creek, a tourist trap which seems like Manhattan after three days alone. The best campsite there is Texas Springs. The next day I moved on to Stovepipe Wells. I exited from Death Valley to the North West over 'Emigrant Pass', a 5000 ft. pass with a spectacular view of 11000 ft. Telescope Peak. I then descended the west side. At Wildrose camp is a creek with flowing water - an awesome sight after several days in the driest place in North America. Spectacular. Awesome. Can't I do better than that? Last night I watched a program about the history of tanks on telly. Several of these tanks had guns with 'devastating' firepower. Can you imagine buying a tank without devastating firepower? "I'll take the one with the devastating firepower, please". I camped further downhill, to get out of the wind. The next day started well, despite the strong southerly. Then I got a flat tire. I quickly found the offending thorn, and was able to repair the tube and replace it with a spare one, while sheltering in a culvert from the wind. I then attempted to pump up the tire, and found that my pump was beginning to show signs of wear. I wisely put the wheel on the bike. Though the tire was not fully pumped, it would suffice. I then felt the tire and decided to give it a couple more pumps. The pump fell apart, and the tire deflated completely. I spent the rest of the day pushing the bike and riding against the wind on a flat tire alternately for thirty miles. I had only had a bag of Ramen noodles for breakfast and had nothing else to eat. I was also running out of water. I lost my fuel bottle too. I was in the most isolated place I'd ever been in my life. About twenty vehicles passed me all day. Many of these were big pickup trucks capable of carrying me and my bike. Not a bastard among them saw fit to stop. I have had more offers of rides inside Portland, the biggest city in Oregon, than in rural California - both of them from women. In rural Oregon, I would have been in Trona in a jiffy. Except that Trona is not in Oregon. It's in California. When I got to Trona, a kid in the fast-food joint ran home and got a pump for me. The tube was shredded, but the tire was still OK, and I used the spare tube. It's a tribute to the Velocity rims on my wheels that they survived a big tour with 200 lb. of weight on the 26" rear one, then at least ten miles of rim-riding with the same weight (me plus baggage). They're quite thin as well - they must have really good spokes. Back
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