Home 7119
- Ready to hit the road and leave Shoshone
The extra water bag is that black thing sandwiched between my sleeping bag and my hat on top of the rear rack. Death Valley, here I come. I will actually enter Death Valley National Park in a little while. - On the way out of Shoshone toward Death Valley, northbound on Highway 127
A sign announcing RV camping and tent camping is one of the last marks of habitation that I'll see today. - I begin the gentle westward climb up Highway 178 into Death Valley National Park
A bit over a mile outside Shoshone, I turn off Highway 127 onto Highway 178. "No services next 72 miles." That's why I'm carrying so much water. - My first climb of the day--Highway 178
The hill is quite gradual, but it's a hill nonetheless, a lot like yesterday's slow climb up over Ibex Pass. - Looking back down Highway 178 to verify that I really am rising
I always enjoy looking back down a hill that I'm riding up. It's somehow very rewarding to see that the work of pedalling and burning calories is actually transporting me. The Resting Spring Range (or is it a layer cake?) rests in the background at the bottom of the hill. - Death Valley National Park welcomes me
... however, there's no one around to witness the warm welcome bestowed upon me. The crest of this hill on Highway 178 sits at about 2200 feet elevation. When I left Shoshone an hour or so ago, the elevation was just under 1600 feet. - I coast down a slight hill on Highway 178 into Greenwater Valley
At the bottom of this little hill on Highway 178, I will leave pavement for the day and head up Greenwater Valley Road, aka Furnace Creek Wash Road. This is the same Furnace Creek Wash Road that I saw crossing Highway 127 near Tecopa Hot Springs. - My Greenwater Valley Road veers off to the right
Getting away from pavement in these remote areas sometimes feels like abandoning civilization. It's what people are referring to when they ask, regarding a trip like this, aren't you scared? Sure, I'm a little scared. I suppose I could stay at home in front of a television and watch horror movies to obtain a different kind of a similar adrenalin rush. - Greenwater Valley Road: watch out for wildlife, and no camping first two miles
It's a basic rule in Death Valley National Park that there is no camping allowed within two miles of any paved road, so the first two miles here are off-limits to campers. I'm at just over 2000 feet elevation right now. I have 10 miles to ride on this road before reaching my next turn-off about 1000 feet higher, which will be Gold Valley Road. - Heading very slowly up the slight grade of Greenwater Valley Road
The road is well-packed beneath the thin and sometimes slippery layer of sand and gravel on the surface. I take a break after a while, and am surprised that I'm sweating so much, since it's only about 85 degrees F today. I guess the hill and rough road surface are making me work! - Further on, I look back down into the valley where I started
I'm a few miles up Greenwater Valley Road now, having started at the bottom some 50 minutes ago. If the road were much steeper, I think I'd have problems trying to maintain traction in the gravel here with such a heavy load. - It's so lonely out here all by myself!
I only saw a couple of cars while on Highway 178, and none yet on Greenwater Valley Road. The severe silence is something worth listening to intently. I don't even hear any birds anywhere (where is that wildlife that I'm supposed to watch out for?). - I've reached a plateau area on Greenwater Valley Road
I should find Gold Valley Road, my next turn-off, somewhere in my current view. I'm not seeing it yet though. - Taking another short break, an excuse to stop and stare at the scenery
Sucking back now-warm water from my Camelbak. - I've reached the junction of Deadman Pass Road, at 3000 feet elevation
My Gold Valley Road turn-off toward the west is just half a mile beyond this point, yet I still can't see it. This photo shows Deadman Pass Road rising up over the horizon toward the east from Greenwater Valley Road. A woman in a small pick-up truck passes me in this area, the only vehicle that I've seen on Greenwater Valley Road. - Me, standing in Greenwater Valley Road at the junction of Deadman Pass Road
Highway 178, where I started a couple of hours ago, is 10 miles behind me, and 1000 feet lower. - I'm here! I start up Gold Valley Road, which heads over the mountains
There's less gravel here on Gold Valley Road, so I seem to have better traction, but I'm expecting the road to be steeper than Greenwater Valley Road. Gold Valley Road is a dead-end. It rises from 3000 feet elevation here to about 4700 feet before dropping down into Gold Valley on the other side of the mountains, where it ends near Willow Spring. There is probably drinkable (if filtered) water there. It's already getting close to 17h, and it's going to be more slow uphill on a dirt road (and I'm getting tired--imagine that!), so I don't know if I'll make it to Gold Valley or not. But the excitement keeps me pushing onward. - Gold Valley Road rises slowly across the wide valley
The road will turn sharply to the left and climb over the mountains, and I'm trying to figure out where that might be. From this vantage point, it's not apparent where a road would go over these mountains. - A surly look for the camera
I feel happy here as Gold Valley starts winding its way up through the mountains. I still can't see exactly where it's going beyond the next bend. - Gold Valley Road keeps rising
The road has already crawled up around the back of a big hill such that Greenwater Valley below is no longer visible. - Suddenly, something on my bike is rubbing and making harsh, loud noises
Upon inspection, it turns out that a bolt holding the rear rack to the bike has broken, and the rack is bouncing against the frame of the bike. I'm not entirely surprised because the baggage weight on my rack (a very strong rack from Old Man Mountain) is probably carrying much more than its recommended maximum due to today's extra two gallons of water. Fortunately, I have one extra replacement bolt for this. Removing my rear saddlebags and changing the broken bolt (which didn't want to be removed, at first--I'm glad I brought that set of pliers with me) delays me for 20-30 minutes, just as dusk approaches. Darn it... It was looking like I just might reach Willow Spring by dark, but now I know I won't. - Back on my bike after repairs, Gold Valley Road rises into an area where there has been a brush fire
I will learn a few days later that the brush fire occurred just a few nights ago (possibly caused by lightning). I'm glad I wasn't camping here when that happened! I'm a bit nervous of my bike's strength now, on a rough road like this that bounces my cargo around. I don't have another replacement bolt should my new substitute bolt also break under the weight being carried. - Close up of the burn from the Gold Valley Road fire is interesting
White residue on the ground looks like individual plants were sprayed with fire-suppressing chemicals, but that seems unlikely here in a remote area. I conclude that the white residues might come from the plants themselves as they were scorched. I'm going to camp out tonight somewhere in this ultra-lunar landscape? Hmmm... - I continue onward, trying to beat the setting sun
I already know that I won't quite reach today's destination, so I'm not sure why I'm trying so hard to get there. As I continue, I see that the fire damage is more extensive than I imagined. - There are many pockets of unburned plants within the burned area
And I'm going to set up my tent shortly amidst all this? I continue onward. - Still rising slowly, I know for sure now that I won't make it over the mountains before dark
I'm so close to the summit of Gold Valley Road, and the downhill into Gold Valley that follows. However, dusk is arriving and I prefer to set up camp before dark in an unfamiliar area. I do have a strong battery-powered headlight and can ride for a while after dark if necessary. But I'm concerned about the possibility of descending the steep hill into Gold Valley, having a second breakdown and getting stuck there, and running out of water in the middle of nowhere, with nobody around. (No, cell phones don't work here, so you can't call anyone.) When travelling in remote areas like the Mojave Desert, especially when travelling solo, concerns like these are very real and must be respected if potentially threatening circumstances arise. Willow Spring in Gold Valley probably has water, and I'm carrying a water purifier so that I can drink from places like that, but the ranger station in Shoshone was closed, so I couldn't confirm if there is water there right now or not. - Rising out of the burned area at dusk, I look for somewhere decent to set up camp for the night
I'm disappointed that I won't make it to Willow Spring tonight as hoped, and feel somewhat defeated and deflated. But I still feel much success in having made it this far into the mountains up above Death Valley. Camping out should be really nice up here at about 4700 feet. I'm expecting almost no moon in the sky tonight, and therefore, near total darkness. Given that I've only seen one other vehicle since leaving the pavement of Highway 178 some seven hours ago, I'm expecting silence and a wilderness experience tonight, even though I'm camped out along a "road." I set up camp quickly and decide not to bother preparing a meal. By the time I get to eat, it's already dark. I just eat lots of nuts and beef jerky and wash it down with a glass of wine, enjoying the silence and the darkness. - Near the bottom of Gold Valley Road, looking north up Greenwater Valley
OK, I took this photo yesterday on the way up Gold Valley Road, but my camera doesn't work any more. Today's ride takes me to the other side of this valley, then drops down over 4000 feet between the mountains into Death Valley. On the way across Greenwater Valley on the washboarded gravel road, I see dark clouds move in over the mountains and it rains lightly a few times here in the valley. Each time, I put on my raincoat briefly, but, fortunately, it never ends up raining much. Only one vehicle, a pick-up truck, passes me on Greenwater Valley Road. The skies clear up as I begin the long, awesome descent to Furnace Creek and its campgrounds, general store, hotel, restaurant and tourist activity. I ride at over 30 miles per hour for a while. It's quite different down there from the solitude of Gold Valley Road. No more photos today! - It's a bit cloudy this morning up on Gold Valley Road
The nice thing about this is that I didn't wake up baking in my tent from hot morning sun, like I do on so many desert-camping mornings. The breeze up here in the mountains is cool and there's an occasional gust of wind. that I occasionally have to put on my sweater, but whenever the sun peers brightly through gaps in the clouds, I begin to overheat and have to take it off. I slept really well last night in the cool air and silence. It was near total darkness with no moon in the sky. I neither saw nor heard any wildlife, except for a few lizards on the ground. There don't seem to be any birds around here. The only real noise was the wind. Sometimes I could hear gusts of it coming from miles away, which sometimes never arrived at my location. At other moments, those gusts did arrive, and the tent got blown around a bit making it quite noisy inside on occasion. - Nice view back down toward Greenwater Valley from the tent
I sit inside drinking coffee and eating granola and dried fruit. I also have a bowl of instant miso soup. - I go for a short walk up to the nearby summit of Gold Valley Road and look back down at the tent
I'm camped out so close to the top of Gold Valley Road that I can't resist going up to see what I missed yesterday. - The fork at the summit of Gold Valley Road
Here, I would have turned right last night to descend into Gold Valley to Willow Spring, if I had more time and confidence. OK, so it's technically not quite the summit. Each side of the fork begins with a little hill and has its own summit at the top. - After the right fork, Gold Valley Road winds across the plateau, then drops down into Gold Valley
I stare longingly at this scene on top of the mountains, really wanting to follow this dead-end road to its end five miles further, down in Gold Valley. I know that Willow Spring probably has water for me to drink. But what if it doesn't? I have plenty of water with me to make it through today and part of tomorrow. If I had made it to the spring last night and found it dry, it wouldn't have been a problem. I would just come back over the hill today, which I would eventually need to do anyway. But what if yesterday's bike problem recurs while I'm down there? I'm brooding too much about this, which means that the only sensible thing to do is resign myself to the most prudent choice. I'll ride toward Furnace Creek Campground today, in the tourist area of Death Valley. I'll save Gold Valley for a future trip... I walk back down to my tent. - A little higher up on Gold Valley Road
... my tent is now barely visible in the distance. - Gold Valley Road gets a bit steep as it rises to the top
I would have needed to dismount my bike and drag it up this part last night had I gotten this far. - Time to break camp on Gold Valley Road and begin the long ride down to Furnace Creek Campground
However, it appears that I'd rather just stand here and take in my surroundings than pack up. - Leaving my Gold Valley Road campsite
I start coasting down the gentle downhill back to Greenwater Valley Road, to continue on from where I left off yesterday afternoon. The ten-ton bike shakes and rattles on this bumpy road. I try not to gain too much speed to reduce stress on the possibly still-overloaded rear rack. - On the way back down Gold Valley Road, I pass through the burned area again
My camera makes a strange sound when I turn it off after taking this photo. The next time I turn on the power, it doesn't turn on. - After walking back to the trailhead, I go for a short ride down to the salt flats along West Side Road
I'm almost out of water, so I don't go any further than this, though I'd like to. The 3.5 litres of water that I brought with me haven't lasted as long as I was hoping. I have a strong south wind behind me on the way back to the Furnace Creek Campground and have fun pedalling as fast as I can over the gently rolling terrain. To my surprise, I reach 36 miles per hour on one stretch that has a bit of a downhill. Back at the campground area, I do laundry at the laundromat, enjoy a $4 shower at the motel swimming pool, and take the rest of the day's heat slowly--assisted by some cold beer from the general store. Later in the evening, some people pull up in front of my camp site and ask me if I know the nearest place to camp because this campground is full. Since I have a double site of sorts, I tell them they can occupy the other half of my site, which still leaves me lots of privacy. The closest campground where they could go is Emigrant Campground some 30 miles away, and there's no guarantee that any of its ten spots will be vacant. They are a fun gang from Los Angeles, several of whom are originally from Chile, and I get to try their Chilean vodka-like beverage. - Hikers walking down below in Golden Canyon
This landscape is so surreal with its lack of vegetation and the different colours of the earth in the area. - Climbing these weird hills of earth is fun
... so I go higher. - Golden Canyon does turn out to be very scenic
The mid-day sun reflecting off the yellowish soil here is really harsh. I climb up one of the ridges to get a different view of the canyon and tourists in it. - Starting my hike up Golden Canyon
I should have brought a hat with me, but I was planning on riding around with my helmet on, not going for a walk. - I stop at the parking lot for the Golden Canyon trail
It looks busy, but I'll check it out anyway; I've heard it's scenic in there. Since there's no bike rack to be found, I lock my bike to the sign. - Riding down the road toward Badwater
I'm not exactly sure where I'll stop, but I don't plan on going all the way to Badwater on my "day off." - A little further sits the sign for Badwater Road
I've risen almost up to sea level now. - I've risen out of Death Valley just enough to have a view of the Badwater Basin ahead
I'm still a few feet below sea level. - Near the "next services" sign is another which indicates the road to the Timbisha Shoshone homeland area
The Timbisha Shoshone is the Native American tribe who historically inhabited this area. - On my way out of the Furnace Creek tourist area toward Badwater Road
I leave my camp site intact at the campground and I pass one of those ominous "next services many miles away" signs. However, I won't be going too far today, so the sign isn't as significant as it might otherwise be. - Next to Red Cathedral
I climb the hill for the dramatic, constrained views. Another visitor is doing the same. - The end?
There doesn't seem to be anywhere else to go, but up. - Close-up of Red Cathedral
I wouldn't want to be here when some of that rock lets loose and comes down! - The trail passes through some narrows
I think this is still part of the trail, not entirely sure, but it doesn't really matter. - Red Cathedral
I can't get any closer than this! - The trail looks like it will end soon
I can see why that wall of rock is called Red Cathedral. - I arrive at a sign
I can continue straight ahead or turn right up a trail that climbs up to the Zabriskie Point look-off above. I think I'll continue straight toward "Red Cathedral," which is presumably that wall of reddish rock not too far ahead. - I climb back down to the trail in Golden Canyon
I keep walking. It's really hot in this canyon! - Hurray, I've made it to Hell's Gate at 2000 ft and look back down into Death Valley
I'm full of joy now that my first big goal of the day has been reached. Still, I don't know why the 2000-foot climb up Beatty Cutoff over 10 miles felt so slow and tiring. The landscape was gorgeous, the road was paved, and it was never steep. Perhaps it's just my sore knee and the weight of the extra water that I'm carrying playing tricks on my mind. Maybe I just need more sleep. My arrival at Hell's Gate has an unexpected finishing touch. Just as I'm creeping up over the final crest of Beatty Cutoff at the junction of Daylight Pass Road, two tourists taking landscape photos run out into the middle of the empty road to photograph me with Death Valley behind me and wave me on to the finish line! I have to laugh, pleased that our activities created memorable events for each other. I stop and chat with them, a Dutch couple, also bicyclists. They're on their way down Daylight Pass Road toward Stovepipe Wells, which will be my route in a day or two. They tell me that it rained heavily when they were passing through the Funeral Mountains a little while ago. I hope I don't run into that as today's ride continues. - I walk up Daylight Pass Road a bit to get a view of the Hell's Gate entrance to Death Valley National Park
A left turn on Beatty Cutoff behind the rock heads down into Death Valley on the road I just came up. - I begin the trudge from Hell's Gate up Daylight Pass Road
A sign tells me that Beatty, Nevada is 19 miles away. But I won't be going that far. I'll just be riding 3.4 miles on paved Daylight Pass Road from here at 2200 feet to the beginning of the dirt road toward Monarch Canyon (Chloride City Road) at about 3500 feet. - Getting closer to Hell's Gate (where Beatty Cutoff ends at Daylight Pass Road)
Even though I can't see where my road is going, from my maps I figure that Hell's Gate is straight ahead in front of those mountains. As for Monarch Canyon, today's destination, it's somewhere up in the mountains to my right. In fact, there's a trail (not open to bikes) near here that goes from this road to the base of a cliff above which Monarch Canyon ends. - I look back down behind me again to Death Valley
The raindrops have ceased! More importantly, my sore knee gets another short break. - I'm getting a few raindrops from the clouds passing over the mountains ahead
A few murky clouds have been moving around the valley all morning, but they weren't dark enough to look like possible rain clouds until a few minutes ago. Ahhh, that special aroma of rain hitting warm pavement and the desert floor. - The rain clouds are moving around quickly
The view of the mountains ahead keeps changing as the clouds roll by. The rain is still light enough and warm enough that I haven't put my raincoat on yet, but I wonder if I will need to shortly. - Looking back down to Death Valley from around 1000 feet elevation, near Keane Wonder Mine
I've just reassured myself that I am indeed slowly rising out of Death Valley. My camp site on Gold Valley Road a few nights ago was somewhere up high in those distant mountains in the centre-left of the photo. - A sharp turn in the Beatty Cutoff road on the way up
Monarch Canyon, today's destination, is somewhere up in the Funeral Mountains that lie straight ahead, a bit further to the left. - A few dips in the road create very brief downhills on the way up Beatty Cutoff
I take a couple of short breaks because my right knee is giving me a little pain. Whenever I stop pedalling, the pain stops too. - Starting up the Beatty Cutoff, the gradual slope of the road makes it look flat
But my pedalling legs are quite aware that I'm going uphill now. - A couple of motorcycles speed by
... on Highway 190 near the Beatty Cutoff. - I'm here at the beginning of the Beatty Cutoff
It's a beautiful day, probably in the high 80s. - The 10-ton bike is ready to leave Furnace Creek
I'm expecting to use my water purifier to get drinking water from Monarch Spring and stay two nights up there. I checked in at the ranger station and was told that the spring recently had a bit of water coming out of it. Nonetheless, I've filled my extra two-gallon water bag just in case the spring up in Monarch Canyon turns out to be dry. - I pack my Furnace Creek camp site into the saddlebags of the 10-ton bike
I started the warm morning a little while ago with a ride over to the general store and café to eat breakfast and buy a few supplies. When I left for the café, I bid goodbye to last night's campers from Los Angeles, and when I got back to pack up, they had left. - Leaving Furnace Creek campground and heading north on Highway 190
I'll start my climb out of Death Valley about 10 miles up the highway, on the Beatty Cutoff. - Just before the end of Monarch Canyon Road
I choose a camp site near the end of the road that is semi-sheltered by an adjacent short rock wall. I can tell already from the wind blowing down this canyon that any kind of windbreak will be helpful. - Home for the night is Monarch Canyon
The tent is set up near the end of Monarch Canyon Road and I'm about ready to make another add-water-to-bag backpacker's meal. Supper will be served with a glass of wine! - Riding down Monarch Canyon Road in search of a camp site for a night or two
I'm in awe; it's very scenic up here. I wonder if I'm the only person around. - The final two miles or so of today's ride are downhill
I leave Chloride Cliff Road to head down the dead-end road into Monarch Canyon. - I'm so relieved to reach "the crest" on Chloride Cliff Road
Finally, after 25 miles of uphill riding today and gaining nearly 4000 feet in elevation, the road toward Monarch Canyon starts to go downhill! - Ah! There it is, the gravel road toward Monarch Canyon (Chloride Cliff Road)
The gravel road toward Monarch Canyon (Chloride Cliff Road) leaves the highway near Daylight Pass and the Nevada border, but is still in California. - Signage at the entrance of the road toward Monarch Canyon (Chloride Cliff Road)
All that's here is a small "4x4 high clearance needed" sign and a jeep graphic. - I know I'm very close now to the road toward Monarch Canyon (Chloride Cliff Road)
I've read that the little dirt road that I'm looking for has no sign (except for a little jeep sign), so I know what to watch for. - Higher yet above Hell's Gate, I look back behind me again as I approach 3000-feet elevation
Yes, I'm still rising. I notice that I'm getting a bit fatigued and wobbly on the steeper parts of the road here. There's practically no shoulder on parts of this fast-speed road and it would be unsafe to ride so close to the edge that I might slip on the edge of the pavement and fall in front of traffic coming up behind me (I've seen this happen). So I ride here out in the traffic lane a bit, being careful to give myself enough space to ride safely (with my wobbles), which forces cars to pass me widely. - Sign for Corkscrew Peak, a popular climbing destination
Excellent, another point of interest (and excuse to take a break). - An old rock wall along Daylight Pass Road
Points of interest are important for the slow-going uphill bicyclist. - A bit above Hell's Gate, I turn back to see how much I've climbed since my rest stop there
Yes, I have risen. Yes, this is steeper than Beatty Cutoff was. Yes, I'm glad that endorphins have kicked in because I don't seem to have much real energy left and I'm not there yet. It's a beautiful day. - A side canyon just around the corner from my camp site in Monarch Canyon
If I were to camp here multiple days, this would probably make for an interesting day hike leading up around the area of Chloride Cliff Road. - Though concealed in this view, the tent sits behind a small rocky outcrop in the centre of this photo in Monarch Canyon
The road into Monarch Canyon may end here, but Monarch Canyon itself continues another mile and a half or so behind me. Walking further down the canyon in search of Monarch Spring will be tomorrow's adventure. The wind is quite strong up here tonight. Right after sunset, a two-hour rain storm kicks in just as I'm about to prepare my add-water-to-bag backpacker's meal. I have to put on my rain gear when I step outside to boil my water. A bit of water starts to get in my tent around the edges after a while, but nothing too serious. Fortunately, the wind dies down to a tolerable level around midnight, so falling asleep is easy. - The tent is now set up at Emigrant Campground and the ten-ton bike relieved of its load
For a short while, the light of a gorgeous desert sunset casts its special mood on thoughts of the day's events. - Huff and puff, I finally make it to the Emigrant Campground; my world is slanted here on the fan
This is a rather sparse campground that feels like a big gravel parking lot carved out of creosote bushes plowed down, equipped with a bunch of picnic tables, and with garbage cans and a public water tap on one side of it. The public washroom just down the road is a nice convenience. Though deceptively dull at first, it's actually a really nice location. First of all, being high up on the alluvial fan at 2000 feet allows for expansive views all around, which are especially nice at sunrise and sunset. It's a bit cooler up here than on the valley floor and several interesting hikes or bicycle rides could start from this location into the surrounding hills. Another positive trait is that this is a tents-only campground. - I continue climbing Highway 190, looking for signs of Emigrant Campground somewhere on the fan
I'm hoping that those specks on the centre-right are signs of the campground. It turns out that the ride today up to Emigrant Campground is unexpectedly similar in distance and elevation gain to my slow ride up from Death Valley to Hell's Gate on the way to Monarch Canyon a few days ago. I'm even getting some of that same pain in my right knee on the way up this grade. This is my first real work-out of the trip during such high temperatures (mid-90s). - Looking back down toward Stovepipe Wells on the slow climb toward Emigrant Camp
This seems to be a bit steeper than I expected. Does that mean I'm already almost at Emigrant Campground? It feels like I've already climbed most of the 1000 feet that I've been expecting. However, I'm not so sure that I've covered the full ten miles beyond Stovepipe Wells yet. Is the hot weather playing games with my senses? While pulled over, I get out my map to help me get my bearings. Ha! The problem turns out to be that Emigrant Campground is situated at 2000 feet elevation, not at 1000 feet as remembered by my faulty memory. The good thing is that I'm still lucid and not hallucinating from fatigue; Emigrant Campground is simply twice as high up the road as I had thought. - Heading up Highway 190 toward Emigrant Campground from Stovepipe Wells
I figure that Emigrant camp must be somewhere over there on the fan, since it's just ten miles away. I figure that it should be a fairly easy, but slow ride across the fan, a lot like the first ten miles from Baker up Kelbaker Road, which I've ridden several times during past bicycle camping in Mojave National Preserve. - I leave the heat of Stovepipe Wells and head up Highway 190 toward Emigrant Campground
The warning sign reminds me to turn off air-conditioning for the next 20 miles in order to avoid overheating. Since I only have ten miles left to go, I'll hopefully avoid the overheating problem. - The ten-ton bike takes a rest at the Stovepipe Wells general store
The themometer here reads 95 degrees F, so I'm thrilled to be at a store where I can get cold drinks. I devour two bottles of ice-cold Sobé grapefruit drink and two bags of potato chips. I tend to dislike salty food in real life, but bicycle trips, especially in hot weather, often alter my taste buds temporarily. I take a $4, much-needed shower at the motel across the road and replace the warm water in my Camelbak with some cooler water from the tap outside the Stovepipe Wells Motel. I visit the Stovepipe Wells ranger station and consider taking a camp site at the ugly RV campground behind the general store. However, I learn that it has already closed for the hot season, when there aren't so many visitors. Camping isn't allowed in this part of Death Valley except in designated campgrounds, so my only choice is to camp at the Emigrant Campground 10 miles up the road (unless I want to ride a lot further than that). - A plaque on the side of the Stovepipe Wells general store
It commemorates the original "Bungalette City" that was built here. - Arriving at the town of Stovepipe Wells at 100 feet below sea level
Stovepipe Wells consists of an old motel complex, a general store, an RV campground, and a ranger station. It's definitely in the 90s here today, the hottest day of my trip so far. - Along 190 crossing the floor of Death Valley
This area is called "Devil's Corn Field." - After the descent down Daylight Pass Road, I cross Death Valley on Highway 190
Highway 190 dips down below sea level as it crosses Death Valley on its way to Stovepipe Wells on the other side. Stovepipe Wells is that cluster of buildings at the foot of the mountains seven miles straight ahead. It is quite hot down here today. - Daylight Pass Road passes through some low hills as it approaches the valley floor
I hate it when these seemingly endless, amazing downhill rides actually do come to an end! - Getting closer to the bottom of Death Valley
I'm probably about 1000 feet above the valley at this point. - Daylight Pass Road approaches the Death Valley Buttes on its way down to the valley floor
I'm noticing that it's significantly warmer here than it was up in the mountains this morning. That probably means that it's a rather hot day down below. I'll find out soon. - Further down Daylight Pass Road, heading toward Death Valley
Somewhere around Hell's Gate around 2000 feet elevation. - Back on pavement
Starting back down Daylight Pass Road through the Funeral Mountains toward Death Valley below. Feeling lazy and a bit tired today, and really enjoying flying downward, I find myself wondering how I managed to pedal my way up this grade two days ago. - I've made it up over the hump on Chloride Cliff Road on the way out of Monarch Canyon
Life will be fun and easy for a while. I begin the ride down from here at around 3700 feet elevation to Death Valley, which is a bit below sea level. - On the road out of beautiful Monarch Canyon
After a short walk down the canyon to take a few photos that I missed yesterday after my film ran out, I'm finally on my way. On the way out, I pass a couple in a large pick-up truck coming down the road, the first people I've seen in two days. It turns out that they are headed up toward Chloride Cliff and didn't realize that they made a wrong turn down Monarch Canyon Road. I encourage them to continue to the end of the canyon to see it, since it's so short and scenic, before returning to their route on Chloride Cliff Road. - One last glance at the campsite before dismantling it and leaving Monarch Canyon
It's nice to wake up to Monarch Canyon. I consider staying another day and doing another hike in the area, or riding to Beatty, Nevada, because I like it so much up here, and there's even drinking water available for me if I choose to stay. But there's so much more of Death Valley National Park that I'd like to see on this trip, so I move on. Even though the sun hasn't completely made it into the canyon yet, the chill that I experienced yesterday morning is missing, which makes me think that it might be quite warm down in the valley below. - I lock my bike to a wilderness sign along Chloride Cliff Road and go for a short walk toward the old Keane Spring
Do I really need to lock my bike? I don't see any green spots that might indicate the presence of a spring anywhere. I had read that Keane Spring is probably dry, so I'm not surprised. After my walk in the Keane Spring area, I return to the bike (not a 10-ton bike today!) at the wilderness sign, and coast back down to my camp site at the foot of Monarch Canyon Road. The howling wind at the camp site during the evening causes my tent walls to suck in and out, forever testing its strength. At least it's doesn't rain again! There's a crescent moon in the sky tonight, just big enough to light up the canyon a little under the clear, dark sky. Under the flashlight lamp in the tent, I get out my maps and study them, wondering if I should stay camped out here a third night, and do a day ride tomorrow to Beatty, Nevada. The wind doesn't die down like it did last night. As midnight approaches, I decide to stop waiting for some relief and quiet, and somehow manage to fall asleep anyway, probably because I'm so exhausted! - Back down near Monarch Canyon, an old water tank sits near Chloride Cliff Road
In the background, Chloride Cliff Road heads up into the hills to the left (south). - Further down Chloride Cliff Road on the way back to Monarch Canyon
Another rocky stretch of road. - On my way back down Chloride Cliff Road
Chloride Cliff Road is quite rocky in places. - Up at the summit of the hill that I just walked up, with Death Valley about 4500 feet down below
The Furnace Creek tourist area, where I camped two nights ago, is down in that large dark patch in the distance in the valley. There are more hills at the top of this hill and I could spend the whole day exploring these ridges, but I decide not to. - Me, up at the summit of the big hill I just walked up
The old Chloride City site is probably just beyond the hill behind me to the left (south). I'm tempted to get back on the bike and ride the rest of the way over there, just to say I was there, but I feel very satisfied having climbed up this big hill and sat for a while. - Near the top of this set of switchbacks on Chloride Cliff Road
The road has risen a lot in a short distance. It reminds me of some of the steep fire roads used as bicycle and hiking trails in the hills around San José. - I park the bike and go for a walk up the big hill to my right to take in the views of Death Valley below
The old Chloride City site is actually another mile or two up the road, up over the hills to my left. But this location is sufficiently enticing that I've decided to stop here. - Higher up after more switchbacks on Chloride Cliff Road
This road snakes around so much that it's easy to lose track of the direction in which you're looking if you aren't paying attention. - An off-camber section of Chloride Cliff Road on the way up
Photo breaks are a great way to give my occasionally sore right knee a rest. - Switchbacks on the way up Chloride Cliff Road
I guess they decided that the road would have been too steep if it went straight up the hillside when they built it. - Looking back down toward Monarch Canyon to see how much I've risen
I think my Monarch Canyon camp site is roughly in the center of the photo down behind the small mountains in the middleground. - Interesting patch of reddish soil on the way up Chloride Cliff Road away from Monarch Canyon
A geologist would probably have a lot to say about what this is, and isn't; I don't. Before I left my Monarch Canyon camp site, the part of my speedometer/odometer system attached to my front wheel snapped off. Travel distances for the rest of my trip will be calculated as per mileage shown on maps rather than per actual odometer readings. - Once beyond the bushwhacking zone, I note that some of the brush looks greener than the rest
This slightly verdant area indicates the presence of a little stream running through it, which seems to exude from under all those reeds. Indeed, I hear a trickle of water amid the silence and locate it. There didn't seem to be much water on the ground around the spring that I identified, so it makes me wonder if perhaps there is a second spring further on under the reeds. - The stream from Monarch Spring should provide fairly decent drinking water once filtered
The stream runs from two to eight inches in width and about six inches in depth at its deepest. It has a lot of algae on the surface, but the water underneath is clear and clean. I get out my water bottles one-by-one and slowly fill them with water pumped through my MSR water purifier. I perform a taste test on the filtered water and it's pretty good. I leisurely pump away as the sun beams down and starts to heat up the day, and me. I recognize a faint, musty odour in my surroundings that I can't immediately identify. As time passes, I conclude that it's most probably from diluted feces from bighorn sheep, which like to frequent desert water sources such as this. I'm not a big meat eater, but lamb is my favourite red meat, and the scent of lamb meat is unmistakable. I don't see any actual feces anywhere, but I do notice some soft earthy material on the ground that doesn't seem to be part of the hard earth layer beneath it. I haven't seen any bighorn sheep during this trip yet, but I did catch a glimpse of a few last year near Marl Springs in Mojave National Preserve. I'm content when my four 1.5-litre bottles are full of clean backcountry water and begin the hike back to my camp site. Passing through the area of head-high reeds around Monarch Spring is much easier on the return trip, now that I know how to get through it. - Having now seen the entire stream from Monarch Spring, I start walking back and stop at the best spot that I saw for pumping water
My chosen location is close to the end of the canyon, where the brush is low, and the stream at its widest and deepest. - The end of upper Monarch Canyon overlooks Death Valley below
The end of upper Monarch Canyon drops off 100 feet or so into Death Valley below and the little spring-fed stream flows over the drop-off to make a tiny waterfall. The view across the Death Valley desert below is quite dramatic in the way it's framed by the steep walls of Monarch Canyon. - Looking down the 100-foot drop-off at the end of the Monarch Canyon
The stream is so minimal that the photo doesn't even pick up its presence trickling down over the rocks. I sit here for a while enjoying the silence and the views. - I climb the rock wall a wee bit as I try to squeeze past and above the reeds
To get past the head-high reeds near the spring, one must squeeze through narrow spaces between the rock wall and the reeds, or climb over the rocks a little. The earth is wet and mushy in here, and there is sometimes water on the ground. I was afraid I that would sink in the mud when I couldn't stay on the steep rocks, but the reeds are so thick that they provide a layer on the ground that prevents me from sinking into the mud (if I walk fast enough). - Bushwhacking my way through more reeds
I'm starting to get used to walking through this tall stuff and am getting less prissy about it. Nonetheless, snakes, including rattlesnakes, sometimes like these moist areas, so it's important that I keep looking down as I make my way. - You can't see it here, but there's a thin layer of water on the ground under all the grass
It's strange to walk through this because one can't see how much water is actually on the ground. The next footstep might be on a firm surface, or you might sink into mud or water. - At the bottom of the the drop-off in Monarch Canyon, I look back up the trail that I came down
The trail is that ledge of earth that rises in the centre-right of the photo. - Coming out of the reeds at Monarch Spring for a moment to look back up-canyon
I'm not finished walking through the reeds just yet and I'm wondering if there's more water in Monarch Canyon or if this is all there is. - A little further down Monarch Canyon
Some patches of "soil" are like hardened pavement or cement. - Me, trying to figure out how to get through or around the thick brush that engulfs Monarch Spring
The grass is taller than me; I try to follow the faint tracks that I find here and there from people or animals who have been here before me. - Descending Monarch Canyon beyond the Indian Mine site
According to my map, Monarch Spring is in the left corner of that yellowish area down below in the centre of the image. - Close-up of what remains at the old Indian Mine site
I wonder how long this will last here before it returns to the earth. - I pass the old Indian Mine site on the way down Monarch Canyon017-indian-mine
The Indian Mine mechanics are still here, and not too badly weathered, due to the dry climate, after 100 years or so. - Interesting drainage erosion in Monarch Canyon just below the first drop-off
Death Valley is a common destination for geology field trips owing to features like this. - Standing at the bottom of the first drop-off in Monarch Canyon
The road in Monarch Canyon above ends on top of the rock wall. A careless driver could drive right over the edge and land where I'm standing. - Another view of drainage and rock layers in Monarch Canyon
... just below the first drop-off. - Looking down Monarch Canyon from the drop-off at the end of the road by my campsite
Monarch Canyon drops off about 70 feet at the end of the road by my camp site. My walk starts here and goes downward. A narrow trail, which is apparently the remains of old mining road, leads downward on my left into the canyon. It's a bit chilly here, the sun having not been able to shine in and heat up the canyon yet. I see no trace of last night's brief rain storm. - I enjoy the scenery all the way back down to my camp site at Emigrant Campground
Though a couple of hours of daylight remain, the lower parts of Wildrose Canyon are already shielded from the sun by the adjacent hills. Back at my camp site, I discover that the crows have ripped apart the bag of laundry detergent that I left on my picnic table. I guess they didn't like the contents once they found out what's inside. I too hate the stuff, which is why I left it outside, not wanting the smell of Tide to permeate my tent, but it was the only brand of detergent available in small packages at the Furnace Creek general store. - Back on paved Wildrose Road again, it's a blast riding back down through the canyon.
I don't see any cars on the way back down to Emigrant Campground. Best of all, I hardly ever have to pedal, so I can rest my sore knee in a position where it is comfortable. - Beyond Aguereberry cabin, the road to Aguereberry Point crosses the plateau and snakes up through the mountains
My sore knee is still bothering me and I take many short breaks as the road rises. I only have a couple miles of pedalling left, but it's slow-going. I really like this part of the road. For a while, beyond each curve between hills is another curve between hills. Only one car has passed me so far on this dirt road. - I start coasting back down, and enjoy winding through the high-mountain canyons
The road is heavily washboarded, so I can't allow myself to go quite as fast as I'd like, due to the discomfort. But it's a beautiful ride. - Me, contented tourist, at Aguereberry Point
Us tourists take turns passing our cameras to each other so we can have photos taken of ourselves. The cool mountain wind coupled with the fact that I'm no longer pedalling and generating heat means that I need to put my sweater on. But it's probably 90 or 100 degrees down below on the valley floor right now. - A different view across Death Valley from Aguereberry Point
Furnace Creek, where I camped several nights ago, is the small greenish area straight ahead on the floor of Death Valley, I think. Monarch Canyon, where I camped just two nights ago, is probably up in the slightly darker area of mountains just to the left of my head. Should I say "cheese" or "fromage?" - Down the back side of Aguereberry Point, looking toward Harrisburg Flats, from where I just came
I'm really looking forward to the ride back down, since it will be almost 4500 feet of downhill and won't require much more effort from my sore knee! - I finally reach the Aguereberry Point summit, and meet a family of French tourists there
This is one of those remarkable locations where all tourists have to take photos. I get to speak French again, which produces an odd feeling of déjà-vu because I rarely speak French any more. - The Aguereberry cabin and outbuildings are in fairly good condition
Especially considering that they've been abandoned for quite a while. A great site that really demonstrates the isolation of the miners who lived out here. - A shower stall in the Aguereberry cabin
A shower stall is really a modern amenity for a place like this. - Five-panel wooden doors inside the Aguereberry cabin
Just like the ones that my circa-1900 house was equipped with when it was built. - The kitchen in the Aguereberry cabin
The refrigerator adds a modern touch. - The rear of the Aguereberry cabin
The road to Aguereberry Point heads off to the right. - I am happy when I discover the old Aguereberry cabin site two miles up the road.
I love walking through old buildings. - After rising out of Wildrose Canyon, Wildrose Road crosses a plateau called Harrisburg Flats
After all the natural-rock beauty on the way up Wildrose Canyon, I feel somewhat uninspired by this wide-open plateau. However, my sore knee is happy that I've reached flatter land. It's hurting more than on previous days, despite the many breaks that I've given it on the way up the hill. I've ridden almost 12 miles so far today and climbed 3000 feet (I'm at 5000 feet now). It's time to choose a final destination for the day with a finite distance; I can't be indecisive forever. I could ride another mile and a half to Emigrant Pass and see what the view is like from there, but the sign to Aguereberry Point wins my interest. It's "only" six more miles to Aguereberry Point. I've only seen a few cars on the way up Wildrose Road. - I stop to investigate a trickle of water that I notice about five miles up Wildrose Road
I get out my map, which indicates that this is probably Emigrant Spring. There's only a bit of water here right now. The trickles flow over the green algae on the rocks and give it a shiny appearance under the bright sun. A concrete retaining wall and a pipe direct the flow of any water that accumulates here. - More rocky stuff along Wildrose Road
My eyes are so busy looking at all the rock everywhere that I'm barely aware how slowly I'm riding up the hill. - More rock textures along Wildrose Road
There's more to look at here in Wildrose Canyon than I expected. An unusual pink and blue rainbow-like reflection in the swirl of white clouds above the hill is invisible in the photo. - I choose to ride up Wildrose Road today instead of heading up Highway 190 to Towne's Pass
Wildrose Road climbs away from the Emigrant Campground area and passes through scenic Wildrose Canyon. I seem to have the wind behind me, which is always nice. - An old, unused stone park office sits across the road from the Emigrant rest stop
The old park building isn't being used anymore, but there is still a functional pay phone out front--a nice touch since cell phones don't usually work out here. Out front, a sign warns drivers of the long grade from here down to Stovepipe Wells that I trudged up early yesterday evening. - Breakfast at Emigrant Campground
My picnic table after a simple breakfast of coffee, granola, almonds, dried apricots and instant miso soup with seaweed; and more coffee. I had even more coffee earlier with Phil and Renée at the camp site across from me. They showed me where crows pecked a big hole through the plastic container of water that they had left outside on their picnic table overnight. Phil also had some extra replacement bolts to offer me for my bike rack, in case my temporary bolt fails. It's only 9h00, but it's a hot day already. As usual, my sleep was abruptly terminated this morning by the hot sun making it extremely hot inside my tent. The first thing to do after opening one's eyes is to open the tent as quickly as possible to get some air inside! I'm feeling a bit tired, both muscularly and sleep-wise, but that won't stop me. I consider a hike across the fan and up Lemoigne Canyon a few miles in the background, but I instinctively want to go higher up into cooler air today. I haven't figured out yet whether hiking or riding would be best for my sore knee. - Emigrant Campground as seen from the public washrooms down the road at the rest stop
Looking southwest on Highway 190 up toward Towne Pass. I consider riding in that direction today, as I'd like to see Panamint Valley on the other side. Or, I could just ride south up Wildrose Road. - The old stone washrooms at the rest stop near Emigrant Campground
Looking northeast down Highway 190 toward Stovepipe Wells. - The cold I caught last night is pretty bad, but I'm up by 8h making coffee anyway; today I pack up and leave Devil's Playground
I'm expecting a long day, with several miles of walking the bike. Two good, strong cups of coffee are in order in addition to my breakfast of assorted dried fruit, granola, tamari almonds and vitamin-C drink. - Enjoying the views down to Cowhole Moutain and Soda Lake, I ponder camping another night here at Devil's Playground
It's quiet and still this morning. I have enough water to get me through the night, but there's nowhere around here where I would be able to refill my reserves tomorrow morning. Oh well, time to pack up and move on... - The last items to remove are the large rocks that I placed inside the tent last night to keep it from blowing over again
I'm carrying a number of cold-weather items on this trip to help me survive the evenings, and this has made my load a bit bigger than during my warm-weather Mojave bikepacking trips. - I like the patterns that my sleeping pad has imprinted on the sand through the floor of my tent
With all the sand that blows around down here at Devil's Playground, traces of my campsite should disappear fairly soon. - The bike all packed up, I begin the 5.5-mile trek down Old Kelso Road along the east side of Devil's Playground
Here's a sandy stretch (with some of my footprints from yesterday's hike) that's a wee bit too sandy for riding the bike, but I can see some firmly packed gravel just ahead that should be good for riding. - Old Kelso Road occasionally crosses dry washes where it is suddenly rocky instead of sandy
This little wash crossing here would be fun on an unloaded mountain bike, but the 10-ton bike slipped in the loose gravel here and lost traction. I'm sweating a bit already, so I'm not wearing a sweater. - I pause on Old Kelso Road to admire the views back toward Cowhole Mountain, Soda Lake, and my campsite of the last two nights
This road was graded many years ago, judging by the pile of rocks along the left side of the road. Creosote bushes have grown in the right-of-way since then. The surface here is nicely packed and rides well. - I like this slightly downhill part of Old Kelso Road that heads toward the Old Dad Mountain block
... because it's slightly downhill and because it's a well-packed surface for riding. This road is otherwise mostly a slight uphill. - Long and straight, Old Kelso Road heads toward the power lines that I can see three miles ahead, where I'll enter Jackass Canyon
The riding is slow, but going well here. However, I presume that I'll encounter more soft sand somewhere ahead. After all, this is Devil's Playground! - I stare intently at the Old Dad Mountain block as I pass by, wishing I had enough time and water to do a day hike here
An orange post here marks an official Wilderness boundary, beyond which cars and bicycles are technically prohibited, but people obviously just drive around it. There's probably a nice campsite up there. - A bit further down Old Kelso Road I notice another Wilderness marker that people drive around and ignore
There's probably a nice campsite at the end of this "illegal" road too, nestled against Old Dad Mountain. Too bad this road wasn't kept open as a "cherrystem" into the Wilderness like many others. - Old Kelso Road has proven to be more rideable than I expected, but this final part before the power lines is a bit rough
It's bit uphill on this stretch, so I end up walking the 10-ton bike again. Old Kelso Road would be a fun mountain-bike ride for someone not carrying so much gear! - Near the end of the slow 5.5 miles on Old Kelso Road, I stop for an energy bar and take in a final glance at Devil's Playground
It has been a fun couple of days down here and I'm glad I made it this time. I wanted to visit this area during my Mojave trip this past spring, but skipped it because it gets incredibly hot down here once the warm weather starts. - Tire tracks go everywhere at the end of Old Kelso Road where it meets Jackass Canyon at the power lines
It's hard to tell exactly where the road is at first, but one easily joins up with the Jackass Canyon Road after a few minutes. - Entering Jackass Canyon from Devil's Playground, Mojave National Preserve
This part of the Jackass Canyon Road is rideable, and there's even a bit of old pavement here and there, hiding under the dirt. However, I was here on my Xmas 2007 Mojave trip and know that a couple of miles of this road will be hike-a-biking. - Nice wiggly tire track behind me as I ride slowly up Jackass Canyon Road from Devil's Playground
I again stare longing at the dark Old Dad Mountain bulwark at right, wishing I had enough time and water to explore more in this area today, while I'm here. - A final glimpse of the Old Dad Mountain block as I get on with the trudge up Jackass Canyon
The occasional day hikers who climb Old Dad Mountain sometimes park over by the power-line towers and climb up the back side of the mountain. - I try riding the worn-out paved track along the wash to avoid the deep sand and gravel in Jackass Canyon
This marks the start of two or three miles of mostly unrideable gravel in Jackass Canyon. I travelled Jackass Canyon during my Xmas 2007 Mojave National Preserve trip, so I know what to expect this time. - The faded paved track to the left is rather washed-out and grown-in, so I abandon it and return to the gravel of Jackass Canyon
Time to get those arm muscles working by dragging the 10-ton bike. Bicycling isn't always all about leg work! - Another old residual-pavement road rises out of Jackass Canyon, this time on the south side of the wash
I follow the faded road up a small hill and look back down behind me to the wash. Jackass Canyon is really scenic, but I'm so busy with the work of travelling that I'm not appreciating it as much as I could. - At the top of my little hill, I now get to ride back down the old paved road and return to the gravel of Jackass Canyon
It has been a brief, but fun, detour out of Jackass Canyon, and it has probably saved me a few minutes of dragging the 10-ton bike through gravel. - Back in the wash of Jackass Canyon: more sand and gravel ahead!
It's slow work travelling here, and I keep telling myself that I'm getting better at it. On this stretch of road, it would be easier to backpack than bikepack. - I take a lot of short 30-second breaks to stop and enjoy the scenery in Jackass Canyon
I have no choice, really. My arms aren't nearly as strong as my legs, so pushing the 10-ton bike through so much gravel is starting to fatigue me. I eat another energy bar (yummy cherry Larabar). - After another half hour, the gravel is finally thinning out and it looks like I can try getting on the bike and riding again
There will be a bit more gravel ahead, but not much. I am able to pedal my way, at a slow speed, up most of the gentle grade ahead in upper Jackass Canyon. - Approaching the top of Jackass Canyon, finally!
The last 1.5 miles to the top of the canyon road is pretty easy, compared to the last hour-and-a-half of hike-a-biking. - Up out of Jackass Canyon for good, I'm now on the plateau, heading toward Mojave National Preserve's famous cinder cones
Time to put my sweater on. I have 1.5 miles to ride on this nice flat road (slightly downhill, actually) before reaching the pavement of Kelbaker Road. I can't take this road too quickly due to the slippery sand, but it's a fun ride. - Hey, sunset is spinning its wheels faster than I'm spinning mine, and I haven't quite reached Kelbaker Road yet
I was hoping to reach the Mojave National Preserve's Kelso Depot visitor centre before it closes at 17h, but I guess that won't happen. - Here it is: Kelbaker Road, Mojave National Preserve, approximately 3100 feet elevation; pavement again, I'm so excited
I'll make a right-turn here and start the ride to Kelso Depot. Straight ahead on the other side of Kelbaker Road is Aiken Mine Road, a 20-mile-long dirt track that I rode a few months ago for the first time. - Riding up Kelbaker Road in the sunset is pleasant; of course, it helps that there is no traffic, which is often the case
For some reason, I'm feeling energized now; must be today's energy bars kicking in. I have 600 feet of elevation gain ahead over the next 3.5 miles and a slight tailwind cheering me on for moral support. - My cheap digital camera picks up some of the glowing pinks and blues of this Mojave National Preserve sunset
Still pedalling heartily up the gentle hill here on Kelbaker Road, thinking about places over yonder that I've visited, and some which I haven't been to yet. - I'm enjoying the fleeting sunset along Kelbaker Road as I slowly approach the summit, looking back to the cinder cones
A few joshua trees grow along this stretch of Kelbaker Road, which are especially picturesque at sunset. - Darkness sets in as I arrive at the summit of Kelbaker Road at 3700 feet, ready for the 12-mile descent to Kelso in the dark
It's chilly up here, so I stop to put on my outer shell and warmer gloves for the long downhill ahead, which is a lot of fun. I'm a bit cold when I reach the bottom.
I arrive at Kelso Depot visitor centre at 18h, an hour after closing, hoping that they've left the garden hose outside (but they didn't). However, staff is still on-site and offers to fill my water bottles so I don't have to fuss around with the small sinks in the 24-hour washrooms in the parking lot. A huge thank-you for that!
I'm invigorated by the long downhill ride, but still rather pooped from all the hike-a-biking earlier today. After Kelso Depot, I ride and walk the bike almost two miles up the fan on Cornfield Spring Road and set up camp at a spot where I camped a few months ago.
I was hoping to set up camp a mile or two closer to Cornfield Spring in preparation for tomorrow's hike, but this will do just fine. I'm hungry and can't wait to eat supper, which is 800-calorie Mountain House Chicken and Rice: very soothing.
The cold that I caught last night is still with me. I can't tell if my aches are from the day's exercise or not. It's a tad colder here than it was at Devil's Playground, so more layers of clothing go on as the evening progresses. I fall asleep easily, but don't sleep all that well.
Recorded temperatures at Baker, CA today are a high of 63F and a low of 32F.
- Sunny skies this morning, but raindrops from last night's thunderstorm glisten on the roof of my tent
A pleasant, but chilly, last-morning-of-the-trip. Pleasant enough that I almost forget I have a cold; cough, hack. Or maybe I'm just used to this cold after living with it for a week. - I make my last two cups of strong coffee of the trip and enjoy the views while I procrastinate the task of breaking camp
I lazily consume beef jerky, granola, tamari almonds, dried fruit, and vitamin-C drink for breakfast again. The nearby power lines are buzzing loudly again this morning. - As I pack the tent's contents into my saddlebags, I remove the big rocks I placed inside the tent to keep it from blowing away
I do bring tent stakes with me, but rarely use them. Desert terrain tends to be too crumbly or sandy for stakes to help much with holding a tent down. - It's that everything-out-of-the-tent moment again; time to leave the Kelso Dunes area!
I like this area west of the Kelso Dunes and would like to come back to explore more. A vehicle or two may have driven by on the power-line road yesterday while I was hiking Bull Canyon, but I haven't seen anyone since I passed Kelso Dunes two days ago - After packing up, I carry my saddlebags and bicycle down to the power-line road for final assembly
I've done plenty of bikepacking, but have only backpacked once. I'm glad I'm not carrying my heavy load on my back, but backpacking can sometimes be easier than bikepacking, depending on conditions. - The 10-ton bike reassembled, I'm ready to put my helmet on and start riding up the Kelso Dunes power-line road
Actually, I won't put the helmet on just yet. I first have to walk the bike through the sandy area ahead, but once it becomes rideable, then the helmet will go on. - Off the Kelso Dunes power-line road, I notice vehicle tracks going past a Wilderness boundary marker
Cars and bicycles are prohibited in official Wilderness areas, but the signage is generally absent or so weak (a non-descript metal post in this case) that accidental trespassing should be expected.