Here is my bike at a rest stop with Mt. Shasta in the background.The Airheads Beemer Club has an annual rendezvous in Death Valley, CA, every February. Since I had time available this year and wanted some warm weather, I decided to make the trip.
It is about 1200 miles from my home in Seattle. This would be a perfect opportunity to to a Saddlesore 1000, getting me membership in the Iron Butt Association (IBA). To do that, I need to document a trip of 1000 miles in 24 hours by motorcycle.
I left around 6am I took the 'slabs' - Interstate 5 and CA99. I considered going via Reno and the Sierras, but I thought that a potential breakdown at night at those altitudes would be trouble, so I chose the sure bet, though it is a boring route.
The first 200 miles through Washington and into Oregon were very cold and foggy. At one point I looked at my arms and edges of the motorcycle and thought someone had sprayed white spraypaint ahead of me. It turned out to be ice! Just like an aircraft, I had airframe icing on my leading edges! I can see why IBA advocates using electric vests!
I stopped freezing (and progressed to merely "damn cold") as I crossed the bridge into Portland. I saw the first other motorcycle at this point - another airhead BMW GS heading north. I guess we're all crazy!
The rest of the ride down was mostly uneventful. I stopped roughly every 100 miles to stretch, and that helped a lot. I was quite warm by the time I reached Grants Pass, OR. The road over Siskiyous Pass was dry and sunny.
Here is my bike at a rest stop with Mt. Shasta in the background.
I eventually descended into California's central valley, where all the towns pretty much look the same. The first 600 miles or so of the trip were really quite pleasant, but I was getting stiff and sore after that, and it was getting dark. But I kept pushing.
I'd love to report a more exciting story of the trip, but it was really quite boring. The bike worked flawlessly, there were few issues with traffic, and the weather was as good as I could hope for in February. I did see a truck fire in Madera, and drove by it before the fire trucks arrived.
I arrived about midnight in Bakersfield, CA. Topped off my gas tank to establish an end time for the Saddlesore documentation. The gas station attendant seemed put off when I asked him to sign my witness form, since he had to put out his cigarette(!) to go inside to get his glasses. By the name he put on the from (Bubba S...) I wasn't sure he was being sincere, so I got another witness in the attendant at the hotel I stayed at in Bakersfield.
With the Saddlesore 1000 under my belt, the next morning I worked the rest of the way to Death Valley via scenic highway 178. The went through the Kern River canyon. The canyon entrance was dramatic - it rose steeply from the valley floor like a castle wall, with a thin crack of an entrance. The sign at the entrance read in English and Spanish "212 lives lost on the river since 1988. Stay out of the river." Somehow it reminded me of the old McDonald's sign: "over 20 billion served." I got the point, and decided I'd do my best to stay out of the river.
I tried to pull over to get a picture of the sign, but nearly dumped my bike on the dismount, so I decided to press onward.
The canyon road was very narrow and twisty, but beautiful. I wondered how many of the 212 had been motorcycles cooking too fast around some of the corners!
The rest of 178 was beautiful but mostly uneventful. At one point, I had to stop for a cattle drive. I had lunch at a burger place in Trona, on the edge of Lake Searles, which is naturally a chemical mess. A monument said that half the natural elements known to man have been pulled from this lake, and there was an ongoing mining operation for borax and other chemicals here. Lets just say its not a place you build a cabin and go fishing. But the people in the burger place were very friendly.
I descended a plateau (narrowly avoiding a car who showed up in my lane) and found myself in Panamint Valley. In the distance, on the valley floor, I could see a radar installation. The valley floor seemed a strange place for that. Suddenly, a F-18 fighter jet ripped through the valley at low altitude. That explains the radar. I was very near the China Lake naval installation.
I eventually found the Wildrose entrance to Death Valley national park. It looked much shorter on the map than the other way in, but the road is actually longer and far more rough than the other nearby entrance.
Once
in the park, I pulled over to adjust my rear shock which had been bottoming out
under the weight of myself and the camping gear. I got a few nice photographs.
I found my way to Furnace Creek in the afternoon where the Airheads were gathered. Many were surprised to see me come in from Seattle, though there were a few others who also travelled as far or further. I set up camp under a tree in the shade and with the days' riding over, enjoyed a beer or three with some fellow airheads. I met in person a lot of people with whom I had previously only exchanged email.
After
an uneventful night, the following day Bob Shilling and I went for a ride on our
GSes. We went to a place called Badwater, which is the lowest point in the
western hemisphere, some 280 feet below sea level! There we met Bruno, a Swiss
journalist who was riding around the world on a Yamaha motorcycle, and sending
in trip reports to a Swiss motorcycle magazine. He had recently arrived from
Siberia!
On
the way back to camp, we toured the "Artist's Palette," which is an area where
the soils and rocks exhibit a lot of vivid pastel colors.
That
night (friday) many more riders arrived, and I met a lot more people, including
Airheads founder Jan Hoffman. Being a late registrant and the sheer number of
people who showed up, I had to move my stuff up the road to the Texas Springs
campground. There was no shade, and the rocky surface made it difficult if not
impossible to stake down the tents. But there was a nice group of people staying
there and we got along great.
Saturday,
I did a lot of sightseeing. I visited "Scotti's Castle," a fascinating house
with more fascinating folklore behind it, involving gold and con artists.
I
visited the Ubeheebe Crater, which is a volcanic phenomenon resulting in a very
large hole in the earth.
Then I decided to cruise through Titus (or, as some will say, "Tight Ass")
Canyon.
I
had to travel within a few miles of Beatty, NV to get to the trailhead, so I ate
lunch in Beatty. No, I didn't visit the brothels!
The trail to Titus canyon is all dirt and gravel, and goes up over Red Pass which is very beautiful. I'm not a very experienced rider off the pavement, so I had a terrifying time trying to keep my 500lb bike with the rubber side down. But I managed.
I arrived at Leadfield, a ghost town (read: a couple rusty metal
shacks) that had once been booming in the 1920s when lead was discovered there.
But the boom ended quickly.
Finally, I entered the canyon itself. The walls were sheer, and the road
surface was many inches of very loose gravel. It was very difficult and required
great effort to keep the bike up.
I happened upon a group of riders resting on a rock and chatted with them for
a few minutes. Many of them were on BMW GSes as well, but weren't part of the
Airheads gathering.
I didn't waste much time though, since I was afraid I'd run out of daylight
before I ran out of canyon.
Saturday night there hundreds of bikers at the big party. A lot of door prizes were given out, but I didn't win any.
That night, a windstorm came up and I think nobody in Texas Springs could
have slept through it. Many tents were literally destroyed! We're lucky it
didn't blow the bikes off their stands - it was that windy. My tiny tent is in
the foreground in the picture - but check out what the wind is doing to the tent
behind it!
I was among those who just packed up what we could and headed home.
The return trip:
The return was difficult because of the winds and the cold. I took highway 190 out of the park all the way west to highway 395, and south from there. It seems I was getting a headwind no matter what I did. I hit my reserve about 50 miles earlier than normal and had to backtrack for fuel.
Still, I persevered, out of stubbornness more than anything. As I entered the mountains in the northernmost part of California, the road was wet, and the temperature was dropping. I didn't want to deal with ice. I pulled into a gas station / deli and asked about conditions. The store owner noted it was 38 degrees F but dropping, and I still had a couple thousand feet of elevation to gain before reaching the top of Siskiyous Pass. Another patron said I'd have no problem, but the obvious inebriated state of him and his female companion made me think twice about their advice. One guy had a pickup truck and offerred to drive me over the pass if I made it worth his while. But I thought I smelled alcohol on his breath too and I don't like seeing Beemers in trucks, so I politely declined.
I found a decent motel in the town of Weed and they let me park the bike under cover on their sidewalk.
Monday morning I got breakfast and travelled onward, and arrived home a little after 6pm. On this last leg of the journey, I got nearly 10mpg more than usual; I credit this to the low speed limit of Oregon (65 mph vs. 70 in CA and WA) and my general attitude of obeying this limit.
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