December 12, 2023
Badwater
Video sound track: Sligo Mud, by John Fahey
(Note: the video’s at the top because I placed it here and can’t unstick it. Which is fine - it won’t spoil the suspense if you watch it first.)
We have to ride to Badwater, of course. For one, Badwater Road has the only significant stretch of pavement in the park other than the Route 190 stretch between Stovepipe and Furnace that we biked yesterday. And then, at -282’ it’s an iconic place, the lowest elevation in North America. We especially have to go now though, to see if that transient lake still exists. I’m not too hopeful about that last point, because it’s been over three months since the freak storm that filled it. Seems like it would be mostly evaporated by now, but we’ll see.
And, on the way back as long as we’re passing by we really should take the also iconic loop road through Artists Drive and see its colorful rock formations. That one’s iffy too though, because the road includes a pair of significant climbs that will challenge for our unconditioned climbing legs. We’ll have to see how we’re feeling when we get there.
So, that’s the ride plan. We’ll drive to Furnace Creek, park the car near the restaurant we plan to have dinner at, bike to Badwater, and if the legs and spirit are willing bike Artists Drive on the way back.
Which is essentially what we did the last time, when we were here three years ago:
It’s about ten when we leave the room for the drive east to Furnace Creek. It’s warm enough so that we could have started earlier, but we’re timing the ride so we’ll get back not too before sundown so we won’t have a lengthy wait before the restaurants open at five.
This is the third time we’ve done this ride (the first was in 2012, as part of an unpublished biking/road trip), and the road hasn’t changed much over the last decade so we’ll mostly just show photos - other than to note that it’s very quiet again today, but unfortunately not as still as yesterday’s fine conditions. For most of the way down to Badwater we’re biking into a chilly headwind that leaves Rachael suffering from her chronic breathing issues.
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About three miles north of Badwater we come to something new though. The lake is still here! And it’s still there when I catch up with Rachael, sitting on a bench near the restroom, the first since we left Furnace Creek - I think there are only about five or six restrooms in the entire park unless you’re at one of the lodges.
The lake is stunning, after walking about a half mile out across the salt flat to the near edge of the lake. It’s a totally different experience than the last time, when we could have walked clear through to the other side if we’d wanted. Walking away from it after we’ve been out for about a half hour, I’m thinking that this may be our last visit to Death Valley. It’s like our uncertainty about ever returning to Croatia after spending two months there in the Covid year when it was so quiet. I don’t think we could expect a better visit here than we’re having this time.
Well, maybe if we’re in the vicinity for a super bloom. Or a snowfall.
Note the quality of the photos, by the way. Some are from my camera, and some are from Rachael’s phone. Mine is great for its zoom of course, but it’s pretty clear that the new Samsung 23 produces the sharper images.
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4 months ago
The whole time we’ve been out here, a man has been taking selfies by the edge of the lake, setting up his camera on his tripod, posing against this fantastic backdrop, and rushing back to see the result. He must have been at it for a half hour. On our way out I stopped to ask him if he’d take a portrait of us, which of course he was happy to do - and then handed us his phone to take a few more shots of himself.
Twenty minutes later he passes us s were biking north, waving at us through the sunroof of his car.
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4 months ago
4 months ago
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Artists Drive is as expected - a tough climb, probably more of a climb than I’ve tackled in over a year at 1,100’ in three miles. The first half isn’t bad, a steady five percent ascent, until the road reaches the nearest rocks. After that it’s 10-11% the rest of the way. As I’m climbing I realize we made an planning error. We know what the plan is if she can’t make it - I’ll see her coming back at me. But what if I can’t? How will she know when to quit waiting, and where to find me? We’re well out of cell phone range.
I do make it though, and so does Rachael. I don’t see her until the top, where she’s waiting for me (as I knew she would be - I never doubted she’d make it to the top) pointing the camera at me taking a video that didn’t work out for various reasons. From there we bike together to the vista point, lean our bikes against the wall of the outhouse(!) and sit on a ridge taking in the wonderful views.
And they are wonderful, even though we’re not here at the ideal time. Better would be an hour later nearer sundown when the colors are their most vibrant, but then we’d be biking back to Furnace Creek in the dark.
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4 months ago
4 months ago
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We sit there relaxing on the ridge for about fifteen minutes, me telling Rachael that we might as well relax and enjoy the view as long as we worked so hard to earn it. I’m wrong though, because I’ve forgotten that there’s a second climb ahead that will slow us down significantly. As it is, we’re lucky to make it back before the car before sundown and I’m regretting the squandered time.
As we leave, a kindly man comes up and offers to take our photo. We’ve already had one team photo today, but we accept anyway.
It’s a fast, steep drop from the Artist’s Palette, until suddenly we’re facing the second climb of the day. It’s not nearly as tough as the first, but tough enough. As we’re stopped while Rachael takes off the coat she’d just put on, I point out how pretty it is ahead.
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Finally we’re really over the top, and it’s all downhill back to Badwater Road. Most of it’s through a narrow, twisted ravine and in the shade so it’s a chilly descent that leaves me regretting I forgot to pack my coat.
And then it’s about five miles on Badwater Road, with the sun rapidly dropping to the rim of the Panamint Range. We arrive at the car just in time for sunset. Phew!
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We’re eating at the Last Kind Place Saloon, a new place here that’s probably got the best, most reasonable meals in the park. It’s only about 4:30, so while Rachael’s in the bathroom changing clothes I sit down at the bar and order up a $10 pint. The couple beside me opens up a conversation, asking how the ride was - they saw us biking in a few minutes ago.
For the next half hour I and then Rachael when she returns enjoy chatting with Mike and Mary from Tahoe, down here for the biking and golfing as they do every winter. There’s a lot to talk about - biking of course, and our eccentric lifestyle. And our health. I tell them about the ablation surgery and the milestone that today’s climb was for me, and Mike offers up a toast in my honor.
And then Mary tells me of her own health issues - she had a hip replacement three months ago, and walked out of the hospital three hours after surgery. She’s already back biking and golfing. I ask if they’ve been to Badwater to see the lake yet, and Mary whips out her phone to show photos from when she was down a month ago with her girlfriends. They’re amazing shots of them out wading in the lake. Mary said that there were kayakers on the water then.
Dinner is the gut-buster that the situation calls for. I have a huge half chicken mole, and Rachael has a giant kale salad with salmon. Less than an hour later we walk out into the pitch black night and drive back - a spooky 25 mile drive where there’s nothing visible at all outside the car’s headlights until an oncoming car comes along every two miles.
Back at Stovepipe Wells, I take a few minutes to lean agent the Raven and look up at the clear sky, filled with millions of stars. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a night sky like this. The Milky Way is out, and constellations I struggle to recall the names of.
Today's ride: 42 miles (68 km)
Total: 253 miles (407 km)
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