November 4-11, 2023
A few conclusions and thoughts about Death Valley. One week is not enough. Next time I come here, I will plan two weeks. There is plenty to do, in terms of riding and hiking, and there is plenty to do in terms of just sitting and enjoying the majestic environment. It is always interesting, too, to meet and talk with other people. Ask them, what draws them to Death Valley? Talk about that and life. Everyone has a story, and they are mostly interesting.
I think most people think of extreme heat, when they think of Death Valley. It is known for it: “hottest, driest, lowest elevation in North America” and all that. While that is true, it would be wrong to characterize the park based on those labels. It has so much to offer in terms of geology, landscape and scenic wonders, the night sky, and a sense of quiet that is conducive to peaceful contemplation of life.
Saturday, November 4
I did a longish drive from Zion National Park all the way to Death Valley. It is through some beautiful country, desert vistas as well as a ride right through the heart of Las Vegas. There is one 13-mile section, on I-15 in Arizona, through the Virgin River Gorge that is spectacular. There are high canyon walls and a varying width to the Gorge, with some sections being barely enough to fit the four highway lanes. Very dramatic. From Vegas on has to climb high to navigate over Pass on US 395, then it’s downhill for quite a ways to Pahrump. Pahrump is about 60 miles from Furnace Creek in Death Valley, and it is the last “supply town” before heading there. Gas is cheaper here than Las Vegas! They have grocery stores, Walmart, and Home Depot, etc. After Pahrump, there are some scattered signs of civilization, few houses and businesses for the next ten miles, and after that there isn’t too much along the road except desert. It is starkly beautiful, with the road in mostly flat terrain, mountains on all sides bordering a valley. There is one town, Death Valley Junction, about midway. It looks to be more of a ghost town. I did not see any activity there, nor did Laura and I when we drove through last November before Thanksgiving. But there is a building with the words Amargosa Opera painted on it. Curious about that. Laura and I stayed at Furnace Creek Campground for a week last year. After Death Valley Junction, the road continues flat for a while with mountains to the sides. The park border is well away from Furnace Creek, like about 18 miles away. The elevation near this border is around 3000’, and it is a long, gradual downhill over those 18 miles. It is very scenic, imparting an almost mystical feeling as one descends to the infamous Death Valley. It is exciting, colorful, majestic, etc.
I arrived at Furnace Creek Campground just before sunset, around 5:30, and I was there just in time to catch brilliantly colorful clouds, their tint and tone changing by the minute, reflected in the clouds over the Panamint Range. The Panamint are Death Valley’s western mountain border in the southern section of the park. I did not do much else that night. I took a walk around the campground and went to bed around 8. That seems to be the normal time for sleep.
Sunday, November 5
This morning was a little chilly, and I took a short walk at sunrise. It was very still, quiet. I only noticed a couple people were out. After sunrise, It warmed up quickly, though it turned a little overcast. The clouds were such that I decided to wait until Monday to do the ride up Dante’s View. The forecast was for better sunshine, better photos is what I thought. Later, around 11AM, the camp hosts walked by and mentioned “enjoy it now” about the weather, saying it was going to become very windy overnight and the next day. I decided to hop on my bike and do a ride, towards Dante’s, and see how far I reached by what time. I did not think I had time to go all the way to the top, but I would survey the terrain. I rode as far as the cutoff, it was about 12 miles there, and turned around. It was too late in the day to make to the top, another 13 miles uphill, and return to camp while it was still light. And it might become colder as the day went on … But I did get in 35 miles.
Monday, November 6: Ride to Dante's View
There was no wind to start the day. There was abundant sunshine. I felt confused by what the camp hosts had told me, and the weather forecast on my phone did not indicate any problem with strong winds today. It was sunny, there was only a hint of a breeze, if that. I ate a lot of food, cereals (2), yogurt, and a sandwich. I carried my four bottles of Gatorade and a couple energy bars. I left on my ride up Dante’s View around 9:30AM.
I did Dante’s View once before, in February 1988. I was in Death Valley for a few days as part of a solo bike tour. I flew to San Diego and headed into the desert with initial stops at Borrego Springs State Park and Joshua Tree National Park. From there I rode to Victorville for an overnight at a hotel, then to Ridgecrest to stay with Sue’s friends from Colorado (Melissa and Graham). From Ridgecrest, I did a 98-mile ride through the Panamint Valley and Over Emigrant Pass to arrive at Stovepipe Wells, then rode the next day to Furnace Creek, the main community-town in Death Valley.
I intentionally rode the first half slower than yesterday, by about five minutes. I wanted to simply conserve energy for the anticipated tougher second half. The first section was on US RT 190, the main road through the park. I reached the halfway point, the turnoff onto the road westward, after 1h 25m. I had gained about 2200’ at that point. US 190 is flat through the town, the climbs in the range of 4-6% for most of the ride. There was a hint of a tailwind along the way, but mostly it seemed calm.
I had expected and anticipated that, after turning, things would become steeper, but that was not the case. The next four miles continued with grades around 4-6%. I was still going around 7-8 mph and it was not hard.
At about sixteen miles, it was as if someone had pulled a switch, and the wind began blowing from the west. It was mostly a headwind. This change was accompanied by a change in landscape, the hills surrounding the road had become a bit taller. From Miles 16 to about 20, I am sure I slowed some, as it was mostly in the 6-8% gradient at this point.
This point was marked by a change in the landscape again. It was open land, like a mesa, with no protection from the wind, which had increased in force. I would estimate it was a steady 20 mph with higher gusts. There was no respite. Would the wind only get stronger the higher I went? Also, I pondered the fact that I was at 20 miles, and I had climbed 3600 feet. I still had about 2200 feet to climb over 6.5 miles. At some point, it was going to become steeper. I asked myself, would I want to ride in these conditions for another 6.5 miles? There were a couple parts to my answer. One was just keep going, I have to get to the top. Another was, ride the next mile, see what it is like, and evaluate at that point.
This open area, had a pitch of 8-10% for long stretches. I could see ahead in the range of half mile, then the road would bend, and there’d be another long stretch, up and up, wind-blown, headwind, of course. I found I needed to use my highest (easiest) gear, which is usually reserved for grades over 12%. It was slow going, but that first mile went by in a way that I said, “OK, this is doable!”
It’s funny how my perception of where I was going changed over the course of the ride. At the start of the second half, I was looking at a couple of peaks to my right, and I thought I would be riding south for some time, then I’d turn and head north to them. As the ride progressed, I lost track of those peaks, and I do not think they are where I ended up. I think they were north of my destination of Dante’s View. It was a little confusing, this aspect of wanting to see where I was riding in terms of peaks. But, I knew the way to where I was going, up the only road there was.
I stopped along the way a few times. It was so windy that I did not feel comfortable taking my hands off the handlebars in order reach down and grab a bottle to have a drink of Gatorade. I’d stop, take my shoes out of the clips, and put both feet on the ground. Then I’d have a drink. Around mile 23 the terrain changed again. It went from these long stretches with no shelter from the wind to a winding, twisting road with low canyon walls. It stayed that way for two miles. The wind was a little bit better through this section. Then, the last quarter mile took a turn north and the gradient steepened. A sign said “Last ¼ mile 15%.” My Garmin fluctuated between 10% and 17%. But there was a tailwind for most of it. I reached the top. Success!
I felt good the entire ride, better later in the ride than I did earlier. The wind was a challenge, unexpected. I feel it now, later in the day. It was an epic ride. I am somewhat drained, very satisfied.
The wind can be a difficult companion.
Tuesday, November 7: Badwater Basin, Gower Gulch, Manly Beacon
I drove down to Badwater Basin, arrived there around 8AM. There were only two other cars. There were some people out on the salt flats. They appeared to be coming back from the lake. I could hear them talking a few hundred yards away. It was so quiet. A group of three passed me walking back from the lake. I watched in the distance as a couple walked towards me. They were standing in sunshine, while most of the salt flats were still in shade. I took some photos of them. Shortly after, when they came by me, I showed them, and I offered to send the photos to them. Their names were John and Danielle. Danielle gave me a phone number. I texted her the photos. She was happy to have them.
The photos give a perspective of how small we are compared to the grand scale of the mountains and valley. For a little while, I had the lake to myself.
The sand flat “path” that starts at the parking area seemed darker in color than last year. Was this because of the flooding from the summer rain, Hurricane Hillary in August? When we were here last year, I recall it as being wide and white for a long way out. And it was flat surfaced, whereas there were sections now that were rough. They reminded me of slush that had formed from melting show and people walking through it, then having it freeze overnight. The closer to the water, the rougher the surface, the more discolored, and there were many places where it looked like people had stepped through the surface of the salt and there were little puddles where the salt had been pressed down.
I stayed about ten minutes along at the edge of the lake. I took several photos. There were reflections of the Panamint Range in the water. The lake was still, no wind, no ripples. After the ten minutes, other people joined me at water’s edge. There were many others walking out, the start of a busy morning visitors.
I drove to the Golden Canyon-Gower Gulch parking lot. I planned to do the hike counter-clockwise, opposite the direction that Laura and I did it last year, giving me a different perspective. I started by walking south towards Gower Gulch. It is almost a mile along a flat section southward to the entrance to Gower. What is the difference between a canyon, a gulch, and a gorge? Is there any difference?
It is a fantastic hike up Gower. The sun was at my back, more or less, so it was optimum for taking photos as I hiked up the canyon. The canyon fluctuates between narrow sections and wide sections. The narrow can be less than 5 yards some sections, with some steep scrambling required, bordered with high walls of golden and brown tones, with an S shaped path. The wider sections are up to 100 yards wall to wall, with open flat areas with a loose gravel floor. Water must rush through a crazy depths and speeds, wearing the rock smooth.
There are a variety of colors, lighter beige and tans, dark browns, gold of various tones, and some green. There area canyon walls that rise hundreds of feet in the air, consisting of sedimentary rock that has been uplifted and turned almost 90 degrees, with the original horizontal layers now almost completely vertical. In some places, some of the walls, as well as some of the base layer of the canyon, have conglomerate rock, multi-colored specimens of rock, some small, some several inches wide, as if placed by an artist into a concrete substrate.
I crossed paths with six women. They were sitting in the shade, having lunch, and I stopped to say hello and ask where they were from. “All over” was the first response, then someone said Pahrump. I told them I was from Connecticut. One woman said she was married in Groton. “Rotten Groton” she said, laughing. I said I never heard that statement. One woman commented on Marianne Williamson, noting the button I was wearing. She asked if she was running as an independent. I told her no, she was hoping to be on the ballot as a Democrat, and she was in the process of declaring candidacy and gathering signatures in Alabama. I told her it would be good to have Marianne’s humanistic qualities and perspectives interjected into the coming presidential campaigns. She was supportive of Marianne, saying good things, and communicating she and I were on the same page. “I’m with you brother,” or something like that is what she said. I asked if I could take their photo, they said yes, and I sent it to one of them via text.
I took Gower’s Gulch all the way up to the junction with Zabriskie Point. I missed a sign for it at first, and I continued up a canyon the “dead-ended” as far as I was concerned. It required scrambling up a 15-foot section that water had cut through the rock. No way, not even trying. It turns out, this was not a marked path. I was off trail. I backtracked, found a sign, and took the trail Zabriskie’s Point. Then I made my way to the trail to Golden Canyon, which passes below Manly Beacon.
That trail had some very steep sections that run up, over, and down what appears to be hardened sand dunes. They are various shades of golden brown, and they provide panoramic views of the geological wonder around Manly Beacon, Death Valley hundreds of feet below, and the Panamint range bordering the west side of the valley.
These trails are not remarkably long, it was about six miles total, but they are breathtaking, physically and inspirationally.
Thursday, November 9
I did a ride up to Daylight Pass (4317’). It involved riding on US 190 from the Furnace Creek Campground to a turnoff 18 miles north, onto Daylight Pass Road, which is the road to Beatty, Nevada. The ride on US 190 is beautiful. It passes salt flats the entire length with views of multicolored rocks, hills, and mountains all along. Near the turn-off, one has a view of Mesquite Sand Dunes a few miles away. This section of the road is not flat, it rolls up and down, but it is not hilly except for one two-mile stretch that adds a little spark to the ride. But once one turns right onto Daylight Pass Road, it is uphill for the next thirteen miles, gaining about 4,000’ in the process.
It was a sunny day. Blue skies, very few clouds. The first ten miles, it seemed there was no wind at all. Around he ten mile mark, a moderate breeze began, coming from the northwest, a head-wind again. But this turned in my favor as I turned to go uphill, and for about ten miles of the climb I had a moderate tailwind. For some reason, over the last three miles, it turned into a headwind again. I don’t understand it, but it seems when in the mountains the wind can change directions on you.
This climb felt easy and fun, though don’t mistake that as a sign that it wasn’t hard work. But it rarely went over 8% gradient.
The ride down was a thrill. I hardly used brakes all the way to the bottom. Top speed 37 mph. From the bottom of the climb, it was a left turn and backtracking over that eighteen-mile stretch through the bottom of Death Valley, very scenic and fun. It was a 60-mile day, and it took 4 h 58m total riding time.
Friday, November 10
I arrived at the Sand Dunes around 2:30 for a Sunset hike. I figured take an hour to reach and climb the highest dunes out there, sit a little while, then take an hour to walk back, with Sunset at around 4:45. There is not set path through the dunes. One can take some pathways that have been created, as seen bu multiple sets of footprints, or one can wander off into “fresh sand” and walk anywhere they like. I did more of the latter than former, but when you come to a certain point, there is a main route along the dune crests to reach the high point. The play of light and shadows is so enjoyable. This was a phenomenal hike!
Saturday, November 11
I drove up to Stovepipe Wells and parked at the Visitor Center, which was closed, though there was a government car parked there. I left on my bike around 10AM riding up Towne Pass. It is a 17-mile hill climb. It took me 2h 42m to reach the top, 44m to ride back to the start! It was a real ride, taking a lot of energy. It was very satisfying, too! I like that kind of thing. I rode downhill fast on the way back, hardly using my brakes anywhere, only to stop and take pictures. I took a shower at the hotel at Stovepipe Wells, and I stayed in the Stovepipe campground that night.
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