Friday, November 22, 2024
Today’s adventure was a ride up Emigrant Pass. I drove the twenty-four miles up to Stovepipe Wells from Furnace Creek in the morning and parked at the ranger station. The ride to Emigrant is about twenty-three miles from there. I would have liked to ride from Furnace Creek, but that would have added forty-eight miles to the trip, making it a much longer day, and the logistics, amount of daylight as well as fluctuations in temperature, were not favorable for that.
Stovepipe sits at 5’ above sea level. The pass is at 5318’. Although the ride is twenty-three miles, oddly enough, the last four miles are nearly flat, gaining only about 300’. That means the first twenty miles gain about 5000’. That’s close to an average 5% grade for twenty miles. There is plenty of 3% and 7% mixed in there, but there is very little less than 3%, not much over 7%.
The views throughout this ride, like pretty much all of Death Valley, are spectacular. The first nine miles are along US 190 East, the same road one would use to climb Towne Pass. Towne Pass tops out around 4900’ after eighteen miles of climbing. I did that ride last year. Unlike many mountain roads, Death Valley does not utilize switchbacks too much. This part of today’s ride is on a fairly straight road of good asphalt. Right around where a sign indicated the 2000’ level, there is a junction with Wildrose Road, the road to Emigrant.
Wildrose Road continues to rise steadily. It is not straight like 190 was. It curves its way through a colorful, rugged landscape high canyon walls, some close to the road, others set back about 50-100 yards from the road, until it reaches a plateau around the nineteen-mile mark. At this point, the land turns expansive, reaching across fields of golden colored bushes that were blowing in a strong crosswind that seemed to develop out of nowhere. The wind made the last few miles much harder than expected. These fields are surrounded by tall mountains, a few miles distant, rising several thousand feet higher, an imposing frame on a starkly beautiful landscape. There was a short climb right near the end, but at the pass itself, once again it was a flat plateau.
Here is the 1988 version ...
It was a joy to see the sign marking the pass. Emigrant Pass has a special place in my history, a vaunted memory. In 1988, while hanging out in a Connecticut winter, I grew tired of riding my bike indoors on a trainer, so contemplated an exhilarating alternative. I found myself flying to San Diego, the day before Superbowl #, with my bike and gear packed in a box. From there, I rode to Anza-Borrego State Park, Joshua Tree National Park, Ridgecrest, and Death Valley.
I had researched the trip in guidebooks I found at Danbury Library, and I had written to various park agencies, in order to determine my route. That was a big help, as I was apparently quite naïve about how weather might negatively impact my bicycling plans. For example, I was advised not to try riding Big Bear outside of Los Angeles, as it was almost certain I would encounter freezing temperatures and snow. That’s why I flew to San Diego instead of Los Angeles.
I bring this up because I realize now that riding over Emigrant could have been dangerous, though at the time I was not really aware of it. I suspect I did check the weather before embarking on the ride over Emigrant. In 1988, I embarked from Ridgecrest at dawn, riding through Trona, then Panamint Valley. Around the sixty-mile mark for the day, the road intersected with Wildrose Road from the west side. I still had forty miles to go. I arrived at Stovepipe at dusk, very close to dark, and set up my tent there for the night. I remember buying a pint of ice cream at the Stovepipe General Store. I spent a few days at Furnace Creek, then rode back over Emigrant Pass again on my way to Los Angeles.
I stayed up on the pass for about fifteen minutes reminiscing and reflecting on that ride, on that entire trip, too. I must have been crazy back then. Not like my sensible self today.
Doing the ride today, 2024, I did not recognize the route at all. I was surprised to see the plateau at the top with so many miles hardly changing in elevation. The environment is simultaneously exciting and eerie. The excitement comes from the workout and the scenery. These hill climbs initiate a good deal of blood pumping, hormone producing, leg-burning-with-lactic-acid activity. The eeriness comes from that isolation. The isolation is both wonderful and a little risky. As with most of Death Valley, the road is very isolated. I saw about ten vehicles on Wildrose Road over the three hours or so of riding it. If I had a bicycle malfunction, something not possible to remedy, I would have to depend on one of the few vehicles that pass me. There’s no cell service up there. I know, I should have carried my Garmin satellite device. But, the isolation also has this magical aspect, a positive sense of wonder and awe at Nature as we actively engage.
Coming down the pass, the weather did something I found very odd. I noted on my bike computer that the temperature was in the 60s all the way up the climb. I was comfortable. Coming down, after a few miles, as I began the descent into the canyon, there was a sudden, drastic shift in the temperature. It was as if I had ridden into a huge pocket of cold air. I’d check the temperature each time I stopped for photos, and it went from 61, to 58, to 56, 53, and finally as low as 51. The sun was lower and much of the road was now in shade. The sensation of wind, created by riding 20-30 mph down the canyon, made me uncomfortably cold.
But it all worked out. As I came out of the canyon into sunlight, and continued riding to lower elevations, the temperature rose back up to about 65. When I reached my van, I put on my sweater, a sweatshirt, and a fleece hat. It took about half an hour, but I finally equilibrated.
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