Start 7AM - Stop 9pm
Distance - 571 miles
We departed for Wingding at 7 AM on Saturday, June 26, 2004. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and traffic was light as we rolled out of our driveway. We headed out of Silicon Valley via Hwy 580 cutting by Tracey and headed up to Hwy 120.. Near Yosemite we turned north on Hwy 108 and made our way to our first awe inspiring portion of the trip, Sonora Pass. Sonora pass is a northern route over the Sierra Nevada's that sits between Lake Tahoe and Yosemite's Tioga Pass. I've been through Tioga Pass a few times, riding through the 9,945 ft summit in the later months of summer. But Sonora Pass has eluded me until we rode through its 9,624 ft pass. The scenery is not as awe inspiring as Tioga, but Sonora Pass gives a technical level of difficulty that would keep any avid motorcyclist grinning for quite some time. The temperature was a crisp 43 degrees as we crested the summit and began our descent to Hwy 395 and the Eastern Sierras. I was surprised to see snow along side of the road through the pass.
Our first stop for gas was in the town of Bridgeport. I was shocked to see gas priced at $2.99 per gallon. When we had left the Bay Area, the land of the most expensive gas on the planet, we were paying $1.69 a gallon. Unfortunately we had no choice but to fuel up. My teeth clenched a little tighter when passed through Bishop about 80 miles later and saw that gas was at a reasonable $1.50 a gallon. Oh well, the merchants in Bridgeport know that they sit at an ideal location for unaware travelers. Our spirits were high as we enjoyed sweepers on Hwy 395 past Mono Lake and Bishop. The road straightened out and the temp was in the high 90's as we passed through Bishop so we decided to take a lunch brake at a Subway. While stopped we both slipped out of our jeans and long sleeved shirts choosing to ride the rest of the day in just our mesh gear.
After lunch we continued down the more monotonous section of Hwy 395 toward Lone Pine, although the view of the Sierras on our right were inspiring. We made good time and decided to stop again for gas at Independence. Although our tank was still half full I didn't want to have to worry about fuel as we made our way across Death Valley. I had decided that Bridgeport would be the last place to gouge my gas budget. While at the gas station in Independence a couple of other riders pulled in along side of us on a VTX1300 and a VTX1800. We chatted with the two riders for a bit, learning that they both were coming from Southern California and just riding a long route around the Sierras for the joy of it. The 1800 rider mentioned that they were maintaining a speed of around 90 mph as there was no enforcement apparent on the roads. The 1300 rider complained that his engine was having heat issues due to the constant high speed. They asked us where we were heading and we mentioned that we were going to get through Death Valley and probably call it a night in Pahrump, NV. The looked at us as if we were insane. It was close to 3:30 in the afternoon and they thought we were suicidal to attack Death Valley during the hottest part of the day.
We refilled our Camel Back with fresh cold water and got back on the road, wishing the VTX riders a safe ride. A few miles down Hwy 395 we make our left onto Hwy 136 to wind our way into the lowest place on the planet. The temperature was rising a degree or two almost every 10 miles we rode. If you have never driven or ridden into Death Valley you need to add it to your "Must do before I quit riding" list. On its busiest days you might pass 20 vehicles or so coming from the opposite direction, but most of the time you can't remember the last time you saw anyone else. The desolation is oddly quite peaceful. But you can't help but hold the thought in the back of your mind that it would not be a good thing to break down in this wasteland. Help is a long way away, and you could be sitting for quite a while before anyone comes along to recognize you are in need of help. Cellular phones are all but useless for about 150 miles. I'd like to see that smartass in Death Valley crawling in the sand with a cell phone up to his ear saying, "Can you hear me now?"
We stopped just before the west entrance to the National Park to take some pictures and just enjoy the solitude. The barren road in front of us went in a straight line as far as we could see, and there was no signs of life behind us either. There was very little vegetation. Just a few sparse weeds here and there that only God knows how they found enough moisture to grow. It was hard to believe that Death Valley was even more uninhabitable than this area to its west. The silence was deafening. The only sound we could hear was the wind rustling a tumbleweed. There were no sounds from birds, cars, jets, or anything else... just the breeze. It was a spiritual moment. We snapped some pictures and mounted back up for the ride into Death Valley.
Death Valley itself is surprisingly huge! Forget about any picture or film you have seen about Death Valley. It simply stretches out in every direction, the mountains in the distance all around giving you the illusion that life is just a few miles away. I don't know how anybody ever crossed this area before reliable automobiles came along. We were grateful we were on a Honda. The temperature peaked out at 115 degrees. Carole leaned over my shoulder and got a picture of the temp gauge in the LCD readout showing 115 degrees, otherwise we were sure no one would believe it. I have a new riding goal in life.... I want to ride through Death Valley when a photo will prove that we can ride in temps over 120. The Joe Rocket Gear was proving to be the best investment we had made for this trip. The way the wind would blow through the mesh jacket would actually flow over our sweaty skin cooling us off. We were sucking water out of the tubes in our Camel Backs like a nicotine fiend sucks on a cigarette. In fact, I probably rode about 30 miles without even taking the tube out of my mouth. By the time we got to Furnace Creek Junction at the other end of the valley we were out of water. We both had to use the bathroom, which was a good sign that we weren't dehydrating, so we pulled over at gas general store to use the restroom and refill our water. During our trek across Death Valley we had seen only two cars. We had definitely picked the hottest time of day to cross.
After refreshing ourselves we mounted back up and made our way out of the Valley toward Pahrump. We were both feeling tired and ready to call it a day as we climbed out of the valley at around 6:00 PM. We came to the junction of 190 and 127 and made a left as the GPS recommended. We saw a sign that had been made by a local business saying, "Turn right for the fastest route to Pahrump." Carole asked me why I was turning left. I told her that the GPS was guiding us left and I wasn't going to trust some over zealous merchant that was trying to route us by his store. Man, was I ever wrong. When I had programmed the trip I had not zoomed in tight enough to see Ash Meadows Road, which traversed 33 miles at high speed. Instead, we took a route that traversed 70 miles. The additional 37 miles may not seem like much but when you are as tired as we were the distance seemed like infinity. And the roads were boringly straight with no landscape other than sand, sand, and more sand. As we passed a sign to Area 51 I understood while people in this wasteland are fascinated with aliens and such. But finally we made it into Pahrump where I pulled into a Best Western Motel to call it a night. After registering for our room I came back out to the bike, handed Carole the room key, and mounted up to ride it across the parking lot. My sunglasses fell off the gas tank to the ground. I was tired and not thinking straight as I bent down to get the glasses, forgetting that I didn't have the kickstand down. Dumped the bike for the first time on our trip, but not the last. I picked it up with no problem and laughed at myself for being so stupid.
We rode over to our room and took a shower. We looked around town for a restaurant that had anything vegetarian. We quickly learned that the casinos in Pahrump with their buffet restaurants had done in all the local restaurants with the exception of the fast food joints. We ended up eating at the restaurant in our own hotel/casino bar while listening to some guy play a keyboard and sing for tips. It seems like every where Carole and I go we end up hearing Jimmy Buffet's Margeritaville. This night was no exception. We scarfed down our salads and nachos and headed back to our room to call it a night.
As I lay in bed and began to drift off to sleep my mind wandered over the day's ride. We had crossed Sonora Pass at 43 F. degrees and six hours later were traveling through Death Valley at 115 F degrees. We had met a couple of characters along the way as well as seen plenty of bikes with their riders waving their recognition of like-minded travelers. We had seen some tremendous scenery with the Sierras preceding Death Valley. Little did we know that the most awesome landscape on the planet would be encountered over the next three days.