Death Valley 2008

6-9, February, 2008

a

Mt. Shasta Snow Trip

"Post Trip"

pg. 1

From the Sierra Valley to Last Chance Springs Road

Had I known I would come home with a busted windshield, a third-degree burn on a knuckle, a luggage rack held together largely with duct tape, epoxy paste, and baling wire, and exhausted from cold and lack of sleep, I might have answered Michele's question a bit differently.

"How'd you like to drive to Death Valley?" was that question, put to me when I returned home from dropping Jared off in Grass Valley after a day of post-Shasta Trip recovery. Richard and Kevin had spent the day loitering around my house, doubtlessly discussing possibilities with Michele, and it seemed as though the trio had come up with a plan to help fulfill some of our craving for adventure left over from this years' somewhat unsatisfactory Shasta Snow Trip.

My answer, of course being in the affirmative, would have naturally been changed by the knowledge of the sorry state Bart and myself would be in my the time we returned, and would have been something like "Hell yeah!" or "What are we waiting for?" Rather, it was a droll "Well ok, are you seriously asking me that question?"

The day before I had just begun unpacking Bart's Shasta packing, which included lots of firewood in containers and an ammo box loaded to the gills with fine ales, some wine, tortilla chips, and salsa … this is the "Happy Box!" So I simply reversed the process, throwing all these things back into Bart, and making sure I had everything this time, including the snowmobile track sections to use in auto-extraction procedures, and around midday on the sixth of February, we headed up Yuba Pass from Sierra City. We were still in chains, having driven most of the way from Mt. Shasta City in them, but that didn't last too long. The road was mostly clear, and one of my links finally gave out, and we all opted to run without them. As we got going again, I realized that I had forgotten something - too late now, but it sure would have been cool to pack the sourdough and fixin's for sourdough flapjacks! Oh well, maybe next time.

It was a good feeling to be giving the weeks of careful planning and packing a second chance to be used, and it was a beautiful day as well--blue sky and puffy clouds, the sun slanting throughout and bouncing off the snowy fields and mountains. I happily played with my video rig as we drove, trying to capture video tidbits of Kevin and Richard's buses as we drove up and over the pass, and through the Sierra Valley. The first video in the series begins here, just past Sattley on Highway 89. We enjoyed a fairly sparse population of other vehicles on the road that day, and made good time to (and past) Truckee, then around the North Shore of Lake Tahoe, where we stopped for some supplies, and got talked to by some guy on the CB who was familiar with Mt. Shasta and Castle Lake (UC Berkeley student, I think), and then over and down the eastern side of the mountains on I50 we went, finally dropping out of the snow, skirting Carson City, and headed south on Highway 395.

Our "supply stop" in Incline Village took nearly an hour, and our first fuel stop, which included some exhaust gasket replacement on the Rustybus, was about forty-five minutes, so it was pretty late in the day when we finally really got going on 395, and after stopping one more time north of Bridgeport to turn off Richard's reverse lights and to NOT fix Kevin's only source of heat. We continued on through the 22-degree night, finally arrived in Bishop at 8:34.

A short night drive later, we took a little highway (168) going west from Lone Pine (after turning around in Lone Pine to go back to it), and then turned onto, of all things, "Death Valley Road", which cuts over the Inyo Mountains and down into and through the greater Eureka Valley.

Our prime motivating factor at this point was to find a cool spot to camp, and none of us had any real idea of what we expected, but only that we all knew we had not yet found it. As we travelled through the mountains, Richard and Kevin, who were behind Michele and myself, turned off their lights, and apparently were able not only to navigate by following Bart's taillights, but were able to see the rock cliffs and other desert landscape details by Bart's lights. It was pretty neat, occasionally seeing a bus shadow in the dark behind us! I guess it got even freakier for everyone when I shut off all my lights too … THAT didn't last long!

So off into the desert we went, witnessed only by the mute sentinels of the desert: Shadowy ranks of Joshua Trees. We were seeking a place to park our buses and enjoy a nice fire and the food we had purchased back in Incline Village. Needless to say, we were not successful as early as we would have preferred, and as soon as we passed the sign telling us that we had entered the National Park, as opposed to National Forest, I had this sinking feeling that we were screwed. In retrospect, I think we should have camped that first night outside of the Park boundaries, but it did turn out all right in the end.

Using both the Delorme Gazetteer and a funky little rudimentary map printed off the Internet, we decided to take a road on the right (south) towards the Eureka Dunes. Driving through the desert at night can be unusually disorienting, as all you are aware of is the washboard, the dust, and the fact that besides a lot of blurred sage and an occasional bend in the road, there is nothing to indicate that you're getting anywhere, and by my estimations, we must have given up on that road not far from the Eureka Dunes themselves. We were moping a bit because of the litany of rules and restrictions imposed on us by the erstwhile preservationists whose efforts we do appreciate, really, but those rules are for everyone else, not US!!! Seriously, we've got to appreciate those rules and restrictions, for were it not for them, our race would make sure that there was nothing left of nature to enjoy, at least not without power lines, strip malls, ass-fault, and condominiums (populated by condo-minions) and other nasty things like pipelines and oil spills and billboards and road rage and ruined habitat, etc.…

Still, not being able to park and camp just anywhere rankled a bit, as did the looming possibility of having to pony up a whopping $20 per vehicle, good for seven days. We weren't planning on being there for seven days, so could we please have the fee prorated? No? Fine then, we'll make like characters from a certain Abbey book and live large on the lam, evading toll booths and rangers alike.

Having turned around near the mid-point of Eureka Dunes Road, we got back to the main road and then struck out eastward once again … this time making for a road to the north, veering off the main road just past a squiggly-looking bit of road and some mountains (Last Chance Range). According to our maps, this little road would take us to "Last Chance Springs", where it would dead-end. It took us a bit longer to get there than we thought, and the more interesting section of the road wound up another pass and through a small set of jagged mountains.

Dropping suddenly down into the valley on washboard so bad that our tires seemed to be floating over the road rather than gripping it, we came to our turn, which was marked by a number of rusted crankshafts in various poses and piles, with a sign designating this place: "Crankshaft Junction". A moment of curiosity and consideration to confirm that this was indeed our turn, and our adventure-meters rose up another notch as our chosen path was twisty, narrow, and rocky, and as it rose again and again from the multitudinous dips and washes, it became decidedly steep, and very quickly became a first-gear climb rather than a second-gear meander.

I let Richard and Kevin pass ahead so I could videotape their ascent, and enjoyed watching their steeds bounce and clamber up the rocky path. It wasn't very difficult, but it did allow for a bit of fun. Sure, it would've been more fun had we not been seeking a chance to enjoy the silent expanse without the rattling clamor of our buses, but we knew that it was plenty fun and continued on up this increasingly steep and somewhat rutted slope with gladness that we were getting a bit of rough driving before we achieved our much-anticipated respite.

The uneventfulness of our evening ended with Richard's voice crackling over the CB: "Hold up there a sec, guys, I wanna see what it is we're getting into!" A pause ensued, and then a few seconds later, Richard spoke again, saying that it's either snow or sand, that it's slippery, and the big drop-off to one side warrants some concern and caution. Upon inspection, it was good that we stopped where we were, because that drop-off was most considerable, and there was only one dicey possibility of turning around without backing down the hill in the dark. The snow, too, was of the old crusty type, and did not pack well, also offering very little in the way of traction for boots and tires alike.

After some consultation and deliberation, we moved Kevin's truck and Bart up as close to where Richard was stopped, and being in the rear, I went first. A swift reverse, and a sharp cutting of the wheels to the left, and I got Bart reversed just enough up the closed road that veered off and away to the left where the roads separated. I was thankful for having a fresh set of studded snow tires in the rear, as this is when they gave me the upper hand, and pulled Bart up onto the other road. Back on the rocky road, however, I was more envious of the "meats" Richard and Kevin were sporting. The next phase of the maneuver was a little more interesting, as I was keenly aware that my feet were literally hanging over the precipice during the sharp turn necessary to finish the maneuver, and that the pressure of my foot on the brake pedal was transmitting like pressure through 48-year-old metal brake lines, and perhaps I should consider renewing them-but with Richard's help and guidance, I made the turn, and parked Bart out of the way so I could go assist with Kevin's attempt.

Kevin did not have as much success doing the same maneuver. He started a bit slower, and was perhaps hampered a bit by his gnarly all-terrain tires (which, on snow, seem to amount to as much as slicks), and watching the rear of his bus slide sideways towards the steep slope on the side of the road opposite that of the abyss was hard enough to watch, so I'm sure he wasn't really enjoying the experience too much either. Having a black chasm yawning in front of you while your bus slides backwards toward another drop of unknowable depths while your left front tire raises itself off the ground by a good eight inches and your bus wobbles while your friends holler incoherent/conflicting instructions and your pugs gasp at you has just GOT to be a little stressful! (Wanna hear some pugs? Listen to The Pugswamp!)

With a bit of jockeying and careful application of power, we finally got Kevin back onto the road, but still faced uphill, and that was when it was decided that the best way to approach the situation was backwards, so with Bart supplying light for the descent, Kevin and Richard backed down our desert road until a wide spot (scoped out during a brief recon walk) was reached, and then they turned around, and we headed back down the road.

This is where the video "Death Valley #1" ends. Too bad none of the turnaround shenanigans or the camp we selected made it to video, but oh well, you'll just have to visualize it as best you can.

Our choice of a place to camp was as simple as stopping in the middle of the "road", just as it began to level out. At first, the spot looked truly level, but it was a matter of perspective. At any rate, it made a fine campsite, and we then cooked our dinner and had a bit of a chill-out session in the middle of the desert---it must have been a late night because it was 1:04 a.m. when I made that day's last log entry, and that was when we had just parked!

Over the comfortable fire, feeling a bit like outlaws, Michele, Richard and myself cooked tortillas in the fish cooker and snapper in the cast-iron, and had ourselves some fish tacos, and that's where I decided to boil my knuckle in flaming oil, an injury whose scar I yet carry. Kevin enjoyed fire-sauteed vegetables in tortillas, and the pugs sauntered off into the scrub--and judging by the distant wails of some hapless beast or another, they must have fed to their satisfaction as well.

Kevin set up and slept in his ultra-groovy tent-cot with the sated pugs, Richard bedded down in the Rustybus, and Michele and I slept on the seats of Bart with our feet hanging out the open doors. Must have been tired, for I woke first at daybreak, and snapped a photo of the other two buses, and then went back to sleep, to wake for real this time to a vastness of earth and sky, punctuated by scrubbly sage and rabbit brush, with an entire mountain range at our feet. As it turned out, our camping spot choice was quite perfectly situated, as the valley we were at the northern end of is Death Valley proper!

Go to Page 2 of the Death Valley Saga!

Here's the first in the Death Valley '08 Video Series:
Death Valley Video Ch. 1 (14.5 MB, 320x240, 2:05, Windows Media Video)
Death Valley Video Ch. 1 (smaller file) (8.06 MB, 240x180, 2:05, Windows Media Video)

These videos are listed in order on the Videos page

Here's a video "synopsis" of sorts from our Death Valley experience:
Dust, Rust, and Sage: A Synopsis (19.2 MB, 320x240, 2:29, Windows Media Video)
Dust, Rust, and Sage: A Synopsis (smaller file)-(10.9 MB, 240x180, 2:29, Windows Media Video)

Death Valley '08 Photo Galleries:
-Kevin's Photos- -Michele's Photos- -Gene's Photos-

End Page One, Death Valley '08

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