Death_Valley_Page

From Baker, it was time to leave I15 for the back road to Death Valley. This road was only a two lane road that cut right across the vast expanses of this barren land. It also seemed to bring the desert �closer� to me. The rock formations, dry lakes, and dunes went by a lot closer than they did back on the Interstate. Occasionally, the road would turn, but each time it turned there would be another long straightaway as far as I could see. I passed the very large Silver Dry Lake. And then the Silurian Dry Lake went by to my right. I was right smack dab in the middle of this desert valley and all around me in the distance, close and far, were ridges and mountains made of rocks. To my left were the Avawatz Mtn. range, which extended across what seemed like many miles. To my right were the Silurian Hills and Shadow Mtn. range, which were surrounded by smooth sand and flat but rough ground. After a few miles I saw large sand dunes in the distance, which was Dumont Dunes. All these sounds like they�re all close together but they were not. This area was vast and places and points were much farther than it looked to the eye. As I was cruising along at around 80 mph, I saw this large black thing moving alongside me. I turned to look and it was a US Air Force B1B Bomber skimming along the desert floor about 100 feet above ground level. Whoa baby! The Bomber went right across the road and kept on going straight as an arrow. It disappeared as it flew in between two large rock formations in the distance. Nearby this area is the US Naval Weapons Center-China Lake, Fort Irwin Military Reservation, and of course Nellis US Air Force Base.

The skies above and the desert surrounding it is where the US Military gets to practice their craft with live ammunition. Those very same aircraft and people that destroyed the Taliban and Al Qaeda mastered their skills at air power right here in this desert.

My destination was the town of Shoshone (pronounced show-show-nee), about 57 miles from Baker. Shoshone was located in a junction where two roads met�the 127, which I was on, and the 178, which went to Nevada towards the city of Pahrump. The 127 was the road that kept on going towards Death Valley. My �camp� for the evening was the Shoshone Inn. This place had its hay days back in the mining days of the early 1900�s.

It seemed like forever as I cruised along this little road in the middle of nowhere. A few curves marked 35 mph kept me company, but these were few and far between. I finally arrived at Shoshone, and guess what was the first thing that greeted me? Another Chevron gas station! I gassed up (of course!) and while doing so, a BMW F650GS arrived to gas up. I waved at the rider and this guy didn�t even look up to acknowledge me. He gassed up really quick then took off. The rider never glanced my way. What an asshole! Next to the gas station was my motel and next to it was the Charles Brown General Store. Across the road from my hotel was the Shoshone Museum. It was an old gas station now converted to a Museum. It sure looked the part of an old building with ancient looking gas pumps and vintage knickknacks displayed on its windows. I rode the 50 feet to my motel and checked in at the front office. Two women greeted me, looked like mother and daughter. The daughter knew who I was from my phone call. I guess few motorcyclists especially ones on Hayabusas go through Shoshone so I must have stuck out like a sore thumb. The mother stared at me without smiling. Is everyone here this charming? My hands were shaking as I signed my name! Shoshone Inn was U-shaped, single story building with a small gravel garden with California Pepper trees in the center. The daughter told me to park right up to my room by riding my bike on the gravel. Great! I hate gravel. At least it was well groomed. I went to my room and crashed for a few minutes. My throat was swollen, my nose running, and my hands and feet were numb! I also felt a bit ill. The room was old, with furniture seemingly left over from the Art Deco days of the 60�s & 70�s. But it had a large furnace. That�s all that mattered. It might as well have been the Four-Seasons Hotel as far as I was concerned!

I had a sandwich in my bag, which I had bought back in Baker. I had visions of myself pulled over some desert overlook and eating my sandwich while basking under the warm sun. It�s funny how ideas, imaginations, and expectations sometimes turn out so different from reality. The sun was out alright but it was freakin� cold! After a few minutes of lying down on the bed, quivering, I took the sandwich out to eat it. Perhaps all I needed was nourishment. But after a couple of bites, I realized I wasn�t hungry and the sandwich tasted crappy, so I threw it away. Instead, I got back on my motorcycle to visit some of the sites of Death Valley. There�s no time for this sickness shit. I still had a few hours of daylight left so off I went. I rode out a few miles and pretty soon, I had entered Death Valley National Monument. The landscape really didn�t change too much out here. The vast expanses of barren sand with low lying shrubs punctuated by even bigger hills and mountains made of hard rock where all there, except the mountains seemed closer still. The road I was one just went on and on for miles. An occasional sign to tell me where I was helped my orientation. Otherwise, I was just in the middle of a hostile desert. I passed a sign for �Radiator Water�. I stopped to check it out. It really was a steel tank filled with water for the radiator. It was hard to fathom the need for this at that moment since I was still freezing cold. It was so cold out there that taking off my winter gloves during my stops for photo ops made my hands freeze even more. How can a desert be so cold with the sun raging up there?