 |
|
| Back to Rogue's Home |
 |
| Go to Next Page |
|
| Back to Rogue's Home |
|
| Go to Next Page |
 |
| Above: Christoff from Germany rode his bike from Western Europe, across Siberia to Alaska and then to Death Valley. |
| On the way back to Shoshone, I picked up my pace a little. The 35 mph curves actually became a bit challenging since I was now moving at 90 mph! I really had no worries about cops out here since there weren�t any! And, there were no other cars around except maybe one or two that I passed along the way. I passed a point of interest called Mormon Point. I wanted to stop and pull over but the point was 100 feet into a dirt road so I only managed to slow and look sadly at it. My Hayabusa wasn�t going into some dirt road with big ruts in it. |
| No sir! By the time I got back to Jubilee Pass, the sun had dipped below the mountains behind me. As I guessed, the amount of ambient light dwindled down quickly. I arrived back at Shoshone as it was getting dark. I topped up my tanks at the Chevron�.again. Then, I went into the Grocery store, which was surprisingly well stocked, where I got a warm sandwich, a drink, and chips for dinner. Back in my motel room, I turned up the heater to the approximate temperature of fire. I was so cold that I didn�t even bother taking off my riding suit. I just lay there on the bed and closed my eyes for a few moments. I had been riding for over 400 miles today in the freezing cold. The mileage didn�t really bother me as much since it was mostly straight and took little effort. It was the cold that sapped my energy. My whole body felt sore and ill, like I had the flu. After resting a bit and getting slightly warmer, I changed my clothes, washed up and tried to eat my gourmet dinner of Roast Beef Sandwich warmed via Microwave oven, Cheetos chips, and Pepsi. I ended up eating only half the sandwich and chips, and drinking all the Pepsi. I still felt ill. After I called my wife to reassure her that I was fine, I went to bed. It was so quiet out there during the night, like the desert should be. |
 |
Right: My Busa's nightime garage in the community of Shoshone, California. It was an Oasis in the desert a few minutes from the entrance to Death Valley. Accomodations were.....adequate at best. However, it offered a warm place to stay and a shady spot to rest for my bike and that was all that mattered. Shoshone also had gas, and out here that was VERY important! |
| Day 2: I woke up the next day warm and rejuvenated. By 7AM I was ready to roll. I checked over my Busa to make sure nothing had frozen over. I was amazed to see the bike was still very clean. Not a single bug had been plastered anywhere up front. The cold temperatures had killed off the little bastards so they were not out and about flying just to smack into my Busa�s headlight and my Nolan�s shield. For the first time, I actually had to use the Busa�s fast idle lever to get it started. It was that cold. Today�s forecast was cloudy and chance of rain in the afternoon. Overnight temperatures had dipped into the low 30�s and it felt like it! Within minutes of leaving my motel, my hands and feet went dumb. I headed North on 127 towards Death Valley Junction just to see what was up there. I had resigned myself to seeing only a third of the park. Two days and one night simply wasn�t enough time to see all of Death Valley�s numerous wonders. Oh well. This just means I will return�.when the temperatures weren�t so frigid! As I rode north, there seemed to be nothing around except the flat, barren desert. There was one gigantic piece of rock called Eagle Mtn., which just stood there all by itself in the middle of this flat empty expanse of desert. Passed that was Death Valley Junction, where the 127 and 190 meet. 127 heads North towards the Nevada border, while 190 heads East back into the park. Death Valley Junction started out as the town of Amargosa way back in the early 1900�s. There used to be two or three railways here that hauled Borax out up until the late 1920�s. After the Great Depression, the mining died down and the railroad tracks torn up. The old railroad worker�s cabins became the Amargosa Hotel, and right next to it was the Amargosa Opera House owned and operated by a Marta Becket. Marta is also the sole performer in the Opera House, which has shows every Saturday. A week prior to coming here, I had read about Marta and the Amargosa Opera House in the Sunday newspaper. What I coincidence I thought. People who visit Death Valley flock to this Theater every Saturday evening for a solo dance show. When I got to the Junction however, the place looked deserted (no pun intended). It was like a ghost town. It was after all only 7:30 AM. There were structures around the junction left over from better times but now lie abandoned. I stopped only long enough to take a picture or two before my hands started to hurt from the cold. I turned around and headed back South towards Baker. This was the end of my exploration of Death Valley for now. On the ride back, I passed a sign for Baker which said 83 miles. Shit! 83 miles of 30 degree air, plus a wind chill factor of 90 mph for the next 50 minutes or so. I tried to maintain 90 to 95 to cut down on the time it took for me to get to the next town. I had to be careful how fast I went not because of the roads, but because of my gas mileage. Cruising at greater than 95 really puts a dent on fuel consumption. My usual range of 180 miles easily turns into just 100 miles at anything above 100 mph. Out here in the desert, distances easily go 100 miles round trip so careful consideration of mileage and speed was appropriate. |