Day 5: 38 miles/4.5k climb
I resolved to get out early. Out of the tent at dark thirty, shuffling about with my suddenly dim batteries. That’ll teach me to buy the cheapies. Susan’s new ones might come in handy after my cheapo replacements no doubt failed.
A few other campers got out early, too, as the first edge of sunlight touched the distant snow covered Telescope Peak. By working steadily and only chatting briefly with Susan, I was able to roll by about 7:30, a new record for the tour.
Today would be about the climb as I headed up towards Death Valley Junction and Dante’s View. Just past the fancy pants Inn at Death Valley, I discovered a wonder–a good flowing creek, astonishing in a place that averages less than three inches of rain per year. The big monsoonal flooding had really left a mark. I stopped to admire the sun on this rare gift.
The character of the climbing made the ascent manageable–very moderate slope indeed. My first 2,000 ft. went down by 10AM–wow. I felt fresh and ready to eat more miles. In my mind I contrasted this 2k with the climb out of Eureka Valley. Today’s effort was accomplished in about 13 miles; the Eureka climb went down in five! But this day still had lots instore for me. I kept at it, pausing to snack, change clothes. The wind was a fickle mistress, changing directions constantly–at my back, headwind, no wind, getting hot, getting cool. On several occasions, I had plans to make a mile marker, a little goal to keep me pumping, but had to give up and dress up–or down.
At lunch I hit the turnoff for Dante. I left the occasional motorist and took my own path–the dirt, gravel, sand and washboard of Furnace Creek Wash Rd. After a relaxing lunch, I saddled up Ivan, and it was headwinds for the rest of the day. Not a brutal asswhooping, but annoying and painful nonetheless, a constant hand in my face, holding down my speed and the temperature. The saving graces were fairly smooth patches through much of the washboard and the continued low angle of climb. My mapping software had claimed I would transition to pavement after a few miles, but I was pretty sure that was bullshit. I’d looked at this road from the other side, and nope, no pavement to be seen. As expected, when I hit pavement, it was dirt gravel and sand–although smoother than previous, so no complaints.
For hours I pedaled in solitude, fighting the wind, but in good spirits. In the early afternoon, I passed my 3,000 ft. goal for climbing, but I didn’t stop. I felt too good and needed more. The expanses of creosote bushes bent with the wind, a kind of haze in the distance as dust was carried from one valley to the next. Dry, lumpy mountains rose on both sides into a blue sky streaked with thin cirrus, a typical winter day in the desert.
The cold wind and weakening light of the afternoon started to bear down on my enthusiasm for camping, but I was making great time and by three I at long last topped the climb. Could I make it all the way to Shoshone and a warm meal inside? Did I want to? I decided to push on and see what came up. The lashing wind spurred me on. The sun was diving for the horizon, shadows cast long across the dirt and gravel as I gained speed, downhill at last. Push on, push on. Ten miles per hour, 12, 14! I was motoring, sliding a little through patches of loose gravel, floating at speed over others. Pure joy!
And still the sun. Camp? Keep going? What would it be? At 3:30, I stopped again to assess. The wind had suddenly died. Just to my west, a perfect spot for the tent, with even a low, sheltering berm. Camp it was. Pitch tent, inflate pad, clean up, message Jodi, get food! The beginning and end of each day are filled with chores.
Now, into the tent for another long, long desert night.
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