US Southwest - A Winter Ride

It's been too damned long since I had a nice solo ride. More than a year and a half, in fact, since I did a ride/hike/backpack trip in the Pac NW. But this was just the right time. Things have been more than busy at work and a couple of days before leaving the boss laid another big thing down in front of me and said, "I'm sorry to put this on you just before you go on vacation." I replied, "No problem. The moment I put my hands on the handlebars, all of this will leave my mind for two weeks." And so it was.

This trip started on March 3. A slow and winding 10-day amble from Los Angeles to Terlingua, Texas, a couple days break and then a quick run back to home in the Frozen North. Filled with discovery of places and people, and some modest adventure. Just what I wanted.

Day 1 - Los Angeles to Kernville, CA

Gratitude for my sister-in-law and her partner, who let me park my bike at their home in L.A. the past few months, which also gave me a chance for a fun ride up CA-1 to San Fran, and then back down some awesome interior roads between the 101 and I-5 late last fall.

Sheesh, it's been too long since I've done this. Among other issues is that I just got rushed and lazy in my packing and prep, so this was "figuring out the bugs" day.

1. Auxiliary lights are going off and on erratically.

2. Camera flash card is shot (so yeah, no pics this day).

3. No fuel for the camp stove.

4. No shorts packed (wtf...really??)

5. Batteries in the headlamp are just about blown.

6. Forgot the camp pillow <cry>

7. ...and then of course the thing you discover when you least want to - there's a pin-hole in the Thermarest.

On the positive side: Almond tree blossoms are luminous in the early evening. The Kern River was flowing like mad with the recent rain, and made for dramatic scenery as I rode along its banks in the southeast of Sequoia Nat'l Forest. The riverside Nat'l Forest campgrounds north of Kernville make for some great Sierra Nevada camping - even w/out a pillow and with a deflated mattress. And really, I'm on vacation and none of the issues could dampen my glee.

you had me at Terlingua

^^^

Ahh, Terlingua fans! As an aside, at my first experience in Terlingua, Darkrider and I stumbled upon the CASI Chili Cookoff, a day or two before things really heated up. It was the one time my 1200GS crapped out on me, right next to a bunch of hugely drunk, Harley-riding, chili-cookoff attendees. After getting a good giggle out of my predicament, they started offering all sorts of creative advice on how to get the bike started...like swilling a mouth full of gas and literally blowing it into the carburetor. Yes, that's right, the carburetor on my fuel injected BMW...

Anyway.

Day 2 - Kernville, CA to Pahrump, NV

This was the best sort of trip, in that I had no plan in mind. I kinda wanted to see Death Valley, and other than that, I just needed to be in Terlingua about nine-days from this afternoon. The previous evening I had thought about spending today riding deeper in to the mountains, and then down a remote road on my Rand McNally map into Owens Valley, east of the range. No luck, though, signs said that the road was un-plowed after Roads End. So, I headed back into Kernville for a hot breakfast, and some supplies - patch kit, pillow, flash card, etc..

It was a beautiful day up in the mountains - mid 30s when I woke up and bright sun that warmed things up nicely. I headed east away from Lake Isabella, over Walker Pass and down toward Indian Wells.

*Riding east with Lake Isabella to my right.*



*Cane Break - The west is filled with these small, nearly abandoned towns.*



* Angsty fence decoration.*



*The Pacific Crest Trail crosses over at Walker Pass.*



*I don't think I've seen desert landscape fire damage like this before. Haunting.*





I found myself heading north up Owens Valley, fast and easy as a heavy south wind pushed me a long, enjoying the high mountain scenery off to me left. I went as far as Lone Pine, to pick up a few more necessaries I had neglected to pack.

*Pearsonville - Another bump in the road. The folks who live in these dusty towns seem to take pride in serving up quirky and whimsical eye candy.*





*A nice little stopover. Overpriced jerky, but Gus was a hoot, so I couldn't resist. Besides, Quentin Tarantino buys jerky there, so...*



* Lone Pine sits at the base of Mount Whitney - highest point in CA. The contrast between the arid valley and the dramatic, snow-capped peaks is memorable.*



So now it was time to pay the piper. I turned southeast, into what was now a heavy wind, and working my way toward Death Valley. The road was empty, as I road past dust devils and alkaline basins before heading up elevation into the Panamint Mountains. After a dip into the Panamint Valley it was up again and then, finally, down into Death Valley.

*Not an easy path for the early Anglos that moved out west in the 19th Century.*



*I don't know that these arid valleys ever have a spring bloom, but the heavy rains were in evidence. This is Panamint Valley, but Death Valley's lowest points were under a shallow sheen of water as well.*



Death Valley was probably what I could expect. I'm sorry to say that it didn't gobsmack me. Of course the heavy crowds were a bit of a turnoff, thousands of tourists, mostly milling about with their selfie sticks and inward expressions at viewpoints and visitor centers.

Anyway, the wind was whipping up nicely at this point. I checked in at the ranger station and was directed to one of the older rangers. He had about 300k miles of motorcycle experience under his belt, and his advice was unequivocal: "You need to get the hell out of here. A windstorm is coming, and unless you've got $500 a night to drop at the Furnace Creek Inn, you're gonna be sucking dust and trying like hell to keep your tent staked down in 60 mph gusts for the next 36 hours."

Yeah - I didn't need to be told twice. So it was up and out of the Valley and into the workaday down of Pahrump to bed down in a cheap casino hotel for the night.

*The Amargosa Motel and Opera House was a tempting place to spend the night - but not interesting enough to imagine being stuck there for the next day as the windstorm blew in.*



*The evening light heading east out of Amargosa.*

more pics!!!!

Day 3 - Pahrump to Las Vegas

Pahrump is a sprawling, unincorporated town consisting of several thousand widely scattered houses (the town is physically larger than Las Vegas, but holds about 7% of the residents) and a strip of commercial development along the state highway that runs through town. Not a lot going on that I could see. The Saddle West Casino hotel room was cheap and clean, but the idea of being cooped up there for a day wasn't appealing. I got up before the sun and saw that the wind hadn't yet picked up, so I downed some coffee and oatmeal, quickly packed, and was on the road with the sun coming up, heading toward Vegas.

(Of course, with a name like Pahrump, it's just fun to pass through. And the residents seem to have a sense of humor about the place.)

I made it by 8am, before the wind picked up, and managed an early check-in at a hotel a couple of blocks off the strip. I've spent time in Vegas before - a day here and a day there. I suppose my aversion to gambling came about when I was about 30 years old, and decided to visit a tribal casino not far from home. Playing the slots was fun for about 15 minutes, then I looked around at the slack faces nearby and realized that this wasn't about good feeling so much as this:



Still, Las Vegas is a unique city. I spent the day alternately napping in my hotel and wandering the strip. What can I add about Las Vegas that hasn't been said before? Nothing I expect. It sells a vision of adult utopia - marble columns, bright lights, instant wealth, designer brands, celebrity and easy-everything - that doesn't jibe with my own desires. But I love the people watching! Here in Vegas the slack-faced retirees take a back seat to hard-partying, strutting, preening youth, and blissful middle-aged adults freed from their day-to-day toil and responsibilities. Leaven that with the locals, the workers - hard-eyed pit bosses; women (always women) serving drinks, whose uniforms and faces give off opposing messages; front desk and concierge staff who balance superiority and approach-ability in their bearing; and the thousands upon thousands of food workers, room cleaners and others who seem to treat the rest of us as phantoms flitting about at the edge of their consciousness.

Notably absent were places to sit that didn't require a purchase or a bet - which meant I had to keep moving.

*Chihuly glass is a popular adornment*



The newer casinos all have high-end malls, filled with designer shops - Fendi, Tiffany, Chanel, Armani. These stood empty but their staff throughout the day.



*The pool at the Bellagio was largely abandoned on the cool, windy day.*



I was reading back at my room in late afternoon, about 15 floors up, facing the incoming wind. All was silence when suddenly a loud *pop* and sharp whistling noise. The force of the day's 60 mph gusts had blown open an indirect vent into the room. There are no wasted days, but I was happy the forecast said the winds would die out that night, and leave a calm, cooler day for my ride.

Day 4 - Las Vegas to Grand Canyon Village

Where to go? This had been lurking in the back of my mind the prior day. My sorta brother-in-law had suggested Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, and a colleague had suggested Joshua Tree. Both were appealing (and timing-wise, it was probably an historic mistake to skip Anza-Borrego), but that meant going backwards (i.e. west) on my trip at this point, and I've got kind of a hangup about going backwards. So, instead it would be forward - to the Grand Canyon.

So - down to Kingman, where I got it in my mind to follow historic Route 66 for a scenic route east. What I didn't expect was all of the conscious nostalgia along the road - sort of like a recreation of the highway experience of the 1950s, complete with several sets of Burma Shave signs. The highway dumped me out on to the Interstate at Seligman, AZ where, after fiddling with different connections I found the problem, and a taciturn service station guy sold me a new fuse that fixed my auxiliary-light problem - I was finally 100% again. And then it was super-slab to Williams before heading northwards to the Grand Canyon.

*Along Route 66*





*By Williams I had moved up in elevation. A bit of snow lingered at the base of this wall and other shady spots.*



It was my first time to see the Grand Canyon since a road-trip my parents conceived when I maybe 10 or 11 years old. That younger-self was brought to mind as I watched a couple turn away from the dramatic, humbling view over the Canyon to hear their young son say, "We're gonna go play on those rocks, okay?" Something about dramatic topography doesn't speak so much to kids as to adults. What I remember most clearly from that trip was the incessant bickering my sister and I engaged in in the back seat of the car over the thousands and thousands of miles we drove that summer. I'm grateful that the genetic imperative is so strong - if we hadn't been blood relations I expect my parents would have been happy to drop the two of us off somewhere in the desert and let the turkey vultures have the final say.

So, what I recall as an underwhelming experience the first time around had a very different impact this time. After allowing the awe to wash over me for an hour or so, I walked back toward my bike. It was sunset, and two women rushed up to me - panic in their eyes:

"Do you work here? Where's the Grand Canyon?!?"

(I don't know what it is about a hi-viz Klim riding jacket and black Klim pants and motorcycle boots, but it seems to strike people as a park employee uniform. I had this happen three different times on this trip.)

"No, I don't work here, but you're fine - it's just right over there. You'll enjoy the view."

One of the women rushed off to the overlook - about 50 yards away. The other hung back, still distraught, and asked me, "Isn't there somewhere we can just drive up to it?!!"





I got my tent up among the lingering snow in the Mather Campground, and got up a good campfire. I put on most of my layers and kept close, nursing a beer and enjoying the primal intrigue of a fire in the chill air.

Loving this

Nice trip so far. This is my favorite part of the country.

Great report. Lone Pine is one place I want to visit before journeys' end.

Day 5 - Grand Canyon Village, AZ to Bluff, UT

Cold.

I had lit out for the Grand Canyon because the forecast I saw in Las Vegas had the temps bottoming out in the mid-thirties. But as I set up my tent there was no sign that the snow around the site had been melting. It was a crystal clear night and it cooled off fast as the sun went down. I've got a 20F bag, a nice Western Mountaineering down, that's served me well down to the mid-20s; but as I bedded down I left on my long underwear, wool hat and socks, and fleece top. Still I felt on the edge, and it kept me awake for an hour or so. Weather Underground tells me now it bottomed out at 15F (-9C) that night, and I'm not surprised. But like any good desert, it warmed up fast once the sun was out.

Not fast enough for my fancy lithium battery, however. The things are so light it's like a pretend plastic version of a real battery, but they last for years and hold a charge untended much better than lead. The weak point is cold, and the bike let out one or two weak clicks when I tried to turn it over. So, out comes the battery to nest next to my belly, under my fleece like a baby chick. as I prepped up my morning oatmeal and coffee and basked in the relative warmth of the morning sun. Thirty minutes later, after a couple of false goes, the bike fired up.

I like to hike, so nowadays I always pack a sensible pair of hikers, pack and walking sticks when I ride. This morning I parked the loaded bike at the visitor center and took the shuttle to the South Kaibab Trail for a short, three-mile out and back to Ceder Ridge - about 1,100 feet down, or about 20% of the way to the mile-deep bottom.

*Icy, shady switchbacks at the top of the trail*



*Snow provided a frosting at the top of the canyon*





*I got to play with the panorama function on my camera*



*Unfortunately, it doesn't compensate for my shaky hands.*





For better or worse, this trip corresponded with Spring Break for lots of students. It caused me no grief and I met some fun students from all over. Also, most of the places I traveled were far enough off the radar to be relatively empty. But the Grand Canyon was one of those places where they congregated. I've got some nice students from Rutgers to thank for the photo, above.

Down and up was only about two hours, so by the time the shuttle dropped me back at the visitor center it was only about 1pm - lots of day left for riding. I had it in my mind that I wanted to visit Monument Valley. While I had ridden within a hundred miles of it more than once, I'd never quite had the inclination to head over there - so now, I decided, would be that time.

First, though, down from the plateau and into Navajo country.

*Skirting the canyon rim, heading east out of the park.*



My stomach was grumbling when I hit the US Highway coming north out of Flagstaff, so I stopped at the Cameron Trading Post for some super-tasty and well-spiced green chili stew and fry-bread. The folks there were awfully friendly and the waitress had a beautiful, gracious smile. Stop by when you get the chance.

*Mmmm. Fry bread! It's a bread! It's a side dish! It's a dessert!*



Navajo (or Dine) country is big and broad - a beautiful country in this mild weather. The people's history here is long and deep, and their commitment to tradition is striking. While most tribal folks live in houses familiar to most of us, they also maintain traditional hogans. A colleague has shared some stories of the meaning and ceremony that surrounds a hogan, which gave me a small sense of their importance. It was fascinating to see how that tradition is maintained today.

In any event, I was hoping to make it to Monument Valley by dusk, so little time to hang out or explore - just a bee-line north and east to the Utah border.

Monument Valley in the evening light didn't disappoint.













What a spectacle. Worth both the wait and the rush to get there.

Anyway - Kayenta, AZ, where I had turned off the US Hwy to get the Monument Valley had only pricey hotels. And besides, that meant going backwards. So, forward I went into Utah. There were some fun looking places in Mexican Hat, and if I do this again I'll probably stay there. But I rode on through the striking Utah landscape. And by the way - what is it about southern Utah??? I know political lines are a fiction, but I've always found that there is just something about crossing that line and suddenly I feel like I'm in a geological fun-house. So many crazy formations and dramatic reliefs. It's the one place where I can really sense geological time just being shoved in my face. Amazing. And yes, Monument Valley is just over the Utah state line.

So anyway, the light was dying by the time I reached Bluff, UT. The Desert Rose Inn was too much money, and it didn't serve alcohol in their not-surprisingly empty restaurant (??!?) but the room was comfy and the Comb Ridge Bistro across the road had a top-notch meatloaf dinner, and the perfect beer to go with it.

Wonderful photos! Grand Canyon...special memories for me. Just a sublime place.

This is my idea of the perfect ride.

Grand Canyon is my favorite place in the world. Hiked it when i was 25 on our honeymoon and then again when I was 55 with the same wonderful woman and our daughter.

Bro. Comb Ridge. Hike it.

Excellent report. Keep it coming.

Thanks for the kind comments, folks.

And damn me, DittyBag - I had no idea Comb Ridge was a hiking destination. Grr. So many opportunities in southern Utah and I haven't even scratched the surface.

For better or worse, my eyes were set southward at this point in the trip. If you had asked me my likely route a week prior, I wouldn't have guessed I'd be this far north - I just went that way b/c the weather was warmer than expected and day-by-day it's where I found myself headed. By this point though my mind was firmly attached to the idea of heading down toward the Mexico border. So, a Comb Ridge hike will have to be for another day...

More to come.

Great trip, if going to the Mexican border, check out Big Bend National Park, you will not be disappointed. The night sky alone makes it worth the hike to get there. And it is a hike, it is DOWN there.

No update tonight, chudzikb; but Big Bend and West TX happened. Give me two or three posts more to get to it.

That makes me happy, as a fellow hiker, I can assure you, there was no disappointment!

I like the tumbleweed destination methodology. Random is good.
Eager for another dose selkins.

You seem like my type of explorer, so here's just one tooth in the comb for you.
linko