Day 16. Alaska Ride 2017: Mahogany Flats Campground, Death Valley, California

I wake and think that it is probably 5:00 am, or so. I check my watch and it is 12:30 am. I am terrified, as I feel that it is time to get up and get going. I look outside my tent and see a full moon, which is electrifying the landscape as Andy had predicted the day before.  

 

I lay awake in the tent noticing that I was too hot to get into the down sleeping bag, until a blast of cold air sent me into the cocoon. I sewed the down sleeping bag when I was 20 years old, and added extra down in the feet section of the bag, which makes it very warm down into the teens. The pattern of silent calm hot, and then a blast of cold air continued throughout the night, which made it impossible for me to get any sleep until about 3:00 am. I finally fell asleep, only to wake at 7:00 am, and find that the temperature is now 59 degrees.  

 

I get up and check my water status, only to find that I had about an inch of water left in a little water bottle, and whatever was left in my hydra-pack. I decide to forgo any cooked breakfast, and to eat the second half of an energy bar from the day before, along with a gulp of water. I want to conserve the water in the event of an emergency during the day. I close down, and pack the tent, and then literally pray that I not have any problems on my decent. The night before, John went on about how difficult the trail up was on his car. John thought that he really should not have made it, but somehow he make the campsite. I descend the rugged rocky road, just taking it one section at a time. 

As I get to a level area, I stop the bike and take a small composure break before pressing on. There are areas where the slope is so inclined with loose rock, that you must let the bike go, only to break when I land on areas that will allow the bike to grab ground and stop. I let the engine do most of the work on slowing the bike, and use both brakes to keep the bike’s speed in check. I get down to the kilns and do a little gig, as I am happy to get past the this section of trail. I continue on the gravel road past the kilns, which are once again more difficult than I remember for the last trip.    

 

I arrive at the paved road and swish down the slopes until I come to the maintenance areas at the bottom.  At the maintenance areas are springs that flood across the road, and there are many animals on the road. I see about 10 rabbits of all sizes, and then I see what looks like a baby mountain lion jogging of the road. I think that my goPro captured the scene, but I have not checked as of yet. 

 

I arrive at the Trona cut-off road, which has been closed most of the time that I have been coming to Death Valley. The road sign says “Rough Road”, but I have never been on the road, and I am just dying to see what it is like. The road is rough, but nothing bad, and eventually connects with the main road to Trona. I get a few miles down the road and run into the gravel road to the Ballarat ghost town. The town of Ballarat was founded in 1897, and had 500 residents, 7 saloons, a post office, a morgue, and a jail. Eventually, the mines in the area started to play out and in 1917 the post office closed.  I start down the gravel road towards Ballarat at 40 mph, confident in my ability to navigate the seemly easy gravel road: I sit with my legs crossed, a martini in my right hand, and a cigar in my left hand. 

 

I get about a half mile down the road, and encounter deep pebble sized gravel. I lose control of the bike, and the next thing I know, I am laying face up on the gravel road about 10 feet in front of the down bike, with my legs folded under me. My first thought is “Am I okay?”, because it all happened so fast.   I manage to stand, and do not detect any broken bones or bloody areas. I survey the carnage, and find that the bike is embedded into the sandy walls of the road, the windscreen has been broken into three pieces, and both rear view mirrors are impaled into the road further, up stream.   

 

There are other miscellaneous parts strewn around gravel road, which I immediately pickup and stick in my pockets. My second thought is "Wow, I really need to get some off road riding education and training".

The bike hit the road on the left side, trapping my left ankle, then slammed into the wall of the road, which caused the bike to flip over to its right side, ejecting me forward of the bike, and causing me to slam my ribs and head into the road.   

 

I immediately, start the disassembly of the gear, which I am now quite used to, and pile the pieces next to the bike. I dig out the sand around the tires so that I can push the bike backwards, and out of the wall of sand. I once again stand the bike up, and try starting it. The bike does not start, and I am now deeply concerned, as I have not seen a car at all today. I check the bike, and discover that the kill switch was turned off during the crash. I flip it on, and the bike immediately starts. One thing about this bike that I really love, is it always starts right up, regardless of altitude, rain, or temperature.   

 

I remove the remainder of the broken windscreen, load the bike back up and hit the road. The blast of fresh air without the windscreen, actually feels good in Death Valley.  Undeterred by the early days events, I am determined to take the most fun route home, which passes by Joshua Tree, through Idyllwild, and over the Ortega highway. 

 

I take the Romona Expressway home, and as I get to the cow smelly section, the highway patrol diverts the traffic off the main road, and through a dirt road, that is used to support the work on the fields, and livestock areas. The dirt is a fine dark dirt, that creates a smoke like fog when a car drives by. 

 

Now imagine, that there are 30 cars in front of me, as well as oncoming cars driving down this same road. There were times where I could not see a thing, and I ran the risk of hitting a hole in the road, and being thrown like earlier in the day: I was not a happy camper to suffer this indignity, at the end of my ride.  

 

The road bypass scene was a horror story, as you could see people’s faces of concern as they passed you in the fields.  I do not think anyone knew the route, or when we were going to get out, but finally after about 2 miles we hit a paved road, which was on the other side of the supposed accident scene. The rest of the ride was without incident, and I arrived home at 6:45 pm.