Death Valley - May 4

Friday, May 4th

The Honda shop owner and I spend a long time looking for the offending piece of whatever perforated the inner tube almost same place as before, but in vain. I'm ready to scrap an almost new tyre, but he doesn't have a replacement. So instead I cut up one of the discarded inner tubes to use as a liner, and the other one as a 8" extra liner. A heavy duty motocross tube goes in, Honda Man balances the hell out of the wheel, pumps it to 34 psi and off I sail. The steering is uncannily light, so this will take a little while to get used to. Adding two gallons (7.6 litres) of gas in the container in the trailer probably doesn't help much either.

Yesterday I twice went by a small collection of old stuff, at a place which eight years ago was an abandoned settlement of sorts. It is now is a museum, that an enterprising fellow named Richard has built up. A bunch of old cars are scattered around the place, the pink 1959 Cadillac probably being the most prominent one for most people. Not for me: I can't believe that there's also a derelict Tucker parked amongst them - until Richard says it is his replica, which is in the process of being built of parts from many other cars. Was it the real deal, it would have been worth many times the estate. 

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Richard in front of a row of houses he built, much like a western movie prop in miniature. "Most visitors come from elsewhere. The locals don't like me", he says.

Further north, having passed the dreadful place where the MZ zonked out on me, I turn right on 190 leading to Death Valley. As nice as the sights from the four laner were, it now gets even more interesting. Sands replace the shrublands, and eventually the road climbs up into hilly country, markers indicate yet another 1000 feet of elevation. Back aways at a gas station two guys on large singles told there'd be five passes to climb before I would reach my destination in Furnace Creek - and yes, it does require some patience to ride over each top. 

The good part is that I really get to take in the sights, at least when going uphill. Coasting downhill with the clutch pulled is a different matter, and I find myself yelling "Watch the f****** road, dammit!" more than once. So of course I stop here and there to take pictures, like those above and below. Not even the best cameras can capture the grandiosity of this, an iPhone even less so, so if you have a large computer screen, I suggest you google 'death valley' instead; it'll get you there about 5%, compared to seeing it in person. 

One of the aforementioned guys also told they had been buzzed by a jet fighter flying so low, that he thought they'd be hit by the jet wash (udstodning). I miss out on that, but see a low flying four engine jet transporter do a steep banking turn in front of me at the place above. 

Watching this picture in high resolution will show the long, straight road.

In Stovepipe Wells I run into Bruce ('just to keep it simple') from San Fransisco, who at 71 just rented out his house, and embarked on a two-year trip on a large one-cylinder Suzuki thumper. I hope that's me in eight years. Then it's on to the last stretch towards my motel, with its much appreciated air conditioned general store and diner. It looked really classy on the computer, but that picture shows what it will look like once construction is finished. Still this little oasis with tall palm trees is a most welcome piece of civilization in the appropriately named valley. 

 

At night I ride away from the motel and other sources of light pollution, in order to watch a sky of stars instead. It's a moonless night, but the stars are so plentiful and shine so bright, that I can see the motorcycle and the road just fine.