March 26, 2019
Day 2: Beatty to Stovepipe Wells Campground
Ghost Town Art, and Plummeting into Death Valley at Mach I.
Margaret was on breakfast duty with her cook partner John, so she was up and at 'em at 5:50 AM, not wanting to be faced with a phalanx of grumpy cyclists wanting to know why their 6:30 AM coffee wasn't brewed yet. It was a brisk 43 degrees at 6 AM, but as the sun got higher in the sky it warmed up comfortably. Meal times are obviously a great time for folks to get to know each other, and our 2nd group meal of the trip saw everyone getting more and more relaxed with each other and conversations were taking place all over the dining area ... AKA gravel parking lot.
Whoever has meal duty is also in charge of doing the cleaning of pots, pans, french presses, etc, so I waited a bit for Margaret to be done with her camp duties and then we started on the day's short ride. Originally, this day was to be a 60 miler, but significant rains in Death Valley the week prior (I know ... rain? Seriously?) had closed the camp site we were to stay so the itinerary was changed, making this a mere 38 miles.
We exited Beatty (don't blink, you'll miss your exit!) and had a short 4-5 mile jaunt to the ghost town of Rhyolite. It was a mining boom town in 1905 after gold was discovered in the area. At its peak (according to Wikipedia) in 1907 it had grown to a population of nearly 5,000, until 1911 when the vein of gold had played out and the population shrank drastically. By 1920 the town was nearly abandoned. A more modern note about the place are the various pieces of outdoor sculpture on site at the Goldwell Open Air Museum. See the pictures, which cannot do justice to the supernatural setting here.
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There is nothing less likely to get you off to a flying start then riding six miles and then taking an hour break to play tourist. When Marg and I were ready to leave Rhyolite all the body parts were feeling stiff and creaky. Some climbing helped loosen things up, and after a bit we were able to get up to cruising speed again.
That was just in time to drop like a rock down Daylight Pass. This is a 13 mile descent from the "lip" of the bathtub that is Death Valley, into the bottom of the bathtub where the true desert awaits. I can vouch that I, for one, did not turn a peddle for those 13 miles. I was in an aero tuck, hanging on to the handlebars like grim death. It was either the most wonderfully terrifying descent I've ever made, or the most terrifyingly wonderful. The jury is still out on that verdict. This descent is a Strava segment, and my data says that the long downhill averages a -6% gradient and drops 3,912 feet, top to bottom. I averaged 33.7 MPH and it took me 21 minutes and 43 seconds. That is a testament to how much ballast I carry on this big body, NOT any inherent Dare Devil spirit I possess. I tell you what though .... it was really something. Equal parts scary and fun.
Margaret, who weighs about ... jeez ... probably 85 pounds less than I do still managed to average 28.3 MPH for the segment. On her old bike, downhills like this were a bit terrifying for her, but on her brand new Seven she arrived at the bottom happily swearing like a longshoreman.
The most amazing thing after the descent was seeing how the world had transformed in those 13 miles. We had left the high arid plains to descend to the "True" Death Valley. You could see it, feel it, and sense it. It was bigger, hotter ... just massively grand and sweeping in scale. Everything was amplified!! I don't quite have the words, but we were awestruck. There was a tiny lunch area at the crossroads of the descent so we hung out and soaked it in.
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It was short ride of 6-7 miles from there to arrive at our campsite in Stovepipe Wells. The ACA van and trailer were waiting for us, and we all set about pitching tents, setting up our home base and exploring the "neighborhood." This camping area was, to be honest, kind of a barren wasteland. Not a lot of effort made by the NPS (or more likely decades of meager funding) to make a more pleasant environment. The happy vibe of our group overwhelmed the gravel parking lot ambience of the location though. One huge plus was the fact we could all get a warm shower here. The modest motel/resort/general store just across the road had a pool and community showers which one could pay to use. Part of our ACA tour fee covered the cost of a shower, and they were open for use until midnight! So, a handful of us waited until after dinner to clean up. When Marg and I arrived there were no fresh towels available in the shower area, which was supposed to be part of the deal. I sauntered down to the resort headquarters and told the guy at the desk what was up. I think it would be fair to say that the word "unenthusiastic" severely underestimates his level of concern about the lack of towels. When I made my plea for fresh towels I swear he stared at me vacantly for 5 seconds, then without a word slowly turned and walked into the room behind him. He emerged with two towels and handed them to me. I thanked him and said, "There are probably 4-5 more people from our group on the way, so do you want me to take some more with me?" "No," was the response. That was it. Okey Dokey. I hustled off with my fresh towels before he decided to reclaim them. These kind of park services are usually run by a concessionaire company that bids on the contract. Perhaps finding "go-get-'em" employees is tough. The members of our group who followed us did indeed have to suffer through a long and uncertain wait for their towels. In the end, everyone was showered and clean as a whistle.
Today's ride: 38 miles (61 km)
Total: 113 miles (182 km)
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