Bones, dry bones whitening in the merciless sun. A Shoei helmet sits nearby. The R1100RS is in practically showroom condition, as the bugs that normally graced its prow have been eaten away by the same fastidious desert creatures that have cleaned the bones. There's only one problem... the gas tank is empty.
Well, it didn,t happen this time. As I reached the small rest area on the Wildrose road into Death Valley, it became hot enough to be uncomfortable, so I took off my clothes. This is on the theory that one might as well die with one's clothes off. I rode down to the Stovepipe Wells ranger station in shorts, boots, and a helmet. It was actually very comfortable. I was feeling pretty good. There was a telephone, so I got some water from the hose to wipe down the phone. It was now cool enough to hold, so I called home. It's hot here, but NOT HOT ENOUGH. I'm OK, this is actually pretty easy. All those people who said I was crazy to go to Death Valley in July were WRONG.
I got back on the bike, to cruise over to the store for a bit of a drink. Then I discovered who was WRONG... when I saw the sign that said "Elevation 2000 ft." As I descended into the depths of the real Death Valley, it got hotter, hotter, hotter... until sweat was dripping into my eyes, and it was clearly unbearable. Luckily the store was right there. I staggered in, drank 32 oz. of Gatorade, and scarfed down an ice cream. At that point I felt OK.
Once I was able to focus my eyes, the guy at the desk asked me if I was riding the BMW outside. Yes, I said. He introduced himself: Gary Bernzott. He rode on the back of his dad's R69. I was pretty impressed. Do you know "Crazy Lee" Stillman, he asked? I admitted it. We talked for a while. It was time to go.
The heat was like walking into a wall. I was thrown back into the store. I psyched myself and went for it... and made it out to the bike. I had two 32 oz. bottles of Gatorade for the 30 mile trip to Furnace Creek. It was at this point about 6:00 in the evening, when one might assume that the heat had died down a little. It was pretty impressive, although Gary had said that it really wasn't particularly hot today. I got down to the sand dunes, and stopped for a look and some pictures. It really wasn't so bad. I changed out of the boots into sandals so my toes wouldn't get baked.
As I rode towards Furnace Creek, it became clear that either taking off clothes wasn,t helping, or it was too hot for human survival. I found myself hyperventilating, and realized that in spite of being almost naked and going 60 MPH, I was not able to sweat fast enough to cool my body. I had to stop so that I wouldn't faint. I sat in the shade of the motorcycle and finished off the first bottle of Gatorade. Back on the bike, I was able to observe the shimmering beauty of the surroundings. A gray desert fox walked across the road. He didn't seem bothered by the heat. I had to stop one more time before reaching Furnace Creek, which was just after the gas station closed at 7 PM. I got a camping spot before sunset and checked out the surroundings. It was still too hot to do much, and there wasn't a shower to be had. Luckily the cold camp water was actually hot, so I was able to get a decent shower by filling my water bottles and pouring the warm water on myself.
After dinner in the Furnace Creek restaurant, I turned in. Or tried to, because it was too hot to sleep. There was a cool current of air at about five feet off the ground, but next to the ground and in the tent it was still roasting hot. Next time, an air-conditioned room for me, please. At any rate the morning was just gorgeous. I got a fill-up at 7 AM and headed up the valley. By the time I got to Scotty's Castle it was getting uncomfortably hot again, but I was climbing out of the valley at that point, so I got my jeans and shirt and boots on, and continued east.
I was intrigued by a little line on the map that goes from Goldfield NV. to Oasis, through the town of Silverpeak. I proceeded to Goldfield. The actual road starts about 4 miles north of Goldfield, and turns immediately to dirt. This didn't worry me; the only real difference between a R11RS and GS is the cowcatcher, right? Anyway, things went great for about thirty miles, though navigation was a little tricky because there aren't any signs out there and there aren't any other roads on the map, but there are some forks. So I was cruising along at about 70 when all of a sudden things started to feel much less solid. I got nervous and began to slow down. The bike started to oscillate back and forth, more and more violently as I got it down to less than 20 MPH. Finally it got to be too much, and we slid to a stop. I had to remove the bags, duffel, tent, and tankbag to get the bike upright again. Of course the benefit of falling over in ultra soft sand was that nothing was scratched, dented, or damaged. But there was still a significant problem: how to ride in this stuff? I barely could get the bike out of it onto harder sand down the road; then I had to put all of the gear back on. Also, I only had a margin of about ten miles before I ran out of gas--how would my mileage be, assuming I could ride?
As it worked out, almost all of the road was rideable. There was an uphill stretch where I had to unload the bike and carry all my gear up by hand, and one really bad stretch where I had to walk beside the bike. But finally I reached Oasis. That's when I discovered there isn't really anything in Oasis. I continued to Dyer, the closest town, and made it to find food, drink, and gas... and so this time, escaped the desert.
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