Spring 2001 Death Valley

Friday–Monday, 20—23 Apr 2001

Pictures start here

DEATH VALLEY DAYS, or, RAMBLINGS FROM A HONDA ST

The 6:00 am departure group just missed the 5am group at Casa De Fruita, but we heard about those six rowdies who had just sat in the corner, “right THERE,” where the cup-flipping guy had had his (non-fatal) heart attack some time back. (He’s retired and doing OK, thank you.) The waitresses at La Casa are always a gregarious lot, and quite enjoyable.

Convening around 7:15 were Jill, Paul, Warren and Jerry Grainger, joined for breakfast by the fellow on a BMW who couldn’t go further with us, due to his teaching a photography class at Skyline College on Saturday (sorry, I missed his name). The aforementioned six consisted of head rowdy Carl, Ted, John Burnham, Jessica, Fred and Reggie Sherman, making his first trip to DV.

Four of us headed out to continue along #152 and #5, but Warren’s new Wing seemed to recede in the mirror, as we were all getting beat up by high winds along #5. Average speed along this segment was 83 mph, and yes, it’s cool to ride with a pair of po-lice officers when you’re passing most of the rest of the traffic. Apparently, though, Warren just had a loose bungie and pulled over, then passed us when we were stopped at Kettleman City for fuel. (Jill, you really should know your tank capacity and range, he lectured.) Warren arrived only minutes behind the 5am group at Stove Pipe Wells, while Paul, Jill and Jerry had a Mexican lunch at Inyo/Kern, and arrived right at 3:30. The weather was on the chilly side, with overcast continuing into DV; winds at Ridgecrest and elsewhere were gale force, and always from 90o, whether from the right or the left.

The Beatty Bunch continued on up to Nevada after a bit, while the Stovepipe contingent was joined by Carl’s sister Barbara, husband Bob, and another couple, John and Wendy. After suitable libations and snacks (there are advantages to an SUV), dinner was on the premises. It rained, actually pretty heavily, some time after dawn on Saturday, and continued cool and quite windy. So Carl had some consolation in getting a room on the back side of Road Runner, instead of the dune side, where we could best appreciate the gigantic dumpster they have left out there, to enhance the view (NOT).

Most of the pack reconvened at Furnace Creek for lunch on Saturday, where there were a large number of high-dollar Harleys with Nevada plates. Some kind of rally, perhaps also involving organized Christian Motorcyclists, someone mentioned. Curious, isn’t it, how we’re all motorcyclists, and yet there are such very distinct sub-groups within the sport, and the distinct differences between them? I mean, there are Harley types (probably with several sub-species) and everybody else. I’m told that there are BMW types as well. Then there’s Sunday Morning Breakfast types, which is a great type, since it includes so many non-type types, doesn’t it?

Dave Gallegos showed up on his way home from Mexico, with tales of road-side repairs for another report. And we’ve heard from Jerry Grey, who apparently passed us on #5 going the opposite way on Friday morning. A stop at the Ranger Station at Furnace Creek for road information included an overheard report of “rain and snow in Beatty.” None of the Stagecoach stayers would admit this, but I understand the hot tub wasn’t in service up there.

Personally, I came to relax and read, and not feeling too well due to a bad head cold, didn’t do much wandering during the weekend. We did have some pleasant conversations with the Maitre D’, Les, whose logged many a motorcycle mile, and his wife (Lynn?), whose also a two-wheeled veteran. Les mentioned that the Rangers no longer have radar, and that the worst of the ticketers had been transferred, but that for those employed in DV, a traffic citation can mean a week’s suspension from their job, along with the other usual bummers of a ticket.

On Sunday morning, Carl had no takers for an early breakfast ride to Panamint, since Dave had departed for home at dawn with Warren, and Reggie and I were planning to head east later, anyway. Carl did go there later with his relatives, and we passed him on #178 as we departed, Paul, Reggie and I, around 11 on Sunday, leaving Carl to his desert solitude for Sunday night. We met up with Fred, Jill and Jessica at the Best Western in Paso Robles at 6pm. Fred reported a great ride on #58(?), while we reported an uninteresting one on #146.

On Monday morning, Jill and Reggie headed home on #101, while Fred, Jessica and I departed for the coast at 9am. The problem was, Jessica left a few minutes early to fuel up in Cambria, on #1, and Fred and I never did re-connect with her. There are no fuel stations right on the highway at Cambria, and we missed here there.

So Fred and I continued north on #1 to Big Sur, with about four road-repair stops along the way, totalling less than one-half hour delay. We stopped and left the bikes in plain view of passing traffic, since we didn’t know whether Jessica was ahead or behind us. Turns out she came by a few minutes later, while Fred was standing by the road waving at her, but she continued without seeing us, I guess. Thereafter it was an unsuccessful search for a needle in a haystack to find her. Fred and I parted north of Monterey, only to meet again briefly at Davenport, but we neither of us saw Jessica again for the duration.

Although there were still occasional high winds along the Coast, the ride up #1 is absolutely gorgeous, fantastic, beautiful, scenic, etc. A fine way to finish a long weekend of riding.

Anybody seen a small Japanese woman in a red jacket on a BMW somewhere along Highway One?

Jerry Grainger