DVD-Saturday

[tugrik]

There's a lot of pictures from today. The uploads are of the raw files so I can get this entry up. I'll do photo-cleanup later.

Morning brought with it some stiffness. Eve had been amazingly helpful the night before: she'd helped me unpack, get things clean enough to open safely, and even given me a wrist/forearm massage to help with my aching 12-hours-of-handlebar-gripping muscles. This really paid off in the morning, as my arms felt great -- unlike very single day of the BRAG tour earlier this year. I really need to find something cool to do for her or give to her in thanks. The shower, while incredibly tiny (and in fact minorly triggering a bit of claustrophobia I didn't know I had) was a welcome relief. My only complaint was the usual hard-motel-bed grump, leaving me a bit sore and bent funny. At least I could sleep at all -- unlike a few years ago when untreated apnea and an addiction to waterbeds made me incapable of staying away from home.

There had been no internet access, but at least phones, in Furnace Creek. Tonight we were going to shift over to Stovepipe Wells and stay there for variety, so we loaded up everything into the back of Eve's car. The only things I left out were the tankbag/pannier items, including the comms gear. I swapped the StreetPilot for the RINO, so we could do some point-to-point positioning. We had no real plans other than "See the Park", and that was a log easier with an unladed bike. Thanks again go to Eve here -- having her car as a mule was a much-good thing. I put the polarizer on the camera lens and left it in the tankbag, and refilled both of our Camelbacks with bottled water. The motel water was nasty as all get-out.

I stopped to gas up the bike at a horrendous $2.60 a gallon, but I was ready for that having been through DV before. At least it was an 8 gallon bike tank that gets 35mph, not a 25 gallon van tank that gets 9mpg. I got some pictures of the bike all muddied up from the trip in before I hosed off the lights and license plate to get legal and bright again. All the pics will be in the imageserver as usual. The comms gear tested out good, the Pryme's having good range even with my radio tucked into a pannier bag. We made it only three miles before I figured out that we'd do a lot better starting in the south part of the park first. Using the Harmony Borax Works as our first turn-around, we headed for Badwater.

It was a straight shot down at nice speeds to Badwater, Eve taking her time in the car behind. My mission was to find and photograph an old sign I remember from boy-scout camping 1982: a sign, 280 feet up on the hillside, saying "Sea Level". Imagining a wall of water that high rushing in was terribly belittling to a young Tug-scout, leaving a rather strong memory. I never did find that sign again, though -- as the rock wall had eroded quite a lot in the last 20 years. Not replacing that sign is quite forgiveable, considering the terrain it was in.

Eve and I got the requisite pictures there at -280ft, doing the terribly-touristy thing and standing by signs at the lowest point in the western hemisphere. Tourists had since filtered into the park to join the three biker groups there. I'd seen other bikes on the road, but never really stopped at any of the attractions. Either my timing was off, or I was simply being touristy in places they weren't, as this 'en route but never stopped' biker contact continued all day.

We made our way northwards, stopping at each and every turnoff posted. Many photos ensued. The Devil's Golfcourse, Artist's Palette, Natural Bridges, you name it. Most were on dirt roads, which made me grin quite a bit and take at speed, pushing the GS to do its thing. The road to Natural Bridges was downright nasty washboard, high enough to make it car-unfriendly. Riding that 3 miles each way was a serious workout that left my legs and arms jelly-like; most of it had to be done standing on the pegs. Had I that road in my backyard to do once a day, I'd have limbs like Rambo. Eve wisely chose to remain at the entrance, keeping track of me with the RINO.

This is a good point for an Equipment Testing Results section. There were a few things that I'd tried for the first time this trip, and most worked pretty well. Some of the usual gear was brought into play too. Here's the breakdown:

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HARD light: Thumbs-up. Sure, it eats batteries if I leave it on, which I always do because it's so easy to forget. But when it works, it well and truely works -- and it saved me from no less than 3 cop-attack-potentials on my route in to the park.
Passport 8500: Thumbs-up. It's what got the signals to the HARD-light, so it obviously did it's job. It also lived through wicked vibration and the moisture of the angry fog. I should really slap a showercap and rubberband over it in that next time, though -- it's not really waterproof. One downside: if you get moisture on the lens, it will prism the sunlight that hits it, and now and then false a "laser" positive when the right infared frequency gets bent into the sensor. Being in the middle of super-open, super-empty terrain and getting your detector go to "AAAIUGH cop using LIDAR -- serious threat!" is really unnerving. Drying it off fixed this little issue.
New seat: Double-thumbs-up. I didn't get flat-butt-syndrome until the 11th hour of a 12 hour riding day. I didn't start doing the two-cheek shuffle until 30 miles before my destination. Wow. I'm SO sold, even if it has a few cracks in the pan (design flaws).
Rally lights: so-so. The new mounts are A-OK, but I need to readjust them. I also need MORE light. Not more lights -- but more light per unit. I am going to swap the all-but-worthless stock driving lights for some PIAA910's or Xenarc's, sometime when I let myself spend money again. This was super-important on the trip back from Scotty's Castle, later in this entry.
Pryme Radios: Thumbs-up. Worked like champs, even in bad conditions and terrible antenna configs. We routinely got 2-3 miles of use, and more when terrain allowed. If I actually went to the trouble to attach a frame-mount antenna to the bike and get the car-driver a mag-mount antenna, we could have done 4x that range without worries. It simply becomes question of $$ spent vs. how often they don't get used -- so I haven't. The sound quality was exceptional; understandability reigned.
RINOs: Thumbs up, but then so-so. They did what they were supposed to... but we didn't get too much use out of them. Thier peer-to-peer positioning will be of much more use when hiking or camping in the redwoods. When you can see the other person across the desert it's kind of pointless. Still, it worked. Their radio abilities were fine, but I can't integrate them with the bike so they were for in-hand use only. Their GPS utility was absolutely wonderful, and in fact we found the Salt Marsh geocache with them. The only thumbs-down was their bike-vibration handling. Battery chatter made mine shut off all the time. The only way these will ever get on-bike use is if you remove the batteries and use hard-wired power... and since the power is a 3V external converter, that's awkward. At some point I might invest the time/money to make the adaptors for the Autocomm to power and voice-link to it, and then these will rock for that use. But for now? Save them for day-hikes closer to home and Burning Man. These will rule at BM.
Pelican cases: Thumbs waaaay up. The laptop survived mud, water, wind, and vibration, as did the binoculars. When I got to Furnace Creek, the cases were dirt-brown instead of black, the dried mud was so thick. I literally stuck the cases in the shower and turned it on for a while, then scrubbed them down with a rag. They dried quickly in the desert air, and I opened them up -- to reveal the contents in working order, absolutely clean and perfectly dry. Rock On, Pelican. I really should have taken a picture just how bad the laptop case was before I opened it... and the offroading through Emigrant was pretty harsh. Still, all was safe, all was good. Now all I need to do is make some kind of hard-latch mount so I can just click them into place instead of death-strap them to the bike. *wrings hands in evil ways*
First Aid Kit: Lacking. This was my fault -- I grabbed the red one (garth's) instead of the one I'd made for motorcycling (the blue, white-lettered one). When I chunked my leg (later in this entry), I was able to patch it up, but not in optimal ways.
Bates suit: Thumbs up on the jacket. Mixed results on the pants. The jacket performed great, even over two liner layers (leather jacket and fleece). The pants performed well and helped with warmpth, but they made motion akward and getting on and off the bike a real inconvenience. Due to this, I didn't wear the pants on the 2nd day, and it cost me a little. Had they been comfy/tight enough to not impede motion I might have been more automatic about wearing them, and it would have helped.
TiMax gloves: Middling. They performed well. They are comfy as all get out. They long-distance-rode well. They helpled in my little set-down. But... they're awkard to get on and had me wishing for the simplicity of my Helds by the day's end. They're also pretty warm in the middle-warm air and sun here, which tells me they'll be sweaty hot in the middle of summer. So -- they make good gloves. But they're not the end-all/do-all/year-round mythical gloves I hope to have someday.

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Okay, enough with the equipment. The next stop was Artist's loop, home of the similarly named Artist's Palette -- a formation of lovely colors, from reds to purples to greens. Various minerals in the rock repeatedly ground down by wind and floodwaters caused these colorful flows. Having Eve along was again a great thing; in my ear played a steady stream of geologic information as she dictated into the radio all kind of things that had her excited. It was like having a tour gide.

Halfway up Artist's loop, I saw a good photo spot. I was about a mile ahead of Eve. I turned sideways to head back down the way I came in hopes of parking for the photo-op, and totally misjudged just how steep the road angle was. I tried to put my foot down, and there wasn't anything under my foot -- just another 4 inches of air before touchdown. This meant the bike was leaned waaay over past the point of no return before I had footing, and I knew it.

If you love your bike, let it free. (If it comes back to you, you probably highsided.)

I was at zero forwards velocity. I let the bike fall instead of trying to stop it, as I knew I had no chance and all I would do was injure myself if I tried. I fell with it, handily rolling off on my left side. The helmet-cable worked exactly as advertised and quick-disconnected. My gloves and shoulderpads made sure the asphalt did nothing to me. However -- I wasn't wearing the riding pants. Bad Tug. My right-leg brushed the engine guard as I came off the bike, falling to the left, making the fabric of my jeans rub against the front of my leg -- right where my thin-skin is from my wreck years ago. For those of you I've not told the ugly details to, this is an area of skin that scarred up and never healed right. It only takes a little tap or scrape to lose a big chunk of skin, and it's really slow to heal. It's like diabetic skin-ulcer, but it's mostly weight-and-prior-accident related. So sure enough, I lost about a 50c-piece size patch of skin. It didn't bleed much; it just stung. It's only the outermost layer.

A flick of the switch turned the still-running bike off. I took off my helmet and gloves and waited for Eve to arrive. I could pick the bike up on my own, but that would require spinning it 180deg on the pivot-point of the engine guard. It's made to do that, but it still scuffs up bits nastily and I was hoping to avoid any undue uglies. Two people could pick it up as-is, tires pointed uphill. After explaining to a worried-looking Eve that I was indeed OK, I tilted it back to its tires. She helped push the tail up while I lifted with proper technique from the handlebars, and we got it up on the first try with no real worries. Had I been on my own I was confident I could have done it, but at the cost of the rotation scrapes. I've had to do that before, in the mud near Colero by home.

We rode to the nearest flat-spot, and I pulled out the toolkit and first-aid kit. Eve says the faces I made while cleaning the scrape with an alcohol wipe were priceless. As it was just jeans-scraping-skin, there was no roadgrit to pick out, and no deep or bleedy bits. The first-aid kit was lacking a larger self-adhesive patch -- making me realize for the first time that I'd brought Garth's kit instead of mine. I improvised using normal sized band-aids and a sterile gause pad, holding it all in place with my sock. The toolkit was so I could get the 5mm allen wrench out and tighten up the mirror which had come loose on the left side -- something that only took 30 seconds or so. This is why offroaders take the mirrors off before riding; they like to get bent funky when you dump it in the dirt.

We got some great photos at the foot of Artist's palette, though getting the colors true-to-life as possible will require photoshop skills and my color-balanced monitor at home. The rest of the ride back to Furnace Creek was pretty uneventful, save for a light (but padded) leg-ache. They were woefully understocked in the first-aid department; no big self-adhesive patches either. Frump.

We pushed on to Scotty's castle, as it was now after 3pm and we knew it closed at 5. I refilled my camelback, but I didn't check if Eve had done so to hers -- and now I think I should have. The road out there was about 40 miles and nicely up/down wavy, but really tame and mostly straight. We got there about 4:15, just in time for a rather surly coyote to try to stare me down off my bike. I avoided him as he gave a very decided *hrmf* look. I parked in the lot, facing the entry, pulling out the camera to try to catch the 'yote before he got away... just in time for him to step out and stop Eve's car, levelling his ears at her Saturn, making it wait for a few moments before trotting away. The brazen fellow paced after her car a few steps after she drove past, then turned and ambled towards than open field.

We parked and walked out into the field. The coyote had found a discarded bag of potato chips, letting me get nicely close to take pictures while he dined. Many shutterclickings ensued. His behavior was interesting to watch; curiosity balanced by caution, making him come close and then orbit around. It was a little sad, though. It's against the law to feed the coyotes -- and it's for their own good. Ones that learn to like humanfood and handouts come to depend on it. Either they lose their ability to hunt and starve when the off-season happens, or they get too human-friendly and start scaring people, which makes the park rangers have to put them down. While I was glad for the photo-opp, I was sad to see the 'yote dining on Lays chips. His extreme familiarity/comfort with the populated areas of Scotty's Castle meant he was one of the ones on his way to starving or being shot. He got scarily close to a family picnic-dining with their toddler and family dog. To quote Bartok, "this can only end in tears". Sad. :/

I'm not big on Scotty's Castle... but their hotdog and soda place was decent. Eve was both bummed and a little worn out. She really wanted to see in the castle, but they were closing up and she'd missed the last tour. Her mood-shift was more severe than just that, though, which had me kind of worried. I bought some silly things at the gift-shop for roomies and something shiny for a certain dragon I know and then geared up for the trip back. Eve topped off my camelback, bless her heart.

I went to asked the park ranger about the northern passage out of the park. I was in line right behind a total SUV-Drivin’-Duuuuude! who was asking the exact same question. The ranger gave him the full scare-them-out-of-going speech. As it turns out, it’s 72 miles of dirt with 20 miles of pavement in the middle. While not high-clearance-required, it was a good bit of up and down and was utterly no-services. His speech included things like “Travel with buddies. Carry at least TWO spare tires. Make sure you have a 4x4 on that SUV of yours. Carry two days of water, two days of food. We don’t have enough rangers to patrol everywhere, and that road is one of the last ones we go down. You could be out on your own for quite a while if you break down.” He also offered the paved roundabout way, which added 30 miles to the trip but was vastly safer. Each time SUV-Drivin’-Dude went on about his car’s unbeatable abilities, the ranger stepped up his stories, until finally, the crestfallen guy said “I think I should take the paved road” and plodded off to his vehicle.

The ranger was all smiles when I got up to the booth. I told him I had the same question, so mostly it was answered. I just wanted to know what types of dirt we were talking about, incase I re-met up with the ADVRiders and we chose to take that road with our dual-sport motorcycles. He perked right up at the mention of dual-sports, and gladly told me a story about how he got his start on a tiny Honda scooter, and then into his first dirt-bikes and dual-sports. Instead of trying to scare me off, he went into great detail about the types of washboard, loose-silt and cambering of the road as it wound up and down. The pavement part was the downhill stretch, which was due to an old mining operation that required large trucks to transport the ore, and they needed downhill traction when full. As long as I was riding with buddies, he all but encouraged me to go; it was a lonely road, but fun and a great experience. He said that a motorcycle with any form of offroad capability would be A-OK. His speech for the other guy wasn’t so much for the lack of his vehicle’s abilities, but for the lack of experience. He’s seen too many suburbanites go tearing down that road and end up broken down, so it’s his job to scare them off. We chatted for a while, sharing bike stories, and then I headed back to meet Eve.

As I probably won’t find the ADVRiders I came with before I go, I’ll be traveling home alone. As a result, I’m wise enough to want to stick to the pavement. I was glad for the information and the nice treatment, and I was going to respect it by not going alone and ending up a statistic.

Sun set as we left the castle... so the 40 miles ride home was in the dark. The rally lights did their job showing the width of the road; they're splayed out slightly, on purpose. At speed, though, the wimpy driving lights and main headlight of the BMW just stink, and I had to go about 15-20mph slower than my normal night speeds. If I'm going to ride in the desert any more than I do right now, I really need to upgrade those nasty OEM driving lights with Xenarc's or PIAA910's... for distance-piercing power. Again, it's a cost-vs-how-often-I-do-that thing, so I probably won't anytime soon. Were I offroad things would have been perfect; all my nearfield was illuminated excellently, including immediate-ground and sides.

The ride back was uneventful other than the bad lighting... and one heck of a meteor. Eve and I both saw it. A shallow entry and full of copper, it left a full-five-seconds long trail of brightly flared green, before disintegrating with a spark-laden puff. It was bright enough to light the pre-moonrise landscape, giving a second's surreality of green-glow landscape that I'll never forget. This kept me grinning almost all the way in to Stovepipe.

When Eve got out of the car, she felt a bit light-headed. If she tried to look up at the sky for more than a few seconds, she had to hold on to something to keep her balance, and felt really out of it. Her grumpy mood had turned to more of a distant one, and suddenly it all made sense. She was a bit dehydrated. That would definitely explain the fatigue and the moments of grumpiness that seemed terribly out of character. She admitted that she probably hadn’t drunk enough, made a point of doing so for the rest of the evening. After a good bit of water and a nice dinner, she was fine.

Check-in was quick. Dinner was very good, and less expensive than the night before. I used their lonely little $3-for-15min disabled web terminal and found that all was OK with work email and FM, and we trundled back to the room to relax. Laptop open and MP3s playing, I'm sitting here tapping out these entries at the little desk while Eve snores herself up a dream or two. Tomorrow is a decision point. The time on the internet kiosk let me check trusted weather-sources, and the scoop is that it won't start raining until Monday evening. I can handle ending the trip wet -- but not starting or middling it that way. I'm simply not equipped for long distances while cold and soppy.

Tomorrow morning after breakfast I'm checking the internet terminal again. If the forecast is the same... we'll goof off in the valley a bit longer before leaving. We'll call Revar and ask if the Revar-Mom is up for a visit, as Eve's always wanted to meet her and the world-famous rock collection. If so, we'll go that way and I'll spend the night there, to drive home up the slab on Monday. If the Revar-mom isn't there or we can't get ahold of Revar, then we'll part company and I'll head for home and see how far I can safely make it after a late-day start, staying in some random no-tell motel along I5 when I run out of steam. If, however, the forecast changes and there's to be heavier or sooner rain... I'm going to bust out from breakfast and head straight for home. I'll make it as far as I can make it, rain or shine. When I run out of energy or rain-handling-ability, I'll shack up in a motel to dry up, leaving me with all day Monday to slog the remainder of the trip after a dry re-start and maybe some hefty-bags-with-tape.

For now... it's late, and I'm tired. No more journalling for me until back in San Jose, Revar's mom's house, or in some I5 motel. G'night!