After returning the bear-proof container to the ranger station, I start back down the mountain. I decide to take Highway 245, since it’s gonna save me about 20 miles. Of course, I soon learn that the average posted speed here is about 20 mph. Granted, I’m going 35-40 for most of it, but it’s definitely a slow drive. Better yet, about 10 minutes into it I realize that I really have to pee.
I have an hour drive in front of me. And anywhere I pull off I’m gonna be peeing in someone’s yard. It’s a long drive.
.
.
Damn I'm sexy. Grrrr...
Of course, this means back tracking. I’ve now gone over two hours out of my way for nothing (other than some fun, if questionable, driving). I head back through Porterville, and start truckin’ to Bakersfield. While I don’t "walk the streets of Bakersfield" in homage to an old country song none of you have ever heard of, I am impressed by the eternal wall of orange groves and oil fields. I’m tempted to pull off and do a quick orange raid, but I figure that it’s gonna be more trouble than it’s worth. I also notice that, while some of these stations have oil rigs damned near in their parking lots, gas here is as expensive as I’ve seen.
.
I pull into Death Valley shortly after 8. The ranger stations are closed, and I’m not paying over $3 a gallon to fill up here, so I pay my entrance fee at a kiosk. On an trip I’d taken a few years back we’d camped overnight in the dunes, and I figure on doing the same. As long as you were over a mile off the road you were good. I grab my gear and head to the dunes, still wondering at the moon.
I pick a spot and lay my gear down. The stars are out, but the moon is so bright that they aren’t as striking as they could be. It’s nice either way. Unfortunately, there’s a crew of people who are out wandering around the dunes being noisy as all get out, and I find that, especially after my little "alone in the world" drive, it makes for a rather unpleasant experience. It takes me quite a while to fall asleep. On the upside, unlike the last time I slept in the Dunes, there was no kit fox to eat my boot laces.
I wake up cold, despite being in a bag rated to 15 degrees and having slept on a winter weight sleeping pad. It’s before sunrise, and the moon is still up. I pack up, climb a dune, and stand there watching the sun rise. I still wanted to be alone, or at least quiet, and the same people ruin it again. Luckily, though, they’re soon out of earshot before the sun rises. It was very relaxing. Well, for the most part.
There were jets doing maneuvers over the valley. I hadn’t realized this last time, but the valley acts as a natural amplifier for the sound of the jets. When they’d pull a sharp turn and really kick the jets on it almost shook you where you stood. It was incredibly impressive, and strangely enough bothered me far less than the people wandering around. Once the moon sets, I pick up and head out.
The day’s early enough that I figure I can go check out a few sights I hadn’t seen last time. My foot gets the best of me on the flats again. There’s no one out there, and it’s a straight shot. I get it up to 115 mph before I go over a mound and land hard enough to pop the button on my shorts. I figure it’s time to cut it back. I head up to the ranger station, realize that I had actually gone up here before, and head to Nevada. But more on that next time.
Tomorrow- Las Vegas, prisons, spooky deserts, and Arches National Park.
I make it to Porterville without wetting myself. Barely. Either way, I pull into a Starbucks, get a fix, and thrown down a quick post. I want some quick grub, and I figure that some McDon’s dollar menu will do alright to tide me over. What’s weird is that their dollar menu is completely different from ours. I end up getting a regular burger, and soon regret it. My stomach just wasn’t ready for fast food. I gas up and head west.
I take 190 west, figuring that I can cut through the mountains over to Death Valley and spend the rest of the afternoon popping around there. It takes me back through the Sequoia National Forest, goes through the mountains, and keeps me from having to detour a hundred miles or so out of my way through Bakersfield. It also goes through Success, California, one of the most inappropriately named places I’ve ever seen. It’s a dried up reservoir with a dam. Woot. Success! Anyhow, 190 is just like 245, but worse (or better, if you like to drive like I do). Some dude actually passes me in an old Datsun, and I’ve gotta give him credit for some grande cojones. I mean, I’m squealing around corners barely keeping all four on the road, and this dude blows by me. Props, dude.
I’m on the road for about 45 minutes when I see the first "Road Closed Ahead" sign. Of course, while it tells me how many miles until it closes, it doesn’t tell me where that is. I’m trying to get to J14, and it’s pretty close as to whether or not that’s going to be before or after the closure. I stop into a diner and ask the waitress if she knows, and she says that the whole Great Western Divide Highway is closed. Well, that’s 190, but still doesn’t tell me if it’s before or after my turn off. I keep going. Half an hour later I get to where it’s closed, in front of some lodge/resort. I haven’t made it to J14, but it’s another one of those "it’s not plowed, but people have still been driving on it" deals. I think about giving it a shot, but something in my gut tells me that’s a really bad idea. When your gut’s as big as mine is, you listen to it. I’m on vacation, so screw the rush.
Of course, this means back tracking. I’ve now gone over two hours out of my way for nothing (other than some fun, if questionable, driving). I head back through Porterville, and start truckin’ to Bakersfield. While I don’t "walk the streets of Bakersfield" in homage to an old country song none of you have ever heard of, I am impressed by the eternal wall of orange groves and oil fields. I’m tempted to pull off and do a quick orange raid, but I figure that it’s gonna be more trouble than it’s worth. I also notice that, while some of these stations have oil rigs damned near in their parking lots, gas here is as expensive as I’ve seen.
.
Drive, drive, drive. I get passed in the mountains by a couple people driving hell bent for election. I pick up speed to keep pace with them, and then end up passing them because after riding my ass for a few miles they drop back to the speed I had been going. One of my many driving pet peeves- if you’re gonna pass someone, you’d better keep going faster than them. Gas up in some town, and keep going through the lower Sierra Nevadas. I get on to I-395 at Inyokern, driving past the China Lake Naval Proving Grounds. My mind runs wild at the things that could be going on out there. Terrible, devastating things. Really, really cool things.
.
.
While I don’t see any nuclear weaponry being tested, as I approach the turn off to get back onto 190 I am privileged to a very impressive moon rising over the mountains. Stop in for some "Dang Good Jerky" near Olancha. It’s a pretty cool little shop, just some 15X15 hut with wall to wall dried jerky and fruit and such. The outside is just covered in decals, everything from bands to brands to rodeo stickers. Made me think of "Killroy’s Skate ‘n’ Bait." I head west to Death Valley.
I shut the radio off. There aren’t any stations that really come in anyway, and heading away from town I can almost imagine that I’m the only person on the planet. No music, no light other than my car, and a massive moon rising over my shoulder. I spook a coyote off the road, but other than that I’m totally alone. God, it felt good.
I pull into Death Valley shortly after 8. The ranger stations are closed, and I’m not paying over $3 a gallon to fill up here, so I pay my entrance fee at a kiosk. On an trip I’d taken a few years back we’d camped overnight in the dunes, and I figure on doing the same. As long as you were over a mile off the road you were good. I grab my gear and head to the dunes, still wondering at the moon.
I pick a spot and lay my gear down. The stars are out, but the moon is so bright that they aren’t as striking as they could be. It’s nice either way. Unfortunately, there’s a crew of people who are out wandering around the dunes being noisy as all get out, and I find that, especially after my little "alone in the world" drive, it makes for a rather unpleasant experience. It takes me quite a while to fall asleep. On the upside, unlike the last time I slept in the Dunes, there was no kit fox to eat my boot laces.
I wake up cold, despite being in a bag rated to 15 degrees and having slept on a winter weight sleeping pad. It’s before sunrise, and the moon is still up. I pack up, climb a dune, and stand there watching the sun rise. I still wanted to be alone, or at least quiet, and the same people ruin it again. Luckily, though, they’re soon out of earshot before the sun rises. It was very relaxing. Well, for the most part.
There were jets doing maneuvers over the valley. I hadn’t realized this last time, but the valley acts as a natural amplifier for the sound of the jets. When they’d pull a sharp turn and really kick the jets on it almost shook you where you stood. It was incredibly impressive, and strangely enough bothered me far less than the people wandering around. Once the moon sets, I pick up and head out.
The day’s early enough that I figure I can go check out a few sights I hadn’t seen last time. My foot gets the best of me on the flats again. There’s no one out there, and it’s a straight shot. I get it up to 115 mph before I go over a mound and land hard enough to pop the button on my shorts. I figure it’s time to cut it back. I head up to the ranger station, realize that I had actually gone up here before, and head to Nevada. But more on that next time.
Tomorrow- Las Vegas, prisons, spooky deserts, and Arches National Park.
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