Incredible story and photos. You took yourself and your bike places most don’t dare to! It’s hard to fathom what 11L of water even means, let alone that not being enough. Then again, it is a desert. I for one would love to read more stories. My only tip would be to include more of your lovely photos in the posts themselves!
On Monday, 15 December 2025 at 06:06:39 UTC+10:30 West Coast Jeff wrote: > thanks GAJett > > if people enjoy this type of content I will post photos and stories of > from other trips on this bike. > > On Sunday, December 14, 2025 at 12:58:27 PM UTC-5 GAJett wrote: > >> A wonderful and poetic story. >> Thank you. >> >> GAJett >> >> On Sun, Dec 14, 2025, 9:22 AM West Coast Jeff <[email protected]> wrote: >> >>> In April 2024 I took my 59 cm Atlantis (built in 2020) on a 200 mile >>> trip in Death Valley National Park, aiming for dirt roads. >>> >>> [image: 12.jpg] >>> >>> More photos here: >>> https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1pc_ohyckJGzs7IEk10lRw9Yg7Sbx1Pa3?usp=drive_link >>> >>> The goal wasn't necessarily Death Valley, and only a few miles of the >>> route passed into Death Valley itself. Collectively, I'd spent a few months >>> of the last few years up on the Darwin Plateau, between Owens Valley and >>> Panamint Valley. I was mapping the geology and daydreaming of loading up a >>> bike with all the water I could squeeze on it and riding off into them >>> desert ranges. Through stories and worn maps I'd become infatuated with >>> some canyons, passes, peaks and valleys out there, and I put together a few >>> route ideas to visit as many places as possible and allow for active >>> rerouting based on road conditions and water. I spent a wet northwest >>> winter going on my usual rainy commutes and soaked weekend woodland trips, >>> while trying out different ways to carry gear so that I could maximize >>> water (I managed to pack on 11 litres). >>> >>> In early April I careened across the central valley with too much >>> enthusiasm and, bike strapped to the back, got a ticket in Bakersfield. I >>> was going 5 over but the officer clocked me at 15 over. This gave me >>> something to think about during desert nights on my sleeping pad. >>> California had stormy and wet winters from '22 - '24. This brought a lot of >>> water east of the Sierra, filling springs and pools and damaging roads. I >>> parked on the Darwin Plateau as the lake in Badwater Basin finished drying >>> up and the road crews completed clearing and regrading most of the park's >>> back roads. I did not get to ride over Steele Pass as this road was still >>> under construction and, based on insider info, was entirely unrideable by >>> bike at the time. I hope to return someday to ride that road. >>> >>> I took off from the highway riding the South Pass Road through the Talc >>> City Hills and the "Joshua tree forest," a dense growth of Joshua trees, >>> though I saw the density of Joshua trees surpassed last month on a 3 day >>> ride through the Mojave National Preserve, I'll share photos from that >>> another time. At South Pass, peeking into my final destination of the >>> Saline Valley, I headed up hill, climbing Hunter Mountain. Hunter Mountain >>> stands at the north end of Panamint Valley. When you drive into the park >>> from the west and stop at the Crowley overlook, Hunter Mountain looms dark >>> and green above the sun blighted valley. It is 7,000 tall, lush with pinyon >>> and juniper, littered with cattle fences and water tanks. Ranchers summer >>> their cattle on the mountain. Before the park, drovers herded the cattle >>> over land to the Owens valley in winter, likely by the route I was now >>> pushing my bike up. The steep climb, along with foot-deep mud and clinging >>> remnants of snow forced me to walk. I was pounding through my water. >>> Hunter's summit is wide and plateau-like. After the hard climb it was a >>> gentle roll through dwarf pine forest and iced up springs. Leaving the lee >>> of a small hill, the forest abruptly stopped, spitting me back into open >>> desert. I rode to the edge of the summit plateau, aiming to refill my water >>> at a trickle a mile downhill that, I had on good authority, was running. >>> Checking my dwindling water reserves, I decided not to risk the descent, >>> and turn around to refill at known cattle tanks back in the trees. >>> >>> Retracing my tracks for a mile or two, I was passed by an old Chevy >>> Blazer that had seen better days. Those days were probably in the 90's. A >>> dad and son got out to chat about my ride and their own trip, and offering >>> water which I gladly accepted. Replenished, I turned back downhill. The >>> descent was steep and switchbacked. I hit one sand trap at a good speed. I >>> swear my front wheel turned a full 90 degrees left and then right, but I >>> managed to put a foot down and catch myself. The trickle I had been assured >>> of was really more of a seep. It wasn't something I could fill my water >>> filter in and I was immensely grateful that I had taken the cautious >>> approach to backtrack for more reliable water. >>> >>> This dropped me into the Hidden Valley. High and lonesome, rimmed by red >>> & yellow dust painted peaks on all sides. I camped at the bottom of an >>> alluvial fan pouring from Lost Burro Canyon, home of the Lost Burro Mine. I >>> saw one vehicle across the valley and some old VW bus drove up the road to >>> the Lost Burro Mine as I boiled my rice and beans. The downside to taking >>> this trip on a bike is the inability to explore side roads or canyons or >>> summits, due to the tight water constraints. I didn't take as much water as >>> I could from the friendly strangers earlier, I only took enough to get me >>> through to water taps in Death Valley proper the next day. >>> >>> So down the dusty road the next day and past Teakettle Junction and onto >>> 15 miles of washboard on the Racetrack Valley road, heading toward Ubehebe, >>> pavement, and water. Bouncing and vibrating and clattering along the >>> washboards, those I talked to said this was the best they had ever seen the >>> road. This was, additionally, the busiest stretch of dirt I would see. A >>> handful of trucks with all the bells and whistles and lights would blow >>> past me every hour. Every fourth or fifth car would ask if I was good on >>> water--this would save me the next day. One lone motorcyclist stopped to >>> tell me I was his hero. >>> >>> I stiffly dismounted my bike at Ubehebe, in the paved parking lot and >>> crowd of tourists. Ubehebe is a volcanic crater, not an impact crater as I >>> had hoped for. As a geologist I have seen enough basalt for one life, so I >>> stayed on the edge and tried to appreciate the scale. >>> >>> I flew down 8 miles of paved road to the water spigot at Mesquite >>> Springs, where I would camp for the night. It was a short day and I found a >>> shady spot to read the rest of the afternoon before another dinner of rice >>> and beans. >>> >>> Day three, I backtracked the 8 miles of pavement and 15 washboarded >>> miles of climbing to Teakettle Junction. At lunch I forgot my camera (OM-1 >>> from the early 80s, responsible for the black and white shots) and >>> unstrapped all the bags and water from my bike to backtrack a few miles and >>> grab it. This was the big day for water: I would camp dry that night at >>> Lippencott pass, ride down the rough road to the Saline Valley the next >>> day, and cross the entire valley before reaching (hot, hard) water at warm >>> springs. I drink a lot of water. Doing the math in my head as I pedaled, >>> still not out to the Racetrack Valley Playa, I determined I would run out >>> of water by breakfast. This meant I needed to ask for water or turn around. >>> >>> Fortunately, the next car to pass offered water before I could ask. He >>> was traveling alone, late 60s, walking up sharp peaks, scrambling off >>> trail, going places none of the other car traffic cared to go. Again I felt >>> constrained by the water enforced limits of desert bike travel. I passed >>> across the playa, the road hard pan in places and pools of sand in others. >>> I checked out the grooved cut by windblown rocks out on the playa. At >>> Lippencott pass I was entirely alone for the night, and Lippencott was the >>> peak of my trip. Here the hills to the south rose immense and inviting, the >>> peaks falling away west over the pass are sharp, jagged, layered. The road >>> spiraled out beneath me in the setting sun. At night the only sound was the >>> whine of blood in my ears. (continued in reply) >>> >>> -- >>> You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google >>> Groups "RBW Owners Bunch" group. >>> To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send >>> an email to [email protected]. >>> To view this discussion visit >>> https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/rbw-owners-bunch/572601a4-f0a5-4a08-aa94-49489a05e165n%40googlegroups.com >>> >>> <https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/rbw-owners-bunch/572601a4-f0a5-4a08-aa94-49489a05e165n%40googlegroups.com?utm_medium=email&utm_source=footer> >>> . >>> >> -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "RBW Owners Bunch" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/rbw-owners-bunch/fded035e-0a0a-49f3-9ec0-b7038c47f438n%40googlegroups.com.
