Impossible Route: Death Valley Day 6
March 6 – The Cerro Gordo Ghost Town: 72 Miles
The calm evening was interrupted shortly after we lay down in our sleeping bags. A devil wind howled. It picked up to a gale at one point and terrorized us. There were insane tent flapping sounds like a giant bat flapping its wings. The rain fly and one pole of our damaged tent were falling apart with 40-50 mph gusts. Around 4 a.m. the tent caved in, and in our half-asleep state it felt like we were in a collapsing cave!
The wind eventually relented as the sun came up, but was still blowing at a steady 20 mph.
I rallied to get up, but Tyler was not getting up. After drinking enough coffee to kill a Chihuahua, we got a late start.
We headed south, moving slowly toward a point of interest simply called “The Racetrack” where we had our chance to see one of the most beautiful places on earth. There, 60-pound rocks slide hundreds of meters, mysteriously across the mud. Our experiences in the winds the night before made it seem very clear how the rocks moved.
We turned and descended Lippincott Trail. This massive downhill was totally badass, but probably more suited to a 4×4 Jeep than our bicycles. It was kind of cool because, once again, somehow we got away with it with no crashes. Let’s just say it was sketchy, real sketchy. I’m not sure why it felt so awesome to ride the gravel bike down this crazy trail. It was kind of an analog approach to the route a practicum in the absolute limits of body and bike. Yep there is the limit????
From the bottom of Saline Valley, we climbed and climbed until we saw snow in the shadows. The view around us was phenomenal. There was such contrast and 6,000 feet of relief between the brown Death Valley on our left and the 400-foot tall sand dunes below to our right that glowed yellow like small ribbons. The road became glorious hardpack. The Joshua trees laughed at us. We jumped, whooped, and howled with delight. These were the only sounds, aside from the tailwind whooshing.
After we took a break for lunch, the fastest descent of the day was a magical moment in which I realized we were surrounded by a truly ancient landscape. Humans rarely see a place almost untouched by people. The prehistoric Californian mountains were twice as big and the desert twice as wide as I could have imagined. From the valley at sea level, to the mountains rising 10,000 feet above, my eyes were stunned. Damn, California, you sure are beautiful.
Of course, for these highs we paid terribly.
The backside of climb Cerro Gordo punished us for more than an hour. Tyler’s knee really hurt. For a time, he didn’t think he could continue. I encouraged him, and he later found his rhythm. My back started to hurt. It was so bad I had to actually sit down and stretch. I got back up and just put on foot in front of the other, knowing if it was like everything else on this trip it was bound to improve.
Improve it did. Reaching the top of Cerro Gordo, we were treated to a tour of the mine museum by famous “Ghost Town Living” YouTuber Brent Underwood.
He told us how 4,000 desperate minors, working 80+ mine shafts in search of silver and lead ore, once inhabited the ghost town. In perspective, we don’t have it so bad.
Our 5,000-foot descent into the sunset was like the ending of some kind of movie. It was so surreal. The silver of the Lakes below showing like mirrors. We stopped several times to shake out our hands and take photos. Once again we rode into the dark, speeding down the pavement, but we had zero regrets about lingering at the site too long. We had seen some epic shit that day. It was the kind of ride that could have been 2 days.
