Impossible Route: Death Valley Day 7
March 7 – Lone Pine to Bishop: 91 Miles
For our final day of the route, we set out from Lone Pine excited to zip through the Alabama Hills used in countless Hollywood movies. The snow visible on the high Sierras meant we had crossed the desert and reached the other side of the great Mojave. So very close to our finish line, a sense of relief arrived.
We splashed through several streams of glass-clear water. I’ll never look at water the same again in my life. Every drop is so precious, when you’ve had none. We had fortunate tailwinds this final day, and sped our Grails along the dirt roller coaster of 20-foot tall hills.
We saw a monument in the distance. It was a white obelisk standing out against the bleak sagebrush. We soon arrived at the cemetery memorial for the internment camp called Manzanar. Here Japanese-Americans were imprisoned during World War II. There were forced from their homes into this isolated place. We stopped for a moment of silence. I wondered at the lessons I could learn here.
We moved on. The wind strong at our back like propellers, we flew through sandy flat stretches filled with huge satellite dishes and flanked by massive mountains. It was a strange place. I had a flat. Tyler yelled. I went to work putting a thumb on it to stop the air from coming out, I got a plug to work and it was good thing because I’d lost my pump! Not good. No pump out here can be a big problem. Tyler had a tiny CO2, so we rode on eggshells for a while.
Then, we rode through some moon dust. This was something I’ve never ridden before, and I might never ride again. It would splash like dry mud, leaving splotches on our clothing.
We approach the final climb and we could see a winter storm was moving in over the Sierras. The sky turned into steel wool. We had some navigational challenges, but we made it to the top of our climb and saw a gem of a glacier’s snow and rock shimmer from the eastern Sierras.
The final approach into Bishop is into a purple sunset a glowing orb atop a pyramid Peak the wind ripping crosswind seems the last thing the desert to throw at us. We sped through the finish. I was relieved and happy, and Tyler was over the moon joyous. He was like a kid that just spent the day in Disneyland.
Elated, Tyler and I rode up to the camper and were greeted by the smiles of our media team.
“We made it!” Tyler said, doing a rear wheel skid to finish.
Slip, BAM! Tyler dropped straight to the ground and landed square on his hip. The guys all started laughing until they realized the severity of his crash. He hit an oil patch on the pavement, his tire slipped and the bike whipped out from underneath of him. The celebration was very short-lived. Tyler was in pain and we needed to get him to the hospital. Our group said bittersweet goodbyes and parted ways a bit bummed, and a bit relieved.
X-Rays soon revealed Tyler had broken his hip. So it would be. Like Greek tragedy, our quest’s highs were dealt some lowest lows.
Despite my expectations of finding desolate landscapes, gloom, and physical pain, the Impossible Route: Death Valley was quite the contrary. It was the most alive I’ve ever felt. It’s a beautiful thing to be alive for the short time we are here; a gift we all give back to the earth in time. Though the ride was a challenge, it brought a lot of joy, wonder, and even hope that great places like this can be preserved. I hope more riders go there, test themselves, enjoy the great places along the way, and leave with a greater respect for the land and a better understanding of themselves.
This is the final entry of a nine-part journal of the Impossible Route: Death Valley expedition. The journal is being released in conjunction with the feature documentary.
