Crusty Cassette

"Shorts weather," I reported stepping from Scott's Telstar circa 1989 RV onto the pavement in Beatty, Nevada on the 16th of February, 2008.

It hadn't been shorts weather yet. In fact we were all prepared for cold. Scott inherited the RV from his mother and, while he had made sure it ran, he hadn't figured out the heating. By the time we picked up Steve in Payette, it was getting cold inside. Those banks of snow we could see along the road fro mNew Meadows hadn't helped.

Maybe the drafty windows had something to do with it too.

"It's too cold to sleep," Steve said sitting the table in the RV. Doug stretched out on the floor with a pillow just for the occasion and his eyes closed. The RV had a bed but with two BOBs and a Burley trailer, there wouldn't be much human use of that bunk. On the way back, Doug made sure to correct that error.

Four bikes loaded Doug's hitch on the back, so Setve's Gunner got ride inside, its rear wheel trying to hide in the bathroom, the front protruding into the passenger space.

"I'm surprised the sleeping bags haven't come out yet," Steve quipped.

Too much work to get to them, I thought, nodding off in my seat.

We started in Lewiston about 2, picked up Steve at the National Guard Armory in Payettte about 7:30 and still had four more hours before stopping for the night in Winnemucca. Scott and Doug took turns driving. Several deer crossing in the dark gave us a thrill and Scott reported some coyote. Four hours and chill to the bone, we pulled into the Motel 6 and Scott switched on the fan. Wonderful. At least there would be a promise of heat for the morning.

Promise was all it was, however. If you weren't driving or riding shotgun, that leaky window sucked all the heat out of the RV. We were treated to bright sunshine and snow capped peaks. Sagebrush dominated the landscape but Doug promised us a forest but all we saw were scattered junipers and even sadder Joshua trees.

A healthy example of a Joshua tree

The roadside snow receded as we lost elevation but when we stopped for gas--this RV doesn't pass a gas station (undependable gas gauge)--chill winds and icy footing greeted us.

100 miles from Beatty found all the snow gone leaving mere desolation. The wind was fierce and I began to have second thoughts. "What have I gotten myself into?" Did I just say that out loud?

So now I'm officially chief whiner for the trip. That's okay--the shoe fits. Doug's a little bummed. He thought whining was his job and now with Jen having joined TRC he's no longer the youngest member. "I'm nobody," he complained. Well, maybe he's still chief whiner. In any case we make Doug a TRC board member back in Clarkston at the bulsiness meeting. Your somebody, Doug. Just who, we are not sure, though.

So light winds and temps in the high 70s took us by surprise in Beatty. After 15 or so hours of driving, we were anxious to ride out the six or so miles to Rhyolite--a ghost town which once had 10,000 citizens in 1908.

Rhyolite

Skeptical about putting on short sleeves and shorts after having been so cold for so long, we nevertheless suited up and headed out. We couldn't check in yet anyway despite its being nearly three and check in time being 2. Add that to Doug's Waitress story for later.

Rhyolite is not in the park proper and appears to be on private property. Don't picture an old west town. The remains are brick and stone--a school, two banks, and a train station fully restored for a Hollywood movie. A house made of glass bottles embedded in stucco and a mercantile nestled together at the other end of town. Chain link fence marred thet depot and glass house for picture taking but we tried anyway.

Glass house and Scott

Train Depot

No chain link fence obscured the impromptu ob jet d'art we found nearby. An arrangement of statues mimicking the Last Supper. The figures were only empty robes in stark white plaster.Also a giant lego woman knelt in prayer and another ghostly robe held a bicycle--spooky for cyclists heading toward Death Valley.

But most popular was the ceramic couch with toys and pots embedded. We had to have a picture.

Steve reclines

The five of us hitch up our trailers and panniers (Steve, you know who you are) and head into Death Valley. We know we'll hit gravel on Titus Canyon road. But we didn't know how much or how steep. It will be mine and Jen's first experience pulling a trailer.

We won't be cold again until the last day leaving the valley. And Scott's discovered the window's open, not leaky. It's all good or seems so . . .

For the ride of it--Corrie

I Should have listend to my mother. I f I had, though, I wouldn't have been dragging a fully loaded trailer over 18% ascents through thick gravel, descending corduroy roads trailer bouncing behind through gelological time, or changing my soaking clothes in a filthy men's room in Beatty, Nevada while I shivered and the urinals overflowed.

"Don't talk to bad men." I should have listened.

Doug tells me I must unveil the tale one day at a time so I'll begin with the cast of characters today. Look for more pictures and adventures to come.

Cast of Characters

Doug

Doug seems like a pretty sane guy. He likes to take it slow down hill--sees no point in risking injury. I like that.

Still he does have that questionable tendency to just take off on a trip which got me into that Weiser River trip lsst fall. When his mind is set, he's gone. Several times he'd finished dinner and just left. He'd get up some mornings before dawn and just go for long walks in the moonlight.

Suspicious behavior for sure. And then there's the story of Doug's Waitress. I'll save that for later. For now, I should note, I should have recognized the bad man in Doug much earlier.

Jen and Scott at Rhyolite

Scott is Doug's friend and former boss from work. They've had 14 years to develop their bizarre relationship. Scott has joined us for rides a couple of times being laid back, never pushing the pace. Who knew he liked to hurt himself? He's run ultra marathons and while they might be in his past, his fundamental masochism showed up on this trip. His dérailleur became fouled so that he couldn't use the smallest front chain ring--granny. He made the toughest climb up Towne Pass in his middle chain ring.

In camp he decided to fix the problem which he did revealing that he not only had carried two large cameras and a lot of water but also a well-stocked set of bike tools meant for the bench.

Scott pulled two links from his chain earning him a front granny but losing the two largest gears in back. So did he use that granny gear to climb from Stove Pipe Wells to Beatty on the last day? "No. Where's the fun in that?" He might just as well have said, "Hurt me again."

Jen is Scott's fiance. She and Scott are both trained adventure cycling leaders. She also helped organize the Idaho Bicycle Ride last year. She has, however, never pulled a trailer before. She probably outweighed her bike and loaded trailer, but not by much.

Doug claims he heard her complain a time or two on the big pushes and in the cold, but I never did. And she took more than her fair share of pulls. If she's marrying Scott, she's likely a very dangerous woman.

Steve on his Gunner

Steve quit his job to ride across America a couple of seasons ago. What else do I need to say to show you how dangerous he is? Well, maybe that his training plan for this ride was a century ridden after having recovered from breaking the L1 and L2 vertebrae. He figures the best way to get back into cycling shape is to do his first ever fully-loaded mountain bike tour. He even bought new front rack and panniers for this trip. Definitely not safe and sound of body and mind.

That's me, the novice tourist on the right

Corrie has studiously avoided buying any bike that could reasonably be used on a tour. Some how I fell into this bad company. I don't like to drive farther than than the distance I'm going to bike, so what was I doing 900 miles from home with a freshly purchased Burley Nomad hitched to my mountain bike?

Critical mass. With McCracken and Goodenough lobbying for tours and actually doing them and my having no good excuses, I gave in to their blandishments.

I should have listened to my mother.

Scott had to impune Doug's manhood to get him to come out on the wet pavement, but the Death Valley Team minus Steve made the Lapwai Loop Saturday morning despite wet pavement, east winds, and Scott's insistence that we ride it reversed.

Scott and Jen live in the Orchards near where Cliff used to lilve. They had already ridden down Tammany and didn't want to ride back. I was just glad anyone had shown up at all.

Doug and Scott have mapped out a four day self-supported tour in Death Valley and I have joined in. They report about 176 miles of cycling on mountain bikes with trailers, panniers, the whole disaster. Now they have begun to mention four mile high passes. Since I hadn't done anlything ride longer than 35 miles, I really wanted to push myself a bit. They must have felt the same for there was nothing inviting about the morning's dark aspect.

I'm riding with a gps these days and I like knowing the grade and seeing total elevation afterwards. The backside of Web Ridge turns out to be 9% at its worst. Too bad that comes after a couple of miles of 3, 4, and 5% riding.

Just to top off the day, Doug and I had a head wind down Tammany. Doug kept saying he didn't mind 'cause it was downhill. I hate having to pedal downhill. Didn't Sean tell me this Pilot would pedal itself?

For the ride of it. --Corrie