CLIMBING EXTRAGAGANZA DAY 3,4 (APRIL 29,30): WHITNEY PORTAL AND DEATH VALLEY
Unfortunately, I forgot the camera this weekend. Too bad, because the scenery was incredible, just like the other days. Not to mention the 4-inch long scorpion road kill and the baby rattlesnake we saw on the road. I had the realization that I love this area more than any other place in the world. Before I go into this epiphany, I should write a bit about the climb up Whitney Portal yesterday. We had a guest appearance by Jeff Putman, a Lone Pine resident and super-athlete (without the training or the competition) who can do about any activity, however long and difficult, off the couch. Jeff is a teacher, coach, mountaineer and dear, dear friend that we were lucky to drag out with us for the weekend. Jeff rode his mountain bike up the 8,300ft climb while the rest of us cruised on skinny-tyre road bikes.
We rolled out of Lone Pine (a small town along the busy 395 that has managed to not grow too much since the boom of Mammoth Lakes, 100 miles north, about 7 years ago) at about 8:30am. The road brought us first past the Alabama Hills- think of old westerns and Flinstone movie sets and this is what the massive boulder fields clumped together like pistachio nuts looks like. In fact, after visiting the Movie Museum in Lone Pine, I realised that most westerns were filmed here as well as parts of Gladiator, Star Trek and others famous flicks.
From the Alabama Hills up the slope of the valley we entered the few switchbacks that can be seen from the 395 highway below- a little bit steep but nothing like the pitch of Onion Valley a few days ago. Soon, the road snaked along the bare granite cliff to the right, littered with the odd rockslide or gravel debris, and a fair amount of traffic but not enough to be irritating. It was the opening day of fishing season and Mt. Whitney happens to be the ‘highest peak in the lower 48 states’ topping out at about 14,600 feet or so. With some lakes up top and the beautiful scenery it’s no surprise people flock there, to fish or not to fish.
The Portal road ends at 8,300 feet and the last time I was up there was with Jeff and Peter, in the dark, starting a 14-hour day of ascending and descending Mount Whitney up the ‘mountaineers route’ (of course, on foot, not on bike!). We froze our butts off and were pelted by rocks while inching our way up the chute to the right of the granite peak. I could see the entire route we walked while climbing up the road on our bicycles in the hot, dry sun. That cold day in early January we saw not more than seven people the entire time. (Jeff wrote a story about this day and it’s in the ‘Globe Trotting’ section of Clara Central this website -it’s worth the read!)
But that was a whole other time, and though there were people up at the trailhead fishing and enjoying the area, it was wonderful to sit out on the porch of the ‘closed for season’ store and bask in the sun. It was so warm there was no need to put on a jacket (not that I had one).
I realise, after going a place that I had previously only driven to, that the experience and appreciation is nothing compared to that one gets on the bike. Not that it’s easy, and not that anyone can do something like this off the couch (unless you’re a freak of nature like Jeff Putman), but there has to be some way to get people out of their cars to gain a sense of where they are. And I’m not talking jumping out of the car at vista points to snap a quick picture and then rush to the next spot to do the same. To walk, ride or even sit in nature doing nothing else but what you’re doing is nourishment for the soul. The more I ride and move through this landscape at my own snails pace, the more patient and calm I feel. In the present world, this is a difficult mindset to obtain. I suppose it’s something earned, every thousand of feet of climbing of the way.
DEATH VALLEY
With a takeout pizza and cars full of bikes, gear, water and the four of us, we set out late for Death Valley. Why late? Well, because the daytime high in the springtime is a balmy 105 degrees. With the massive expanse of the National Park, and our tiny tents, this meant a hoped arrival after sunset, and a departure at first light, around 6am.
All went according to plan until we discovered, after the 1-1/2 hour drive from Lone Pine, that Kathleen had inadvertently left her bag of cycling gear in Jeff’s Wife’s car. After much discussion, Kathleen decided to accept our offers of loaned clothing, glasses et al and tackle the climb in her running shoes. Normally this would not be a problem, but tennis shoes on the tiny clipless pedals had the potential for a foot burn from h***. After driving this far, it was worth a try. We all knew but didn’t say she would do the 5000-foot climb, no problem. And she did.
Getting up at 5am was probably the most difficult thing of the day. Not the 8000 feet of climbing Peter and I did, over two mountain passes; not the heat, nor the effort- it was that obscene hour of getting up when I thought it was only 3am, puffy-eyed and grumpy, and starting the day with the cycling clothes sweaty from the day before after lending Kathleen my clothes for day two. It took me about a half hour to wake up and feel remotely human.
Starting the day at 5 feet above sea level at Stovepipe Wells and riding up, up, up to the first summit just below 5000 feet was a treat with the mellow gradient and wildflowers all around. From the car, the desert seemed dry and barren (unless you’re Kathleen, who can spot the only wildflower in a hundred mile radius from a speeding car- she’s a passionate Botanist after all!). From the bike, the landscape unfolded into a refuge of flowering shrubs and the tiniest wildflowers, and to a birder’s delight a place of multiple species fluttering about. Not to mention that scorpion and rattlesnake on the road. Moving through the desert and absorbing the sights, sounds and smells of raw nature put me in a trance.
Jeff rode 2000feet of the climb and Kathleen turned around at the summit of Towne’s Pass, while Peter and I were lucky enough to continue up and over Towne’s, through Panament Valley and then up to the summit of ‘Father Crowley’ pass. Riding down Towne’s was a blast- one of those descents that you can safely fly at about 100km per hour. I mixed in with a group of four motorcyclists for maybe a few miles, absolutely flying at about 60 miles per hour and remembering for a moment what it was like to be a bike racer and actually feel safe at this speed. After just over 4 hours of riding, we summited the second climb right about when Kathleen caught up in her vehicle, loaded the car and drove back to Lone Pine where we gorged on pizza, sub sandwiches and root beer.
To go back to the beginning of this recollection of day 3&4 of our ‘climbing extravaganza’, what I realised that day is this is possibly the most varied and spectacular places on the planet. Where else can one ride up to the trailhead of routes of varying difficulties up the highest peak in the mass of land making up the lower 48 states, then less than 100 miles away begin a ride that starts just 5 feet above sea level? About three and a half years of my life were spent in this region living and training as a cyclist, and these past few days were a clear reminder of why I will always come back, as long as I’m mobile, to experience this awesome chunk of the planet and be filled with the energy from the landscape and open space it offers. I have to admit, this is my favourite place in the world. And it’s not just because of the land; it’s the people and the friends who are like family to Peter and me that make for such and extraordinary experience each and every time we come back. What a gift to know a place so intimately. A gift that is earned though sweat and imagination, and not much more!
