After being denied access to Scotty's Castle, I headed for the end of the pavement at Ubehebe Crater, pronounced 'YOO-bee-Hee-bee.' The wind here was incredibly strong. I took my glasses off for this photo because I was afraid they would blow off into the crater if I didn't.
Perhaps as recently as 800 years ago, magma flowing near the surface super-heated the groundwater, causing a steam explosion that resulted in this half-mile wide by 700-foot deep hole. There's a walking trail that circles the rim, but the sun was already sinking low, and I still had 30 miles of rough road between here and my campsite.
I'd been hoping that the washboards would be better on this road than the last - they were worse! At least I wasn't heading directly into the sun this time.
It was also beginning to cool down, which was very nice, indeed!
And the slow speed required by the extreme washboarded surface made it easier to stop for photos, like this one of a Joshua tree forest under the nearly full moon.
Forward progress was very slow, however, and I started to wonder if I would make it to the Racetrack Playa before dark.
Six miles before the playa (dry lake bed) there is a fork in the road, where it is customary for travelers to hang teakettles with messages on or inside them. I've seen pictures of this sign in motorcycle and 4 x 4 magazines since I was a kid, and in my mind, it has always symbolized exotic adventure travel. For me, making it to Teakettle Junction was more of an accomplishment than the famous playa, six miles beyond, or even than Death Valley itself.
It was very appropriate that the 21-mile road from the pavement was so grueling. Despite all our modern advancements, Teakettle Junction remains a fairly difficult place to access.
A quick internet search revealed very little about the how, why, or when of Teakettle Junction - and that's a good thing - just adds to the mystique and appeal.
Mountain climbers have the 'Seven Summits' and adventure travelers have places like Teakettle Junction, Ushuaia's 'Fin del Mundo' sign, and the Arctic Circle sign on Alaska's Dalton Highway. More on that last one later this summer - if all goes well.
The last 6 miles to the playa was even worse than the previous 21 - yes, that is possible. After being all alone since leaving the pavement hours ago, I did a U-turn in the playa parking lot and found myself nose to nose with this guy in his little rental car! From what I hear and what I've seen, Western Europe is pretty much completely paved now. The people there may not even know about high-clearance vehicles, so he may not have been aware that that was an option at the rental counter. They do know about off-road motorcycles, however, and my KTM, in fact, was designed and manufactured there. So when I asked my fellow adventurer that day where he was from and he answered, "Austria." I immediately asked if I could take his picture in front of my Austrian motorcycle!
Would love to have seen the underside of that car, when he finally made it back to the pavement that night!
The Racetrack Playa is a mysterious place where rocks seem to travel across the lake bed with no discernible means of propulsion. At first glance, I didn't see any of the traveling stones I had read about in my geology texts in college.
The little pebbles on the surface at my feet were far too small. They could easily be blown about by the wind. No mystery there.
There were some larger stones farther out, so I began to make my way across the dry lake.
This was the best example I could find. Though I admit, I didn't walk all the way to the other side, where there appeared to be more. The ones in the text books have obvious trails leading directly to the rock and stopping there, as though someone had pushed the massive stone through the mud to its new resting place. This one seems to have a trail that passes all the way under the rock. Hmmmm. Maybe I discovered an entirely new phenomenon and should write something up for a scientific journal!
But it was getting dark, and I still had a couple miles to go to get to the supposed 'undeveloped' campground where I would stop for the night.
And here it is! End of the trail. The tiny structure across the road (just above my helmet and to the left) is the port-a-potty - the only development save for the few graded-out parking spots and rock campfire rings.
I took a few shots of my spot before unloading and setting up the tent. There was one other couple across the road and behind me a bit, in an old Toyota pick-up. They'd been here for a week, but while amiable enough, were still not very chatty. All was very quiet that night.
And the moon, and later the stars, were beyond adequate description.
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