The New “New” Death Valley Encounter, 2006

DVE History: For a lot of years the original Death Valley four day ride started in Panamint Springs and wound its way through the actual Death Valley Park, going from Panamint Springs to Lee’s Flat, Ubehebe Crater, Furnace Creek, right smack down the middle of the valley, and ending with a massive ride across two mountain ranges to exit Death Valley itself. In 1997 Jackie had to make some changes, since there were too many problems with the ride going through Furnace Creek, as well as it being an absolute nightmare to crew. (Oh, it was a pain! They averaged a couple of broken trucks a year) This brought forth the first new DVE ride, where the ride started outside the park in Trona, running mostly through the Panamint Valley, with a jaunt into the park, when we rode up to the top of the world at Rogers Pass on day two. In 2006 we now have the next version of the ride; we could not go to Panamint Springs due to an ownership change and outrageous price increase, so the ride now started outside of Red Mountain for the first two days. Jackie is turning over the management of the legacy event to Dave Nicholson, so the two worked together this year in sort of a transition effort.

Judy and I were at the ride for the thirteenth time- that’s a lot of DVE’s! It has always been one of our favorite events. We came down this year with Judy’s horse Wabi, our seventeen year old friend Victoria and one of her friend Karen Botiani’s horses Piper, and of course my own Dawn. Last Year’s DVE was mister D’s first multi-day ride, in which he rode through all four days with amazing ease. He’s doing a great job so far; I could not be more pleased with him if I tried. Oh yes, in the desert his name is Ned, but I’ll just keep on calling him Don for consistencies sake. This would be Victoria’s first real multi day, and boy, was she excited. We drove down to Ridgecrest on the day after Christmas, a bad driving day, and found plenty of driving misery on Highway 5. The traffic was awful in spots, causing us painful delays as we crawled along south. After a horse rest stop in Lost Hills, we finally made it to Jackie’s in Ridgecrest in the dark, where we put the horses up for the night. It was a little windy on Tuesday night, but nothing unmanageable. On Wednesday morning the wind was blowing a moderate gale force as we loaded back up and headed out to the base camp, just off highway 395 on the Garlock cutoff road. The camper was wallowing around in the wind a little more than I was comfortable with; we switched the radio to the weather channel. For the desert: clear, cold, and 30-40 MPH sustained winds with gusts to 80 MPH. EIGHTY MILES AN HOUR! That’s big wind. We had heard that Jackie’s small travel trailer had been parked out in the desert to help “reserve” the camp, but was stolen, along with a lot of the ride management stuff, including awards, inside. Oh great! The wind was howling a little too much as we set up camp. We made an incredibly lucky move when I decided to pull right into the desert, before the beginning of the little dry lake area where most people were parked. Closer to the water, don’t ya know! We were going to take the horses for a ride, but the wind was blowing too hard for comfort, so we stationed the rig to act as a wind block for the horses and just went inside. (Where I soundly trounced Victoria in Gin Rummy) A while later we actually took them for a walk in the wind, which was not that bad, all things considering. At about 6:30 pm the wind just stopped; it was like the proverbial fan switch had been flipped to off. The ride meeting was held in the calm, and we were able to prep for the ride and pack our saddles without the constant wind in our faces. There are no hurricanes in the desert, or at least I didn’t think so. It turns out we were in the eye of the storm, as the desert gods let ‘er rip again after we went to bed. It was like trying to sleep in a boat in a huge storm at sea. The camper was just moving, and rocking, and swaying, back and forth, continually, with the sound of the wind tearing things off the roof and sides of the rig keeping me awake all night.

It never let up- at 5:30 am the stupid little alarms went off, which I didn’t need, since I was awake most of the night anyway. The camper was still swaying at sea, with the wind howling outside in the dark. It took two people to open and close the camper door to save it from being torn right off the rig every time you opened it. I went outside- it was solid dust, everywhere. The horse’s water buckets had about a half inch of sand in the bottoms. There was not a spec of hay to be seen, anywhere. Those poor guys who were parked in the main part of camp, on the dry lake bed, were engulfed in a total grey out. (That’s like a white out in the snow, only with dust) There was dirt in every nook, cranny, hole, space, slot, cup, bowl, hat- it was pretty grim. But what the heck- we have a ride to do here! We saddled up and led the horses out to the start, through the dust bowl and out into the desert. There were about fifteen people who elected to not ride; we would see if that was a wise choice. Don was a little nervous about the wind, so I stuck him behind Wabi and he went along fine, his head turned to the side to keep the blowing sand out of his eyes. Judy and Wabi led Victoria and I down a long fire road along the railroad tracks, where we discovered that the wind was not so bad once we were out of that little valley where camp was. Sure, it was windy, but the further we got into the ride the better it became. We could even talk to each other! We rode along the tracks to the East for about 5 miles and crossed over highway 395, which had been closed in spots due to the winds. The trail continued along the tracks until we hung a right and headed south in a sand wash up a slight grade towards the town of Red Mountain. Judy found a radio in a Velcro pouch on the ground, and for some reason thought it belonged to Les Carr. Turns out it did- the amazing Tulip had given Les a flying lesson earlier in the ride. This is Tulip, the horse, if able to finish three days this week, would become the new AERC high mileage horse of all time. This wily critter has over18,000 miles and is still bucking his rider off! I always hear people say “Maybe with some miles my horse will get better…..”

Les thanked us for his radio; we continued down the mountain to the water stop and pulse and go vet check at the highway. We crossed the highway and headed into the little town of Randsburg, which is billed as a living ghost town. We rode right down the main street- it reminded me a little of an old western town, with a paved main street, but with more modern buildings. It was very interesting, and kind of neat. Don was busy looking at all the stuff flapping in the wind everywhere, so I hopped off and led him down the main street, his shoes clip-clopping on the pavement. We passed a trio of dirt bikers who were taking a break in front of a bar. I said hi; they asked was this an endurance ride or something? I said yep, 200 miles. The one guy did the classic: “Huh?” and dropped his jaw. “On a horse?” “Yep.” “You guys are nuts!” Maybe, but if so, I’m proud to be nuts. Especially on a horse like mine. We mounted back up at the end of the Dodge City main street and headed back out into the desert. We had to pass through some junk yards, through the worlds littlest sand dune, and along a neat old rock quarry, but we finally headed downhill and back in to the desert for the long trip across the valley to base camp. It was a straight shot on a nice, soft road about 5 miles back to camp, but the wind was pretty intense down in the valley. Not un-rideable by any means, but windy enough to be annoying, since you could not talk to each other very well. We kept seeing mushroom clouds of dust billowing out from someplace across the valley as we headed north; of course it had to be coming from our base camp. The little dry lake bed was like a dust machine, the wind churning out as much dirt as could be imaginable. Those poor guys parked down there were hating life, and most tried to relocate their camp anywhere but there. Gretchen and Merri, who had declined to ride on day one, were working as in-timers, and looked as if they had just finished the Baja 1000, without goggles. They didn’t need to hear that the conditions were way better on the trail than in camp!

We put the horses on the other side of the trailer, since the wind had shifted; we pried the door of the camper open, and went in for lunch. We enjoyed peanut butter, jelly, and sand sandwiches, turkey, cheese, and sand, BBQ chips with a side of sand. For desert? Christmas cookies and sand, and fudge with sand. The Dr Pepper? That sand can’t get in there! It was nice to be out of the wind, however. We went back out into the storm to do the second loop that headed up into the low mountains behind camp. We climbed up some rocky roads at a walk, while the wind howled up the canyons. The higher we got, the windier it got. I was leading on Don, about a hundred feet ahead of Judy and Victoria, as we reached the little summit. As we crested the hill, a gust of wind blasted into us that had to be upwards of 50-60 Miles an hour, maybe higher. It startled poor Don, as can be expected, since I was almost blown from his back. He jumped to the left big time and started doing a little rodeo, trying with no success to get out of the wind. I spun him in a few circles and parked him next to Wabi, which helped. He stopped; I hopped off and apologized to him for that excitement. Wabi and Piper got a little freaked out as well, but all stood still once Don relaxed. We led them at a walk down off that little ridge, not being able to hear each other at all without shouting. (Ever used hand signals while horseback riding?) The trail headed down the back of the hills to a nice valley where the wind was not nearly as violent, thanks goodness. We started trotting on some nice roads that wound all over the place between mountains, canyons, and old mines. It was pretty in here; the road crossed a natural spring, but abruptly ended and dumped us into a little wash that culminated with a rock drop off the horses had to jump down. Wabi and Don hopped right down with us leading them, but Piper did not like it. He jumped down the sheer drop, but he slipped down, spun around, and jumped back up. I went back up on foot and led him down, which he did this time, but then he fell again at the lower section of the solid rock trail that was real slippery. He scuffed himself a little, but there was no apparent damage, so on we went. We were now heading back to camp; Wabi was on the gas and led us on a great, fast trot for a few miles across a great meadow with perfect footing. We got to avoid the stupid wind tunnel at the top of the ridge by slipping through the mountains in a huge sand wash that let us trot most of the way back to the finish. The great dust bowl of 2006 was still blowing through camp, but luckily we were sort of protected from that billowing mess by our strategic parking job. We put the three horses on the other side of the trailer to get them out of the wind, pried the door of the camper open and went back inside. The thing was still being blown back and forth, but at least we made it back in with no further problems. We vetted the horses out in the dust cloud that was called camp, and then just hung out inside the camper listening to the wind, and wishing, ever so much, that it would just quit. Please. Pretty Please.

Someone listened to our request, because Friday morning arrived in desert splendor. The wind had stopped. It was cold out, but it could have been 10 below and snowing- I don’t think we would have cared. Since Judy was not riding today and was moving our rig, Victoria and I saddled up in the cold and headed back up that same nice wash we finished on yesterday. It was so beautiful out its hard to describe. As ugly as the weather in the desert can be at times, when it’s right, its like nothing else, anywhere. Clear blue sky, cool temps, and the air so clear you could see forever. The trail today was a new one as well; a point to point that would take us around Ridgecrest and almost to Trona. We started out climbing up in the mild hills that led up alongside that same valley we came down the day before. The trails were decent roads where we could trot and walk for the few rocky spots and hills. There were lots of riders to talk to today, since you could actually talk to them without shouting! We rode along for a while with my 20MT buddy Sharon Kirkpatrick. Once we crested the top of the little mountain range, we were routed into an incredible valley that was long, wide, slightly downhill, with a great road for trotting. It was really beautiful. We blasted down the nice road, stripping off layers of clothes as we went; I ended up in a long sleeve tee-shirt and was quite comfy. We trotted along for an hour or so; I realized I sort of recognized where we were, but not quite. We appeared at a sand pit, and like a light bulb coming on, I knew exactly where we were. This is the first vet check in the 20 Mule Team ride, which I have ridden a whole bunch of times, both on the horse, and marking trail on the dirt bike. We paused for a drink, a quick stop and go vet check, and then we picked up the 20MT trail backwards, back across the flats to the saddle, down the rocky road to the train trestle road, and over to the underpass. Unfortunately a bunch of people got lost here; I was pretty sure we continued on the 20MT trail backwards up the valley, and not to the highway crossing. A rider shouted “Here’s a ribbon!” We followed him for a bit until realizing this was wrong, so we backtracked under the trestle and picked up the deep sand wash. Yep- back on trail, no problem. We led about 10 horses up the grade that I have ridden down so many times, but never in this direction. We met up with Jane Cloud, riding her old trusty horse Ezer, right before we arrived at the vet check at the highway 395 crossing. Both Don and Piper were perfect for the vets, so we enjoyed a nice hour in the dead calm of the beautiful day. Remember Nick’s axiom of all vet checks? On a ride you are not enjoying, the hour holds go by in ten minutes, and on a perfect day the hour hold seems to take two hours. It took forever for the hour to end, but the horses were chowing down, so no problem. We headed out riding with Jane as we crossed the highway and headed up into the neat hills above Ridgecrest. These are nice rolling roads with perfect footing that lead up into the high hills and moon rocks above town. We were trotting along, having a good time, when we came across a few whoop-de-do’s in the road. These are the little rolling bumps that dirt bikes, bless their hearts, make in the trail. Victoria liked trotting through them, since the horse would go up and down like a roller coaster. She was trotting through the bumps, having a fun time, when Piper tripped; Victoria got vaulted right over the front of the horse and hit the ground with quite a thud. Ouch! I was in front and only heard it; Rob Lydon and his daughter were behind us and saw the crash. Victoria got right up and seemed to shake it off quickly, being all of seventeen years old. Kids bounce right back, not so with us old guys. Rob asked her a few questions to be sure she was firing on all cylinders, since she hit her helmeted head on the ground. She was fine, and hopped back up on Piper after walking a while to be sure he was okay. As we got going, Gretchen and Merri caught up to us; Gretchen’s horse Raffique was going like a holy terror- he was just sailing down the road! We could barely keep up with them for a bit, until they stopped for a bathroom break. Victoria and I continued on down the sandy valley at a fast trot, heading for Ridgecrest. We left them in the dust, which seemed a little strange, given the blazing speed they were going. (Later on Gretchen told me her horse thought he was going home. When they made the right turn away from the city, he said “Huh?” and slowed dramatically.) We now had nice, straight, flat soft roads to trot down for a few miles to get to the finish. We came up behind the BLM wild mustang corrals, where there are a few hundred Mustangs living in there. Don started talking to all of them, and several answered back. Those Mustangs were probably wondering what in the heck those Arabians were doing out in their desert. On we trotted along nice, soft roads; across a paved road, more trotting, then another road- we could see where the finish was, still about four miles away. We were trotting happily along when Victoria asked if we could walk for a bit. Sure- no problem. I asked her if she was okay- she said “Sure”, in her grown up voice, “Except when I trot sometimes my vision is a little blurry.” Oh boy, not good. We stopped immediately; I quickly checked for any other signs of a concussion: no dizziness, headache, nausea, or confusion; she knew her name and all that stuff. Everything else looked fine, but there’s no messing at all with a head injury, any head injury. I hopped off Don and we walked the last four miles to camp on foot; Victoria was going to hop off, too. “No, the horse gets to carry you in.” I kept checking with her constantly- I probably sounded like a parent. She was fine, and kept saying we could trot. Nope- in we walk. We made it in to camp at about 4:00 or so; we sat her down in a chair and told her to sit. Stay, Staaaay….. She kept wanting to help with the horses. We checked with Rob, the vet, who came over and gave her a quick look over. She felt and looked fine, but we decided, or at least I did, that she got to take the next day off just to be sure. She was okay with that, heck, she’s okay with pretty much anything. We loaded up the horses and trailered them the 15 miles to Valley Wells, outside the stinky town of Trona, where we were camping for the night.

Day three is the old Day one, point to point ride over the Slate mountain range, and down into the long Panimint valley. It’s a nice ride, and in this glorious weather it was even nicer. Since neither Judy nor Victoria was riding, I hooked up with Merri and Gretchen, and their friend Nancy from Idaho. We went out and did the first 12 mile loop through the outskirts of Trona in perfect conditions; I felt sorry for those folks who loaded up and went home after the first day. A quick vet check and we headed out down the dirt road that takes us to the climb up over the Slate range. We joined up with Tammy Robinson and her hubby Charlie as we approached the little summit. It is so neat- you are walking up a hill, and after cresting a little rise, you look out and see the whole valley just pop out in front of you. You can see for fifty miles up the massive canyon. I paused for a minute and thought about Julie Suhr; this is her favorite spot in the ride, and one of her favorite places there is to be on a horse. The funny thing was right then Tammy told me she was just thinking of Julie as well. We told each other- déjà vu, or something. Julie vu? Deja Suhr? Whatever, it was nice! We found a strange thing as we led the horses down the rocky road towards the wash and the valley below- two dogs were out running along, following different horses. Huh? I could not believe that anyone would bring their dogs out here, but that wasn’t the case. These two dogs had picked up riders outside of Valley Wells and had tagged along for the ride. At first I looked around and figured I was looking at two dead dogs walking- what a shame. We thought they must have wandered away from a camp somewhere and, well, that was it for them. Not so! These hearty beasts went along with the horses to the water stop, where Sparrow said they growled at him, had a drink, and took off with more horses on the trail. Endurance dogs! My Donnie has quite a fast walk; I had walked away from my riding buddies by about fifteen minutes in those few miles on foot, so I hung around at the water and waited for them to arrive. We started out on the 8 mile trek across the long dry lake bed that provides perfect footing, but is as flat as the proverbial pancake. Don and Nancy’s horse Jaz pretty much led our group along at just a splendid trot, where we kept picking up horses we were catching, until we had a nice little remuda motoring across the valley. Poor guys in back had to deal with the dust- sorry ‘bout that! We arrived at the vet check at the ghost town of Ballarat for a nice break; the horses were eating like crazy. After our 30 minute hold we zipped along the final 8 miles of flat roads to the Indian Ranch, our destination and finish line. I told Merri it would take us an hour and ten minutes, it took, well, an hour and 10 minutes. There were lots of wild burros around the ranch this year, we could hear them calling, and lots of people saw bunches of them, although I never did. I pulled into our camp, where Wabi and Don greeted each other with quite a chorus, only to be outdone by the coyote acapella that followed a little later. How cool is that to hear these guys, just screeching out in the desert? We enjoyed yet another great dinner with the group in the Montgomery mansion on wheels. Like Judy says, I still don’t want one of these huge rigs, but hey, I sure like knowing people who have ‘em! Gretchen’s hubby Mike is an unbelievable crew- he just takes care of everyone as if they were his own. And oh my, how good that cold beer tasted! I was happy to see Victoria was bouncing around, sad that she had missed the day, but very anxious to go on day four.

Ah yes, day four, the old day two. We were in for a special treat, since rather than going all the way up to Rogers pass, which is a big climb, we got to go and visit Sparrow’s mine up in the mountains, near the pass. Cool! I have never been there, but have heard of it for many years. We started out in the very cold morning, to the tune of 25 degrees in camp. No problem- no wind. Gretchen started out on Rafiqque, but turned back after a mile or so, since he was showing some signs of a problem in his rear end. The fingers and toes were tingling as we trotted back towards Ballarat on the nice road, but the air warmed up nicely as we started the walk up the mountain. This day is kind of bizarre, because you trot 8 miles, then climb up 6500 feet in eleven miles. Do the math- that’s a climb! The road is all rocks and hard as hammers, so we just walk the whole thing. Up, Up, Up, through the strange springs that dump rivers of water on the road. Out here? Uh oh- that nasty sound we all hate to hear was coming from Piper’s right rear shoe- it was going ting, ting, meaning it was loose. We stopped and took a look- let’s just watch for it to come off and stick the easy boot on. Up past the old mines, the weird little ghost town, up, and more up. Smoke was coming from the roof of a small cabin across the canyon- it would have been ugly cold in there last night! There is a nice water stop at 8 miles, and just past that we make the left turn that heads up to the mine. The old ride trail flattens out here a little and continues on straight, but we were going up again. Up? How about straight up! The next two miles were really, really steep switchbacks, and of course the road is completely rocks. It was a long, hard grunt up that thing. Several horses stopped, and just did not want to go any further. My Don? Motored up like a little train. He powered up the steep climb, towing Piper along in his wake. Wabi had a few “Why am I doing this?” pauses, but carried Judy to the tippy top of the mountain. It didn’t help some of the horses that we were constantly coming across horses heading down the road we were climbing. Some riders had to lead up parts of this monster on foot, as their horses had just about enough of this, thank you. We finally got to the top of the pass, and came across an incredible valley out beyond the summit I have never seen before. We were just stunned at the view. The climb up here is much tougher than the old Rogers pass route, but what the heck- this was special. The trail turned to the right onto a nice, mostly flat road covered in snow that led a mile and a quarter to the mine. We walked along, just marveling at the view, when we were met at the mine by Louie, Sparrow’s caretaker. He took our names and showed us the view of the Sierra Nevada mountains that you could see, as clear as can be, over 120 miles away. It was as clear as I have ever see up there; I can’t say enough about how neat this place was. Go up it in the blinding wind and snow? Thanks, no. Live here? You have to be kidding. But for the forty or so horses who braved that climb on this day, it was worth it to make it to a place that not many humans get to see. Piper’s shoe was still clinging on for dear life; it had made it up that unbelievable climb, how long would it stay on heading down? We turned around and started the walk back through the snow to the steep downhill. Pretty much everyone who headed down said the same thing- we rode up this? Yikes! We led down on foot, needing to walk down sideways in places it was so steep. We walked over the dead coyote (Eeeyuuuw!) and made our way all the way back down to the water. Boy, its easier going down than up this thing! We then started the 8 mile walk back down that mountain. Judy and Victoria made it about half way before hopping back up, but I slogged all the way down that rock infested, concrete hard, mountain road on foot with my boy beside me. It really feels nice to walk on level ground after three hours of walking down a monster like that; your legs don’t know how to react! A nice hour lunch hold gave us a break, and sitting down on the rocky ground felt pretty good. Mike and Gretchen were there to help crew for Merri and our gang, and the cold beer sure hit the spot. Everyone in the vet check could hear Piper’s shoe, but it was still there. This is a long, slow day due to all the walking; the sun was dipping down behind the mountains as we started out down the 8 mile road towards camp and the finish. If you have not seen this area at sunset, with perfect weather, you can’t imagine how beautiful it is. The last bits of setting sunlight just burn the colors into the tops of the huge mountain range that we had just come off. We trotted along at a fine pace, the three horses bopping along towards the finish. It was dark as we made the final little turn on the road, only a mile or so to go. The moon was out and provided the perfect amount of light that reflected off of the little lake near camp. (Yes, there is water here, its winter, remember?) We decided to walk in, not because we were tired, or sore, or the horses wanted to, but because Judy and I just did not want it to be over. Victoria was jazzed- she had never ridden at night, and what a place to try it out. The horses all felt fresh; it was the best Wabi has ever done to date. We walked along in silence, looking at the moon, the mountains, and those incredible stars, milking the experience for every moment we could. But alas, all good things must come to an end. We finished up the ride, untacked, and let our horses roll like wild dust machines in the soft sand. They said thank you! And that shoe? As thin as a post-it note, but still clinging to Piper’s hoof. Amazing! Victoria is going to save it as the ultimate lucky horse shoe. Its too thin to have any value as scrap metal!

We took nice hot showers and went over to the awards ceremony and New Years Eve party, but didn’t stay around too long. I did learn that only eleven horses did all four days, my Donzo was among them. Rob Lydon and his daughter did all four days each, in their first ever multiday. Great job, guys! Jackie gave Les a plaque for Tulip’s accomplishment – the highest mileage horse in AERC history. The party room was pretty small, so after we collected our goodies and chatted with people, we all adjourned to the Montgomery trailer palace again, where we had a really fun evening with our friends. No, we didn’t make to midnight. At one point there were stories going around about trailering porta-potties, and the problems associated with driving too fast, over rough roads. With no duct tape. I have not laughed that hard in a long time. It was a great end to another wonderful week. Dave and Jackie have a few things to iron out for next year, but I’m glad the ride will continue without Jackie, as we will miss her a whole lot as the ride manager. But no, now she will get to ride! Even better.

See you next year-

Nick Warhol

Hayward, Ca.