Advise from Death Valley

What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

 If parched, don’t divine for her water

 If blistered, don’t hunt for her shade.

 If silence you seek… wander her rippled sands,

 But heed her savage song.

 Gnomeboy,  Poems under the Red Oak Tree

 

 

 

 

The desert night glittered from a blue black ceiling over a cloudless sky. I sat in silence betweens stars and sand.  Above eight thousand feet snow covered Telescope Peak (pic above).  Nearby, parents broke the predawn silence outlining  the milky way, the constellations, the planets, and  pointing to the satellite crossing into the Southwest skies.  Two uninterested daughters clamored for their warm beds.  Coated in predawn, azure light we waited for gravity to spotlight  Zabriskie Point, the Badlands, and  Badwater Basin, a thousand feet  below.  And then it happened… the line between heaven and earth faded as sunlight drifted down the Panamint Range (pic below). Soft winds swirled and mingled as the group gave a collective “Amen.”  Imaginations wandered into the sunshine.

 

 

Never underestimate the power, the scope, or the persistence of Mother Nature.  In Death Valley National Park I am her uninvited guest. Each ride, no matter how sunny and wind free the morning might be,  can turn hostile at a moments notice.  I’m not talking about some “Yahoo” with road rage, bent on blowing this 67 year old biker off the road with an overcompensating SUV.  No, two hundred and eighty-two feet below sea level Mother Nature rules Badwater Basin.  You feel her fingerprints on the painted canyon walls, the shifting sand dunes and the caustic salt flats (pics below).

 

 

 

 The mighty Telescope Peak (11,049 ft.) kneels before her wind and rain storms (pic above). They call the wind Mariah out here.  Sandstorms scrape mountains down to bare bones. Even with uplifting and faulting, the sandstone, siltstone, and mudrock are sand blasted into striped badlands of unquestioned artistry (pic below).  Scouring rains circulate rivers of gravel into alluvian fans on the salt flats below.   Mother Nature has a playground sense of justice in Death Valley.  Only an A game survives.

 

 

 

During each ride “safety” stays very basic. Sunscreen needs to be reapplied during the day.  To start hydrated and keep hydrated were my number one rule for the open road.  In Kentucky, most days I was no more than 15 miles from a convenient store and supplies.  However,  in Death Valley water is priceless.   I  kept 4 to 6 hours of fluids on the bike.  Most days I drank  64  oz.  before I left on a ride and then at least 16 oz. every hour on the road. In the desert I kept 2 quart bottles of gatorade in the back pouch along with 16 oz water bottle.  The bike frame stored two 18 oz bottles of water.  I no longer freeze the bottles or add ice.   On the road, ambient temp water is ok by me.

Death Valley sustains 51 species of native mammals, 307 species of birds, 36 species of reptiles, 3 species of amphibians and 2 species of native fish. Each species offers  survival tips to all visitors.

 

 

 

 

 

Survival techniques and physiology are reflected in the annual and perennial  desert plants. Annuals such as  Desert Gold (Gerea canescens) and Sand Verbena (Abronia villosa) have a quick life cycle (pics above). The seed’s waxy cover is dissolved during winter rain storms.   By early spring they have germinated, flowered, and produced seed.  Annuals wait out the scorching, dry, seven month summer as a seed.  With the right combination of water, heat, and light they germinate the next winter.  Perennials such as the cactus or Joshua Tree retain water for the seven months of desert heat and drought.

During the hottest times, tortoises estivate, or enter a state of dormancy that allows them to conserve energy and save water. Depending on the weather, desert tortoises might be active above ground for only three months of the year!

  The jackrabbit, another common desert creature, stays cool by releasing heat from its over-sized ears. When the rabbit retreats into the shade, warm blood from its core circulates through blood vessels in its ears, where heat is lost to the surrounding air.

Some wise advice from Death Valley: find beauty in unexpected places; conserve your resources; embrace change; travel life’s peaks and valleys; don’t desert your friends; be patient through the dry spells; show your true grit.

If thats not nice I don’t know what is.

so on down the road i ride

Redwood fairy rings

Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Fairies glow in moonstruck land,

Lying beyond the fields we scan.

As each enchanted fable forms,

Far away a pixie’s born.

Gnome boy, Poems Beneath the Red Oak Tree

Once upon a time, well actually it was Monday morning Sept. 25 Judy, Gnome boy, and I hiked several trails in Muir Woods: Redwood Creek trail, Cathedral Grove, Hillside trail, and Bohemian Grove trail. While we shared soup and a sandwich overlooking Redwood Creek, Gnome boy raced across Redwood Sorrel to feed raisins to a Steller’s Jay  and a Sonoma chipmunk.  Before I could yell “Nincompoop” he interrupted me, “I know I shouldn’t, but you never know when you might have to hitch a ride.”  In the pic above he was exhorting me to behave. “Be quiet and stay on the trails!”

A million visitors from around the world can enjoy this “tree lover’s monument” because Willian and Elizabeth Kent bought this virgin forest in 1905 and donated these ancient redwoods to the federal government.  Teddy Roosevelt made Muir Woods a National Park in 1908.  The creek’s watershed and coastal redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens) are part of the Golden Gate International Biosphere Reserve.  With a 40 inch annual rainfall, endangered coho and steelhead salmon spawn here every spring.  I didn’t think the great outdoors could get any better.

Of course, I was wrong.  Ten days later I’m looking up at heaven from the center of a Redwood fairy ring (pic above).  Burls at the trees base will sprout if the tree falls or if fire severely burns the bark (pic below). The sprouts at the base of the fallen redwood reach three hundred feet, thrive for two millennium and channel the noon light into the “living ring.”  Gnome boy and I trekked into a dense Sequoia grove, a pacific Cathedral, a Redwood fairy circle. 

A few minutes later, we were invited inside the ring by  Fairy God Mother:  a kind magician with  an uncanny resemblance to the Fairy Godmother in Cinderella. She even used the phrase, “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” to open a passage into the “ring” (pic below). She hailed from Indiana, “The crossroads  of America.”

 

Gnome boy and I were drinking gatorade next to a fallen redwood.  The thirty foot section that fell across the road had been cut and moved to the side so cars could pass. My bike was resting next to the fallen tree  (pic below). If you look closely Gnome boy is to the left of the bike seat.

While basking in the shafts of light streaming through these giants, a soft voice from behind asked, “Have you ever taken a breath of fresh air inside a fairy circle?”

Gnome boy without turning around and slightly abrupt, replied, “Yesss, I’m a gnome! Can’t you….”  And then he was frozen stiff.  I whipped around and watched this small Fairy hover like a sapphire hummingbird while waving her wand at Gnome boy.

“They can behave like trolls. That young man should mind his manners.  Have you inhaled the light from the fairy ring, Michael?”

“No, ma’am,” I replied.

Do you know the magic words?

I said, “Please and thank you!”

She circled her wand and gnome boy started to move.

“I’m so sorry.  I’ve been a Nincompoop. Please forgive me.” Gnomeboy was on one knee.

The Avenue of the Giants is 31 miles of old highway 101 inside 51,000 acres of Humboldt Redwood State Park protecting the largest sanctuary of coastal redwoods.  Dawn approached with light winds, cloudless skies, and temperatures in the mid forties.  The dense ground mist softened the raven’s  morning call.

The South entrance to the Avenue of the Giants is 10 miles north of Garberville and  five miles south of Miranda, the home of the Avenue Cafe and my breakfast .  After fifteen cold miles,  the hot chocolate with whipped cream and french toast soaked with Vermont maple syrup and butter satisfied my “munchies.”  By the time I returned to the road, the dawn’s chill had evaporated and the forest smelled of cinnamon and the scent of baked apples.  The road repetitively swerved and wobbled to avoid the root system of these giant redwoods. Their shadows paced the morning light and my bike down old highway 101 like some Looney Tunes car race. I didn’t think the great outdoors could get any better than this, but I was wrong.

All I have to say is “vertigo,”   the only word that comes close to describing my mindset or the ringing inside the fairy ring.  The image at ground level resembled swirling  tigers chasing their tails or Now chasing the Future to escape from the Past.

Fairy Godmother smiled and pointed to the sky,  “Look up.”  The vertigo and the ringing vanished as my eyes focused on the canopy.  Inside this green space  light radiated. The shining  crystal blue sky was luminous and unclouded. Hypnotic and solid come to mind.  I lost all sense of time until I felt a kink in my neck and heard,   “Beware of no man more than  thyself.”

“What do you see and hear?” She asked softly.

“An enchanted land, dancing trees, and fairies making wishes come true,”  replied Gnome boy.

“Why yes,” Fairy God Mother had a quizzical look on her face.  “I guess you’re not a troll after all.”

“This time map,” she continued, “like a road map, is a way to get from here to there.  Mother Nature repeats patterns and cycles but there are infinite possibilities every day.  Fairy rings display every road that you can travel.”

“It’s not the getting in… it’s the getting out  that’s so troublesome,” she continued.  “You need thokcha, “sky iron,” a charm  that shows true north when you  leave.” With that she placed an iron lodestone in my left hand and in the blink of an eye she was gone. Gnome boy and I were back at the bike.

I stared at Gomeboy and smiled, “My days are heaven sent.  Even with this compass I  don’t know how to get back.”

The day before meeting  Fairy God Mother, Northern California hovered in the low thirties (pic above).  I hadn’t anticipated Jack Frost’s visit and was a bit cold.  I left Fort Bragg at sunrise and five miles later with frozen fingers, I resolved to fly out of Eureka, Ca. rather than travel to Portland, Oregon.  Mackericher State Park  beach trail awarded the stunning Pacific Coast views below.

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That day’s ride on Wednesday Oct 4  ended in Garberville,  “the marijuana heart of California” and  the epicenter of the marijuana trafficking in California.  Grandaddy Purple, Blue dream, Girl Scout Cookie, Green Crack have been both legally and originally illegally grown in this region for forty years.   The town’s motto remains, “If you can’t beat them, join them.”

All the small shops bordering Highway 101 were related to the “business.” Groups of young adults collected on street corners like seeds and stems waiting to be smoked. The street youth were a tattooed  international crowd with hoodies and a few burka’s thrown in the mix.

Local growers would stop, shop, and point from a pick-up.  A few  kids would climb into the truck bed and off they would ride to harvest the latest crop.  When they legalize marijuana in Kentucky I can predict Bardstown’s clouded future. The freaks and groupies will differ from the rednecks and spiritous devotees following the Bourbon Trail but the common denominator for both groups remains to get “high.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I digress, on the frigid morning that I left Fort Bragg and the rugged Pacific Coast,  Shoreline Highway (Rt 1) climbed  2000 feet over ten miles near Little Red Mountain and then descended a thousand feet to Leggett and the end of Highway One (pic above).  I was surrounded by redwoods the entire way .  Huge mud slides  had closed the road this past spring (pics below), and  crews were still clearing two recent mudslides . The pics can’t capture their size. Near Benbow a 30 foot high dried up mudslide covered old  highway 101 . A  DOT sign stated ride at you own risk.

At Leggett  I entered  Drive-thru Tree Park (pic below).  I had to leave Gnome boy on the picnic table.  He refused to ride through a tortured redwood (pic below).   After twenty-seven up and down miles coursing  near the South Fork of the Eel River  I reached  Garberville. I thought a northern California afternoon in the mid-sixties couldn’t get any better than this, but I was wrong.

At  Baskin Robbins you can sample a  small spoonful  before you buy a mint chocolate chip waffle cone.  Every street vendor in Garberville was offering a toke before selling the bag of marijuana. Like Bill Clinton I didn’t want to inhale and so sought out the seller of the marijuana gummy  bears.  Mary Jane however, thought it would be too dangerous for an uninitiated “old man” to try even one gummy drop alone.

“You might hallucinate for days,” she cackled. “Or wake up buck naked in a bathtub with no kidneys!”

The details are hazy, but think I returned to the motel gummyless. The evening’s twilight combined with the  homeless drifters made me feel cold and gave me the creeps.  I imagined  Disney antagonists hiding in the shadows.  I didn’t want to walk past these tattooed characters in the dark. I felt paranoid.  Garberville’s street scene made me feel “strange.” I heard the Doors singing .

People are strange when you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly when you’re alone
Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted
Streets are uneven when you’re down”

So I bought lots of “take out” and cookies at the deli next to the motel. The food smelled and tasted delicious. Once inside, I bolted and placed a chair in front of the door. I ate every morsel and didn’t save the cookies for tomorrow’s snack. What a day.  The morning was freezing and the evening gave me goosebumps.

Little did I know that a scene from Fantasia was swirling around Humboldt Redwood State Park,  waiting to encircle my trek tomorrow morning. Who would believe gummy bears wandered about Humboldt’s forest while  Fairy God mother was  humming inside a Redwood fairy circle.   All this adventure inside Humboldt County, the heart of marijuana production in California.  “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo”

 

As in all fairy tales, we can live happily ever after as long as we have Master Card.  Believe it or not, by three pm, Gnome boy and I had biked from  Garberville through Humboldt Redwoods State Park and arrived at Eureka (seventy-five miles). I stopped at McDonalds and ordered the number six value meal (6 dollars).  Biked across the street to Big 5 Sporting Goods Store and bought Merrell hiking shoes and a duffel bag (200 dollars).  Treked to Revolution Bicycles and arranged the mechanic to box up the bike (100 dollars), Bike Flights to ship it back home (100 dollars) and changed clothes.  In Old Town Coffee & Chocolates  next door, I ordered ice tea and crumpets (ten dollars) while making reservations for the last plane flight from Eureka to San Francisco  and the red eye back home (700 dollars).  The taxi ride from the coffee shop to the airport (50 dollars).

The ringing and the swirling  inside my head stopped when I heard  Judy’s  soft voice.  To see her smiling face and realize that I was not hallucinating ….. priceless.

If that’s not nice I don’t know what Redwood fairy ring is.

So on down the road i ride.