Death Valley Junction to Stovepipe Wells · one way, about 225 km back to the start
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On the way it passes Dantes View, Badwater Basin, Artists Palette and Zabriskie Point. The highest point is about 950 m. A steady touring day rather than a sprint.
Death Valley Junction is barely a place at all: a crossroads in the Amargosa Desert where California 127 meets the road that leads west into the national park, and a cluster of old Spanish-revival buildings left over from the borax days. The Pacific Coast Borax company built the town in the 1920s as a railway hub on the Tonopah and Tidewater line, and when the trains stopped, the place slid toward ghost status. What saved it is one of the odder stories in the desert. In 1967 a New York dancer named Marta Becket had a flat tyre here, peeked into the shabby community hall, and decided to stay. She restored the building as the Amargosa Opera House and performed there for decades, painting the walls with an audience of imaginary spectators. The hotel next door is still open, and the whole thing has a haunted-theatre charm that makes the desert feel stranger than usual.
For a rider, this is the doorstep rather than the destination. The terrain around here is open basin and range country: pale flats, dark ridges, a sky that fills most of the view, and the Funeral Mountains on the horizon to the west. Wind can be fierce, with gusts across the flats that shove a bike sideways, and summer heat is serious. Between June and September, temperatures can pass forty degrees Celsius in the early afternoon, so start at dawn, carry plenty of water, and treat the stretch to the park as a place where breakdowns have consequences. Winter nights can drop below freezing, and spring brings wildflowers in good years.
Services are almost nonexistent, which is the practical point. The nearest proper town is Pahrump, about forty kilometres away on the Nevada side, and that is where you should buy fuel and food. Inside the park, you will find fuel at Furnace Creek and Stovepipe Wells, but expect desert prices. Cell coverage is patchy, so tell someone your plan.
From here, the road drops through a gap in the Funeral Mountains toward Furnace Creek, passing viewpoints like Zabriskie Point, where golden badlands erode into folds, and the turn for Dante's View, which looks down on the salt flats from a mile up. The land below you is the lowest in North America. A short detour to Badwater, more than eighty metres below sea level, is easy to make and always a little surreal.
Take the opera house photo, check your tyre pressure, and go.
Dante's View is the place to stand when you want to understand Death Valley in one glance. From a cliff on the crest of the Black Mountains, at about five thousand five hundred feet, you look straight down on the salt flats of Badwater Basin, the lowest point in North America at 282 feet below sea level. Across the valley rise the Panamint Mountains, with the snow-capped summit of Telescope Peak, over eleven thousand feet, facing you. The difference in height between the two is almost two miles, and the view is a kind of geology lesson in a single frame.
The road up is a spur of about thirteen miles from the main highway near Furnace Creek, climbing steadily and then more steeply through the rugged Black Mountains. It is paved and well-maintained, with a few tight bends near the top, and the views grow with every turn. Large trailers and long vehicles are restricted near the top, but a motorcycle copes easily. The air at the lookout is noticeably cooler than on the valley floor, which can be a relief in summer, and the wind can be strong, so a windproof layer is wise.
The valley itself is a place of extremes. The hottest air temperature ever reliably recorded on Earth, about 134 degrees Fahrenheit, was measured at Furnace Creek in 1913. It is also very dry, with only a couple of inches of rain a year, though when storms do come they produce spectacular flash floods. Despite appearances, the park supports a surprising amount of life, from desert bighorn sheep on the slopes to the tiny pupfish that survive in isolated pools.
Furnace Creek, Stovepipe Wells, and Panamint Springs have pumps, and the sensible rule is to fill whenever you pass one. Carry plenty of water, wear sunscreen, and plan to ride in the cooler hours. Winter and early spring are by far the best seasons. Sunrise and sunset are the best times at Dante's View, when the light turns the salt flats pale gold and the mountains purple, and the silence is almost physical.
Badwater is not a place you stay long, but it is one you remember. A boardwalk leads out from a small parking area to a shallow pond, and beyond it stretch the salt flats, a white and crusted plain that reaches miles toward the opposite mountains. The sign on the cliff above marks sea level, a long way overhead. You are standing at 282 feet below it, the lowest point in North America, and the sun reflects off the salt with a brightness that makes sunglasses essential.
The name comes from a surveyor's story, in which a mule would not drink from the pool because the water was salty and bitter. The water is in fact full of dissolved minerals, washed down from the surrounding hills and concentrated by evaporation, and the salt crust forms intricate polygon patterns where the surface dries. Tiny snails and a few unusual insects live in the pools, which makes this an odd and delicate ecosystem. Walk on the boardwalk and a short way beyond, and avoid damaging the crust.
The ride to Badwater runs along the valley floor on Badwater Road, a well-surfaced highway that gets almost no shade. The riding is easy, with long straight stretches and gentle curves, and the scenery dominates: the Black Mountains on one side, the salt flats and Panamints on the other. Heat is the issue. In summer, temperatures can exceed forty-five degrees Celsius, and the pavement itself is scorching, so ride in the early morning or late afternoon and carry far more water than seems necessary. Never ignore heat exhaustion; it creeps up on riders more quickly than they expect.
Furnace Creek, about seventeen miles north, is the nearest place with pumps, a store, and a restaurant, and it is wise to fill up there and check your reserves. The best time to visit is in winter or early spring, when the days are warm rather than hot, and the dawn light across the flats is exceptional. Wildflowers sometimes bloom in a wet year, and the sight of the salt flat under a rare pool of water, reflecting the mountains, is hard to forget.
The hills along Artist's Drive look as though someone has spilled a paint box over them. Pink, green, mauve, copper, and yellow streak the slopes in bands, and the colours shift with the light: dull at midday, glowing at dusk. At the high point of the drive, a viewpoint named Artists Palette gathers the best of it, with the multi-coloured hillside facing the road and the valley floor stretching away below.
The colours are chemistry. The hills are made of volcanic ash and sediment, and various metals have oxidised in them over time. Iron compounds give the reds, pinks, and yellows, mica produces a pale green, and manganese gives purple and lavender. Together they make a natural pigment chart, and the effect is greatest in the late afternoon, when the low sun intensifies each tone. Photographers come for this reason, and it is the one place in the park where a polarising filter does something miraculous.
Artists Drive is a nine-mile one-way loop, paved, narrow, and winding, leaving Badwater Road at the south end and rejoining it a little farther north. It is a short, lively ride, with dips, bends, and steep little rises, and the corners are tighter than anywhere else on the valley floor. Long vehicles are not allowed, but a bike has no problem. Watch for sand and gravel washed onto the road after storms, and for the occasional tourist stopping suddenly. Ride it slowly, because the point is the colour, not the speed.
Bring water, and carry more than you think necessary. In summer the heat is dangerous, and even in winter the sun can be strong. The best season is from November to March, and the best time of day is late afternoon, when the colours deepen and the temperature falls. If there has been rain, the hills can have a fresh brightness, and a rare wildflower bloom can add yet another colour to the palette.
Zabriskie Point is the place that photographers drive to before dawn, and that most people see in the afternoon, and both are right. A short, steep path leads from the car park to a rocky platform that looks out over a landscape of eroded golden mudstone, ridged and folded like some enormous crumpled blanket. Beyond it the Panamint Range rises, and in the early light the whole badland glows in shades of honey and cream.
The badlands are the remains of an ancient lake bed. Millions of years ago, the region held a lake, and sediment from the surrounding mountains settled in layers on its floor. Later, the land was uplifted and torn apart, and rain carved the soft layers into the folds and gullies you see now. Borax, the mineral that made Death Valley economically important, was mined from similar deposits nearby, and the famous twenty-mule teams hauled it out across the desert in the 1880s. The point itself is named for Christian Brevoort Zabriskie, an executive of the company that ran the mines.
The road to the point is a spur off Highway 190, east of Furnace Creek, and it is short and easy. The main highway heading east climbs out of the valley with long, open bends, and the contrast between the stark badlands and the vast sky is very strong. It is a straightforward ride, with good surface and clear sightlines, though sand can drift across the pavement and the heat in summer is punishing. Italian director Michelangelo Antonioni gave the point a second life in a 1970 film of the same name, though the story has little to do with the place.
Furnace Creek, only a few miles away, has fuel, a store, and food, so it is the sensible base. Expect crowds at sunrise and sunset, and arrive early to get a good place on the platform. The light changes quickly, so be patient: the best colours often arrive a few minutes after you think you have seen them all. Wind and cold can catch riders out in winter mornings, so bring an extra layer. In summer, ride in the first hours of the day and rest in the shade when the heat arrives.
Stovepipe Wells takes its name from a scrap of iron and a bit of desperation. The story is that early prospectors, crossing the sand dunes here, found it hard to locate the one reliable well in all the shifting hummocks, so they stuck a length of stovepipe in the ground to mark the spot. It is a good detail, and the place has leaned into it ever since. Today, Stovepipe Wells is a small village with a motel, a general store, a restaurant, a ranger station, and a pump, set on the northwest edge of the great salt basin of Death Valley, with the Cottonwood Mountains behind and the pale Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes a few kilometres to the northeast.
Those dunes are the real attraction, and worth a walk at sunrise or sunset when the light rakes across the ripples and the heat is bearable. They are not huge by world standards, but they are photogenic, with mesquite bushes stubbornly holding on at the edges, and they show tracks of beetles, lizards and kit foxes in the morning. A little farther west, Mosaic Canyon cuts into polished marble and breccia, a short rough road away.
The road through here is California 190, and it is the best stretch of the Death Valley crossing for a rider. To the east, the road drops over a long, smooth ramp toward Furnace Creek, past the lowest places in the country. To the west, it climbs through Towne Pass at about fifteen hundred metres, with a series of broad, fast curves and views back over the salt flats, then drops again into the Panamint Valley. The surface is generally good, the traffic is light outside the winter holidays, and the wind can be heavy. Summer is brutal, with temperatures that regularly exceed forty-five degrees. The hottest air temperature ever recorded on earth, nearly fifty-seven degrees Celsius, was measured at Furnace Creek in July 1913. In winter, it is cool and clear, and the best season by far is from October to April.
Fuel is available here, but it is pricey, as you would expect when the nearest large town is a long way off. If you have a choice, fill up before you arrive, and always carry water. The store has cold drinks, ice and a few supplies, and the village is a decent place to eat and rest in the shade.
Sit on the porch and watch the heat shimmer over the flats. It is a reminder that this place does not forgive carelessness.
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