Date: Fri, 24 Nov 1995 23:03:23 -0800 (PST)
Sender: Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From: David Schwarze <des@teleport.com>
Subject: Panamint trip report (finally!)
Well, here it is. Part of it was written at Panamint, on my dedicated
camper-komputer (Mac SE).
-David
Friday:
Packed up floor jack, tools, firewood, semi-combustable computer
parts, clothes, bike. Doesn't sound like a lot but it took me a good 3
hours. Stopped by Wal Mart/Vons on the way out and picked up a Coleman
ice chest, ice, beer, and food. This Vons was brand new, and HUGE.
They had one whole side of one refrigerated isle full of beer. Of
course, all of the domestics and standard imports, plus about 30 more
kinds of imported beer, most of which I hadn't heard of, plus lots of
West Coast microbrews. Inside one door was an array of beers sold by
the bottle - most 20-32oz with prices ranging from $3-$5 *each*. Some
of them looked like they had been brewed in someone's basement, and the
labels printed out on a laser printer and attached with rubber cement.
But they had interesting names - Wheat, stout, guiness, etc. I thought
about Al Knoll's mention of Raspberry brews at Panamint, and selected
two six packs and a couple of singles of raspberry-themed beer. Yum!
The drive was nothing special, I've driven this route many times
before. Up Interstate 15, over Cajon pass (4100 ft), down into the
desert and up 395. The skies were hazy when I left San Diego about
noon, but visibility was reduced to a mile, more or less, as I got close
to San Bernadino. How could anyone bear to live here? The smog was so
thick I was afraid my engine would choke and die, but of course it didn't.
Crested the pass in third and coasted down the other side into the desert.
The houses get cheaper and cheaper as you go out this way - and the
billboards larger and larger. A few miles ago they were in the $120K
range, now the signs tell of $70K houses and extoll the virtues of
living in the clean air of the desert, only a few miles out of town
(yeah right!). I stop at Adelanto, knowing from experience that this is
where the last cheap gas is. Spent the extra 4 cents a gallon for mid
grade (I think I paid $1.13/gal) since I am gauge-less in Schneiter's
bus at the moment. I also retarded the timing to 5 degrees after dead
center, just to make sure I wouldn't have any detonation.
As I approach Death Valley, the skies were crystal clear and it was getting
dark. Driving up the 2-lane road, a Dodge Omni pulls out slowly to pass
me. As he gets along side, we start up a gradual incline, and he slows
down. "Oh great". I think. "He thought he wanted to pass me, and now
he doesn't have enough power. What a bonehead!". I glance at the car,
and notice that it looks a little "different" than the typical Omni.
Faded paint, yes... but the tires are wider, the wheels are shiny, and
the trim is blacked out. Right about the time I realize it's a GLH
turbo Omni (a respectably fast limited production car) the guy driving
nails it and zips out ahead of me. All of a sudden I realize that it's
my friend Eric, whom I had invited to come out and visit with us. Eric
is the one that brought Magnesium to the RedRock campout and showed us
how to burn it, much to the chagrin of the boy scout troop camped next
to us in their little tents. I bet Eric was a boy scout once...
Anyway, Eric had recognized me, and after getting a sufficiently safe
distance in front of me, pulled onto the dirt shoulder of the road and
executed a perfect 180 degree E-brake turn. Eric, you see, if a
professional dirt-oval racer with a garage wall covered with trophies.
Now I was really happy! We set off to cover the last 30 or so miles to
Panamint together at a nice leisurely 55 mph.
We could see Panamint Springs resort from miles away in the darkness.
It wasn't very large, but any cluster of lights in this desolate area
was rare, and there were no others anywhere that I could see. Eric and
I pulled in, and spotted two vans (An orange breadloaf and a Vanagon
Synchro). We parked beside them, but there was nobody around.
Noticably absent was Martha's 81 Puke-ivory-eggnog Westy. I knew she
and Bradley had set sail the day before, and I wondered why they weren't
here. Eric and I sauntered over to the Restaurant (i.e. the only sign
of life) where we were flagged down by Jack Stafford, Steve Hoge, Kate,
and Norberto & Suzanna. Of everyone there, the only person I knew from
previous campouts was Jack Stafford, and I'm embarassed to admit that I
didn't recognize him right away. Part of the reason for that was that I
mistook his bus for the Kautz's, and was looking for them instead of
him. Sorry about that Jack!
Eric and I joined the group to wait for Al Knoll, Martha, and Bradley
(the "core" of the group, we all decided). Looking at a menu, I decided
that either the proprietors were very greedy, or it simply cost an arm
and a leg to bring supplies out here. $2.75 for fries, $7 for a burger
- OUCH! Fortunately, they had huge Samuel Adams drafts at a reasonable
price, which made the wait considerably more pleasant. We all got to
know each other for a bit, and finally Martha, Sarah, Bradley, Al Knoll
and the Kautz clan (Dave, Francesca, Nikki, Sienna, and Max) all rolled in.
After a good half hour of discussion, we decided it would be best if we
all camped together in a (relatively) remote corner of the campground,
where we were less likely to disturb someone. We made a fire pit, and
pulled our vans in between it and the rest of the campground. There is
something special about sitting around a fire in the wilderness. All
you can hear is the crackle of the logs (and an occasional explosion of
a bottle or can of tomato paste). You can get up, walk 15 feet away
from the fire and be in a separate world - silent, cool, and dark. A
really wierd feeling.
Once the fire got going well (and since Bradley was in charge of it,
that only took about 3 minutes) the beverages were brought out, and the
rest of the evening is kind of fuzzy. I remember burning half of an
engine case, lighting up half of the valley with a magnesium lamp, Al
Knoll moving his van away from the fire to avoid the flying beans,
burning computer parts, and coals that were blown out of the fire pit.
All in all, a most satisfying evening!
8:00 A.M. I am awakened by the sounds of Martha at the picnic table,
and Bradley Prunehead throwing rocks at my camper. The previous night
had not been cold, as I had feared. No lower then the fifties - very
comfortable. Despite Bradley, I dozed till around 9, and then hit the
showers. Nothing nicer than a hot shower when you're camping, even
though there was close to zero water pressure here. After the shower, I
donned my bright, flowery Hawaiian shirt, as was apparently the
tradition at this location. Several people were making breakfast - I
made some sandwiches and "borrowed" some scrambled eggs, which were about
50% green chilis. Very spicy! Despite the aspirin I took before the
shower, I had a slight headache from drinking so much the night before,
and realized that I had brought *nothing* but beer to drink. I walked
over to the restaurant and picked out a six pack of Dr. Pepper. They
charged me $4.95 for it, not including deposit. Things sure are
expensive in the middle of nowhere. Back at camp, people were preparing
for the days activities. It turned out that there were two groups of
people - those who wanted to drive into Death Valley and look around,
and those that wanted to ride the mountain bikes to a waterfall (of all
things) a ways up the road. I went with the latter group, which
consisted of Steve Hoge, Al Knoll, almost all of the Kautz' (Dave,
Francesca, Nikki, and Max), Bradley, and myself. After a while, I
almost wished I had chosen the other itinerary. The ride to the
waterfall was all uphill. First, on the highway, then on a dirt road.
The dirt road was a typical desert dirt road, with plenty of rocks and
washboard.
6:00 P.M. Just returned from a road trip to StovePipe wells. The
weather couldn't have been better. Clear blue skies a light breeze, and
temperatures in the seventies. Driving West we watched the sun set over
the Panamint mountains. The sunsets here are incredibly beautiful.
Even though the air seems clear and you can see for miles, something is
making the shades of pink in the skies. Now, everyone is back at camp,
and we are feeling relaxed. Our road trip began around 3 p.m.. I had
wanted to at least drive into Death Valley for a quick peek, since I had
never been here before, and camped a few short miles from the entrance
to the park, it was just too tempting. So, Bradley and I set out
towards the park. We quickly started climbing, and I was reduced to
second gear before long. After what seemed like forever, we crested the
mountain range (4900 feet) and flew down the other side. All the way to
zero elevation. We pulled into Stovepipe wells and found Jack Stafford
and Martha Rubin (in Jack's orange 73 Westy) at the gas station
(unleaded regular was quite reasonable at $1.49/gallon). They were
returning from a more extensive tour of the valley, including Scotty's
castle and Heebie Jeebie (Martha's name) crater. We talked to Martha
and Jack for a while, and decided to drive up a dirt road to a place
called Mosaic canyon for a looksee. When we arrived there, we found a
diesel Westfalia in the parking lot. We decided we had to wait around
for whomever owned it to return. After a few minutes, a young couple
walked over to it. Martha introduced herself, and it turned out that
they were German, and had rented the van from a place in Los Angeles.
We talked with them for a while, and invited them to our campsite this
evening for some chili and homebrew. It was difficult to convince them
in German that the reason they should come and join us was to watch us
burn and explode cans of tuna, beans, and tomato sauce. Wonder if they
will show? As they started the van up to leave, we noticed it sounded
much too healthy to be a diesel. We approached them yet again, and they
confirmed that it was a *Jetta* engine! Gonna hafta get me one of them
thar things!
The following added to my computer by an unknown person (Sarah Rubin?):
"We got real tired riding our bikes through nasty bumpy "washboard" road.
We rode in a car for hours, trying to get to the nearest town."
Saturday night was much like Friday, except that we were a little more
subdued. Apparently someone had complained that we were a little too
rowdy Friday night (I really didn't think we were very bad, compared to
how we have been in the past!) so we toned it down a little. No
exploding cans, but we still burned the other half of the engine case.
Someone said it was a female German tourist that complained, and that
she had come out of her trailer with no pants on to fuss about the noise.
Hmmm...
Saturday night was also the chili cookoff, with the two main participants
being Al Knoll with his spicy beef chili, and Martha Rubin with some
sort of sweet bean chili. Tasty! Jack Stafford brought a whole ice
chest full of his homebrew (I think it was some sort of bitter?) which
was *excellent*. The perfect complement to the chili. Thank God there
was nobody sleeping in my camper with me. :)
Sunday morning we all said our goodbyes, and headed back to
civilization. I know I left out a lot of things, but covering them all
would turn this trip report into a novel. Suffice it to say that the
event was a success, and I'm looking forward to the next one at Pfeiffer
Big Sur. I encourage everyone that can to come out to Big Sur and make
it the greatest West coast campout yet!
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David Schwarze '73 VW Safare Custom Camper (Da Boat)
San Diego (Actually La Mesa) '72 VW Westfalia Camper (Da Project)
California, USA '73 Capri GT 2800 (Da Beast)
e-mail: des@teleport.com '87 Mustang Lx 5.0 (14.17@99.34)
http://www.teleport.com/~des '93 Weber WG-50 (Da Piano)
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