Gold to Grand Loop - Day 3 - Lime Kiln Pass and Government Spring
Date: November 10, 2024
48.5 Miles
4,721 Feet of Gain
Red Pockets Mountain to Whitney Pocket
I woke up to the frost of my breath's condensation coating my quilt and X-mid inner-walls in the middle of the night. Each time I awoke to roll over and snuggle deep into my quilt, I could feel the ache of cold pushing through my layers. As first light smacked the bulging head of Red Pockets Mountain, I climbed out to greet a thoroughly layered Josh. The colors catching the rocks were so striking that I hastily left the X-mid and started taking some photos. Josh ate breakfast wrapped in his cowboy camping setup. Then, he quickly got dressed, packed up, and told me he was pushing off to get into the Sun. I laughed and commiserated with him about the cold while telling him I would catch up after eating my oatmeal. I hurriedly ate, threw my frost-bitten gear in my bike, and played catch-up.
The moment I hit the light, the Sun's heat was deep and true. Classic desert style - large swings of temperature that make your head second-guess whether the night's cold was ever true. I quickly stripped my jacket and layers until I biked in nothing but shorts and short-sleeves. Red Pockets Mountain roiled in color and girth from the Earth to my left. I kept stopping to gaze at it. The desert scrub was dressed down in autumn shades of brown, russet, orange, and sage-rouge. I caught up to Josh just as the road began its true quality decay. The climb up to Lime Kiln Pass is, in my opinion, the crux of this route. Rocky, steep, primitive in spots, and with some solid hike-a-bike. We both did our walking in same.
I don't know what it was, but that HAB flew by. Janna and I felt like the climb took forever our first time over the pass. But now, I looked up from pushing and realized I was already in view of the Vermilion Cleft - that jagged outcrop of Aztec sandstone the road iconically cuts through. I joyfully ran ahead to get to it and looked off at the washed-out November landscape that cut and spread over the Arizona Strip to the Grand Wash Cliffs beyond us. I spied Josh ascending a switchback below and called out encouragement. He reached the cleft, and I snapped some photos. Then, it was one last pitch to the top as we combo rode and pushed our bikes. The top came quick and sure - a bowl of relaxation amid strident sandstone. A number of bees buzzed us all alive and quick in the dying warmth of November.
And then the descent down through Lime Kiln Canyon began. Josh went first, walking, and then riding the technical, rocky, washed-out track. We rounded a bend around a chiseled limestone arch and carefully navigated the rock-hewn base. The road smoothed up shortly thereafter and then we just throttled downhill from there. I burst ahead of Josh to climb a ridge and catch a photo of him as he turned down the canyon. It was perfect lighting under a morning sun. I hopped back on and sped down with him to Lime Kiln Canyon Climber's Camp. A number of rock climbers chilling by their vans called out to us with questions about where we had started that day. We filled them in, did a turn in the parking lot, and then kicked it into gear to head down the widening dirt road to Mesquite, NV.
As soon as we hit pavement I made plans to hit up La Mexicana Grocery Store Market. Josh was of a similar mind. We pedaled the short distance on pavement to the strip mall where we parked our bikes outside and went in for food. Man, as soon as I entered, I became entangled in strong hunger that worked my saliva. I headed to the back of the store where the carniceria was busy putting out orders. We both ordered carne asada burritos while I also grabbed some beans and chips. I then shopped around the store to grab a snack for later that day and some water. The two of us carried our food haul outside, plopped down on the sidewalk, and got to work eating. We laughed and indulged in the Mexican food. My mind kept wandering to the significant climbing left to get back to Whitney Pocket where our cars were and the heat of the day that was now growing. So as soon as I finished eating, I refilled all my water and got my bike gear strapped back on. Josh did the same, and soon we were biking the last segment.
I marveled at the multi-use greenway that we rode out of town the same way I had the first time I rode the route. I kept speaking with admiration about it out loud as we pedaled through Bundyville. The greenway ended, and we merged with the shoulder of the light-use highway. The miles went quick but the day's heat kept building. Just as we were rounding the turn to the Gold Butte Scenic Byway, Janna came pulling up in our car back from Vegas. We both stopped to talk with her.
Josh and I definitely could taste the finish now. I was itching with anticipation because the next section was brand new. I had poured over maps in an attempt to find both a new water source along this leg and some dirt to replace the broken pavement that climbed back to Whitney Pocket. I had found a possible solution but had little information to go off of in terms of suitability; this would be ground-truthing in all the best ways that simultaneously builds a sense of exploration and hesitation. Janna let us know that she was heading up to Whitney Pocket now to relax and wait for us. She drove off as Josh and I pedaled the last bit of undulating pavement to the new part.
I stared hard at that line of dirt cresting up the hillside towards the Virgin Mountains. I checked the predicted elevation - about 3500 feet of gain. This was going to be a climb to the end. And the heat was just smoking now. I wiped the sweat off my brow, lowered my head, and felt the excitement of unknown move through my veins. The road's constant slope went from smooth and firm to slow and sandy within a mile or so. I locked-in, committed to this new section. I was hungry to see where it led. Yellowed husks of stagnant plants sequestering energy after a hot summer made the landscape somehow both washed out and iconic. The hillsides were a faded end of the spectrum. A few miles later, as I dripped salt and sweat, I heard a call behind me. I turned around to see Josh standing next to his bike. I quickly biked back down to him to find him feeling ill. Turns out the second burrito he ate was not faring well in his stomach with this heat; he had nearly thrown up. After some discussion he decided to head back down to the road as heat and bloating were not mixing well. I sent a text to Janna to see if she could nab him and take him to his truck at the finish. I checked to see if he wanted me to come down with him but he said to continue on. I waved goodbye to Josh as he turned and biked quickly down the mountains.
I took a moment to look back over the land we had risen from along the banks of the Virgin River. The Mojave Desert was all striking with its basin and range topography. Its jutting heights, exposed plains, and gnarled stonescapes studded with yucca stood iconic. I turned forward to the hot, inhospitable wash I was riding. I chose a line, put my foot to my pedal, and found a path upwards through the now-washboarded sand. I ate away at the miles as I passed through an old desert burn zone with blackened husks of Joshua trees. Suddenly, the road turned a hairpin, climbed out of the sandy substrate, and firmed up on a curve while passing through cacti. I turned to gaze far and back down to the crumbled sand and dust of the Virgin Valley. It was brilliantly beautiful up here along this ridge and I stopped to take photos. A herd of cows ran across the road in front of me. I pedaled on and just got caught up in the colors and late-afternoon sun slant that coated everything orange and yellow. I turned around to gaze back at the switchbacking road sinking down the land behind me.
The road climbed and turned into a fold of hillside where Joshua trees stood in dense stands. I was riveted, absolutely loving it. All that soft ground a few miles back was a memory in this upper place, this merge of yucca, dust, and ridge all so perfect. I spun casually through the groves and reached a prominent intersection where a turn right and a bit off-route I arrived at Government Spring. It was a massive concrete box in a clearing with a pipe flowing clear, copious, and overflowing water. I quickly drenched my hat and neck gaiter in the water to cool down. Then, I dumped my sun-cooked water and grabbed some fresh cold. The water source was about as perfect as I could imagine. I finished up and got back on the bike to climb back up to the intersection. Then, it was south towards the merger with the semi-paved Gold Butte Scenic Byway.
I rounded a corner and started a fast downhill through intermittent soft and firm doubletrack thickly cloaked by Joshua trees. A large truck came rumbling up the two-track so I pulled over to let them by. The truck pulled up next to me, rolled down the window, and out leaned Josh! I was completely caught off-guard and super elated. He reported that some A/C in the car with Janna on the drive back to his truck along with resting muscles from the heat had done him well. He was driving up here in hopes of running into me. We laughed, and I told him about the beauty up behind me at Government Spring. We exchanged promises to ride again sometime. I then missiled down the ridgeline while the hulking shape of Little Virgin Peak took form. A sign for Gold Butte National Monument greeted me as I turned on pavement in the dying of afternoon.
In golden hour, I sped along the potholed pavement. All around me the landscape melted under that glow. Yellow foreground, back blue. The mountains just stood as stark and brazen as they could. I was lit up alive. I raced and raced and stopped and stopped to take photos. Somewhere in that mix of urgency to get to the car before dark and yet ride slow enough to soak in the scenery, sunset made for the horizon. I pulled into the formations of Whitney Pocket just as the sun burned some embers among low-slung clouds out across Las Vegas. I took a minute to absorb it all and finished by pulling into the parking lot where Janna was waiting patiently for me.
