Reprinted from Citybike, December, 1994
by Michael Psycle Bettinger
On
October 14, 1994, eleven motorcycles and fourteen riders left San Francisco for
the First Annual (yes, there will be a second one next year) Queer Biker
Invasion of Death Valley. Please remember, queerness is a state of mind and has
little to do with gender or sexual orientation.
The route started along I-580 out of the Bay Area and onto Route 120. First stop was for gas in Manteca, where it became apparent that summer was truly over. Several lightly clad passengers who had little experience on motorcycles were lent gloves, shirts and other warm clothing. After awhile their shivering stopped, just in time to get back on the bikes as the group continued on the trek.
Onward and coldward the band continued. At the entrance to Yosemite, the assembly pulled over so everyone could put on every piece of clothing (or close to it) that they had brought along. The skies looked ominous, with dark clouds up ahead, and as it ascended, the road became noticeably damp. Soon a light drizzle started. Those who put on their rain gear for warmth were now rewarded by the gear's proper functioning. A stop at Olmstead Point rewarded the group with a magnificent view of the high country and Half Dome.
And then, to the surprise of the leader of the pack, while no one esd rnjoying the cold or the drizzle, everyone was thinking this was a gas of an adventure. Such an upbeat mood was promptly rewarded by seeing the drizzle turn to snow, however. With twenty miles to Tioga Pass and another thousand feet of elevation gain to go, the group carefully left the rest area to hit the heights of California car/bike passes.
Several miles past Tioga Pass, the tribe stopped at the Tioga Pass Resort for warmth, warmth, warmth and food. But nice as it was at the Resort, the pack was eager to leave, because the intrepid leader had as the next stop the Hot Creek twenty miles south of Mono Lake. Under the entire area is a volcano waiting to surface. As a result, boiling pools of water are common in the region. Several of these pools come up in the middle of a cold mountain creek, resulting in an area of the creek where the water temperature is whatever you want it to be. Want it warmer, go closer to where the water is bubbling up from deep in the ground. Want it cooler, move away from the bubbles. A true outdoor hot tub surrounded by snow capped mountains.
While the sign said no nude bathing, the group got naked in no time flat and made it through the cold part of the creek to the part where the temperature of the water was perfect, in the process scaring most of the other tourists out of the water. After the adversity of Tioga Pass, the sublimity of the Hot Creek molded the disorganized bunch into a cohesive, moving experience. After an hour, the group proceeded to remount the bikes and continue on to Lone Pine, where they dinned on pizza and beer and then spent the night.
The next morning saw the troop leave early and head east into the desert. Before long a sign said entering Death Valley. Several group members proceeded to celebrate by elevating their speed to the triple figures. A noon time gathering at Zabriskie Point found another dozen queer bikers from the Las Vegas area joining the San Francisco contingent. A queer time was had by all.
But the end of the gathering at Zabriskie Point meant the end of the group as it had been. One bike with two riders headed toward Las Vegas, while the rest of the group headed toward Bakersfield. Darkness meant we couldn't see the beauty of Route 178, and all agreed that they need to return there, for a day trip through this part of the Sierra.
Sunday saw the trip back to San Francisco, along Routes 198 and 25 from Coalinga to Hollister. The only mishap of the trip occurred here. A relatively new rider on a 750 Nighthawk was feeling his oats, and made a typical new rider error. Taking the lead, he didn't pay attention to an upcoming turn. Rather than leaning the bike over and giving it some gas, which would have gotten him through fine, he hit the brakes, locked the rear wheel, left the pavement for the shoulder of the road and hit the barbed wire fence. The leather and kevlar kept him from getting cut, but falling off the bike did not prevent him from breaking his shoulder. As is life in our modern day life in California, a cellular phone call was made so that a multi million dollar helicopter could whisk him to the hospital, where they promptly discharged him after doing nothing more than giving him a pain killer and putting his arm in a sling.
Late Sunday night, the remainder of the group arrived back in San Francisco, 1000 miles later with smiles on their face. For those interested in joining in the festivities next year, the Second Annual Queer Biker Invasion of Death Valley will leave from Castro Street, between Market Street and 18th Street at 8:00 a.m. on October 13, 1995. Be there and be queer!