Days 13–14 – Crossing Badwater Basin
I woke up early in Stovepipe Wells and packed up camp. Furnace Creek was only about 25 miles away, and I wanted to get there in time for breakfast. I rolled out by 6:30 a.m.—getting a little quicker at packing, but still some room for improvement.
The ride to Furnace Creek was perfect. Cool temperatures, stunning views, and the slow reveal of Badwater Basin off in the distance. I reached Furnace Creek just in time to stuff myself silly at an overpriced breakfast buffet. Full and happy by 9:30 a.m., I realized I had about eight hours to kill before it would be safe to ride again.
I spent the day tucked into shaded corners of Furnace Creek, wandering around the excellent National Park visitor center, and waiting for the heat to break. By 6 p.m., the temperature finally dropped below 100 degrees—time to ride.
Crossing Badwater Basin was one of the major goals of this trip. I left Furnace Creek just as the sun dipped behind the mountains. The temperature finally started dropping to something manageable. Pedaling into the twilight, I soaked in the surreal beauty of the desert at night—the silence, the changing colors, and the feeling of real isolation.
A few miles into the crossing, I heard the dreaded hiss of a flat tire. I found a slash in the sidewall, threw in a couple of plugs, and hoped the sealant would do its job. It held for about half a mile before the hissing started again—this time from both tires. I stopped, threw tubes into both wheels, and got back on the road as quickly as I could. I knew I was burning precious cool-night hours, and I was determined not to get caught in the basin when the sun came up.
Even with the setbacks, crossing Badwater Basin was an experience I’ll never forget. I crossed it mostly under a bright full moon. Wildflowers opened up under the cooler night air, and the desert, which looked lifeless during the day, suddenly felt alive. I stopped midway across the basin to catch a few hours of sleep—laid out under the stars, on rocks still warm from the brutal sun.
By morning, I was climbing. From -230 feet below sea level to over 3,400 feet in a single stretch. It was humbling, beautiful, and one of those climbs you feel proud of when you reach the top.
Crossing Badwater Basin was a huge moment for me—and honestly, I would do it all again in a heartbeat.