Maiden Voyage, v.2.0

His Nibbs and Princess Buttercup are in a fine fettle. We launched our maiden voyage for a second time, heading off to Tucson to pick up our motorcycles and trailer. We think we passed through a magical portal, because The Vixen, capricious minx that she is, decided to grace us with perfect behavior.

The cummins engine powered us up hill and down dale. The cooling system His Nibbs labored over functioned flawlessly, and all of his hard work has culminated in the ultimate travel vehicle.

Armagosa Opera House, Death Valley Junction

We left Tucson and headed for breakfast at the Amargosa cafe. Death Valley junction and the Armagosa Opera house are derelict gems (think Venice, sinking and crumbling…). The buildings were originally for workers to service the Borax Mining Company holdings at the edge of the desert. Factoid: His Nibbs said the 20-mule teams hauled borax through Death Valley’s hostile and barren terrain for five years, and never lost a team or a load. Twenty-mule teams were teams of eighteen mules and two draft horses hitched closest to the large wagons that transported borax out of Death Valley from 1883 to 1889. They traveled from mines across the Mojave Desert to the nearest railroad spur, 165 miles (275 km) away.

Marta Beckett

Round about 1987, newly wed ballet dancer Marta Beckett came through the junction with her husband Thomas. They stopped to fix a flat tire and never left. Marta persuaded him to purchase the buildings. They turned one into an opera house.

They painted every inch, ceiling included, with figures real and fantastical, waifs and royalty, creatures and angels, an audience for Marta’s dancing.

They both performed, she ballet and he doing mime and comedy, and they packed the opera house to capacity in their heydey during the 1970s. Now, wherever you look, in the cafe, in the old hotel, you see old photos and costumes.

Size matters

We left the junction and headed into Death valley, a vast and starkly beautiful place pretty much assured to have sunshine. The air is balmy and warm, the vistas tremendous and your eyes delight in the colors and shapes and expansive mountain ranges.

Last night I saw the star studded sky, bright with constellations, and strewn with stardust of a gazillion stars. I felt myself grounded to the earth while my soul lifted to the heavenly expanse.

Amongst all the natural beauty and tremendous landscape that leaves you feeling like an ant in the desert, American excess is alive and well. The campground guests loom over us.

Change is inevitable

We have visited Death Valley since the 1970s, and loved its rustic charm, tired buildings and rusty collection of mining equipment. The charming, quaint wooden buildings and rail car, as well as the date palm orchard that were in the valley from the 1950s have been torn down, and stucco buildings with imported palms and elegant tiled floors have been erected to entice the 5 star hotel crowd. But the vast expanse of the valley can reduce crassness to insignificance.

On a practical note

While Princess Buttercup is quite comfortable with her italian contessa roots, she does have a vestigal practical side. And so she laboriously hauled a bucket of water to the camp to hand wash laundry. And promptly acquired renewed  admiration for the laundresses of yesteryear. While her back hurt and her hands got tired from washing and wringing out one measly bucket of laundry, those women worked from before dawn to after dark hauling, scrubbing, wringing out and ironing dry and then folding enormous laundry mountains. 

Whilst the princess re-acquainted herself with physical labor, His Nibbs let the sunshine heat up his portable shower unit to a delightful 104 degrees. The small container holds about 2 gallons of water, which proved sufficient to obliterate one week of eau de dog smell.

After all this productive activity, it is time to relax.