Death Valley

It all started with a stupid group text message. A group message with too many people on it, horrible jokes, and enough testosterone to rival the Sunday morning crew at Muscle Beach, Venice. How we ever got the Death Valley trip planned and executed is beyond me.

We ripped it up the 395, 20 deep, smiling, high-fiving and snapchatting along the way. Once we got to Lone Pine we ordered a few pitchers and took down some grub before making camp out in the Alabama Hills. Our camp neighbors warned us that it was quiet hours after ten, but with about 25 people and a few of the boys already shotgunning beers out the back of their exhaust, there is no such thing as “quiet hours”. We played with fire, bathed in beer, and rambled until the early morning.

Saturday morning we woke up to what looked like a Bob Ross land scape painting of Mt Whitney. It was glorious. A few of the guys worked on their bikes while a crew of us headed out to Death Valley. We all rondevued at Trona Pinnacles and set up home base part deux. We pulled our bikes together to form a half ass circle, lit a roaring fire in the middle, and implemented a mandatory beer drinking law. The shit talking and debauchery continued through the night. Most of us were lucky to make it to a sleeping bag.

Until next time… 

Photos by: Jonny Bourgault 

For those of you who actually scrolled through and made it this far on the post, a few of the guys from the trip are hosting a photo show in Costa Mesa next week. If you are local, enjoy vintage choppers, like beer, and want to come hang with some kick a** people, come on by to 1602 Babcock St. Costa Mesa, CA