Deth Loop: The Dirty Baker’s Dozen (Video + Story)

Video by Gregg Dunham

It was a rainy evening in October when an email from an old messenger friend landed in my inbox with the subject line: “DETH LOOP 2025 INVITE.” It was an invite for a challenge that would test my preparedness, self-reliance, and endurance while offering a fun and unforgettable experience. This wasn’t my first invitation, but it was the first time I felt certain I could join along on what promised to be one of the most remote, unique, and rewarding bike adventures I’d have in a while.

Originally conceived by adventure buddies Chas Christiansen, Alvin Escajeda, and John Bennett, the Death Loop was born after several trips together in the region. Their goal was to bring together a group of experienced cyclists from all over, show them the best of this landscape, and, most importantly, ensure the focus was on fun over a tough ride.

I’d seen pictures and heard stories from the previous year’s ride. I knew I was about to dive into something special: an incredible US national park tucked away in the vast desert. Plus, the group promised to be an easy-going crew of capable riders. After several years of solo ultra-races, this sounded like the perfect way to kick off my year. Since I was already planning to be in Mexico City at the time, I booked the short flight to LA, packed my gear, and asked my friend Ginger Boyd (and LA local) if I could borrow her Cervelo ZHT-5 hardtail for my first-ever bikepacking trip on a mountain bike.

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Death Valley National Park

Death Valley is the largest national park in the contiguous United States, spanning a staggering 13,840 square kilometers. Located on the northern edge of the Mojave Desert and bordered by mountain ranges that separate it from the greener lands closer to California’s coastline, Death Valley is notorious for being both the hottest and driest place in North America. Summer temperatures regularly exceed 48°C (118°F), while winter nights can plunge well below freezing—something we experienced firsthand.

The park’s name originates from a group of European-Americans who were lost for weeks in the valley while seeking a shortcut to California’s gold-rich fields further west. After enduring many hardships, it’s famously said that the last person to walk over the mountain and out of the valley turned around and said, “Goodbye, Death Valley.” In the past, several small settlements dotted the valley, mainly focused on mining minerals like salt, borax, and talc. Old photographs capture the worn-faced, hard-working miners, 20-donkey caravans hauling heavy wagons, and dusty general stores that tell a story of the Wild West.

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The harsh conditions make it difficult for any soil to form, and aside from the occasional stunning field of ancient desert Joshua trees, one of the most remarkable features of the landscape is the near-total absence of plant life. From the peak of a mountain pass, you can look down into the valley, seeing up to 50 or 60 kilometers into the distance, with the trail barely visible in the far reaches. The sense of scale here is overwhelming—everything feels vast and endless.

Logistics

The Brief was clear. Pack heavy. Bring all your bells, whistles, gadgets, and fine liquors. We needed enough capacity for up to 10 liters of water and food for five full days at the start. Temperatures could range from -7°C to 25°C (19°F to 77°F), and the bikes had to withstand long, rocky, and sandy stretches. With most sections being so remote, we had to rely on ourselves to solve any problems that arose. The result was a pretty wide variety of set-ups and kit choices in the group. A little bit of everything and some excellent treats for passing around the campfire.

Chas, John, and Alvin had coordinated beforehand and cached water, firewood, and bonus beers at certain key points on the route (everything packed in, packed out, of course) so that between the caches and certain campgrounds, we normally had to carry two full days’ worth of water at a time, which out there in the desert made a huge difference.

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Route Highlights

On the second day, we came over a mountain pass that brings you towering over Saline Valley below. The rough 15-mile descent is followed by 22 miles around the basin of the dry lakebed until you arrive at Saline Valley Hot Springs. The Springs don’t appear on any official National Park Service maps and are challenging to reach without a strong vehicle and a skilled driver behind the wheel. The same could be said for arriving by bicycle.

Despite the challenge, the hot springs are quite popular, and for good reason: being able to clean and bathe in these waters felt luxurious. The springs have been well maintained and offer a true oasis. There is more than enough space out in this empty valley to accommodate everyone, and the springs themselves never felt crowded. Being the only people to arrive by bike, we attracted some attention from other campers, and between all the kind-hearted people we met, each of us had a cold beer when we arrived and a hot coffee before we left. One group even donated us a huge freshly made pot of chicken stew, which they delivered to our campfire, “For the bikers!”

We woke the next morning to strong winds and a rather gruelling 15-mile climb into an absurd headwind out of Saline Valley and over Steele Pass. This pass connects to Eureka Valley and the spectacular Eureka Dunes, a formation of tall and sweeping sand dunes huddled up at the end of the dusty valley. The dunes are three miles long and rise more than 650 feet from the valley floor, with the rugged limestone wall of the aptly named “Last Chance Mountains” sitting behind them.

Descending into the valley and towards the dunes as the terrain shifted from clifftop rocks to the sandy valley floor, watching the dunes rise up and get bigger and bigger as they got closer, was one of my favorite sections of riding of the whole trip. With the light fading fast behind the tall valley walls, we had just enough time to run up the first section of dunes once we arrived at our camp spot at the base. So surreal and so peaceful. But as we found out later, it could also be especially cold. Temperatures overnight dropped to -6°C (21°F), and at first light, we huddled 13 people around our tiny fire sparked from our last logs of firewood to thaw out our toes and the water from our bottles. We waited hours for the first rays of sun to poke above the valley’s peak and touch our faces. Despite the chills, the group rallied together very well, accepting our fate and deciding it was more than worth it to be in this incredible place.

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On our second-to-last day, we headed toward the southern end of Badwater Basin, climbing the rugged Butte Pass to reconnect with Panamint Valley. We climbed from 70 meters (230 feet) below sea level to 1,300 meters (4,265 feet) above. We’d heard there was an old Geologist’s Cabin near the top—maybe a place to sleep for the night—but we didn’t know for sure, so it was a gamble. We decided to go for it. I started playing music on my phone for the first time in six days. Normally I ride with music, but in the group dynamic, I didn’t need it. The music was a huge motivator for the climb, and I found myself singing, vibing, and enjoying the views all the way up.

As I crested the pass with Mark having broken off the front of the group, we found the Geologist’s Cabin just before sunset. It was a true haven: a cozy cabin with camp furniture, board games, a guestbook, a fireplace, canned food, and—best of all—a box of beer with enough cans for everyone in our group. We raised the star-spangled banner on the flagpole outside and cheered each person in as we passed them their hard-earned beer. That night, celebrating together in the warmth of the cabin, was hands down my favorite night of the trip.

The Video

One of the riders in our group was ultra-cyclist and filmmaker Gregg Dunham. He’s as passionate about riding as he is about film and photography. Throughout the trip, he captured so many moments, each one showcasing our adventure and the stunning landscapes. The result is the video we share here with support from Old Man Mountain.

The Group

The wealth of experience and expertise in our group was impressive. Not only did it mean we didn’t have to worry about anyone, but it also created an environment where everyone could learn something new from each other. Each rider brought their own background and unique perspective to the trip. So, let me introduce you to the Deth Loop Class of 2025—our very dirty dozen—and share some of their impressions of the adventure.

Chas Christiansen

Hometown: Oakland, CA
Biggest Highlight: Seeing a group of relative strangers coalesce into a group of friends over the course of seven days.
Toughest Moment: expelling liquids from every orifice at 2 a.m. at 6,500 feet.. it was so cold!
Most useful thing you brought: Down vest. Hands down the most versatile layer.
Least useful thing you brought: This time around, I think I actually used everything I brought… maybe 2x spare tires..? But you can never be too careful out there.

John Benett

Hometown: San Francisco, California
Biggest highlight: Geologist’s Cabin Sardine Sleepover
Toughest moment: Steel Pass in the wind
Most useful thing you brought: Pocket bellows
Least useful thing you brought: Shift cable but my bike had AXS

Alvin Escajeda

Hometown: Ciudad Obregon, Sonora, Mexico
Biggest highlight: Pushing a huge day as the sun went down to find the Geologist’s Cabin empty and have the biggest slumber party ever.
Toughest moment: Waking up to-below freezing temperatures with all water frozen and zero firewood to be found.
Most useful thing you brought: A solid crew of people.
Least useful thing you brought: A drone I crashed on the first day.

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Sarah Didier

Hometown: Mission Viejo, California
Biggest highlight: Saline Valley Hot Springs because it was full of surprises, from Walter and his bottomless beer fridge to the donkey crashing our bonfire, to our friendly neighbors’ chicken soup and fireworks. So unexpected!
Toughest moment: Packing and repacking 10 times to figure out how to put all my gear, food, and 10L of water capacity on my bike!
Most useful thing you brought: A 2L soft flask that I used as a hot bottle in my sleeping bag, which definitely helped me survive the coldest nights!
Least useful you brought: My hardshell jacket because the zipper broke on the first day.

Eric House

Hometown: Conroe, Texas
Biggest highlight: The privilege to meet and become friends with such a beautiful crew.
Toughest moment: Gettin’ outta bed when it is below freezing.
Most useful thing you brought: Soooo many! OVaEasy Eggs loll… OMM cages for all that water. Hannah’s hat. Chanclas.
Least useful thing you brought: I used everythin’ I brought.

Ian Nomura

Hometown: Pasadena, California
Biggest highlight: The descent down to Eureka Dunes through Dedeckera Canyon.
Toughest moment: The climb up to Steele Pass in the headwind.
Most useful thing you brought: GSI kettle for boiling on the fire.
Least useful thing you brought: Sawyer water filter, bc it sprung a leak.

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Mark Hansen

Hometown: Petaluma, California
Biggest highlight: The journey to the Geologist’s Cabin. I was bonking hard at the end, and every tree looked like a cabin in the distance as it grew darker. Allan and I were riding together up front, and the feeling of finally reaching the cabin made that leap of faith worth it.
Toughest moment: Packing up camp on day three in Saline Valley. You can plan and pack and analyze gear all you want, but you can’t prep for the experience of breaking camp in howling wind and stinging sand with cold fingers.
Most useful thing you brought: A bomber custom frame bag sewn by my friend Ivy Audrain from Ivanhoe MFG a week before the trip.
Least useful thing you brought: My second fuel can. I’m a chronic fuel over-packer, and I used half of one can the whole trip.

Hannah Simon

Hometown: Austin, Texas
Biggest highlight: Cooking a whole dozen freeze-dried eggs for the crew on night three, breakfast for dinner!
Toughest moment: Riding a single-speed, limiting my full climbing power.
Most useful thing you brought: Wool socks and a beanie for the chilly hangs.
Least useful thing you brought: Plastic water bottles, shredded on day 3. Nalgenes next time!

Artec Durham

Hometown: Flagstaff, Arizona
Biggest highlight: Getting into some really remote areas of the park and having the place to ourselves.
Toughest moment: The big climb we did out of Badwater Basin was probably the longest climb I’ve ever done.
Most useful thing you brought: Down pants, cuz it was cold!
Least useful thing you brought: The regulation-size Bocce Ball set I carried in my frame bag didn’t get enough use!

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Adrian Andrada

Hometown: Chino Hills, California
Biggest highlight: My highlight of the trip is Ian having to climb up the side of the building onto the second floor to get into our room.
Toughest moment: Those super cold mornings. I was not a fan of our water freezing over and having frozen toes.
Most useful thing you brought: My down pants and down jacket were absolute lifesavers on those bone-chilling nights.

Gregg Dunham

Hometown: Thousand Oaks, California
Biggest highlight: Having dinner together in the Geologist’s Cabin. One big party!
Toughest moment: Having to leave.
Most useful thing you brought: The down slippers I got for Christmas, a couple of shallots, and an eye dropper of bitters.
Least useful thing you brought: First aid kit, but glad I brought it.

Blake Bockius

Hometown: Truckee, California
Biggest highlight: The people. I joined the group only knowing one person. The group was diverse. Everyone got along perfectly. It seemed to me that everyone stayed positive throughout the trip. Even the folks that we met outside of our group were kind and giving.
Toughest moment: Day three. Riding from the hot springs to the summit of Steeles Pass. Loose sand, headwinds, and challenging gradients.
Most useful thing you brought: My bike, of course! My Otso Fenrir was the perfect tool for the job. I also introduced two new pieces of gear to my kit on this trip, My new Montbell down pants and my Old Man Mountain Divide Cargo rack.
Least useful thing you brought: Everything I brought was useful or would have been useful if needed.

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A Footnote from the Organisers

This trip wouldn’t have been possible without the research, recon, and positive vibes of the three friends who made it all happen. I asked them to share their thoughts on why they chose this trip and this place.

Chas: Death Valley has always held a certain mystic to me. It is “The Valley of Death,” after all. A place so inhospitable and dangerous, yet so full of awe-inspiring beauty and deep history. People have been thriving in Death Valley in some form or another for centuries. So, to be able to ride a bike through this environment is very special. It feels like stepping back in time, revisiting the way things used to be. It is also one of the few places where one can really and truly get away from it all, have an adventure, and feel like they’re deep in the wilds.

Alvin: Death Valley represents everything we love about bicycle touring—exploration, history, community, and an absolute self-supported adventure. Riders must follow a path similar to people before us from water spring to water spring in order to survive. Its vast emptiness, largely untouched by human settlements, is inspiring and harrowing at the same time. As Californians, we wanted to share this remote and beautiful place with other like minded adventurers at a pace that allows them to experience the land as well as each other’s company.

The Route

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Further Reading

Make sure to dig into these related articles for more info...