Truckee to Yosemite 3-Day (Mis)Adventure
Day 2: Rednecks, Golden Skies, and Where'd the Road Go?
Some days, you just can't win.
Our day started a little slowly, waking up a little after dawn but not rolling out of our camp until shortly before 7am (given that sunrise was at 5:30am, we weren't moving that quickly). We rolled back across the street and found a diner for breakfast. The theme of the day was 'slow'. By the time we ate breakfast, charged our devices, filled our water, and grabbed snacks from the Safeway next door, it was already almost 9am - not an ideal situation when you're hoping to cover over 110 miles of rough backcountry roads before sundown.
The first road was a refreshingly uneventful dirt road and brought us to Morman Emmigrant Trail, which ironically is actually a rather nice paved road. A short jog on Mormon brought us to Capps Crossing Rd, which dropped us rather quickly down to the bottom of a steep valley with a narrow one-lane bridge at the bottom, which made it hard for all the big pickup trucks to pass by in both directions. It was easier for us to get out of the way than a car that came behind us, however, whose brakes were so overheated from the steep descent that we were coughing from the stench! The climb up the other side was as steep as the descent down, and making it slightly disconcerting to us was the large number of groups of - for lack of a better term - California Rednecks shooting guns along the side of the road every few hundred feet. At one point, partly to take a break from the climb, we stopped and watched a group of a dozen or so people take turns shooting a variety of large and small pistols and rifles at targets set up a short distance from the road. What was a fun diversion from riding quickly turned into motivation to get back on my bike, though, when we started hearing loud ricochets off of whatever metal targets they were shooting at.
Our day started a little slowly, waking up a little after dawn but not rolling out of our camp until shortly before 7am (given that sunrise was at 5:30am, we weren't moving that quickly). We rolled back across the street and found a diner for breakfast. The theme of the day was 'slow'. By the time we ate breakfast, charged our devices, filled our water, and grabbed snacks from the Safeway next door, it was already almost 9am - not an ideal situation when you're hoping to cover over 110 miles of rough backcountry roads before sundown.
The first road was a refreshingly uneventful dirt road and brought us to Morman Emmigrant Trail, which ironically is actually a rather nice paved road. A short jog on Mormon brought us to Capps Crossing Rd, which dropped us rather quickly down to the bottom of a steep valley with a narrow one-lane bridge at the bottom, which made it hard for all the big pickup trucks to pass by in both directions. It was easier for us to get out of the way than a car that came behind us, however, whose brakes were so overheated from the steep descent that we were coughing from the stench! The climb up the other side was as steep as the descent down, and making it slightly disconcerting to us was the large number of groups of - for lack of a better term - California Rednecks shooting guns along the side of the road every few hundred feet. At one point, partly to take a break from the climb, we stopped and watched a group of a dozen or so people take turns shooting a variety of large and small pistols and rifles at targets set up a short distance from the road. What was a fun diversion from riding quickly turned into motivation to get back on my bike, though, when we started hearing loud ricochets off of whatever metal targets they were shooting at.
A little ways later we met a group of [beginner-looking] cyclists coming the other direction. We exchanged the standard one-second greetings that one always uses when passing another cyclist with the first few to go by us, then the woman at the back of their group suddenly went flying over her handlebars and faceplanted onto the pavement! Completely shocked, we laid our bikes down and rushed to her aid; Will performed triage while I chased down a few runaway items that had fallen from her pack and were rolling downhill. Luckily she seemed to come away with just a few minor scrapes and bruises; we offered up bandages and painkillers from our first aid kits, but she had her own. Satisfied the group had everything under control, we remounted and continued climbing.
Near the top of the climb, and away from the incessant gunfire, we consulted our maps to figure out where we were supposed to turn - because if our maps were to be believed, we were supposed to make a right turn into a densely-packed forest (see right). |
This was clearly not going to work, so we found an alternate route that we reconnect with our original route shortly. In the meantime, we had the opportunity to enjoy a rarity on this trip: a semi-paved road that was easy to ride on, surrounded and shaded with dense forests, and completely devoid of other people. For 10 miles we rolled through pleasantly green roads, enjoying the easy riding along with the peaceful scenery. We came upon a small campground next to a stream, and filled up our water supplies while chatting with the manager. Later, we rolled upon what appeared to be a Toyota commercial shoot, as we saw at least a half-dozen white Toyata Tundra pickup trucks clustered in two groups with a few other vehicles. The location seemed appropriate, as there was a maze of dirt forest roads crossing the main road and wandering off into seemingly remote wilderness. Further yet and we reached an apparently popular region, where dozens of families had driven in for picnics or camping (glamping?). To the two of us, unwashed and covered in dust and grime from two nights and days of bikepacking, the sight of fancy cars and chic camp gear was thoroughly amusing.
Of course, it's not an adventure if it's all sunshine and rainbows and unicorns. When the road pitched up from a false flat to a rather steep climb, I started to notice my left Achilles tendon hurting, and the farther we climbed the worse it got. My progress slowed to practically a crawl while Will disappeared up the road ahead of me. We had gone less than 30 miles by this point - almost 7 hours into the day - and we were still 'officially' heading to Pinecrest for the night, nearly 100 miles ahead of us. A gnawing dread grew inside of me, alongside the bewilderment of our undertaking that had already set in the previous day. We were practically in the middle of nowhere, our destination was effectively getting farther away by the hour - and now I was starting to worry that, even with all the time in the world, my body was giving up on me.
I caught up to Will at the next intersection and told him about my Achilles pain issues; and as I was doing that I noticed my right knee was starting to hurt quite a bit as well. While I dug out some ibuprophen from my first aid kit, he looked up the WebMD article on Achilles pain - and unsurprisingly, the first potential cause for the symptom was overuse. Having no other options, we continued on, albeit more slowly, while I waited for the painkillers to kick in. Thankfully, Will finally seemed to also be coming to the conclusion that we wouldn't be making it to Yosemite. To add insult to injury, the road gradually got worse, until it turned into steep baby-head-filled hike-a-bike. The sections that were rideable required riding above threshold just to maintain 2 or 3 mph. When we finally made it to an intersection with a main road, we were exhausted.
I caught up to Will at the next intersection and told him about my Achilles pain issues; and as I was doing that I noticed my right knee was starting to hurt quite a bit as well. While I dug out some ibuprophen from my first aid kit, he looked up the WebMD article on Achilles pain - and unsurprisingly, the first potential cause for the symptom was overuse. Having no other options, we continued on, albeit more slowly, while I waited for the painkillers to kick in. Thankfully, Will finally seemed to also be coming to the conclusion that we wouldn't be making it to Yosemite. To add insult to injury, the road gradually got worse, until it turned into steep baby-head-filled hike-a-bike. The sections that were rideable required riding above threshold just to maintain 2 or 3 mph. When we finally made it to an intersection with a main road, we were exhausted.
After taking a break, we rolled down the highway until we saw signs for the Bear River Reservoir resort/lodge, which got us excited - lodge = food! We were rewarded with a smooth, blisteringly fast descent down to the lodge, where we stopped by the lake first to take obligatory #bikeporn pictures. Heading inside in search of a full lunch, we discovered we were too late - the kitchen had just closed! We were invited to check out the freezer for something else, with the only real option being sketchy-looking frozen burritos. Oh well, beggars can't be choosy...
After taking way too long to cool down, eat, and fill up on water, we started back up the short grueling climb out of the resort - only to discover that one of Will's tires was going flat. It turned out to be his tubeless valve stem leaking air out, so step 1 was to tighten the valve and add air. That didn't work, so he tightened it further... and then it came right through the rim, the rubber seal on the end completely shredded. Without a spare valve, he was forced to use a tube. Waah-waaah! Fine, clean out the tire, dump out the Stan's fluid, pop a tube in, use a CO2 canister, done - or so we thought. The tube didn't hold; the air leaked right out within seconds. Well, shit, something sharp must have punctured the tire and gotten sealed by the Stan's, only to puncture the tube. Check the tire again carefully, nothing sharp remaining, try again... same result.
By this point, the one flat tire had cost us nearly an hour of sitting next to the road, in the shade but still suffering in the heat. We decided the issue must be that he stored his tubes bare inside his frame bag; they must have rubbed against something sharp and over time developed holes. He was now out of tubes, and I was down to two (I had brought 3, and already used 1).
After taking way too long to cool down, eat, and fill up on water, we started back up the short grueling climb out of the resort - only to discover that one of Will's tires was going flat. It turned out to be his tubeless valve stem leaking air out, so step 1 was to tighten the valve and add air. That didn't work, so he tightened it further... and then it came right through the rim, the rubber seal on the end completely shredded. Without a spare valve, he was forced to use a tube. Waah-waaah! Fine, clean out the tire, dump out the Stan's fluid, pop a tube in, use a CO2 canister, done - or so we thought. The tube didn't hold; the air leaked right out within seconds. Well, shit, something sharp must have punctured the tire and gotten sealed by the Stan's, only to puncture the tube. Check the tire again carefully, nothing sharp remaining, try again... same result.
By this point, the one flat tire had cost us nearly an hour of sitting next to the road, in the shade but still suffering in the heat. We decided the issue must be that he stored his tubes bare inside his frame bag; they must have rubbed against something sharp and over time developed holes. He was now out of tubes, and I was down to two (I had brought 3, and already used 1).
I eventually just started laughing uncontrollably - you know, that I'm-going-crazy, laugh-or-cry kind of laugh that meant my nerves were frayed. Will finally admitted we weren't making it to Yosemite, so our remaining goal for the day was to take some sweet pictures and find a good place to camp for the night before it got too dark. Finally back on our bikes after fighting off the flat tire from hell, we looped around the lake, took pictures, and enjoyed a nice paved climb. By the time we reached the top, we were just starting to get golden-hour light. This would end up being one of our slowest descents of the trip - because we just couldn't help but stop and take in the beautiful views. I suggested setting up a shot coming around a corner into the light, so we found a nice wide corner with just the right lighting, and the results were some of the coolest action shots I've ever taken / had taken of me on a bike.
We also came across a few interesting sights: a water flume, with boat-access ramp, right next to a helipad. The valley below us was beginning to turn purple with twilight, so of course we had to take more pictures. Eventually we just finished off the descent, and debated what kind of bike would be most effective for it - beat-up pavement with numerous small potholes, gravel patches where the road surface was breaking down, and lots of s-bends and switchbacks. We bottomed out at a river, crossed a bridge, and turned down a dirt road to follow along it. We were surprised to come upon a large number of campsites, all occupied, and wondered if we would be able to find somewhere secluded to poach for the night. Just after we passed the last signs of other people, and just as the road was about to pitch up into a climb, we spotted a campsite down by the river and unanimously decided to call it a day. We felt lazy compared to the previous day, because we still had daylight left to set up camp; gratefully we fell asleep to the sound of small rapids in the river.
Day 2: 66.4 miles, 14 hours, 8,600' of climbing, 50% of our planned route completed.
Strava route
Click here for Day 3
Day 2: 66.4 miles, 14 hours, 8,600' of climbing, 50% of our planned route completed.
Strava route
Click here for Day 3