“Vuelta de Colores (Tour of Colors)”
by Joseph C. (Joe) Shami
Day 1, Saturday, October 8th: June Lake, CA, to Mammoth Scenic Loop, Mammoth Mountain Ski Area, Minaret Vista, Devil’s Postpile National Monument, and return via the same route (60 miles total with 5,348 ft. of climbing).
Day 2, Sunday, October 9th: June Lake to Mammoth Scenic Loop, Town of Mammoth Lakes, CA, Twin Lakes, to and around Lake Mary, Lake George, Old Mammoth Rd, Hot Creek Geological Springs, and direct return to June Lake on I-395N (60 miles total with 4,068 ft. of climbing).
Day 3, Monday, Columbus Day, October 10th: June Lake Scenic Loop (Hwy 158), Grant Lake, Tioga Pass, Tuolumne Meadows and Tenaya Lake in Yosemite National Park, and return to June Lake the same way except for a more direct return on I-395 at bottom of Tioga Pass without passing Grant Lake (85 miles total with 6,588 ft. of climbing). Also, sighting of Tour-de-France celebrity Jan Ullrich in casual clothes by Dennis Cathey at Mobil Station at bottom of Tioga Pass and short chat with him and his wife by Dennis, Miss Linda, and Brent.
Day 4, Tuesday, October 11th: Short morning ride from June Lake to Grant Lake and Mono Lake. (I did not go because I was driving home.)
Total Distance for Days 1, 2, and 3: 205 miles
Total Climbing for Days 1, 2, and 3. 16,004 ft.
(Kevin and Teri did an additional 79.5 miles and 4500’ of climbing on Day 0.)
Day 4: I have no data, since I wasn’t there.
Our group consisted of six cyclists – four men and two women: Leader Kevin McTighe, Dennis Cathey, Brent F., Miss Linda G., Teri J., and Joe S. (myself), plus one support person, Leslie M., a travel agent who selected and booked our lodgings, drove the SAG wagon, bought some of the food, prepared many of the meals, and generally mothered us with care, affection, and encouragement. All of us are associated with the Royal Ground Velo Raptors, a cycling club, of Montclair Village, Oakland, CA.
This was the fifth tour that Kevin has organized and led for the club since May, 2004, the others being: (1) Castro Valley to Yosemite, May, 2004; (2) Fall Colors Tour, October, 2004, in Woodfords/Markleeville “Death Ride” Area; (3) Castro Valley to Yosemite, May, 2005; and (4) Castro Valley to and around Lake Tahoe, August, 2005.
Kevin, Miss Linda, Teri, and I have ridden in all four of Kevin’s previous tours, while Dennis has done the two Yosemite tours and Brent, the recent Lake Tahoe tour. Leslie was our wonderful support person on the Lake Tahoe tour. The average age of the group is fifty-something, with my age of 71 being balanced by Brent’s of 37. All the others are in their fifties.
Brent F.’s 18 photos can be viewed by double-clicking on the following link while connected to the Internet, or alternatively by copying the address below and pasting it into your browser:
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/brentf@pacbell.net/album?.dir=/f215&.src=ph&.tok=ph5S0xDBGKDMZHfH .
(If “PASTE” doesn’t work properly, try “SHIFT and INSERT simultaneously to paste.)
Our home base for all four days was the Boulder Lodge, #2282 Highway 158, June Lake, CA 93529, phone: (760) 648-7533. Both ends of the highway that the lodge is on (i.e., Hwy 158) connect to I-395, the major north/south highway near the California/Nevada border. (It is shorter to get to Boulder Lodge from Tioga Pass if you turn right at the SECOND intersection of the two highways, but much more scenic if you turn right at the first intersection and go past Grant Lake and the village of June Lake.)
Leslie booked an attractive apartment (#211) at the lodge, consisting of a large living room overlooking scenic June Lake with balcony and log fireplace, kitchen, and three separate bedrooms (each with bathroom and two beds apiece). In addition, I had my own private, much-less-fancy but adequate, single room with bathroom and lake view (#104). Boulder Lodge also has a hot tub and pool, both indoors.
Brent added the following: “The lodge kept bringing us new firewood each day, and provided kindling as well. All I needed were matches and some newspaper to get a fire going. The lodge is a family-run affair, and the desk staff was very helpful. Leslie talked them into giving us various pots and pans, as well as eggs and who knows what else.”
After dismal experiences on arrival in buying prepared meals in the village of June Lake, all subsequent meals were prepared in our own kitchen and were truly gourmet feasts of chicken, steak, and salmon on Days 1, 2, and 3, respectively, with salad and either baked or mashed potatoes, and homemade bread. Breakfasts were elegant too (eggs, English muffins, steel-cut Irish oatmeal, coffee, cream cheese, apricot jam, etc.). There was a cocktail hour in the living room before supper every night.
On Saturday evening, a married couple associated with our cycling club, Dr. Joe G. and Jen, friends of Miss Linda, joined us for cocktails and supper. (Both had minor injuries that prevented them from cycling but they had driven up for the weekend and stayed at the same lodge.)
Every one of us had an experience in driving the approximately 245 miles to June Lake on Friday, October 7th. I’ll relate them in the order of arrival at our destination.
I was daydreaming at two critical forks in the road and inadvertently added an extra 96 miles and two hours to my journey. The extra distance put me in jeopardy of running out of gas in a remote Sierra Nevada wilderness. In fact, my gas tank was so empty when I finally rolled into a station in Bridgeport, CA, on I-395, it swallowed more gas than I’d ever pumped into the vehicle in the twelve years I’ve owned it. It was also the most expensive gas I’d ever bought ($3.99/gallon for Shell premium with V-power), but at that point, price was no object.
My first error came only a couple of miles from home when I mistakenly took I-680 North instead of South. I had many things on my mind: Did I bring chains?, Did I pack everything I would need?, Did I water the houseplants, etc.? By habit, my car automatically went the same way on I-680 that it had gone to the last three century rides, i.e., north. It was only when I was on I-80E some 25 miles later that I realized that this wasn’t the way to Yosemite. I should be 44 miles further south on parallel road I-580E going over the Altamont Pass. No matter! It was still very early, because I’d left home around 8 a.m. on Friday, and I could recover by continuing on to Sacramento and then going directly south from there via Hwy 99 to Manteca and picking up Yosemite Avenue (Hwy 120) there, the route I should have been reaching much sooner. Besides, I had never driven that section of Hwy 99 before, so it was something new but, as it turned out, not particularly interesting.
My second mistake came on the combined Hwy 120/108 after Knights Ferry on the section that we had cycled both years on our trips to Yosemite. While musing as to how much more I was enjoying this part of the ride in my car today than on my two fatiguing bike trips with the hot sun and endless noisy traffic in late afternoons, I missed the turn where Hwy 120 makes a sharp right for Yosemite. I continued straight on Hwy 108 for Jamestown and Sonora, as we had done on our two bike rides. At the turnoff for Jamestown, I reminisced about last spring’s overnight stay there; at the turnoff for Sonora, I thought about the 2004 overnight experience and the walk through the bustling downtown on a Saturday night.
It was only after I’d passed Sonora on Hwy 108 headed for Strawberry that I realized that I’d missed the turnoff for Yosemite. No matter! I would continue on to I-395 by going over the Sierras on Sonora Pass instead of Tioga Pass. That way, I would be re-living an adventure I’d had with the Skyline Cycling Club 33 years ago in 1972 and had never since duplicated. Then, we parked our cars in Strawberry on a Friday afternoon, camped somewhere after climbing a bit, cycled over Sonora Pass on Saturday, camped somewhere near the bottom that night, had memorable crepes for breakfast on Sunday, continued south on I-395 past Lee Vining, CA, to the eastern end of Tioga Pass, and climbed it, ending our ride at Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite, where we were shuttled back to our cars.
In those days, I was consumed with my so-called career and enjoyed riding with Skyline Cycling Club because I could just show up at the designated meeting place and follow the leader without investing any time in planning my trip or understanding where I was going. Being relatively new to California then, I had no idea that the Sonora and Tioga Passes were two of the major routes over the Sierras in summer, both being closed in winter. But I couldn’t help noticing how difficult they both were and remembered forever that I never got out of my lowest gear in the 12 miles up Tioga Pass! I had never been back to either Pass since then – either on my bike or in my car.
When I reached Strawberry on Friday, nothing at all seemed familiar. I looked for a gas station but didn’t see any; there were only four or five buildings on Hwy 108, including a lodge. I went on through beautiful scenery. I had half a tank of gas, which should get me to June Lake, I thought, but as a precaution I really should get more. But when I came to a Chevron station, I had “sticker shock”! They wanted $3.44/gallon for premium! I had paid $3.19 at my last fill-up, and though prices had risen in the few days since, I wasn’t going to accede to price-gouging! I went on (Mistake #3!). The next station had no-name gas at $3.51/gallon and was on the wrong side of the road. There had to be better choices. But there was nothing – only gorgeous, remote, rugged, mountain scenery and a deep abyss on my left. I started to worry as the gas gauge dipped and my car climbed. The next place on the signpost was Dardanelle. I needed to get some gas there regardless of price.
Dardanelle was so tiny that I missed it and had to back up on the freeway to enter its parking lot. It consisted of a general store and two gas pumps, one for regular and one for diesel. Both had a sign saying “OUT OF GAS.” As I left the parking lot frustrated and worried, I noticed a SAG wagon surrounded by five young, fit-looking cyclists in their late twenties or early thirties. I would have liked to chat with them but I was now in a bad mood. I went on to the next place on the signpost: Kennedy Meadows. Desperately, I drove into Kennedy Meadows all the way to the dead end, which was just a campground. (Was that where we camped in 1972? Probably.) There was no gas there. I had wasted some of the precious stuff by driving two or three extra miles.
When I got back on Hwy 108, the five cyclists were now spread out before me, and I watched in admiration as they struggled up the steep mountain, one fellow having to “tack” (i.e., make sharp S-shaped turns) while standing on the pedals because he had such high gearing and the hill was so steep. My Volvo’s automatic transmission downshifted to a lower gear, confirming the steepness of the slope. The young lady was far out in front of the others. Their SAG wagon pulled over to let me pass.
I identified with those cyclists so strongly that my mood changed to pleasant, and I resolved to drive on and enjoy the spectacular scenery and cope on the spur of the moment with whatever happened. Long ago, I had turned off the air conditioning and rolled up all the windows to conserve gas by streamlining the car’s aerodynamic profile. My foot rarely touched the accelerator on the entire downgrade past the summit. Far below, I saw a complex of buildings. There had to be a gas station there. But that outpost of civilization turned out to be the Mountain Warfare Training Camp, a military installation, preceded by signs along the road saying to watch out for marines. There was no gas for me there.
With the gas gauge on “Empty,” I reached the intersection of Hwy 108 and I-395. There was no visible structure in either direction in this high desert. The sign said that Bridgeport was 17 miles to the south. Was there a gallon left in my tank when the gauge said “Empty”? Fortunately there was. The Shell station in Bridgeport knew that it didn’t need to post its outrageous prices ($3.99/gallon), so it didn’t. I paid $48.36 for a tank of gas – the most ever. Also, the cheddar-flavored potato chips that I bought there were so stale that they instantly upset my stomach, making me feel even guiltier for having bought “junk food.” I didn’t care for the “pizza” that I got at the Deli at June Lake either, but at least I got to June Lake. It was after 3 p.m.
I was lucky. But what would I have done if stranded? I have a cellphone that will only call 911. (There’s no monthly fee.) But there was probably no signal in the area due to the surrounding mountains. So if stranded and there was no phone signal, I would change into my cycling clothes, take my bike out of the trunk, and cycle down the mountain (with knapsack containing bike lock, cellphone, sneakers, spare inner tube, headlamp, tail-lamp, and warmest clothing), until I reached a place where I could use my phone to call a tow truck or until I reached a gas station, where I could lock my bike and try to find a way back to my car with a can of gas – either by hitchhiking or hiring a taxi/getting a tow truck, or walking. Fortunately, that plan wasn’t needed. And I-395 was patrolled by the California Highway Patrol if I managed to get that far.
Miss Linda’s Experience Driving to June Lake
Miss Linda arrived in Manteca after I did. When she reached the subsequent town of Escalon on Hwy 120, there was an accident that caused her to be stranded there for 2-1/2 hours. A container truck had made too sharp a turn on a road that crossed the railroad tracks and damaged the crossing signal, scattering debris on one of the two tracks. The railroad was notified and managed to stop a half-mile-long freight train just before the crossing. Though the train was on the other track, everything came to a halt for 2-1/2 hours – train and traffic. Because the train was so long, extending over other crossings, there was gridlock in Escalon. While waiting, Miss Linda had plenty of time to walk to a nearby fruit stand and buy pears and grapes. After two hours, she made a U-turn, managed to cross the tracks behind the train but found that she was brought back to the same deadlocked intersection. There was nothing to do but wait until Hwy 120 across the railroad was finally cleared.
Miss Linda was aware that Kevin and Teri planned to drive to Crane Flat in Yosemite National Park, leave their car there, and cycle over Tioga Pass to June Lake on Friday. (I wasn’t aware of that plan.) Miss Linda hoped to be able to provide SAG wagon support for them on their trip, but the traffic delay interfered with the rendezvous. Kevin and Teri were nowhere to be seen, and Miss Linda didn’t know just where they had parked so she couldn’t even confirm that they had arrived at Crane Flat. Nor could she find them on her subsequent route over Tioga Pass or on I-395 to the second intersection with Hwy 158. And they hadn’t arrived at the lodge in June Lake either by late afternoon. Miss Linda worried about them. She asked a fisherman returning to the lodge on Hwy 158 from the Grant Lake direction if he had seen a pair of cyclists. He had. They were 20 minutes back by car, perhaps 40 minutes back by bicycle, when he had seen them. Miss Linda got in her car and went out to meet them. By then, Kevin and Teri were only a mile from the lodge, and it was getting dark.
Kevin and Teri’s Experience Driving to June Lake
Kevin and Teri, our two strongest cyclists, left Castro Valley together at 5 a.m., with the intention of driving to Crane Flat, the western end of Tioga Pass, as mentioned above, and cycling the entire distance of the Pass and thence to June Lake (79.5 miles and 4,000 to 4,500 ft of climbing, according to my estimate). Friday was a warm, beautiful day throughout the region, but the weather was about to change in late afternoon. A very strong breeze was about to come up and last throughout the weekend. I was watching the local weather channel at the time in my room in the late afternoon, while it was issuing its warning, and simultaneously the wind was really HOWLING and gusting outside my door!
Meanwhile, Kevin and Teri were on I-395 heading south in a terrible headwind. It was so bad that they decided to leave I-395 when they reached the first intersection with Hwy 158 and take the longer, steeper way to the lodge via Grant Lake, hoping to avoid or abate the headwind. The plan didn’t work. They still had an exhausting headwind, a longer journey, and a much steeper climb.
While cycling, Teri realized that she had left food and toiletries in her car at Crane Flat and feared that a bear might rip open her car during the time she was away from it to get the “goodies,” as Yosemite bears are known to do. After showering, she borrowed Miss Linda’s Mitsubishi Montero -- what a friend Miss Linda is – and drove the four hours’ round trip to Crane Flat and back in darkness to retrieve the food and toilet articles. It was 11:15 p.m. when she returned. In the meantime, Miss Linda called me to see if I wanted to join her and Kevin at the restaurant in the village of June Lake, but I had already eaten at the deli. They were not too impressed with their meal either, and theirs was expensive.
Speaking of bears, the following article appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle four days later, Thursday, October 11, 2005, page B4:
“Jamestown, Tuolumne County
Associated Press
“Jamestown – A woman suffered a broken collarbone after she collided with a 250-pound bear. California Highway Patrol officers said 38-year-old Dana Nichols of Dunlap was going 50 to 65 mph on her motorcycle on Highway 108 near Jamestown when she struck the bear Monday afternoon. Nichols tried to brake, but the bear ran into her path, flipping the bike. Nichols was airlifted to a hospital in Modesto, where she was treated and released. Officers believe late-afternoon shadows may have obscured the black bear, which become increasingly active in fall. The bear fled after the collision.”
Dennis and Brent’s Experience Driving to June Lake
On Friday afternoon, Dennis and Brent met at Don W.’s house in Livermore, where Brent left his auto and carpooled with Dennis.
Darkness was approaching when they reached Tuolumne Meadows on Tioga Rd in Yosemite and passed a stranded 19-year old cyclist, dressed only in T-shirt and shorts – no helmet -- trying to fix a flat tire. Dennis made a U-turn to see if they could help. The youth (“Chris”) did not have a spare inner tube. He said he couldn’t see to patch the punctured tube by the fading light. He had been cycling in sneakers on flat pedals from Monterey and was on his way, he said, to see his father in Reno. He wasn’t short of cash, because he had worked a large chainsaw with his father in clearing debris in Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina’s rampage.
Dennis gave Chris a spare inner tube, but on seeing that the lad had little experience in fixing a flat and that he had no lights, Dennis squeezed him and his bike into his car. (Brent had to hold three wheels in his lap for the rest of the ride in order to accommodate the young man and his bike.) Dennis and Brent took Chris to the group’s apartment at June Lake, where they allowed him to sleep on the floor in their room in his sleeping bag after Leslie fed him.
The next morning Leslie, after feeding us breakfast, fed Chris too and drove him to two bike stores in Lee Vining to find a replacement nut for the quick-release mechanism of his front wheel, because he had left that part on the roadway in the darkness at Tuolumne Meadows, unaware that the nut need not (and should not) be removed in order to remove the wheel. At the second bike store, they found the necessary part, and Leslie drove him a bit further north on I-395 to send him on his way to Reno. The one characteristic that everyone found unusual about Chris was that he wouldn’t look you directly in the eye. (I personally did not meet the young man.)
Brent added the following comment: “The kid that Dennis and I rescued, Chris, had ridden over Mt Hamilton [from San Jose to Mines Rd, Livermore] towards the start of his trek. Somewhere in the trip, he got a flat, and rode 25 miles before he found a bike shop to get a new tube. 25 miles!” My comment: One would think that he would have learned to carry a spare from that experience.
Leslie’s Experience Driving to June Lake
Leslie had such a busy day at work that she wasn’t able to leave Berkeley until 6:40 p.m. on Friday. So her trip was entirely in the dark. She was so late in reaching Yosemite that there was no ranger on duty, so she didn’t have to pay to enter the park. Never having been over Tioga Pass before, she had to navigate its turns at night in her large SUV and take special care at the several dangerous places where the road passes near the edge of a steep drop. It was about midnight when she reached June Lake, and she was the last one to arrive.
A delicious breakfast was ready at the apartment when I went to meet everyone at 8 a.m. Saturday. Leslie and her helpers had been busy. Chris, the youth, was still asleep in Dennis and Brent’s room, so I never met him. We were a bit slow in getting started.
While waiting for the others, I calibrated my altimeter at a nearby sign on the road that said the elevation was 7450’. Above it was a huge boulder, placed precariously at the entrance to the village of June Lake, population 613. It is from this boulder that our lodge derives its name. I don’t know if the stated altitude is accurate, but I re-calibrated my altimeter there every morning. However, I must point out that in order to record four days’ worth of data in the limited memory, I had to set the altimeter’s data-gathering interval to its lowest accuracy, i.e., sampling every 60 seconds, whereas on one-day centuries, I set it to gather data every 10 seconds. So it’s quite possible that my elevation readings are a bit inaccurate, usually understated, and could be off by as much as 300 ft. throughout the report.
When everyone was ready at 9:23 a.m., we all turned left at the lodge entrance and cycled the 2.33 miles on Hwy 158 to I-395 (the short way), turned right onto the shoulder of I-395 South and climbed Deadman’s Summit (elev. 7966’) on that road, which we reached at 10 a.m.
In my ignorance, I had never heard of the Devil’s Postpile National Monument, so I didn’t really know what to expect. The first thing we encountered on returning to Hwy 203 was a toll booth staffed by U.S. Forest Service personnel (elev. 9042’). There was an entry fee for vehicles, and the amount depended on the number of occupants. It was $7 per person or $20 for three, but there was no charge for bicycles entering.
What I was not expecting was the sudden steep descent after the toll booth on a very narrow road – barely more than a lane wide in some places -- that seemed to go right up to the edge of a deep abyss on the opposite side of the road. In fact, some of the ascending cars – and there were lots of them -- seemed so afraid of the right edge of the road that they were traveling in the middle, making it very dangerous for us as we descended at speed. The descent went on forever – for seven miles, in fact, and took a half hour – to an elevation of 7467’. A deer plodded across the road very slowly and deliberately as I descended and refused to (or couldn’t) increase its pace, despite my fast approach and an oncoming car’s in the other direction. We both had to brake for it. (It was really unusual behavior for a deer!) There were all kinds of hiking trails on the way down, as well as a lake. At the bottom was a scenic parking area, with a ranger station, toilet, etc. People were looking at us curiously and with admiration. There were only a couple of other cyclists doing what we were doing that afternoon.
There was a quarter-mile hike to the monument itself, which consists of a most unusual, natural formation of rocks. I couldn’t walk a quarter mile wearing my cycling cleats, so I was the only one who didn’t go to take a look at it. What I didn’t remember at the time was that my sneakers were in the SAG wagon that was stopped next to us, and that I could have changed and walked to the monument. However, Brent has a photo (#16 of 18) and I also found a photo of the monument on the Internet by using Google. It can be seen at:
www.classbrain.com/artmonument/publish/devils_postpile_historical_photo.shtml
To tell the truth, I was terribly concerned about the forthcoming ascent. Sitting here writing this, I can see now that it was “only” 1,575 ft. – less than the 2200-ft climb up to the Ranger Station halfway up Mt. Diablo. But it seemed like so much more then when faced with the prospect of getting back up to the top. Perhaps, it was the sight of the intimidating abyss and the steepness of the slope at the beginning of the descent, as well as the heavy traffic in both directions that worried me. So I wanted to start back immediately, and I did. To my surprise, the climb wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared. And Kevin said the same thing later too. Also, the drop by the side of the road into the abyss wasn’t nearly as frightening as it seemed from the other side of the road. In retrospect, I would say that the experience was like climbing the upper seven miles of Mt. Diablo, but without the extremely steep summit at the top of Mt. Diablo. I arrived at the top at 3:02 p.m. and rested on a bench near the toll booth till 3:30 p.m. when Miss Linda and Dennis arrived. The others arrived three minutes apart after that. (Of course, they didn’t start when I did, since they had all gone to look at the monument.) I had come 37 miles for the day and ascended 4,350 ft. by then.
Brent added the following: “While descending, I remember thinking about how much more fun it would be to go UP that hill so that I wouldn't have to worry about the cars or the drop-off.”
As Brent was taking a group photo, one of the rangers came out of the toll booth and offered to take a photo of all of us, using Brent’s camera, since the traffic to her booth had slacked off. We were happy to accept her offer (see #17 of 18 in Brent’s photos) and chat. We learned from her that the area will close for the winter on October 31st and that normally, individual cars are not allowed to go down to the monument. Rather, there are shuttles that everyone must take, and that’s what the toll fees are used for – to pay for transportation. But the shuttles had already shut down for the year. Bicycles can always enter free, but when the shuttle is running, the rider and bike can opt to take the shuttle back up, but must then pay the transportation fee of $7. (My Golden Age Passport would not be acceptable in lieu of payment.) Today, there was no shuttle and therefore no option for a bicycle to be carried back up. That’s why there were so few bikes down at the bottom and why everyone was looking at us with such respect.
As we got ready for the forthcoming descent back to I-395, Kevin warned us to bundle up, despite the mild temperature there. It was good advice. We had shed a layer of clothing for the ascent up to the toll booth, but it would be very cold and windy on the descent back to I-395. I left the group to use the toilet at Minaret Vista, forgetting how steep that short slope was up to the parking area. I was puffing and panting harder than at any time of the whole day, because of the elevation over 9,000 ft. and my hurry not to get too far behind the others.
For me, the remainder of the trip back to the lodge was uneventful, except that we had to climb Deadman’s Summit on I-395 again, this time from south to north, and in that direction it is much longer and more difficult.
Brent added the following: “On the descent back to I-395 along Mammoth Scenic Loop, I had Teri and Kevin on my tail as I pulled them down the hill. I was actually pedaling hard to maintain a good speed -- something like 35 mph. They were really enjoying the draft, although I lost them for a bit on a steeper section where I hit 40 mph. At the end, Kevin was planning to do a racing slingshot around us, but I inadvertently foiled his plan by signaling for a stop about 100 yards from the STOP sign for I-395.”
The statistics for Day 1 are as follows: Total Distance: 60 miles. Total elapsed ride time: 8 hrs, 13 minutes, of which about 6 hours were actual cycling time. My average speed was 10 mph, maximum was 39.7 mph. Total ascent: 5348’. High point: 9147’ (at Minaret Vista); Low point: 7415’ (near Boulder Lodge).
The ride on Day 2 began the same way as on Day 1, except a half hour earlier. When we reached the intersection of Mammoth Scenic Loop and Hwy 203/Minaret Rd, we turned left, whereas we had gone to the right yesterday. So instead of heading for the ski mountain and Devil’s Postpile, we headed down the very long hill to the town of Mammoth Lakes, where we stopped by Leslie’s SAG wagon that was parked on the main street outside Noah’s Bagels (elev. 7770’). People were sitting outside at tables on the sidewalk on the main street in the warm sun, regarding us with curiosity. Preceding us were four youths with poles, descending the steep grade on snowboards on rollers – no brakes.
Never having been at Mammoth Lakes before, I liked it. Everything was clean and picturesque. However, I’ve heard and read contemptuous comments about the place to the effect that it is a “cookie cutter” development, modeled after similar ski areas, such as Whistler, Keystone, and Vail. Never having been to any of those, although I’ve been to many ski areas, I liked Mammoth Lakes!
Miss Linda decided that she had cycled enough for the day and joined Leslie as SAG wagon support when the rest of us resumed cycling and turned right onto Lake Mary Rd. This took us on an ascent to the Upper Lakes Basin, consisting of Twin Lakes, Lake Mary, Lake George, and Lake Marie, among others.
On the way up to Twin Lakes, we passed over a lovely creek flowing out of one of the lakes near the road. On reaching that lake, we paused for a welcome break in the warm sun, while Kevin and Teri sat on a wall over the water. Some of the aspen trees were beginning to turn yellow. I believe the elevation there was around 8,300 ft, and we remained at the picturesque spot for about 15 minutes, leaving around noon.
As I stood admiring the lovely view of this Twin Lake against the backdrop of the bare, rugged mountain peaks, with pine trees around and above the lake, I recognized the scene immediately as a winter painting by famous landscape artist Robert Wood that has been hanging in my living room for 40 years. I had originally bought a framed 48” x 24” print of the famous painting around 1964, because all the snow reminded me of skiing, which I enjoyed so much. Then, when my late mother took up oil painting as a hobby around 1968, she copied that print as a training exercise and completed it in 1970, when she gained more experience. Her same-size copy has hung in my living room ever since, nicely framed. I always thought it was a winter scene from Colorado. (The original print is still in my basement.)
We cycled almost all the way around Lake Mary on Around Lake Mary Rd till the turnoff for Lake George. We had lunch on the boat ramp of Lake George. It was a slow and relaxed day. Kevin is especially fond of lakes, and no-one was in a hurry to leave. We lingered till 2 p.m. The elevation was the highest of the day at 8717’.
On departing, we took Old Mammoth Rd to get us back to Hwy 203/Minaret Rd. It was a steep, long descent, and Kevin warned us beforehand to take it carefully, because he didn’t know the condition of the road, which had some hairpin turns. However, the road was pretty well maintained, and I enjoyed the fast descent past many new condominiums and a shopping center, as we approached Hwy 203. Then it was on to I-395, heading south for Hot Creek Geological Springs.
It was only a short distance to the turnoff for Hot Creek Geological Springs. But the paved road ended, and one had to travel on gravel for about a mile and a half to get to the flowing creek that had natural hot springs heating up the water. Brent started to cycle on the gravel but couldn’t. So it was necessary to drive there, and someone had to stay with the bicycles at the end of the paved road. I volunteered, since I hadn’t brought a swimsuit and wasn’t in the mood for a dip in the middle of a bike ride. As I once said, “When I’m 71, I should be heard and read, but not seen in a swimsuit unless it’s an emergency.” The other six squeezed tightly into the SAG wagon, along with all the food and gear. They had to dump my briefcase that contained all my tools in order to fit. I was happy about that, because I used the hour to fiddle with adjusting my saddle, since I had the tools and time. So it wasn’t wasted time for me. I noted that it was 2:40 p.m. when the others left in the SUV. We had cycled 38 miles and ascended 2,600 ft. so far. My current elevation was 6821’, which was the low point of the day.
From what I gathered from the others, there were about 75 people bathing in the creek, and soaking in the hot water did Miss Linda some good, she said, rejuvenating sore, tired muscles. Dennis, who genuinely likes people, was enthused about a person he met there. Leslie had the courtesy to ask a French Canadian visitor who was leaving the springs to tell me that she and the others would be about 45 minutes longer in returning, and that was helpful to me.
After finishing my saddle adjustment, I sat there alone on a rock in the high desert, observing the barren mountains and the scrub brush. Then I noted that there was a Hot Creek Fly Fishing Ranch near the beginning of the gravel road, and a couple of cars came out of it. I was surprised at the amount of traffic going to and coming from the Hot Springs. I could see cars disappearing in the distance after they passed me. There was a car every few minutes one way or the other. Everyone of our group seemed pleased with the experience, and we headed “home” up I-395 North at about 4 p.m., having 22 miles to go, including the climb up Deadman’s Summit.
Brent added the following: “The person that Dennis was
chatting with at the Hot Springs had ridden solo from Fairbanks, Alaska, to
California. He talked about having to duck off the Alaska Highway when
big trucks came by, for fear of rocks shooting backwards at him! He had
also ridden across the country twice, leading
youth groups from California to Washington DC. They would stop at
churches
and youth organizations; he gives motivational speeches. He said that
they
reversed the course as they drove back home, stopping at the same places to
let the kids talk about their new accomplishment. It sounded very cool.”
Brent continued: “There was a tour bus at the springs; something like 30-40
people were Europeans of all kinds on tour. I didn't find out what all
they were
seeing, but there were many languages being spoken.”
The statistics for Day 2 are as follows: Total distance: 60 miles. Total elapsed ride time: 9 hrs, 02 minutes, of which about 5 hours and 30 mins was actual cycling time. My average speed was 10.9 mph, maximum was 39.3 mph. Total ascent: 4068’. High point: 8717’ (around Lake Mary); Low point: 6821’ (at beginning of gravel road to Hot Creek).
Kevin set a time of 8 a.m. to begin cycling, so breakfast was moved up to 7 a.m. It was predicted previously that today’s effort would be the most difficult of the entire trip, equivalent to a “Double Mt. Diablo,” i.e., a climb of Mt. Diablo (elev. 3849’) twice.
Dressed warmly because it was a very cold morning, Miss Linda and I left together at precisely 8 a.m., turning right at the entrance of our lodge driveway for the first time on our bicycles onto Hwy 158 headed for June Lake Village and Grant Lake. The village was only a quarter mile away, and the main street was only about a quarter mile long, with a fire station, a few gift shops, a homemade candy store, the Sierra Inn restaurant and bar, the Tiger Bar (where I saw a few motorcyclists outside on the afternoon of Day 1), a coffee shop, deli, a post office, and a few motels/lodges. Also, there were a few side streets with residences.
After we passed through “town,” the road turned rustic with heavy foliage -- much of it a colorful yellow. We were descending all the time, dropping 500 feet very quickly. The scenery became extremely attractive as there were rugged mountain formations on both sides with big stands of aspens that had turned from green to yellow, and a few that had turned from yellow to orange. The more we descended, the more the temperature dropped. The thermometer on my handlebars was registering 21 degrees F! The local weather channel predicted 27 degrees overnight for Mammoth Lakes, and this was a particularly cold section we were traversing, so 21 was not unreasonable. Even with winter gloves on, my fingers froze, as well as my ears and toes. I had brought a pair of booties to the lodge but wasn’t wearing them over my shoes, because I didn’t think it was going to be that cold, but I should have worn them. We passed campgrounds, such as Aerie Crag, and several photographers and birdwatchers along the road.
This was one of my favorite sections of scenery on a trip filled with unusual and magnificent scenery. When the canyon finally opened up, the sun shone in, and we started to warm a little – first the ears, then the fingers. (But the toes wouldn’t warm till climbing Tioga Pass.) Soon we were looking at Grant Lake on our right, a large lake much bigger than June Lake, with little surrounding vegetation and being fed, it seemed, by a high waterfall from still-melting snow on our left. There was a large dead deer in the roadway that we had to go around. Brent caught up with us first, then Dennis. As we approached I-395 ahead, which we reached at 13 miles, we could also see Mono Lake ahead. This looked very barren.
Brent added: “On the way out, I would ride for at most a
mile, then see incredible
scenery, and have to stop to take some pictures. I have pictures of mist
rising off the lake, Dennis riding past brilliant orange trees, and Kevin
and Teri with mountains in the background. It is an amazingly beautiful
loop.”
Miss Linda’s description of this loop is poetic: “Crisp morning air, blue clear skies, stone mountains to climb, and pine, cypress, spruce, and aspen trees giving shade or shimmering in sunlight. Colors of fluorescent yellow, orange and red -- trees [planted] in S-shapes down sides of mountains, seeking river washes for thirsty roots..”
Four of us – Miss Linda, Dennis, Brent and I -- were together at the bottom of the eastern end of Tioga Pass (Hwy 120 at I-395, elev. 6788’) at 9:18 a.m. We had come 17 miles and dropped 862 ft since leaving the lodge. I stopped cycling to take these notes. Miss Linda said that she and the others would meet me at the Mobil Station ahead. I agreed. However, I didn’t realize that the Mobil Station was less than a quarter mile away on the left. It was so attractively camouflaged to blend in with the surroundings that I cycled right by, always thinking that my three companions were ahead of me.
In the meantime at the Mobil Station, Dennis, Miss Linda, and Brent were outside the large food mart and small restaurant when someone leaving told them that the celebrity Jan Ullrich was inside. They went in to check. There Dennis recognized Tour-de-France racer Jan Ullrich, who finished third to Lance Armstrong in 2005 and won the event in 1997, challenging Armstrong in the intervening years. He was dressed in casual clothes and was with his wife. Dennis went over to shake his hand, and Jan was gracious, asking if Dennis, Brent, and Miss Linda were going to climb Tioga Pass. They engaged him in a short conversation, which for Dennis was one of the highlights of his trip.
.
On the near and far left, as I climbed Tioga Pass, were the peaks of Mt. Dana and Mt. Lyell, respectively, where rivulets form that later join to create the Tuolumne River. After I’d climbed for about three miles in dramatic scenery, looking at flat-topped peaks ahead of me (Lembert Dome?), Leslie passed in the SAG wagon and stopped to refill my water bottle, to take outer clothing I no longer needed, and to warn me that the next five miles were so steep and narrow that she wouldn’t be able to stop again till after that section. She also mentioned that Jan Ullrich had been sighted at the Mobil Station by my colleagues. Nevertheless, I still had the impression that they were ahead of me. When I neared Ellery Lake, Kevin then Teri passed me, and we all stopped at the SAG wagon at the turnoff for Saddlebag Lake. I asked Leslie how far ahead Miss Linda, Brent, and Dennis were. Kevin insisted that they were all behind me. I tried to explain that they weren’t, because they had left the bottom before me and I had never passed them. It was then that I realized that I’d never seen the Mobil Station where I was supposed to catch them. So Kevin was correct after all. Soon all the others appeared from behind. But they would all be ahead of me for the rest of climb. Brent was the last to appear. He said he had been waiting at Ellery Lake below.
The scenery was so marvelous that it was uplifting. “Sheer walls of granite resembling domes,” as Miss Linda put it. I didn’t remember them at all from 33 years ago. I only remember being so uplifted then that I started singing out loud, and my friends from the Skyline Cycling Club then thought I was nuts and were highly amused. This time I enjoyed the views silently.
In one stretch, the road surface was heavily pock-marked from many large boulders having fallen on it from the towering rock formation on the right, which had hundreds of loose, large rocks waiting to fall.
We arrived at the toll booth at the eastern summit of Tioga Pass (elev. 9945’, the high point of our trip) at 11:50 a.m. I had a Golden Age Passport (for senior citizens) that allowed me free access after having paid once previously, and this time I remembered to bring it. I showed it to the ranger on duty (also a senior citizen) and told him that Leslie’s SAG vehicle was with me. Would I have to ride inside it with my bike in order for us both to pass through without paying? He was a gentleman and waved us both through, so I didn’t have to remove my wheels and try to squeeze myself and my bike into an already full SAG wagon. He said he had seen us starting out at the bottom when he was driving up to begin his shift. We were now officially inside Yosemite National Park. Brent took a great photo of the five of us with the toll booth behind us and its sign stating “Tioga Pass, Elev. 9945.”
We descended to Tuolumne Meadows (elev. 8550’), where we paused at 12:20 p.m., having come about 38 miles. Here there were campsites, hiking trails, and fishing sites. This area is not unusual, in my opinion; it’s the scenery one passes from either side on Tioga Road to reach it that makes Tuolumne Meadows such a desirable destination. We were all in great spirits.
Then Kevin moved the goalposts. He said that we had arrived earlier than anticipated and that we should continue on to Tenaya Lake for lunch. This involved more climbing. Although there was some grumbling, we continued. Both Kevin and Teri were remarkably strong, considering that they had put in a very significant day of cycling on Day 0 before the rest of us began.
Tenaya Lake
Tenaya Lake (elev. 8156’) is actually 400 ft. below Tuolumne Meadows, but there are two rolling hills to climb before the descent to the lake in a distance of about seven miles. Looking at the altitude profile now, captured by my Suunto watch/altimeter at the time, I realize now that the two climbs were not particularly significant (one of 50 ft. and the other of 167 ft.), but at the time they seemed HUGE! And there was traffic to contend with on the narrow two-lane road. So my feeling of euphoria had passed by the time we reached Tenaya Lake at 45.7 miles, despite the prettiness of the lake on one side of the road and the interesting spectacle of two parties of rock climbers high up on the massive rock-face on the other side. We cycled back a quarter mile to a picnic area in the woods where there was parking for the SAG wagon and restrooms.
This is where we had a delicious chicken-sandwich lunch, made of leftovers from yesterday’s gourmet supper of huge chicken breasts. This time I remembered to change into my sneakers so that I could walk around easily. However, I was too tired to tie the laces, since I didn’t expect to move much. Very fortunately, Leslie caught me as I was falling to the pavement like a bowling pin after tripping on a lace. It would have been really ironic if I’d injured myself in the parking lot, having survived all the steep downhills, traffic, climbing stresses, and cliff edges while cycling for three days!
Miss Linda had achieved her cycling goal for the day and joined Leslie in the SAG wagon after lunch.
Now we had to ascend about 2,000 ft. (with rollers) to return to the ranger station at the top of Tioga Pass. Though starting first, I was the last to arrive there, having ascended 5560’ for the day by the time I got to the top. Dennis was the first to pass me, then Brent, and finally Kevin and Teri, who always started last. There was frequent encouragement from Leslie and Miss Linda from the SAG wagon, which kept in close touch, passing us, then waiting by the side of the road, and passing again.
When we reached the ranger station at 4 p.m., we all followed Kevin’s advice to bundle up for the descent, even though the weather was still very pleasant at almost 10,000 ft. The same ranger was on duty, checking the outgoing traffic for passes or receipts, but at first he didn’t remember me, because I was now wearing a different-colored outer layer of clothing. So he was about to make me show my Golden Age Passport again and force me to re-explain about the SAG wagon, but then he remembered and waved us through. (He was also on duty the next day when I was driving home, and I had a pleasant chat with him when he asked me if we had achieved our objective.)
The descent was very fast and sometimes scary as the road was cut into the side of a cliff for a fairly long stretch, and if you went off the road, you were in the canyon below. Leslie commented on that afterwards, because she and Miss Linda had stood outside the car watching us as we zoomed by in that somewhat dangerous stretch. It took me 35 minutes to complete the descent of Tioga Pass from the ranger station to the Mobil station (elev. 6959’). So I had descended 2986’ at an average speed of 20.3 mph and a maximum of 36.5 mph. The distance was 12 miles. It was 4:45 p.m. when I reached the Mobil Station.
Brent added: “On the way down Tioga Pass, Leslie was blocking traffic for us! She did the same thing for me a couple of times on Tuesday. It actually made me worry about her frustrating the drivers behind her, but it sure made things easier for us.”
We stopped and regrouped at the Mobil Station at the bottom. It wasn’t clear how we were going to get back to the lodge from there, whether by taking the first (longer, steeper) Hwy 158 exit from I-395S or the second shorter one. Brent was ahead of the group, and he elected to take the longer, steeper route via Grant Lake. When Dennis and I reached that first intersection, the SAG wagon was there, and Leslie and Miss Linda were encouraging us to stay on I-395 and take the shorter route. About that time, Kevin and Teri came along and also took the shorter route; they quickly got ahead of Dennis and me.
Dennis and I stayed together for the rest of the time back to the lodge. During those 14 miles, the temperature dropped 19 degrees in 20 minutes as soon as the sun went down, from 64 degrees to 45 degrees F.
Surprisingly, Brent was only a few minutes behind Dennis and me in arriving back at the lodge. He has really gotten stronger and lost 30 pounds since our Lake Tahoe trip last August. He said that three deer had crossed his path. Here’s his report:
“When I saw the deer, it was just out of the corner of my
eye. I was taking
in the fantastic scenery at twilight and couldn't hear any cars at all. But
something [i.e., the deer] was in the road, which startled me almost as much as
I
startled them! One went left, and just stood in a field watching me; the
other two went right and hid behind some trees. They just stood there
while
I came back and took their pictures.”
The statistics for Day 3 are as follows: Total distance: 85 miles. Total elapsed ride time: 10 hrs, 28 minutes, of which 8 hours and 24 mins was actual cycling time. My average speed was 10.1 mph, maximum was 36.5 mph. Total ascent: 6588’. High point: 9945’ (Tioga Pass Ranger Station); Low point: 6726’.
I wasn’t there to cycle on the fourth day, but the plan was to cycle past Grant Lake, as we had done the previous day, and then go on to Lee Vining and cycle up to Mono Lake and return the same way for a total distance of about 40 miles.
At first I had only Miss Linda’s description of passing along “the shoreline of Mono Lake, where the two islands – Paoha (“Spirits of the Mist”) and Negit (“Black-Winged Goose), the black-sanded island – sit watching the world roll down the highway and offer a place of landing for the migrating birds to rest. Always, birdsong.”
Later, I got Brent’s account, which I’ll include below. Personally, I was on my way home, pleased to pay only $3.05/gallon for Arco Premium on arriving. As I descended Hwy 120 from Crane Flat down to Knights Ferry, I marveled at how we had climbed that steep ascent for two years in a row on Kevin McTighe’s Yosemite tours.
“Kevin rewrote the plan for this day. We drove [to Lee
Vining] and checked in with the tourism office, where we were told the best way
to get a good look at the lake in the hour that we had available. So we
drove a couple of miles further north, to a park, and walked down to the
lake. There were signposts documenting how the lake has receded as Los
Angeles has diverted the streams that feed it. Near the water, there’s an
overlook deck, where you can see hundreds or thousands of birds, as well as the
limestone Tufa formations.
”After this, we drove to the [Yosemite] park entrance at [the top of] Tioga
Pass, where Kevin, Teri, and I started a ride to Crane Flat. However,
Miss Linda had trouble with her car. The coolant was boiling inside the
overflow container. I am no mechanic, so I wasn't able to help
much. I think that Dennis diagnosed it as a minor issue, and that she
would be fine. So I left to ride out. Dennis drove home, and Miss
Linda drove back down the hill and on to Incline Village to see her parents.
“Leslie provided SAG support for me along the 45 miles to
where Kevin and Teri had parked. We played leapfrog – she would drive
ahead and then wait for me to pass. Sometimes, she would wait at the top
of a hill and block traffic for me as I descended. She is so nice!
”I did not get passed by Kevin and Teri, so I only saw them when they got into
the parking lot at the end. They rode the course about 15-20 minutes
faster then I did, so they must have stayed with Miss Linda for a lot longer,
or they had some other issue to deal with before they got started.”
From the above, I (Joe) conclude that Brent got a ride back to his car in Livermore with Leslie.
I’m grateful to Kevin McTighe for planning and leading such an enjoyable trip; to Leslie M. for the tremendous SAG support, meal preparation, cooking, shopping, and warm encouragement; to Teri for buying and bring the initial food supplies and cooking us real, steel-cut Irish oatmeal; to Dennis for cooking marvelous steaks on the barbecue and for his friendship; to Miss Linda for her warm, pleasant companionship; and to Brent for the photos and his inspirational improvement.
Here’s Miss Linda’s description of the food and ambiance: “Steaks grilled by Big D [Dennis]; salmon baked in wine sauce, chicken simmered; garlic mashed into potatoes; spring greens in blush wine vinaigrette dressing; chocolate cake dusted; much pouring of wine (red and white), not to mention those tequila grapefruit Margaritas, and yes, Martinis. CD’s of music filling the living room; lit logs in the fireplace, then a dash off to the hot tub and indoor swimming pool to refresh ourselves once more before the bed beckons us.” [Next morning,] “Irish oatmeal cooked by [Teri] and bacon sizzling in the pan by Leslie. [Casaba] melon and blueberries. Coffee, coffee, coffee (of Peets 101 Blend). Muffins of cream cheese and apricot jam. Pecan pancakes flipped by Brent. Omelets and sausages. And mint ice cream (but not in that order). Oh, we ate well!”
As Miss Linda concluded poetically, “We left the backside of the Sierras with a promise to return, with an appreciation of its sacredness, of friends, of time, of place.”
Joseph C. (Joe) Shami