Spring Tour in the Sierra 10,11 June 1995

This spring California was late with opening the Sierra highways that
are traditionally closed in winter, those roads traversing the most
scenic and uninhabited areas. Although not record in depth, the snow
was deeper than in the preceding drought years. With the added snow,
the roads weren't ready for memorial day but two of them were open for
our ride with the Tioga Pass in Yosemite Park still closed. I and
friends Richard Mlynarik, John Woodfill, and Brian Strom put our bikes
in the car and headed to Sonora (1796 ft), where we stayed at the
Sonora Gold Lodge as we often have.  After a good dinner at Wilma's on
the main drag, we bought some supplies at the market for an early
breakfast and some bananas for the ride.

As we pushed off the next morning, I noticed my rear tire was soft and
when I looked at it with the valve stem not in the usual pumping
position, I saw the cords showing where the rim had a flat spot
opposite the valve. I made a "quick" change with the spare folding
tire in my bag that seemed to take forever as I thought why anyone
would voluntarily use these when steel bead tires mount so easily.

About fifteen minutes later than planned we left town on HWY 108
toward Sonora Pass, sixty miles away and a 8000 feet higher. In the
first ten or so miles the road is still a two lane highway that gets
fairly busy during the day but early as it was we had the road
mostly to ourselves, gradually gaining altitude to the wide place
where the two mile grade to Twain Harte (3650 ft) begins and the road
becomes four lanes, divided, and with wide shoulders. We were rising
into the mountains and the view was getting better already.

As we passed the little town named after the two famous writers of the
west Mark Twain and Bret Harte, the road narrowed to two lanes as it
climbed through names of former logging camps like Confidence and
Sugarpine. The road roughly follows the top of the ridge between the
Stanislaus and Tuolumne river gorges that are exposed as the road
chooses one side or the other.  As we approached Long Barn I mentioned
that there was a double prime ahead with both a city limit and 5000 ft
sign that demanded a sprint.  This sort of competition is descendant
from bicycle racing where there are always sprint primes at arbitrary
features such as certain road signs.  

As the road dropped into the Long Barn valley (4963 ft) it became a
large four lane divided road again with lush green meadows and running
water in every gully. With almost no breeze and clear cool air, the
woods were alive with various songbirds, the most conspicuous being
black headed grosbeaks from whom we have the classic wolf whistle,
and the wood peewee that sings its name. Blue and white ground lupine
and other flowers filled the meadows between the sugar pine, lodgepole
and various firs. At the upper end, at Little Sweden, the ski area
that seldom has snow, the valley opened to the south with a grand view
across the Tuolumne river gorges.  The road followed the rocky south
wall before crossing over to the north side again as we rose to Cold
Springs (5800 ft).

>From Cold Springs the road stays near the top of the ridge before
descending to Strawberry (5230 ft), a wide spot in the road at the
south fork of the Stanislaus river.  The river was roaring mad with
snowmelt.  This two mile descent ends with a city limits sign that
requires a careful plan because coasting in a tuck is faster than
pedaling except for a short sprint at the line. As it has often been,
it was a half wheel at the line by the guy that could spin fastest. We
rolled up to the Strawberry store for a deserved refresher of soda and
snacks that we ate while relaxing on the porch to the sound of
warbling robins singing as they seldom seem to do in the valley.

>From Strawberry we climbed up to 6000 ft again along the south rim of
the Stanislaus gradually rising to Donnells Overlook where it is
practically straight down from the vista point to Donnells lake (4903
ft) about 1200 ft below. Through the clear air we could see MT Diablo
near San Francisco standing alone with its characteristic double peak.
Below, the lake was full enough that the river entered with a ripple
instead of a splash because the usual rapids were covered by the high
water.

Standing on the edge of this precipice presents an awesome panorama
with the snow encrusted Dardanelles peaks off to the north east and
sparse rocky forest on the steep granite slopes across the gorge. Here
on the south side, the forest is fairly dense with huge trees that
somehow escaped the axe and are protected now. This immense landscape
seems so close and yet so impassable by its vertical dimensions. The
granite walls seem to know only straight up and down.

The road descends gradually from the vista point to Clark Fork
junction where the road abruptly changes from a conventional highway
to a steep and curvy mountain road.  Since Long Barn we had become
used to seeing large patches of snow between the trees but now there
was continuous snow in the more shaded areas. Bright red snowflowers
could be seen in the shade of the forest. We stopped at the
Dardanelles store for a "fuel" stop and loaded up on whatever
satisfied the "engine room" before the main event of the day.

Above Dardanelles the canyon narrowed as we crossed the river on a new
bridge that covers a whirlpool between two rapids, the upper one
ending in a crevasse between huge smooth granite walls about six feet
apart where the river drops about 100 feet. The old wooden bridge that
is still there formerly carried the highway and gave a good view of
dippers that nest at the edge of the whirlpool.  Upstream the road
climbs in a few steep rises, staying above the river that alternately
changes from rapids to swift meanders.  We passed a section where the
river winds pleasantly, along grassy banks with a few rock
outcroppings from which fishermen toss their lines apparently
oblivious to the hazard of falling in just above the rapids.

The roadside is a mix of fine and coarse sand from decomposed granite
in which bunch grass grows in an uncanny regular pattern as if it had
just been planted in sparse clumps. Had I not seen it this way for
many years, I would assume it will fill in soon. John said it reminded
him of a hair transplant. The wood peewees and nuthatches gave their
characteristic calls as sound props for the ubiquitous rushing water
cascading down the walls of the canyon to the Stanislaus. Now and
again we heard olive sided flycatchers call from their high perches
with what sounds like "McMinn'ville".

The road leveled off and straightened out as we rolled up to Kennedy
Meadows (6500 ft) where the road changes into that for which Sonora
Pass is noted, its steep grades. The road passes a steel gate that is
the highest road closure and begins climbing moderately around a large
granite knob that obscures the grade ahead.  The road becomes steeper
to about a 10% grade as it rounds the long curve.  In the following
left hand bend it gradually becomes even steeper. Above, a little more
than a quarter mile up the road, is the slot, the rock window that
finishes with a grade of 20% or more. The first time rider may be
caught mentally unprepared because this climb creeps up deceptively
before it presents its real challenge.

The rock window isn't a dry exercise in endurance because above it
exposes a breathtaking panorama of Blue Canyon with Deadmans, Kennedy,
and Summit Creeks, way down below where we just rode. This great
landscape is rimmed by jagged peaks whose height is accented by the
glacier-like snow cover. Traffic is unobtrusively light as we climbed
past the 7000 ft marker and even reached some flat and downhill
sections that are the drumroll for the Golden Stairs that lie between
the amazingly closely spaced 8000 and 9000 ft markers.  There was
plenty of snow here with a continuous wall at both sides as the road
leveled off a little one last time just above the 8000 ft sign.  Above
we could see the surface of the road curves of the steep S-bend.

The road had a liberal sprinkling of coarse butterscotch-colored sand
with water running across here and there. This doesn't sound difficult
but even sitting over the back wheel these micro marbles, wet or dry,
caused wheelspin unless you carefully moderated torque uniformly
around the stroke.  We're talking 20% grade here. We made a photo stop
between 8 ft walls of snow in the last hairpin to record the scene.
Pushing off, we passed the smashed remains of the 9000 ft sign, whose
position was marked in spray paint on the road for the sign crew.
Here the road flattens out to a milder grade as it rises the last 624
ft of elevation through deep snowfields. At the summit, with its sign
embedded in 20 ft walls of white, the road was wide enough for cars to
park and take pictures.

The descent to the east starts precipitously at the summit, where
Tuolumne, Mono, and Alpine counties meet, and descends a more than 15%
grade down the left side of a ravine before diving across it and
rising steeply up the other side. It is here that for a moment you can
let her rip to more than 50 MPH and immediately apply the brakes up a
a steep grade in order to make the turn at the top of the short rise.
The road was paved in more than oriental splendor as though made for
roller-skaters. The smooth paving made the descent especially pleasant
because the road required so little attention that we could appreciate
the magnificent scenery more easily.

If not ridden swiftly, descending Sonora Pass can become a braking
nightmare.  Richard, carrying a little more weight than the rest of us
and being a bit more cautious put more energy in the rims and blew a
tire off the rim.  Fortunately nothing was lost except to install a
new tube. We were riding the same kind of tires as he but dissipated
the energy in the wind by "descending like madmen" as is often said.
Light weight riders and ones that descend fast should have no heat
problems. In contrast, a tandem presents problems, both up and down.

After the final and steepest descent to Leavitt Meadows we passed a
USMC mountain warfare training area and then dropped over a couple of
steep ramps to Pickle Meadows and the West Walker River.  This marine
base seems to have mushroomed with the "peace dividend" from its
former rows of tents into a concrete city. After crossing the river
and climbing toward HWY 395 junction (6950 ft), we passed marshes
where yellow headed blackbirds and blue winged teal showed their
colors. We only get to see these oversized blackbirds on rides to the
other side of the mountains, and knowing this, the birds accommodated
us nicely.

As we turned northward on HWY 395 there was a hint of a favorable
breeze as the road rounded the mountain to rejoin the Walker River
that had taken a short cut through a gorge. Once again it was my turn
to fix a flat that turned out to be from a Michelin wire, a small
piece of stainless steel wire from a steel belted radial car tire. As
we rolled into the canyon toward Walker, the wind picked up as we rode
down the slight grade at more than 40 MPH at times. It was a real
spinfest in top gear in contrast to the lower than 30 RPM on the
grades of Sonora where at times you contemplate each pedal stroke.

A good sprint at the sign got us into Walker (5400 ft) where real
estate seems to be inexpensive judging from the scatter of houses,
motels, stores, and restaurants. We didn't stop at the Basque
restaurant but took advantage of the Macho Burger Bar. The macho
burger is a half pounder but I can't recommend it over any other
burger joint. It seemed to fill the space as we headed north toward
Monitor Pass JCT at HWY 89 (5000 ft) about 10 miles down the valley. I
kept thinking about climbing 3300 ft while the other guys were
sprinting for Coleville and Topaz, and then we headed up the hill...
slowly. At the entrance to the canyon a flock of pinyon jays that we
seldom see flew across our path with their characteristically mellow
yacking in contrast to the raucous clarks nutcrackers and black billed
magpies.

HWY 89 rises in a nearly straight line for about five miles before
turning back across the mountain in a sweeping bend through a shady
grove of aspen and fir where it crosses two ice cold mountain streams.
It was good to soak my head in the water and tank up for the rest of
the climb that flattens out after the Alpine county line three miles
ahead. The road rises mostly through sage brush and grass with a view
of the road below and a grand vista to the south and east over Nevada
with a backdrop of snowy mountains. The late afternoon light gave the
view a beauty that is often attempted without success in glowing motel
murals cannot capture the subtle lighting and expanse that overwhelms
the senses here.

Although the grade flattens for the last three miles, a brisk wind
greeted us as we turned the corner at the county line. We rode into
the cool wind through the high meadows that had almost no snow, and up
to the grove of aspen that surrounds the stone marker at the summit of
Monitor Pass (8314 ft). After a photo stop we descended across the
high plateau and over a second summit that divides the Walker and
Carson watersheds. As the road broke out above Heenan Valley (7200 ft)
panorama demanded a photo stop in which we tried to capture the scene
in a multiple frames. The wind was gusty enough to require careful
riding as we swished down at great apparent great speed that consisted
mainly of air speed while in fact we went no faster than in the flats
on HWY 395 along the Walker river with a tailwind.

The East Carson River was at high water and murky brown from erosion
along the banks. We rode downstream toward Markleeville (5501 ft) and
crossed the river on a bridge where many swallows nest before we
climbed the bump into town. The Markleeville sign is in the curve just
before HWY 89 crosses Markleeville Creek into town. This is a good one
because it combines the hill from the Carson river, the fast downhill
approach to the sign and the obscure location behind other road signs.
It was fun.

We tanked up on liquids at the general store and went across the
street to the Alpine Hotel where we discovered NO vacancy, and that
the other motel was closed. Just then Bruce Hildenbrand of net renown,
with whom I have ridden over these roads, came into the office and
advised us that the well heeled tourist always makes reservations. We
didn't thank him for the advice as we reserved a cabin at East Fork
Camp two and a half miles back toward Monitor pass. We enjoyed a
hearty meal with oversized portions and some Sierra Nevada beer in the
hotel before riding out of town at dusk. The swallows were still at
work as we rolled along the East Carson River but now they had been
joined by nighthawks in catching the mosquitoes that I felt bouncing
off me as I rode.

We put the bicycles in the kitchen of the cabin, opened the door and
windows, and got a good nights rest after 132 miles and 14300 feet of
climb. In the morning Brian and Richard seemed to be preparing a fast
getaway so I got up and joined them to ride back to Markleeville for
breakfast. Of course the town was still sleeping at 6:30 so I and John
rode out to Grover Hot Springs, four miles up Markleeville Creek. Here
the water came out of the hillside in various rivulets of hot and
hotter, some to hot for the hand but without noticeable flavor. In the
still of the morning the lush green valley looked artificially neat,
almost like a golf course but cared for by nature.  We rolled back
down to town and joined the others for a more than hearty breakfast
from the all American menu of orange juice, French toast and hotcakes,
hash browns, sausage, corned beef, and bacon. Once more we rolled out
past East Fork Camp and headed up Silver Creek toward Ebbetts Pass.
Brian and I first and John and Richard following.

The road had officially opened three days ago but there was hardly any
traffic as we climbed through the clear morning air. John, having a
good sense for mushrooms, collected a whole bagful of morels on the
way so we didn't see him or Richard till after the summit. On the
climb, Cascade Creek lived up to its name and Kinney reservoir,
although full, was still covered with ice and plenty of snow. It was
only about a mile or so to Ebbetts summit (8730 ft), inconspicuously
flat between high snow banks and only noticeable by its incongruous
cattle guard.  The summit sign was barely sticking out of the snow in
a wind carved hollow. On the descent, Hermit Valley spreads
expansively to the southwest with its sparse green forest on steep and
rocky snow blanketed slopes.

The descent is long and gradual as was most of the climb. At the floor
of the valley (7060 ft) the road follows the Mokelumne river that was
cruising along full to the brim and crystal clear.  Ooops, what's
this?  The road suddenly rises at a 15% grade and goes around sharp
curves. It is as though they hired the same engineer as for Sonora
pass to lay out Pacific Grade. Although it is steep, it rises in fits
and jerks so it doesn't leave the lasting impression of Sonora pass
with which it compares like a mini-golf version. As cascades go,
Pacific Creek is no slouch as it rushes steeply over boulders toward
the road, dropping below the bridge in the last moment and vanishing
under the snow for the rest of the run to the Mokelumne River.

The road levels off for awhile before emulating the Golden Stairs in a
steep S-bend that, although steep, is short and sweet. After about a
mile the steep roadshow is over leaving us with a panorama of Pacific
Valley to the south. The road takes a turn to skirt Mosquito lake that
lies on the summit of Pacific Grade (8050 ft). Beyond the lake, that
almost floods the pavement, the road ambles along gradually descending
to Lake Alpine (7400 ft) that had also had also not given up its
winter crust of white.  From the lake it is a short climb to MT Reba
Road, the Bear Valley Ski area and the mile long descent to Bear
Valley (7030 ft).  We stopped for an early lunch at the grocery store
at the lodge that is open as usual. My stomach didn't like the
sandwich menu so I stayed with soda pop and fruit.  From Bear Valley,
HWY 4 descends gradually with a few climbs on its way to Angels Camp,
of Mark Twain's "Celebrated jumping frog of Calaveras county".

We took advantage of Richard's descending mass and sat-on down through
small towns like Ganns Meadow (6640 ft), Camp Connell (4867 ft), and
Dorrington (4860 ft) on the way to Arnold (4000 ft), the first real
settlement. This was a good place to fuel up because it often gets a
bit hot and dry below Arnold. The large grocery store at the huge gas
station was closed and I suspected a supermarket must have moved into
town somewhere. As we left town we saw a new shopping mall with a
giant market as a center piece as I suspected. There are a couple of
towns, Avery (3387 ft), Hathaway Pines (3350 ft) and some small climbs
before the descent to Murphys (2171 ft) and the dry grassland of the
central valley. A few miles below Murphys we went through Valecito
(1750 ft) to Parrots Ferry Road that descends to Melones reservoir
(1088 ft) on the Stanislaus and climbs up to Columbia (2143 ft).

The roll from Columbia down to Sonora was uneventful and a flat tire
nixed the sprint to the sign that was obscured by bushes. In all we
rode 236 miles and 21410 feet of climbing and 16.5 hours on the
bicycle according to my Cyclometer.
              ----------------------------------------

Jobst Brandt      <jbrandt@hpl.hp.com>