No Evidence of the Coming Dawn

Tanya Lake, Yosemite

My kickstand was up and there was no evidence of the coming dawn. The map programs all said it would take me twelve hours for the day’s ride so I set myself up to push off between 5 and 5:30 a.m. I hit the sweet spot at 5:15 as I left the Pahrump Nugget Hotel and Casino, heavy on the casino. The hotel seemed to be an add-on. The smell of the casino smoke permeated my non-smoking room and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It served its purpose and that was about it.

I’d ridden up to Mount Charleston and back the day before but didn’t feel like writing it. The experience was anticlimactic. I’d built it up when writing the scene for my character with all this wonderful twisty riding to be done. Don’t get me wrong, there were a few miles of it and the views were fantastic. But, I’ll have to rewrite the scene because the lodge is nowhere near the top or close to the ski runs. The Rueben was tasty though.

Back to today’s ride, a fantastic experience. I hope I can do it justice here. For the record, I rode up through the Death Valley National Park then north on Highway 395 to Lee Vining, up into and through Yosemite National Park, and down to Fresno for the night – 446.3 miles, KSU to check-in.

Leaving as early as I did put me in the darkest of desert nights riding along unfamiliar roads. This was the time of night all the creatures are out, both predator and prey. I worked hard at not outrunning my headlight. Once I was out of town and rolling down Bell Vista Ave. toward CA 190 which took me into and through the Death Valley National Park, locals started to catch me. You can tell locals because they drive the roads like it’s nobody’s business and you’d better get out of the way. Want to increase you’re speed at night on unfamiliar roads? Stay on a local’s six and you pick up five to ten miles per hour. You only really need to keep your light on their tail and you’ve increased visibility of the road by the length of their high beams. Nifty.

The beauty of heading northwest is when the sun comes up it’s not in your eyes. The bad part is the fantastic sunrise is behind you and you can only snap a helmet cam photo in the mirror.

The locals all dropped off the road at various mining pursuits and some mysterious concern going on under a huge tent. By then I had light and got into some twisties that lead into Death Valley. This is my favorite time of day in the desert, when the sun is low and the harshness of the environment is muted to the point I can be seduced into thinking it’s that lovely all the time. Evenings somewhat restore those thoughts but can’t quite erase the reminders of the blistering heat of the day.

I stopped at Stovepipe Wells for a quick drink and then pushed on out of the park after periodically riding by ‘Flooded’ signs and skirting around standing water that lent credibility to the signs. I was just as happy to be above sea level again and working my way up the Panamint Mountains. All the way through to Lone Pine I thought back to one of my favorite group-rides where we’d ridden the opposite direction I went today. 

In Lone Pine I refueled man and machine at a Shell/Carl’s Junior. I just made it to the head of the line as the place was invaded by Germans, at least three 7/8-passenger SUVs full of them, each vehicle flying a German flag. And they were having a blast fooling around while filling the SUVs and washing the windows until they found out Carl’s didn’t carry espresso, then things got serious.

The run up Highway 395 was uneventful during a lightly travelled Wednesday morning. It was easy going and I set my cruise control at a reasonable speed so as not to attract attention and still be able to eat the miles only slowing for the periodic town that straddles the highway; Lone Pine, Pines, Big Pine, Bishop… The temperature started dropping into the low 70s as I rode along after being comfy in the mid-80s all morning long. I pulled off at Mammoth to refuel and gear up for the climb into Yosemite.

I had a brief moment of panic as I saw sign out of the corn of my eye about Highway 120 being closed after September 9. It must have been the eastbound route because westbound was open as was the Tioga Pass into Yosemite. (note to self: vet all roads before departing) High clouds and water in all the places meant for Yosemite to have water made for a spectacular ride through the park. I did it non-stop, but regretfully so. My little family has done some amazing day hikes and rock climbs and I was pining for those days a bit, especially riding by Bridal Veil Falls where Cindy and I once climbed up to the pool at its base and swam with our two kids who at four and five climbing like mountain goats. 

Let me bring this to a close with a review of a fantastic ride full of endless variety. I left one of the most desolate of places in the predawn hours, traveled through lowest place on the continent with its other-worldly landscapes, traveled along a highway at the base of the tallest peaks in the continental U.S., climbed into and traversed the first of our National Parks, wound my way down the other side into foothills of oak trees and open grasslands peppered here and there with a vineyard or two. At that point I fully expected to see Boss Spearman and Charley Waite (Postalwaite if you want to get formal about it) riding down the hills to round up their free grazing cattle.

Having ridden through such environmental diversity with extremes such as this will have a lasting impact on me. And tomorrow I will complete my end-to-end ride of CA Highway 41 and see the Pacific Ocean.

Keep the iron side up,

jerry

Somewhere in there is Mt. Whitney