Mile 291 - Oh yes THAT mountain

After hard day's climb, I like to have oatmeal for breakfast. Penny, it seems, prefers inner tubes. While I don't share that particular taste, I can't really fault her for it, if I was a bike, I'd probably go through a lot of brakes. What I disagree with is the preparation time involved with her repast. I just cannot seem to get a day started before 9.

My camp was perfect. Few cars went by, there was no way they could have seen me, and the only animal who visited me was an inquisitive squirrel who was scared off by the sound of me sitting up.

Once I finally got Penny settled and broke camp, I rode through Omo Ranch. While it looked like a town on the map, it was a big house, a couple of smaller buildings, several dogs and a horse who didn't want its picture taken. Good thing I didn't need reprovisioning, I could hold out until Cook's Station.

Less than 4 miles after camp I entered the Eldorado National Forest. By now the trees were almost exclusively furs and pines with one stray patch of what looked to me like poplars, but at that elevation, I assume I'm mistaken.

What I said about Penny and tubes, I wasn't joking. At mile 238.06 I had my third flat. The problem, I believe, is that my hand pump is putting too much torque on the valve stem, causing it to rip at the base of the stem. As many of you know, there is no way to patch that. I put on the last spare tube I had and started back up the mountain.

4.5 miles later and several hundred feet higher, I got my first good look at what the bulk of my day would be like. By then, occasional patches of snow were apparent in shady spots. In the ten miles or so I was on Omo Ranch road until I came to highway 88, I think I saw 6 cars. That's good as I was not climbing fast. Highway 88, however, had a whole lot more traffic. As I paused for a moment at the intersection to regain my breath and take a few mouthfulls (mouthfulls or mouthsfull?) of water, about twice that many vehicles zoomed by. Somewhere between Folsom and Rescue, I crossed the invisible line into the land of the extra big truck. Every vehicle that passed me was a Ford f-450 hauling a ton of pig iron or a dodge durango pulling a wrecked firetruck, or whatever the hell it is that the commercials for extra big trucks are showing these days. I even saw a guy in an XXL truck towing a regular extra large truck up the mountain. Boy must that extra large truck's owner's penis have felt small.

After 245.3 miles, I passed 5000', which is approximately a whole lot taller than anything I climbed in the Midwest, Carolina, or the northeast. Not far up the road, I could see a sign for Cook's Station, and with it a chance to refill my waterbottles. But what is that red sign on top of it? Closed?!?

I looked at the map, Ham's Station was only a couple miles (and 350' of elevation) away. At mile 247.75 I pulled up to Ham's Station to find a note on the door saying back at 12:15. It wasn't quite 11, but my next chance to refill fluids was Kirkwood, some 26 miles away and 2000' further up. I would need more water before then. Thankfully, at there was a couple who had stopped on their way down the mountain. They saw my bike and asked how far I was going. I haven't yet gotten tired of the answer Brooklyn. Maybe by the time I hit Jersey.

They introduced themselves as the Sibleys (I hope that's right) and produced from their car two full bottles of water for me. As I was talking to Mr Sibley, the talented Mrs Sibley strode over to a car that had just pulled up and petitioned them for more water for me. That's a sign of a great person, seeing that the needs of a stranger you've known for all of five minutes are being met. Thank you, the Sibleys. I really do appreciate it. Not to diminish that act of generosity, but three minutes after the cars left, as I was finishing putting my pack back together, Mrs Ham's Station lumbered out of the adjacent house with a clear half-day hangover on her face. She asked if I was looking for anything to which I replied water. She offered to fill me up and unlocked opened the bar/store/restaurant for me. As she was filling my various bottles, she looked at me and asked if I needed something to eat too, hun. I did. And I'll say for an unassuming hamburger in a bar with biker stickers and a booby calendar on the wall in the middle of the mountains, that it was fantastic.

After lunch, I had gone about 3 miles when I came to the sign announcing my 6000th foot of ascent above sea level. Woo. I still had 2500'+ to reach Carson Pass and I did not yet know about Silver Lake.

At mile 255 (6767'), I took a break at the best yet vista of the mountains. I was well above the snow line at this point, so opted to put on my longsleeved baselayer. Boy was that the right call. As I climbed past 7000', the chill got more biting and the piled snow got deeper. At 7400' there was a view of the four major peaks to my immediate north and a pole stuck in the ground to measure snow depth. I could just make out the top of a number 7 above the crust of the snow.

At mile 267.25, we crossed 8000'. For those who have never climbed that high on a bike before, let me give you a quick visualization. Imagine a 12 foot long 2x4. Place one end on top of your refrigerator. Ride a bike up the resulting ramp. Now, do it for 43 miles. Clearly, while the state of California is cutting back on a lot of essential services, they are still paying the gravity bill. It works. My suggestion: rolling gravity brownouts. You'll thank me for the idea later.

Then, in a fantastic display of topography, the road started to point downwards. At first my legs were glad for the hiatus. Then I briefly enjoyed the speed with which I was hurtling down. Then I remembered that every minute I went downslope at 40mph, would be 10 minutes of climbing at 4. Finally I hit Silver Lake, 7300' up. In less than two and a half miles and maybe 7 minutes, I dropped 700'. Carson Pass was still up there above 8500'. Sigh. I resigned myself to not crossing the pass today, but stopping a few miles short at Kirkwood.

5.5 miles later, I pulled into the ski resort. The last time I had gone skiing we had spent 3 of 5 days on this very mountain. I left it with four stitches and a freshly renewed tetanus vaccine. But that was a different adventure that seems like a lifetime ago.

The resort wasn't quite as I recalled, I remembered there being a lot more people there. I also remember the trip up was not as long because I was in a car. The main lodge is about a mile down the road from the entrance and I saw barely any sign of human activity present. Sure enough, on the door was a sign saying we're sorry, blah blah blah until may 8th. I was 5 days too early. They did make a helpful suggestion that lodging could be found at Sorensen's only 15 miles east. That sounds reasonable, if you have a car.

There was no way I was going to camp with over 6' of snow on the ground, so my option was to down an energy snack, climb to one of the higher passes in the Sierras, and then just continue another 10 miles to a place where I could rest for the night. If they were closed, I would have considered arson out of frustration.

Mile 281.62. Penny and I reached Carson pass, 8574' high. I wanted to celebrate the achievement by laying down very flat and still. But, as all the ground that wasn't roadway was either wet and gritty or covered in snow, I just took a couple pictures then rode on.

Now, knowing that the major climbing for this range was done, I could lean back and enjoy the descent. In most other contexts the idiom 'It's all downhill from here' has strong negative connotations. To me, it was a beautiful thing. Not only was I going 5 to 8 times faster than the climb, but all I had to do was hang on and let gravity take me closer to my goal. I hit a speed of 48.3 without putting any effort into it beyond keeping myself in a tight, aerodynamic position. It's hard on the forearms, but I won't complain, as it gave my thighs and saddlesores a rest.

I had spent 6hrs 16min climbing 47 miles. I covered the 10 miles between the pass and Sorensen's in 28 minutes. I ate, cleaned the day's dirt and grit from self and bike and went to sleep imagining how much easier tomorrow would be than today.

Day 4, Omo Ranch, CA - Sorensen's (outside Woodfords, CA, near the junction of 88 & 89)
57.62 miles covered, 291.3 for the trip. 6:44:03 in the saddle, trip total 25:44:48. Top speed 48.3