Sierra Spring Tour
Jobst Brandt
A week after the crowds made the big rush to test camping gear and
roof rack full of bicycles over the memorial day holiday, it was time
to enjoy the Sierra in their spring glory. I and friend John Woodfill
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 for the ride because once in Yosemite Park
there is a long stretch without stores.
We headed out at six o'clock up HWY108 to Tuolumne City Rd where,
after a couple of miles, we took a right on Wards Ferry road. Wards
Ferry road climbs slightly to 2200 ft and then, as it becomes more and
more remote, narrows to a mere one lane road as it drops into the
almost vertical canyon of the Tuolumne River to the Wards Ferry bridge
(650 ft). This morning seemed to be the day for jack rabbits that
were everywhere along this part of the road. The meadows were still
lush and green from the late spring rains that didn't nearly make up
for our dry winter.
It was clear and cool as we dropped down to the new Wards Ferry bridge
that replaced an older and lower one that now is below high-water of
Don Pedro reservoir. What is now the tail end of a reservoir was
formerly a beautiful wild river. Although the usual swallows were
absent around the bridge, vaux swifts took up the slack as they darted
about with afterburners apparently on full time. The road had
recently been repaved, a process that covered the old hand made
pavement of stone and asphalt that had served for many years with its
aggregate from gravel to monster slabs of rock.
The canyon walls were aglow with brilliant yellow flowers wherever the
early sunshine reached into the canyon. The road rises with steep and
flat sections as it climbs out of the gorge up toward Groveland.
After cresting the rim (2900 ft) we rolled down toward HWY120,
crossing the Hetch Hetchy RR right-of-way over which the great San
Francisco water project was built. It was curious to think that
Pullman and dining cars with people like chief engineer O'Shaunessy
and mayor "Sunny" Jim Rolph (later governor Rolph who managed to have
the SF-Oakland Bay Bridge named in his honor), pork officials of their
time, rode here in splendor on the way to one of their fishing and
hunting retreats in the Sierra. Only recently was the full time staff
with gourmet cooks taken off the city payroll at Camp Mather Lodge.
A cool soda pop at the store and up the hill. HWY120 rambles along at
about 3000 ft elevation with a panorama of canyons and ridges to the
north, the depths of which are better appreciated after having just
been down there under one's own power. Although still green, to the
experienced traveler the landscape looks like dry hot Sierra
foothills. Although traffic was light, it was striking to note that
where sedans predominate in urban areas, most vehicles here were
either pickups or some variety of camper. There were also huge motor
homes that made me think of the fuel gauge as they went by with their
four inch exhaust pipes at full blast, silver hair at the wheel.
As we got up to Buck Meadows the roadsides were bright with lupine and
wild iris, that came in shades of faded yellow to lavender. Buckeye
trees, and Manzanita curiously growing primarily on the old RR grade
were in bloom. I recall from earlier rides that I got the deja vu
feeling while crossing streams until I checked the map and found that
we, in deed, crossed the south fork Tuolumne River three times. This
time I made a point of noting the direction of flow to make certain
there wasn't an inconsistency somewhere. The problem is that each
crossing exposes a river of completely different character, from
meandering forest stream to vertical cascade. The only bicyclists we
saw were three riders from Palo Alto amongst whom was Gary Erickson,
the man behind Cliff Bars and who, in caricature, appears hanging from
the cliff on the wrapper. When he isn't bicycling he is on the ropes,
so to speak.
As we reached the Big Oak Flat entrance station, we paid our 3$ fee
for bicycles and tanked up on some soda pop. Out of the parking lot
we took a left turn onto the Tuolumne Big trees road that has signs
protesting "One Way Do Not Enter" although at each sign it was
apparent that maintenance vehicles use this as a two way road. The
last obstacle is that the road branches to the left over a steep hump
and vanishes in the forest. Of course we weren't fooled. To my
surprise, the road had not been open to traffic at least since I had
been there the year before, at which time it already looked unused.
Dogwood trees under the shade of giant Ponderosa and fir trees were in
bloom with their new foliage in brilliant green even where the rays of
the sun didn't illuminate them. I tanked up on the last stream we
crossed as the ubiquitous nuthatches made their miniature duck calls
in the otherwise quiet woods. The red breasted nuthatches have a
higher note than the larger common nuthatches but they as the tiny
pygmy nuthatch are noted for their ability to ignore gravity as they
hop up or down vertical surfaces as well as along the undersides of
branches, all the while giving their nasal miniature quack quack.
The road rises in fits and jerks passing from pine and fir to sequoia
gigantea redwoods with an undergrowth of dogwood and manzanita among
other plants. The road has some steep pitches that made the rear
wheel slip on a nearly solid cover of pine needles on the pavement...
but it was our private road. As we approached the big trees grove we
could hear people who hiked two miles down the closed road from Crane
Flat. One man asked whether this was the end of the steep part
because he was tired. For us it was the end of the steep stuff coming
up. We took pictures standing in front of the huge redwood that is
about 20 feet in diameter before riding up to the main road to Tioga
Pass. HWY120 climbs gradually, sometimes rolling along at what seems
level but isn't. Steep forested canyons spread off to the north as we
rise out of the Tuolumne watershed.
This isn't the kind of forest to which I am accustomed. The trees
stand far apart with plenty of sunshine between them. Being high
country, not much grows between the trees but tough tall grass, wild
iris and a smattering of other flowers. The forest is mostly natural
with fallen trees with no scars of logging. In the denser wooded
areas, the unusual entirely bright red snow flowers brighten the
scene. Meanwhile we heard flycatchers sing their name "wood pewee"
and clarks nutcrackers and jays giving their raucous call. The olive
sided flycatcher calls from the very top of tall trees with what
sounds like "McMinn'ville".
We passed Siesta Lake and White Wolf Rd at 8000 ft where there were
splotches of snow in especially shady areas. I like to eat snow in
the summer so I scooped up a handful before climbing up the final rise
to the divide. The grade is gradual as we climbed out of the Tuolumne
watershed, crossing over to the Merced basin with its great granite
walls for which the park is so well known. Then a long descent of
about two miles took us to Yosemite Creek from which an even longer
climb regains the elevation just lost and then some.
A couple of more 'bumps' took us to Tenaya overlook from which Half
Dome and other monuments are visible to the south. To the east,
Tenaya Lake (8141 ft) surrounded smooth granite domes lies brilliantly
blue framed by the smooth grey-white granite. A weather front, that
had been forecast to bring rain, divided the sky between clear blue
and grey as it moved in from the west along with a brisk wind about
which I couldn't complain because it was going our way.
Two 'bumps' and we rolled back over the divide into the Tuolumne
watershed and the great flat fields of Tuolumne Meadows (8900 ft). A
temporary store, that resides in a frame tent during the summer, was
operating as was the snack bar where we tanked up on power food and
drinks. From here is was only 1045 feet up to the summit although we
had already climbed 13500 feet in the many ups and downs of scenic
HWY120. From here an electric power utility trench had been dug the
last miles to the summit... in my lane and poorly closed. This bumpy
hindrance had not been mentioned in my travel brochure.
As we rode over the top at (9945 ft) we saw only blue sky ahead
because the clouds dissipated at the crest of the Sierra. Their wind,
however, was with us as we headed past Tioga and Ellery lakes, down
into the huge granite basin around which the road is hewn into the
wall. It was interesting to discover that even with a brisk wind, in
my best descending tuck with both hands on the stem, I was barely able
to achieve the speeds of which I had often heard. In contrast to
their descents, I had a brisk wind and a clear road. I realize now
that the speed of Tioga Pass is an item of bicycling folklore that can
be told with impunity because few bicyclists ride over this road an
fewer yet attempt things like attaining maximum speed, no-hands.
Tioga pass is not a fast road unless there is wind, and with it, it
quickly becomes dangerous from turbulence created by its rock walls.
Coming out of the bowl, emerald Mono Lake (6400 ft), with its
brilliant white mineral encrusted beaches and natural salt figurines,
was visible in the afternoon light. We rolled into Lee Vining (6780
ft) sitting up with our hands on our hips at 30 mph. With air like
this, conversation was easy. A fuel stop at the grocery store that
serves fresh popcorn alongside fishing flies and camping hardware got
us ready for Conway Summit (8138 ft) whose entire length, a single
sweeping horseshoe curve, was visible to the north. The wind was
blowing around the mountain into both ends of town as we pushed on out
of town to the big drop that takes HWY395 down close to the lake.
Although the Lake, with its brine shrimp, is a major breeding ground
for herring and western gulls, there were only a few to be seen so
early in the summer. Later on, toward the end of the summer, there
will be many thousands of them.
As the road curved easterly around the lake and rose toward the four
lane horseshoe curve of Conway, the wind came more from behind and
progress was easy. Above the big curve we were in the shelter of the
mountain so there was only a breeze. At climbing speed it was easy to
notice that some trucker had had snow chain trouble a while ago and
left plenty of chain as well as some tools behind. I picked up the
six inch ViseGrips. As we rounded the corner a mile from the top, we
hit the headwind and, for a short time, it was slow going. On the
last half mile across the west face of the mountain the wind decided
to help and we cruised over the top in more than oriental splendor as
Kipling would say.
Once again we sat up rolling between 30 and 40 mph down the long
nearly straight run toward Bridgeport where the last five miles are
flat. In spite of all the wind worries it was a snap. Bridgeport is
surrounded by a huge green expanse of grass that slopes toward town
from the mountains. This huge plane is irrigated by natural water
that comes to the surface here and flows into Bridgeport Lake and the
East Walker River. This unusually fertile plane is in stark contrast
to the desert that surrounds it. To the east is Nevada, the state
with rivers that flow into it and none that flow out. Redwing and
brewers blackbirds are everywhere with an occasional killdeer or snipe
in the marshy meadows. Drainage ditches carry enough water to
interest kingfishers that make their characteristic in-flight prattle
that sounds to me like a small boy imitating the chatter of a machine
gun.
We rolled into town twelve hours after leaving Sonora and according to
my new AVO40, spent eleven of those riding. My AVO50 showed we had
climbed 15740 ft. even though we started at 1796 ft. As we pulled
into the motel I noticed a van with the Swiss (CH) sticker on the back
that passed us several times during the day. It turned out they were
from Lucerne and know well the mountains in which John and I will be
riding at the end of this month.
We cleaned up, put on our formal wear (slacks and shirt) and ate
heartily at the Sportsman's Inn where I have had the pleasure to eat
big dinners and 'get going' breakfasts over the last 30 years.
Bridgeport is a picture postcard town that time has mostly left alone.
The next morning as we walked past the immaculate victorian county
courthouse, in brilliant white with red trim, on the way to breakfast,
I mentioned that we might see some of the large and colorful yellow
headed blackbirds. Just then, one flew in front of us as though to
say, don't bother, we can show you that right here. To which John
pointed out that it was no longer a requirement now that we had it
checked off the 'must do' list.
After a hearty breakfast, with all the things modern diets eschew, we
headed out of town with the lush green fields glistening in the
morning sun. Wild iris and herds of grazing cows decorated the
meadow. Black billed magpies, in contrast to the yellow billed ones
in Sonora, yacked at us, a kingfisher seemed to want to convince us
there are fish here and a snipe flew off to remind us that snipe hunts
only take place in big cities. As we rounded the turn at the end of
the 2.5 mile straight and headed up toward Devils Gate Summit, the
field to our left was a veritable flock of yellow headed blackbirds,
on every fence post, on the reeds in the marsh, and flying overhead.
All this in spite of having had the opportunity to check them off the
list earlier.
Blam! We were back in the desert on one side and wetlands with
millions of blue wild iris amidst the dark green grass on the other.
I got to thinking that the ranchers probably saw them as weeds rather
than a symbol of beauty. Neither cows nor sheep seem to touch them.
In fact the valley up to Devils Gate was sheep country and the grass
between the iris was putting-green short, not to the detriment of the
flowers. We crossed the Summit (7519 ft) and rolled down toward
Sonora Pass Junction (6950 ft) with a conspicuous headwind that just
came up and seemed to say that the clouds yesterday were only a
warning although the sky was still brilliantly clear.
As we rounded the hill and came past a long defunct hot springs
resort, I was amazed to see that this place that has been closed for
as long as I can remember, still had windows in it. I guess it's too
far to go to smash glass. Ahead, just beyond the intersection a
coyote sauntered across the road looking like he owned the
right-of-way. No hurry, the oncoming car can wait, and it did. We
turned left onto HWY108, rode past the swamps with a decent group of
yellow headed blackbirds and down to the West Walker River that
ultimately takes its pristine snow melt to Walker Lake, a sink hole in
the Nevada desert.
Now we are riding into the wind, but no matter, we are going into
steep stuff that climbs walls where there is no wind. We pass the USMC
mountain warfare and see the peace dividend at work. After many years
of being a tent city with a PSP desert airstrip, this place now has
several major concrete buildings and four more under construction.
The air strip is continuous decking and the motor pool is immense.
Apparently Desert Storm did not go unnoticed here. Big pork!
Right after the USMC camp the road dives into the wall and starts to
kick up some real gradient, but only short jabs that take us up a
couple of hundred feet to Levitt Meadows. I was saddened to see that
the old pack station was not remodeled at all. It was annihilated so
that only a sandy lot remains where an ancient log and riverbottom
stone inn once stood. Its rustic fire place the low ceilings and
solid log bar, all gone now. Once in the early 60's when we all had
long hair we stopped there before heading to Bridgeport, two macho
pickup truck types made a pass at the cute gal in the short woolly
pants. They became furious when Bill Henner spoke in a male voice to
one of the others. They were so embarrassed, they wanted to pick a
fight. Memories... Levitt Meadows Lodge, cabins and all, gone.
Around the hairpin and into the hill that starts with a good 20%+ kick
and then rises more gradually until, down below, the sandy plot where
the lodge stood, begins to look insignificant. Around the second
hairpin and up a few more bumps and we arrived in the upper valley. A
short way beyond the road goes up the 'tight S' that has a 30% grade
up the inside and is steep around the outside. To make up for that
the upper part is equally steep but is hidden below a verge that has
probably surprised everyone who has come down the hill. Fresh skid
marks off into the dirt attest to recent believers. I and Tom Ritchey
once hurried into this curve thinking we knew the road, except that
snow melt was running across at the critical place. We used the whole
road to recover just in time to encounter the lower half from the
inside of the turn. We were fortunate.
Although there is a sign advising against trucks with trailers longer
than 30 feet from pin to tailgate, we met the occasional savvy trucker
who is aware that the shortest distance between the SF bay area and
these parts is Sonora pass. It was an empty max length Bekins moving
van going like a race car. His brakes were not even warm judging from
the lack of odor. I have seen empty cattle semitrailers return over
this route, taking the grades at Mach speed uphill. I would like to
have seen how the Bekins van got around the 'steep S' or the flatter
one that is just as tight.
From the 'flat S' it's a small climb to the last pitch where just
about a quarter mile below the summit the road takes a ~24% dip that,
on descending, can be taken at more than 50 mph only to be hard on the
brakes up a 24% grade in order to make the turn at the top of the
rise. Going up, this is a good hustle and a grunt to the summit (9624
ft). There was no snow up there so we cruised right down the upper
meadows without stopping. After the climb this section seems flat at
6 to 8% grade in contrast to the "Golden Stairs" that have an 8000 ft
sign below and a 9000 ft sign at the top. Going either way, it is
astounding to see these two markers in such a short distance. The
road sandy because the late spring rains we saw in the valley brought
snow to these roads last week. The fast places had been blown clean
by traffic but some of the slower turns were hazardous. A a few miles
below the "Golden Stairs" we came upon the long hill, steepest at the
top, that crests at the 'rock window'.
None of this road is especially fast because it is either steep and
curvy or straight only where there are moderate grades. I was
reminded how much wind drag a bicycle has when I passed pickup trucks
that were creeping down the hill to avoid brake failure. I used my
brakes so little that I hardly gave rim heating a thought. After
reaching the floor at Kennedy Meadows it's a comfortable roll to
Dardanelle (5800 ft) where there is a good grocery store, cafe and gas
station. This is a traditional stop because it is uphill from here in
either direction. The bridge across the Stanislaus River at
Dardanelle has finally been finished with its four lane width to
replace the narrow wooden bridge that was saved for posterity for some
reason. This way you can't see the river for cliffs on one side and
the old bridge on the other.
We rolled on down to Clark Fork junction from which the road climbs
about two miles to Donnells overlook that gives a grand view of
Donnells Lake on the Stanislaus River (4903 ft) about 1500 ft straight
down... no jumping! Today there were no swifts cavorting in vertical
flight in front of the cliff, as they sometimes do to amaze visitor.
Another short climb took us over a small divide to the roadside phone
booth that brings ET to mind because it is so out of place miles from
nowhere. From here it's is a descending roller coaster with mild
bumps all the way to Strawberry (5230 ft) that lies at the bottom of a
two mile descent. Strawberry is a pleasant food stop and respite
before the final climb up to Cold Springs that is back up at 6000 ft.
After Cold Springs it's a long gradual descent that gets faster after
Long barn, Sugar Pine, MiWuk Village, and Confidence. At Twain Harte
the road climbs over a half mile bump and dives down two miles of a
7% grade to parts of HWY108 that are gradually changing from narrow
two lane pavement to rude four lane highway. The Twain Harte descent
is spacious and fast but I find the route to Tuolumne City on Rt 17
more peaceful and pleasant. Besides Tuolumne is a lovely old Mother
Load town on a little traveled road to Sonora. I can recommend it.
We got back to Sonora having climbed 6800 ft in 102 miles. A mild
second day after a long first one.
The weather was great and the rains came in the night after we got
home. It seems to be a good start to the bicycle touring season.
Next... the Alps.
Jobst Brandt <jbr...@hplabs.hp.com>
Jobst Brandt
A week after the crowds made the big rush to test their camping gear
and roof racks full of bicycles over the memorial day holiday, it was
this, conversation was easy. Lee Vining is a small desert road
junction town with a few motels, restaraunts, gas stations and store.
It also has the loacal schools and other community services for the
whole area. Pastel green sage brush is the dominant vegetation.
Along this section, several white headed woodpeckers showed up
although I have never seen any here before. Another short climb took
us over a small divide to the roadside phone booth that brings ET to
mind because it is so far from nowhere. From here it's is a
Neal Stoughton
says:
>From the 'flat S' it's a small climb to the last pitch where just
>about a quarter mile below the summit the road takes a ~24% dip that,
>on descending, can be taken at more than 50 mph only to be hard on the
>brakes up a 24% grade in order to make the turn at the top of the
>rise. Going up, this is a good hustle and a grunt to the summit (9624
>ft).
What sort of gearing would be recommended for a tour such as this one?
........................................................................
Neal Stoughton
Internet address: nmst...@uci.edu
Jobst Brandt
> What sort of gearing would be recommended for a [Sierra] tour such
> as this one?
Judging from the gearing I've sees on century rides, I don't think I
can make any suggestions. It depends on what you usually ride. I see
riders on a local hill that has two short sections of 20% grade (Page
Mill Rd) riding gears as low as 25" and others doing at least as well
with 60" gears. I often ride that road in a 64" nominal gear. My
lowest gear is a nominal 52.9". That is not the best gear for the
steepest pitches but it works reasonably well.
Jobst Brandt <jbr...@hplabs.hp.com>