Downieville - another snow-ride

Falling victim to the "I'm only here once, I had better do this ride" mentality again, I threw caution to the snow & decided to ride as much of the classic Downieville rides that I could. Valerie shuttled me to the top & there was so much more snow at 2100m than there was in Tahoe at 2500m. This is the as far up the road as they had cleared & one of the smaller snowbanks at what would normally be the trailhead.

For the first mile or so, everything was still hardpacked snow ranging from one to three metres deep. I expect the trail down is normally a nice gentle traverse to start with, but all the snow has taken any definition out of the slope - leaving it one really steep hill. I slowly made my way down, most of the time walking backwards kicking my toes in (studs in the front of my riding shoes may have been useful). I only had one slip & slid down a few metres & thankfully landed in a nice big tree well without hitting the tree. The first mile took me one hour as I vaguely followed the track on my GPS picking the easiest path I could see across & down the slope.

The next hour I managed to double my speed - I covered two whole miles! The snow had started to thin a bit, so there were brief patches of riding interspersed with more pushing, & wading through very cold & high running streams. I had long been tempted to put the rogue pair of toe-warmers left in my Camelbak from ski season in my shoes, but it wasn't that bad.

After two hours I was suprised to come across a guy wandering up the trail with a couple of shovels. The local trail care association & some Forestry Service people have been clearing & tidying the trail from below. Apparently I wasn't the only nutter out doing such things - fifty or sixty people had rode the trail over the weekend. This boded well - it must be a good trail. Apparently the snow is melting fast, just a few days ago I was told there was almost twice as much snow around! I could hardly believe that, considering how much I'd just seem. Shortly after, at around 1700m the snow was pretty much done with & I could get on with riding singletrack.

The trail crew had done a magnificent job & the trail was an absolute delight. Threading through the never-ending North Californian forest on a mostly dirt trail descending at a gentle, but good, rate was pure bliss. It was easily the best groomed trail I've been on during this trip, possibly in North America. The setting & the trail condition reminded me so much of the smooth, fun trails back home in Rotorua. Finishing Butcher's trail (the one I'd supposedly been on from the start) & crossing the river there was a nasty shock of a climb (not bad, but definitely not going downhill) & I found the start of the Third Divide Trail at the top of the ridge.

Third Divide was more of the same - simply sublime riding in beautiful forest.

About halfway down it started to get a little more rocky & technical, but nothing much to slow one down. Although, I was taking it pretty easy after the morning's snow trials. Near the end of the trail, with a big grin on my face, I met the only other rider I saw that day & we swapped notes of which trails to ride where around the west-USA. A brief stretch on gravel road & I was on First Divide into Downieville itself. This mostly followed the rivers down the valley & was slightly more exposed than the previous trails.

It was also flatter & had more rocks to deal with on the trail. Not quite as fun, it was still a very good trail in the scheme of things to get into town.

Just as I did make it into town the clouds that had been threatening to make my ride more trying started to send a little rain down - but it was none too bad. With the snow, it was the hardest ride of the trip, but with that came the rewards - definitely the best downhill section I've done.  If you get the chance, ride it - just wait a couple of weeks until there is no snow left.  Packing up, eating lunch & noticing more & more July 4 bunting coming out of the closet we headed south towards Sacramento.

A Tale of Small "Cities"

I woke too tired & sore to be bothered getting in a quick shuttle run up to Armstrong Connector, Sidewinder & Corral before leaving Tahoe.  Pleased to be leaving all the traffic behind, it did feel like I was leaving with unfinished business.  Maybe if I ever return the higher long trails will be clear to ride.  On the other hand, maybe it’ll be the middle of winter & I’ll be skiing.  Pipe-dreams.

We hit only the second state capital of the entire trip (the first being Helena, Montana, right at the start) in Carson City, Nevada.  We didn’t bother stopping on our way to the trio of old mining towns – Silver City, Gold Hill & Virginia City.  It’s always a little incredible how quickly dropping elevation changes you from the alpine of the Sierras to the Nevada desert landscape.  There wasn’t reason to stop in Silver City, but I did spy an old steam locomotive sitting on a siding near the top of Gold Hill.

As I was poking around looking at it (it was in pretty good condition) some guy appeared from I’m not sure where – probably checking I wasn’t trying to put it in my back pocket.  He was part of the historical society that has been restoring the loco & old freight depot adjacent to it.  He was only too happy to talk about the projects & the mining history & answer my questions – which was great.

Virginia City was only a mile up the road – Valerie came here on Saturday while I was playing in the snow & didn’t realize Gold Hill was so close.  The main street of Virginia City stretches & stretches and is most definitely the best preserved western-style street we’ve seen so far on our travels.  There were plenty of saloons, museums & of course, being Nevada, places to see your money disappear in to machines with flashing lights & irritating tunes.  The site of the Comstock Lode in the nineteenth century, this place was booming on the back of all the silver & gold being pulled out of the hills.  A couple of interesting snippets – the name Mark Twain was first used from here, as Samuel Clemens wrote for the local newspaper & George Hearst (of the Hearst Castle, which we visited almost two weeks ago, family) made one of his fortunes here.

We drove “all the way to Reno”, not much to see there – it’s like a little, tame version of Vegas in parts.   Rancho San Rafael on the northwest of town was a very pleasant spot for lunch; interestingly I could have kissed a Blarney stone.  Reminding me of “how would you like to play a central park in Newark?” (Flight of the Conchords, before you ask, Mum), for some reason there was a stone from Blarney Castle in the garden.  Continuing north we were soon going through the Californian border check as we then headed up & west into the Sierra Valley.  I was surprised that it was so wide & flat.  They obviously have plenty of water as the cropping & livestock herds gave evidence of.  Climbing out of the valley, as we pressed on east, was once again stunning, very beautiful forest as we reached Sierra City (another large village with “City” tacked on the end of its name).  Eventually we found a couple of beds at Kokanee Kabins.  Nestled in the woods, it’s great to have the birds chirping away over the steady stream of all that snowmelt running down the river.

Lake Tahoe & an easier ride

After yesterday's little adventure, it was great to sleep in until nine.  Another clear day had dawned while I slept on & we eventually got out the door & went for a little drive west & then north around Lake Tahoe.  With summer starting (pity no one told the snow) the road was crazy busy & finding parking spots at Emerald Bay & Eagle Falls was quite difficult.  I'm quite looking forward to leaving the Californian traffic behind in a few days' time.  We had lunch sitting in the sun on the shore, watching boats zip around.  I spent the time alternately trying to work out where I rode the day before (behind the opposite shore) & missing water-skiing on Lake Tarawera back home.  (But as it's the middle of winter in the southern hemisphere, now's not a good time to be in/on that lake.)

Back in town, I was keen to push the pedals around a bit - so headed out on a short ride close to town. With nowhere near as much climbing (or snow) as yesterday, I was quickly up riding the Powerline Trail, which was mostly undulating through beautiful forest. There were short glimpses of gorgeous views, but having too much fun riding I didn't stop to get any pictures to share. I next wound & climbed my way up Incense Trail.

I was surprised to see a young bear run off down the trail a hundred metres away from me. Somewhat concerned at seeing a bear so close to town, potentially meeting its mother, & being alone & bear-spray-less, I started making a lot of noise (I did learn a thing or two in Canada) as I continued on. At the intersection with Corral Trail I was pleased to meet another rider to send ahead as bear-bait! We chatted a bit & the ride down Corral was great fun with lots of little jumps on the side of the trail. It was mostly road back into town, so that was quick. Even in my tired state, this ride shows just how slow yesteday was. Today I rode slightly less distance than yesterday, but in less than a third of the time (not much climbing & no snow made all the difference).

Lake Tahoe - snow-ride including Flume Trail

With two full days in South Tahoe City nearing the middle of summer, it was a great opportunity to check out a few of the legendary longer rides in the area. But this winter just gone being the winter that never stops giving (or taking, depending on your point of view) I ended up dealing with a bit of snow. Today I planned to ride from Mt Rose, along a bit of the Tahoe Rim Trail, the well-known Flume Trail & then down to Chimney Beach - as recommended by Mountain Bike Bill. However, when we got to the trailhead at Mt Rose it was completely snowbound so riding across Tahoe Meadows was not an option. We went back down the highway a little way to where I'd seen a rider go into the forest as we drove past. With the TRT on my GPS, I was pretty sure this random unsigned trail would link up to the TRT somewhere. But every hiker I passed (two couples) said that this wasn't the case. But it was a gorgeous day & I had about six hours until Valerie would pick me up someway away, so I pressed on. For about five kilometres the trail traversed around at about the same elevation & I crossed quite a few patches of snow & some heavily running streams.

There were quite a few fallen trees to negotiate too - this one I ended up squeezing my bike & then me under (it's bigger than it looks - easier to go under than over).

As I continued traversing I was generally 800 to 1000 metres from the trail I wanted to be on, which I assumed would be on the top of the ridge. As I was starting to look for an easy route up, I came across what looked like a big fire-break. It was steep, but clear of trees & more importantly, snow so I decided to head up it. Part-way up this exceedingly steep slope, I realised that it was a ski run (probably blue or black) & at the top would be a chairlift & I should have looked for a more manageable service road. So for about half an hour I slogged up Great Flume, gaining 250m vertical in one kilometre horizontal.

I was glad to reach the top of the chairlift & have a snack. Views off the east of the ridge were to Washoe Lake.

I found the TRT & was pleased to riding along it for a while. That was short lived as the hard-packed snow patches got larger & larger. But with such great mountain scenery & a pick-up at the other end, I was more than prepared to battle through extended periods of hike-a-bike - after, when would I ever be back in Tahoe doing the Flume Trail? Hardly an opportunity to pass up, even if it was exceptionally slow & tough going.

For quite long periods I was walking on steep snow slopes, eventually I found the trail intersection to the Flume Trail - a good spot for lunch. This sign was interesting - I hadn't seen another person on the trail, I was the only one mad enough to be up there.

Dropping down a little to the Flume Trail, I finally saw some other riders - they had biked up a much easier way from Incline Village apparently. As I expected, given the history of logging in the area, the Flume Trail follows the path of an old log flume that used to run around the side of the ridge. As a mountain-bike trail purely it's not particularly intersting, even in my slightly fatigued state I could cruise along it (slightly uphill in the south direction) in a high middle-ring gear (it seems two weeks at sea-level hasn't completely killed my mountain lungs). But the scenery is something else. With that damn snow still capping the peaks on the far side of the brilliantly blue lake it was gorgeous.

At the end of the Flume Trail, there's a little climb up to Martlett Lake. The lake must be full of snowmelt - as this is the trail.

Just as my socks were starting to dry from the previous snow crossing, they were soaked & cold again. But it was still warm out & I had many more patches of snow to avoid around the edge of the lake. With a mostly rideable climb away from the lake & the largest snow patch of the day to cross I was ready to leave the fireroad to Spooner Lake & find the downhill trail to Chimney Beach. 

Climbing up there was still more snow to negotiate. As before, the snow started to get a little thinner as I descended through 2400m & I could finally start ride & therefore enjoy the downhill singletrack. There were a few more spots of snow to negotiate in the shadier areas, but mostly I could ride around or over it. Dropping about 600m in 6km the ride was great fun & easily the best part of the day. It wasn't overly technical, but there were plenty of big bermed corners & some water bars to get a little air off.

Definitely a ride I'll remember for a long time, with an average moving speed of only 8 km/hr it was plenty slow - but on such a stunning day & with gorgeous scenery & a brilliant downhill to finish, it was all well worth it. Just perhaps I'll return when it's proper summer.

From late in the day, when there wasn't so much snow around.

Yosemite

We'd started to hear over the previous few days that due to the huge winter snowfall & the very late spring, the rivers in Yosemite National Park are running very high. Consequently, the waterfalls were supposed to be spectacular. As we drove towards the park, we noticed easily that the Merced River (this river flows out of the Yosemite Valley) was high & in many places nothing but a raging torrent.

Our first big stop in the park was after eventually getting a park to walk the short distance to Bridalveil Falls. Seeing quite a few people returning rather drenched, I grabbed my rainjacket out of the car & wandered up. From a distance, the fall looked like this - you can see part of the spray cloud at the bottom.

Not far up the short trail, the river started to overrun the trail - being recently melted snow this was pretty chilly through flip-flops/jandals. At the viewing point the spray was so intense I was quickly quite wet (glad I put my jacket on) & could only just see the top of the falls.

Yosemite Falls & a flooded meadow & boardwalk.

We rode the shuttle bus around a bit further & walked up to see more waterfalls - this time Vernall Falls. The Merced was still thundering down this narrow steep part - the noise was fantastic. The nice wide trail was paved, but steep in parts. The final staircase was another path to a sound drenching & the view was somewhat obscured by a dead tree trunk.

After lunching near Vernall Falls, we returned to the valley floor & did the nice easy Mirror Lake walk underneath Half Dome. The highlight of this was the bear cub that came wandering along on the way back. Rather it ran along & then bolted across the trail. Mama Bear was nowhere to be seen, so that was great news.

The shuttle still doesn't cope well with the gongshow that is summer in Yosemite, but we eventually got to the bottom of Yosemite Falls (the fifth highest in the world).

That was pretty much our day in Yosemite Valley. I enjoyed my visit so much more this time - the tremendous volume of water flowing & the sound associated with it was incredible.

Packing up in Merced we again headed for Yosemite - this time to drive over Tioga Pass & then head north through Nevada to South Lake Tahoe (which is back in California, but only just). Our only real break from driving was walking to Tuolumne Grove (giant sequoias). The largest living things on earth (by volume), it goes without saying that these things are pretty big - they can get old too, up to three-thousand years. This is a hollowed out trunk of a long-ago dead one to give a sense of size.

Almost immediately after leaving the grove, we started to come across more & more snow. The views along the road were beautiful with snow still capping the high points - it was well gone last time I drove this road.

Still a little bit of snow at Tioga Pass (just under 10000ft/2900m):

Out of the park, we lost elevation a lot quicker than we'd gained it & were soon driving north through west Nevada. I was surprised to see the scenery gradually change into nice green pastoral land - I'd never expected to see black-faced sheep grazing in Nevada. I'm well pleased to be traveling roads I've never been on before.  With a big climb up & then down, we were at Lake Tahoe in no time.

Lick Observatory

Since we’re well over the idea of big driving days, we let Kristy & Joel head off north towards Napa Valley. Our route towards Yosemite was much more direct. I’d spied a solitary road in the atlas that headed east from San Jose. It looked much better than sitting on the freeway so we headed up into the hills. Another great twisty road that just climbed & climbed, we eventually made it to Mt Hamilton & California University’s Lick Observatory. This was another one of those great discoveries on the side of the road we were traveling.

At the bequest of the man whose name the observatory bears (too rich, wanted something by which the world would remember him by), the best telescope in the world was built. He died before it was completed in 1888 – with a 36 inch lens, it was the largest refracting telescope in the world at the time & is still number three. It was handed over to California University upon completion & they have many more telescopes built up there.

There is also a 120 inch reflecting telescope built in the sixties – the lens took four years to bring up to standard by grinding & polishing. Leaving the boffins behind (actually I don’t think there were many there – most of the viewing is done remotely now) it was another fifty miles of driving down the twisty roads through trees that slowly gave way to ranches & then to grass covered hills - all very scenic.

As soon as we crossed under I-5 we were on the valley floor (a very wide one) & into intensive agriculture & horticulture land. It also got stinking hot – probably the first time this trip that the temperature for us has gone through 40ºC & 100ºF (we’ve been very fortunate). We had a couple of nights booked in Merced, as it far enough away from Yosemite to be well-priced & not booked out, but not too far away to prohibit a day trip there.

For the second half of the day’s driving I’d begun to feel the effects of a tank of nasty gas on the engine. Under-powered & stuttering, it was a little weird driving – but it turned even stranger the following day. Short of gas the previous day I’d somehow ended up at a gas station that only had 87-octane (yes, they sell such rubbish on this continent) – this must have been particularly bad, as I haven’t had a problem before. Back on my preferred 91 (the highest grade you can usually find), the car is back to normal. While I’m writing about boring car things: I’m not sure when it happened, but sometime before we reached San Diego I noticed that there are hardly any pick-ups or minivans on the roads here. Maybe it’s been a gradual decline since leaving Alberta, or maybe there was a step-change around Colorado or Arizona – but there’s many more cars & small SUVs around here. Gas is a little more expensive in California (particularly in the cities), but not exceptionally so.

Alcatraz

Tuesday was another day on the waterfront in San Francisco. After a completely avoidable & regrettable communication breakdown, we met Kristy & Joel just in time to get on our booked 9.30 ferry to the Rock. Strangely, the Bay area had served up a consecutive fantastic day & it was a most pleasant short ferry ride out to Alcatraz. A very popular place to visit, I didn’t find it too crowded to get a good look around. It’s an odd island – such a beautiful setting in the gateway to the San Francisco bay with great views all around on such a day, plenty of flowers that you wouldn’t expect & a lot of birdlife (no predators). All this is contrasted markedly with it really just being a big, mostly desolate, rock with a huge old crumbling relic of a prison sitting on top.

With its history of being an army fort guarding the bay, then an army prison, then a federal penitentiary before the site of an Indian occupation & finally becoming part of the National Park system, I was fascinated. Of course, the biggest focus of the island today is the former maximum security cell block – the audio tour (the first I’ve done this trip) voiced by former guards & inmates is really well done. The cells, except solitary confinement for some reason, were smaller than I expected. It seemed as though life there was for the most part rather routine & quiet, with good meals & hot showers (so prisoners wouldn’t get acclimatized to cold water & think a swim across the bay was a good idea). Still, with the city tantalizingly close it must have been torture. The 1946 riot & various escape attempts were well detailed, as was life on the island for the children of the wardens.

Back on the mainland, we enjoyed a nice long lunch of clam chowder in sourdough bread bowls on Fisherman’s Wharf catching up about roadtrips & life in Canmore. Leaving Joel & Kristy to explore Pier 39 we headed back to the historic ships that we didn’t get the chance to wander around on Saturday. The Eureka was a big old wooden-hulled (one of the largest left) ferry from the days before the big bridges around the Bay Area. It reminded me a lot of one I went on in San Diego two years ago – there was nice little collection of old vehicles on it too. I found the most interesting to be the Balclutha – a big old three-masted sailing ship that plied quite a few different routes over its long life – curiously it used to take a lot of Californian Douglis fir to Australia for the construction of the Broken Hill mines (there’s a tenuous link to my old job at Bluescope Steel there somewhere). There was a neat little old red tug tied up – reminded me of Little Golden Books for some reason. Leaving Joel & Kristy to explore the city a little more, we returned to the hotel to do a few errands before we met for dinner.