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Slideshow
Slideshow
A
slideshow
of photos of my travel in the California Sierras as far as Yosemite Valley can be found at
https://photos.app.goo.gl/AqiBqGmE3968KTXXA
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Missive No. 5: A Tale of Palmdale
Missive No. 5: A Tale of Palmdale
Palmdale. That’s where dreams go to die. In just a few words that describes what happened with me in California. Things didn’t turn out quite like I hoped. Truth be told, they turned out far from what I had hoped.
My first day in the Sierras was wonderful. I climbed nearly 4500 feet (1400 meters) and left the desert behind. It was cool at last. For the first time since I left Utah, I set up to camp and slept beautifully in the fresh air.
The next morning I continued north along the ridge on Rt. 2. The weather was beautiful and so were the views . . . until I saw a sign warning “road closed in five miles.” Sure enough, I reached a gate closing the road to motorized traffic, but I saw that WoodsWoman and I could go around it easily. And so we did. I continued further. The views became even more impressive. I was completely by myself. Everything was wonderful until I came to a second, much more serious gate. This one had jersey barriers and boulders behind it and to the sides. There was no way to go around it. As I found out later, a short distance beyond this gate, the road had completely washed away down the cliffs as a result of the winter snows. The road no longer existed.
There was nothing to do but backtrack and then descend into the valley back into the desert. I spent the night in a cheap motel in Palmdale. My mood was dismal. When I set out the next morning, I was again in the Mojave Desert. The heat was oppressive, but I began to climb in the second half of the day. I spent the night in a motel in Tehachapi. That evening I went to the Internet and learned that Rt. 2 wasn’t the only road on my route that was closed. There were several others. I would have to detour again and again into the valley, into the heat. It would be impossible to follow the route I had intended. I nearly ended my trip right then and there. Had I crossed the desert for nothing?
But the next morning I got in touch with Abel, a local WarmShowers host in Tehachapi. He and his wife Kim offered to host me for the night. Abel also connected me with a bike-packer who had been with him two or so weeks earlier and who also was traveling north on the Sierra-Cascades route. That bike-packer confirmed that the road through Sequoia National Park was closed and that he was heading to Yosemite National Park by detouring through the valley.
That evening I talked over my options with Abel. In the end I came up with a plan: 1) Travel north on the ridge to the Giant Sequoia National **Monument** as close as I could get to the Sequoia National **Park** road closure; 2) Backtrack and descend by bus to Bakersfield; 3) Take Amtrak to Merced; 4) Ride and climb with WoodsWoman to Yosemite National Park; 5) Return to Merced; and 6) End my trip and return east by train.
That’s what I did. This way I managed to camp for several nights next to the most majestic trees on this planet: the sequoias. And although Tioga Pass at Yosemite was closed, I was able to spend two days in Yosemite Valley and see the famous waterfalls that this oldest U.S. park is known for.
I should note that even the valley of Yosemite is at an altitude of 4000 ft (1200 m). Riding there from Merced, just a few hundred feet above sea level, is not easy. There are long climbs with gradients of 7-8%. On the return these transform to steep descents with the exception of a long 8% climb to Mariposa.
Add to this that on my return from Yosemite I experienced the hottest temperatures of the summer, above 40C (104F). On my last morning returning to Merced, I got up at 2:00 a.m. so that I could start riding at 4:00 a.m. using my headlight. That way I beat the worst of the heat.
Bike-packers and backpackers believe in “trail magic.” This was the magic that found me on the road to Merced on that final morning. The sun was already 20 degrees above the horizon, and the predawn coolness was evaporating fast. Suddenly a bicyclist pulled up next to me. We began chatting and riding slowly together. His name was Ron, a retired attorney and a cyclist from way back. Now over 80 years old, he still rides every day. He’s even done a transcontinental ride as I did in 2020 and 2021. He asked about my plans when I reached the city. I said it was too early for me to check into my motel and that I would probably find a coffee shop where I could sit for a few hours. “No way,” he answered. “You’ll come to my house and wait there.” So it was that I spent that final morning with Ron and his wife Terry in their comfortable home. That was true “trail magic.”
And so, I now sit in Amtrak’s “California Zephyr” train as I return east. Perhaps it’s no accident that I chose “California Zephyr” as the name for this, my fourth summer journey with WoodsWoman? In the nearly four years since I retired in 2019, WoodsWoman and I have spent an entire year together, even more if you add in my local riding in Maine. More than a quarter of my retirement has been spent in the saddle. In Chicago I will transfer to the “Capitol Limited” and continue on to Washington. I’ll spend a week or ten days with family and friends before continuing home to Maine. As my readers know, the ride to my home from the final train station takes 3-4 days, but perhaps this year I’ll choose a longer route? Perhaps my dreams did not die in Palmdale but only transformed? Stay tuned.
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Пальмдейл, где мечты умирают. Несколькими словами, это описывает то, что было со мной в Калифорнии. Всё получилось не так, как я хотела. Правду сказать, получилось далеко не так.
Отличный был первый день в горах Сьерра. Я поднялась метров 1400 и оставила пустыню позади. Было прохладно. Наконец-то. Впервые с тех пор, как я уехала из Юты, я устроилась на кемпинге и спала крепко крепко на свежем воздухе.
Следующим утром я продолжала путь на север по хребту по дороге 2. Отличная погода и отличные виды . . . пока я не увидела дорожный знак, предупреждающий о том, что через восемь километров дорога перекрыта. Я доехала до преграды и решила, что мы с ЛесНицей можем её легко объехать. Так мы и сделали. Поехали дальше. Виды стали даже более впечатляющими. Я была совсем одна. Здорово было, пока я не попала на вторую, куда более серьёзную преграду. Её не обойти даже пешком. Как я узнала потом, через некоторое расстояние после этой преграды, дорога совсем смылась в результате зимних снегопадов. Дорога больше не существует.
Пришлось вернуться назад и спуститься в долину, обратно в пустыню. Я ночевала в плохой дешёвой гостинице в городе Пальмдейл. Настроение моё было удручающее. Следующим утром я снова отправилась в путь через пустыню Мохаве. Жутко было жарко. Под конец дня я начала снова подниматься. Я ночевала в гостинице в городе Техачапи. Вечером я зашла в Интернет и узнала, что по моей дальнейшем пути не одна дорога перекрыта. Придётся снова и снова спускаться в долину, в жару. Совершить первоначально придуманное путешествие невозможно. В тот вечер я чуть не решила сразу прекратить поход и вернуться домой. Разве я переехала пустыню зря?
Но следующим утром я связалась с Абелом из велосипедной сети «Тёплые души» в Техапачи. Он пригласил меня ночевать у него с женой Ким. Он тоже связал меня с одним велосипедистом, который был у него недели две до меня и который тоже ехал на север по хребту. Этот велосипедист подтвердил, что дорога через Национальный парк Секвойя перекрыта и что ему пришлось ехать в Парк Йосемити не по хребту а по долине.
Вечером мы с Абелом обсуждали возможности. В конце концов я придумала вот такой план: 1) Проехать по хребту через Национальный **Монумент** Секвойя до начала **парка** Секвойя, где дорога перекрыта; 2) Вернуться назад и спускаться в долину на автобусе в город Бейкерсфильд; 3) В поезде поехать в город Мерсед; 4) На велике снова подняться в горы и поехать в Парк Йосемити; 5) Вернуться в город Мерсед; и 6) Всё – вернуться домой в поезде.
Я так и поступила. Таким образом мне удалось ночевать несколько ночей в горах рядом с величайшими деревьями на планете: секвойя. И хотя перевал Тиога в Парке Йосемити перекрыта, мне удалось провести два дня в долине Йосемити и посмотреть на знаменитые водопады, чем известен этот самый известный парк в США.
Следует отметить, что даже долина Йосемити находится на высоте 1200м. Подняться туда из города Мерсед было дело нелёгкое. Были длительные подъёмы с градиентом в 7-8%. На обратном пути они превратились в крутые спуски – хотя было тоже ещё один крутой подъём в 8%.
К тому же, стояла самая жаркая погода за всё лето с температурой выше 40C. Следовательно, в последнее утро я встала в 2ч утра и тронулась в путь при фаре в 4ч. Таким образом я избежала жару.
Есть у велосипедных туристов и у альпинистов легенда о «магии пути.» Такая магия нашла меня по дороге в Мерсед в то последнее утро. Солнце уже стояло градусов 20 над горизонтом. Прохлада ночного пробега испарялась. Вдруг рядом со мной появился Рон на своём велосипеде. Мы катались медленно и болтались. Оказалось, что он адвокат и велосипедист с давних времён. Сейчас на пенсии, ему за 80 . . . и ещё каждый день на своём велосипедом. Даже переехал всю страну как я и сделала в 2020 и в 2021. Он спросил, какие у меня планы, когда доеду до самого города. Я ответила, что ещё слишком рано, чтобы занять номер в мотели. Скорее всего найду кофейню и там посижу несколько часов. «Никак нет,» он ответил. «Вы приедете ко мне и у нас посидите.» Так я провела то последнее утро не одна а в уютном доме Рона с женой Терри. Это и есть сущая «магия пути.»
Итак, я сижу в поезде «Калифорнийский ветерок» и возвращаюсь на восток. Может быть не случайно я выбрала то же название для этого, моего четвёртого летнего похода вместе с ЛесНицей. С тех пор, как я вышла на пенсию в 2019, мы с ней провели вместе целый год, даже чуть больше. Больше одной четверти моей пенсионной жизни я провела в седле.
В Чикаго я пересяду в поезд «Капитолий Лтд.» и поеду в Вашингтон. Там проведу дней десять с родными и друзьями прежде чем поехать к себе домой в Мэн. Как читатели мои знают, из последнего железнодорожного вокзала до моего дома, это дня 3-4 в седле. А может быть в этом году найду себе новый маршрут подлиннее? Возможно мечты мои не умерли в городе Пальмдейл а только и превратились, приобрели новый облик? Посмотрим.
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Daily Log
Daily Log
Wednesday, June 14, 2023 -- 9102 km cum - 100 km/day
I'm in motion again after two days that I used for nothing more substantive than rest . . . and finding Mollie who colored my hair with the henna that I carried all this way. Main Street in Barstow is sad, essentially abandoned as in so many towns I saw on the TransAm two years ago, all bypassed by the Interstates. Commerce has moved from Main Street to the Interstate interchanges. Even the Rt. 66 Museum was closed Mon-Thurs, but I had a nice consolation in the Goldstone DSN Museum. I hadn't realized that Goldstone is so close to Barstow. When I exited, I met Bill, who is something of a frame builder. He was riding a "chopper bike" that he built for his niece.
The ride today as far as Victorville wasn't bad, but after that the headwind became as strong, even worse, than during the ride from Baker to Barstow. Added to that, the pavement on Mariposa Road that was so degraded that it felt like riding on cobblestones. It was miserable.
**But**, I have climbed into the foothills of the Sierras. Tomorrow I turn north. This summer's поход has been nothing but a grind since I entered Nevada. I hope that begins to change tomorrow.
Thursday, June 15, 2023 -- 9129 km cum - 27 km/day
A very short mileage day, but not so for elevation. In the course of seventeen miles, I went from 1000 to 2500m (~3000 to 7500 ft.), a whopping elevation gain of 1500m (~4500 ft.). I think I pushed up more than I rode today. The grades were that steep. The most insane grade was the entry road to the Table Mountain campground to the west of Wrightwood. It feels good to be camping again and to be among trees. Despite the insane climb, my mood that suffered through more than a week of desert is somewhat improved.
Friday, June 16, 2023 -- 9205 km cum - 76 km/day
A beautiful night was followed by a miserable day. Only about five miles into the day, I encountered a "Rt. 2 Closed" gate. I went around it in hope that a bicycle could go through. Five miles further on, there was a second gate with jersey barriers and boulders arranged on the sides to make sure no one, not even someone on foot, could get past. There was even a "no bicycles" sign.
And so, I had to return to where I had camped and take the only detour available down into the valley. I lost 1000 m of elevation that I had worked so hard to gain yesterday. The ride was not pretty. Once in the valley, I was met (again!) by a strong headwind. I'm in a super cheap -- in all senses -- motel in Palmdale.
There has been precious little fun in this trip since I left Utah. If I could, I might turn on my communicator and say, "Beam me up, Scotty."
Saturday, June 17, 2023 -- 9286 km cum - 81 km/day
Sunday, June 18, 2023 -- 9300 km cum - 14 km/day
Monday, June 19, 2023 -- 8360 km cum - 80 km/day
I nearly abandoned after Saturday's ride from Palmdale to Tehachapi. When I passed Edwards Air Force Base and stopped at Antelope Acres for a break, the temperature must have been 40C. It was HOT. I hydrated religiously. Then there was the climb of over 700 m to Oak Creek Pass. I pushed up much of the final 3 km. I now have a wound on my right ankle from a blister that broke from all the rubbing as I walked and pushed.
Tehachapi was another motel night. It's also when I checked the route carefully and found that the Sierra-Cascade route through Sequoia National Park is completely closed. So, apparently, is the Western Divide Highway through Giant Sequoia National Monument (GSNM).
What saved the situation, at least in part, was WS host Abel in Tehachapi. I only heard from him after I was a the motel. He put me in touch with Mike, another Sierra-Cascade cyclist who is about a week ahead of me. Mike confirmed that Sequoia National Park is totally closed, but he said the Western Divide Highway is passable on a bike. And so . . .
On Sunday I rode the short distance to Abel's and spent the afternoon and night with him and his wife Kim, a retired teacher. They are both cyclists, and Abel is also a backpacker. He is, in addition, a font of local information.
And so, on Monday I made it to Lake Isabella. It was a tough day that started downhill but was followed by three climbs. I pushed up more than I rode. The first climb was the worst, some 800 m of elevation gain in 11-12 km.
I'm at an AirBnB in Lake Isabella and am taking a rest day. My plan is to continue into GSNM for two days so that I can see some sequoias. Then I'll return to Lake Isabella, take the bus to Bakersfield and, from there, Amtrak to Merced. From there it is about a two day ride to Yosemite Valley. My hope is that by making it to GSNM and Yosemite, I will have made the post-Zion misery worth the effort.
Wednesday, June 21, 2023 -- 9426 km cum - 46 km/day
A short day, not even 30 miles, by design from Lake Isabella to the USFS Fairview Campground in Sequoia National Forest. I'm camped next to the Kern River, but alas, the sequoias are much further along. At least I'm camping . . . for only the second time since leaving Utah.
One year ago today, I was already into my second day on the Dalton Highway in Alaska. What a different ride that was. Since leaving Utah this year, I am finding "the bloom is off the rose."
Thursday, June 22, 2023 -- 9486 km cum - 60 km/day
[Writing on Friday, June 23]
This was a "leave all weight at the campground and climb" day much as at Glacier National Park in 2020. Even so, it was not an easy climb to the Western Divide Highway and the Trail of 100 Hundred Giants. The grades during this 1000m climb may not have been as steep as on the Road to the Sun, but they were significant. The climb took me three hours. I pedaled most of the way, but there were a few places where I got off and pushed. Only on the delightful descent did I realize how much I had climbed.
But on the Trail of 100 Giants I saw the Sequoias, at least some of them. I was still on WoodsWoman when I saw the first one. I stopped short, the sight taking my breath away. No matter how many pictures I have seen, nothing had prepared me for their size, their majesty. The first one on the Trail, "proclamation Sequoia," has an open base. I actually stood within the tree! In their size and lifespan of centuries, even thousands of years, they dwarf human life. Seeing, touching the Sequoias has gone a long way toward justifying the hard, grueling days since I left Utah.
Today (i.e., Friday) is a rest day for me at the Fairview Campground next to the Kern River. The sound of the rapids at night brings back memories of the surf during trips to Ocean City when Matthew was little.
As to the Sierra-Cascade route, what little of it I have ridden, I've learned a humbling lesson. It is not a route for heavy, loaded touring such as I have been doing. It is a difficult route with ups and downs reminiscent of the TransAm in VA-KY-MS in 2021, only more so. I never should have combined it with Arizona and Utah. It's a route best tackled on its own. For the Sierra-Cascade, "less is more" in terms of weight. The ride up to Trail of 100 Giants was difficult even though I was carrying almost nothing. I hate to think what it would have been like if I had been carrying all my weight. I planned so thoroughly for Alaska and Canada last year and did it right. This year I did almost no planning. Instead, I packed as I had last year and went forth "to fight the last war." I have paid the price for that hubris.
That said, seeing the Sequoias did much to make the pain worthwhile.
Saturday, June 24, 2023 -- 9533 km cum - 47 km/day
I'm back in Lake Isabella after an easy 30-mile ride from the Fairview Campground. Although there were a couple of climbs near the end, this was largely downhill. Along the way I stopped for a good breakfast at the Blue Bear in Kern.
I actually got away without paying at all for my three nights at Fairview. I tried, but there were no fee envelopes. Also, the camp host was barely to be found.
Laundry done, I'm settled in at the Lake Isabella Motel, my "cheap motel" for the night. Tomorrow I take the bus to Bakersfield and the Amtrak to Merced.
Meanwhile, in Russia, Prigozhin marched his forces toward Moscow and then stopped. Что там творится?
Sunday-Monday, June 25-26, 2023 -- 9541 km cum - 8 km/day
Just local riding in Bakersfield and Merced. On Sunday I used Kearn Valley Transit to go from Lake Isabella to Bakersfield, for the first time in my life using a bus bicycle rack. (By the time re reached Bakersfield, the "hook" over the front wheel had descended and no longer "hooked" the wheel, but WoodsWoman survived nonetheless.) Today I took Amtrak to Merced, where I'm in a Motel 6 for the night. Tomorrow I start riding to Yosemite.
Tuesday, June 27, 2023 -- 9607 km cum -- 66 km/day
This was a good 40-mile day from Merced to a camping night at the county fairground in Mariposa. The first 15+ miles were beautiful and flat on a back road with almost no traffic. The next ten miles on Rt. 140 with traffic and almost no shoulder weren't exactly fun. The final fifteen miles were on a back road again, now with steady climbing plus a bad road surface. I think, overall, that I climbed 600-700m. All in all, this was a good day.
Camping at a fairground brings back good memories from two years ago when I camped at a fairground the day before I rode into Missoula.
Wednesday, June 28, 2023 -- 9687 km cum - 80 km/day
Thursday, June 29, 2023 -- 9716 km cum - 29 km/day
Friday, June 30, 2023 -- 9775 km cum - 59 km/day
Saturday, July 1, 2023 -- 9803 km cum - 28 km/day
Sunday, July 2, 2023 -- 9872 km cum - 69 km/day
[Writing on Monday, July 3]
And so it ends. I'm writing on board the San Joaquin train bound from Merced to Emmeryville. Hard riding days and limited time meant I had no opportunity to write over these days, but I achieved my goal: Yosemite.
The ride from Mariposa to Yosemite was tough, no two ways about it. There was a short but sharp climb right out of Mariposa followed by a long, 13-14 km descent to the Merced River, much of it at a 7-8% grade. From there the climb was gradual at first as far as El Portal, где я познакомилась с молодым парнем, Павел, из Псковской области. Он работает там в мини-маркете.
A very steep climb at 8% grade begins right after El Portal and continues nearly 16 km into Yosemite Valley. I had to push WoodsWoman up much of it. But then, suddenly, one enters the Valley, and the route becomes almost flat. I breathed a sigh of relief . . . and looked up. The view was breathtaking, everything I had hoped for. To my right was Bridal Veil Falls, and El Capitan was to my left.
It took some time to find the hiker/biker at Yosemite. When I did, I was in shock. A sign informed that one could camp for one night only. But since no one official was present, I decided on a little deceit. I didn't register. In the morning I packed up and left early. I spent the day riding the blessedly flat valley with full weight. I would have preferred day hikes, but oh well. I got to spend the full day marveling at John Muir's Yosemite. In the evening I went to the NPS office and registered officially for the night, never saying a word about the previous night. When the young woman registering me saw my senior card, she declined to take any payment at all.
On Friday I lingered late knowing I would have a thrilling descent to the Merced River and a BLM campground. When I got there, however, the campground was full. In the end, Alejandra invited me to pitch my tent at the spot where she and her extended family were having a weekend reunion. She even gave me a wonderful dinner of carne assada, beans, and rice. Alas, however, it was to be a noisy night with so many people at the reunion. Also, it was **hot**. The daytime temperature had reached 40C, I hardly slept at all.
I rose and packed as early as I could on Saturday and pushed at least half of the way up the 8% grade to Midpines summit. The remaining three mile descent into Mariposa was a welcome end to the day. I enjoyed a simple hot dog, fries, and lemonade dinner at the "Happy Hamburger" cafe.
It was even hotter on Saturday, and I knew I should spend the night indoors if I could. It being a holiday weekend, however, all motels were fully booked. The best I could manage was a tent cabin at the Fairgrounds. There was no AC, and the shared facilities were the same as when I had camped there on Tuesday. The price, $280, was absurdly, shockingly high. It felt like highway robbery, but it did have one important plus side. Staying in this tent cabin meant I could get an early start on Sunday.
And I do mean early. After only a short, fitful sleep, I got up at 2:00 a.m. and was on the road a little after 4:00 a.m.. Using my lights for the first time this summer, I managed to ride 15+ miles before the sun came up. This pre-dawn ride was actually cool, pleasant, and largely downhill after an initial ascent out of Mariposa. I chose to ride on Rt. 140 rather than on "Old Highway," the route I had use on my way to Mariposa. It was the right choice. The pavement was good, and there was very little traffic on this Sunday of a holiday weekend.
About fifteen miles from Merced, I turned off Rt. 140 onto the same back road I had ridden on Tuesday. I took a break and listened to "Last Time on the Road." I had tears in my eyes. This was it, two months to the day since I had left Tucson. My last day of riding had come. This summer's journey was not as thrilling as those of the past three summers, but it was something. I visited four national parks and one national monument. I saw where Clyde Tombaugh discovered Pluto. I even spent a day in Las Vegas. And I did it all on two wheels with WoodsWoman.
Shortly after my break, a cyclist passed me going the other way. Then there was a peleton of young riders who waved and shouted. I have seen so few cyclists this summer, and suddenly, on the outskirts of Merced, I felt I had a welcoming committee. Then the first cyclist caught up with me. He had turned around so that he could meet me. His name was Ron, a 78-year-old retired attorney who lives in Merced, and he invited me to his home where I spent a delightful several hours with him and his wife Terry. I only left when I felt my room at the Motel 6 would be ready.
And that's it. In Emeryville tonight I will have dinner with Marilyn Newhouse from my CSC days. I don't remember when we may have seen each other last. Tomorrow I board the California Zephyr to Chicago. It's a fitting end to this summer's journey that I had named "California Zephyr."
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