I have often wondered whether it would be feasible to cross the four southern Sierra passes in four days, over and back, a new pass on each new day.
After the tour with Loren a month ago, I decided I was in shape as much as I was ever likely to be, and acclimated to the altitude. I figured the first weekend after Labor day should still have reasonable weather, with the possibility of less traffic in Yosemite.
I thought having a go at all four passes might be a bit much, and I didn’t want to take extra vacation time just now, anyway. So I spent some time studying the maps, and decided on a weekend attack on the two toughest passes.
I committed myself by reserving a motel room at Bridgeport, but also loaded the small tent and a sleeping bag in case I got totally bogged down. For only two days, I didn’t bother with front panniers, and put only small panniers on the rear. I took a change of clothes, a small bag of tools, a pile of granny bars and cold weather gear.
109.06 miles, 10:08, maximum speed 37, elevation gain 11,460'. My original estimate from the maps was about 105 miles, 10,620'.
Up at 3 AM, breakfast, out of the house by 4. Rather than driving all the way to Sonora, I decided to add some miles onto today and subtract miles from tomorrow by starting from Chinese Camp, about ten miles south of Sonora.
Left the car off the road at the Tuolumne county tourist information stand. Not sure whether this is okay or not, but no indication that it isn’t, and I don’t think it should inconvenience anyone.
Loaded up the bike, hit the road by 6:40. About as early as I would have wanted to be: many of the cars still had their lights on. A cool gray morning.
The highway climbs gently to Sonora, which it bypasses. Decided to take a look at the town, which I hadn’t visited before. Turned off the highway, got a picture of the Shay locomotive. Pleasant place, Sonora.
Skipped Twain Harte because I’m concerned about running out of daylight at the other end.
Day turned sunny, but cool and pleasant. Stopped at Sugar Pine for coffee and a doughnut. Kid at store, maybe 6 or 7, asked me if I was out for a little “stroll.” I told him I expected to ride upwards of a hundred miles today, and he agreed that I would need the coffee and doughnut I was eating! He took off across the road, came back in a minute to get some junk food. He confided to the clerk that he had gotten $17 for his birthday yesterday – it was pretty clear how he was going to spend it.
In the twenty miles east of Sonora, there is a businesslike climb from 2000 to 5000', with few downhills. Then the road dawdles, taking another 35 miles to get to 6000', with two or three thousand feet of extra ups and downs. You even climb as high as 6500' and fall back to 5700, before eventually becoming serious about getting up in the world.
Lots of little towns along here, resorts, stores, campgrounds. Certainly didn’t need the spare water bottles I brought along for contingency.
Many of the buildings along here have steel roofs. The whole town of Long Barn, such as it is, glitters through the trees.
Lots of evidence of logging. Only one logging truck on the road, but machinery, turn-offs, downed trees all along the route. Also several double-trailer gravel haulers. All empty, all coming over the pass from the east. Good reasons to do this route on a weekend.
Rock darker and not as steep as at Yosemite. Slopes covered with vegetation. Exposed rock not such a stark contrast. Some of the rock shows columns reminiscent of Devil’s Postpile.
Passed a total of five women cycling toward Kennedy meadow. Not loaded nor dressed for touring; campers or day trippers.
Kennedy meadow, at 6200', begins the serious climb. (At this point, I had already put in 7100 vertical feet for the day.)
I switched the bicycle computer to display my cadence, which fell to the 80s, then the 70s, then the 60s. I was pulling hard on the brake hoods, lots of muscle tension in my lower back, as I put all my strength into the strokes. Sweat running into my eyes despite the bikie cap under my helmet that usually soaks it up. Heart rate well above the legal speed limit. I reached the one mile point and stopped to recuperate – took a picture looking back down the road I just climbed.
It’s nine miles from Kennedy meadow to Sonora pass. Looked like a very long afternoon ahead! No way could I do eight more miles like that first one!
Well, after a little mental arithmetic, I realized that 3400' of gain in nine miles is an average grade of something less than 8% [actually only a little over 7%] – so it couldn’t all be as bad as the first mile.
True. I even got up off my lowest gear a few times, though the climb from about 8500' to 9000' got my cadence down again into the mid 50s.
Even though this is a steep climb between high walls, there is a lot of meadow here, with campgrounds, picnic areas, and people enjoying the country. Picture of the rock at Chipmunk Flat, about 8500'.
There is lots of evidence of recent thunderstorms on this high section. Snow melt streams are clear; today’s streams were muddy. There was sand washed across the road in a lot of places. Even gravel, a couple of times, an inch or more in diameter. Drivers were considerate about my need to use up all the road to get around the sand.
Took a little over two hours to do the nine miles to Sonora pass. No one there when I arrived, but a couple of guys, mountain bikies from San Jose, showed up to go hiking, and I got them to shoot a couple pix.
Clouds building up, chilly when I stop working. Jacket on for the descent. The east side is reputed to be very steep, so I took it easy. Turned out it isn’t all that bad, as downhills go. About three steep sections, each half a mile to a mile long, separated by more moderate grades.
Stopped above the really steep drop into Leavitt meadow for a picture looking south at Leavitt meadow itself.
West Walker river runs down the meadows and along the road, but turns north when it can’t get past Devil’s Gate. My Sierra cycling book says the steep part is a 19% grade; the CalTrans sign says 12%. Whatever. If you were going up, it would probably be a walker, but it’s only about half a mile long, between two switchbacks. Kept my speed down to about 20 mph through constant braking.
The meadows are shared by a USMC mountain warfare training center. I could hear guys in the rocks, but didn’t see anyone. Wonder if mountain bikes are included in their bag of tricks? Probably not…
Their base is a big barracks that looks almost like an urban apartment building, lots of tents, probably used for materiél rather than personnel, and about four big helicopters.
Highway 395 to Devil’s Gate summit is no big deal. After the mountains, the road looked flat, even when I had to shift down to granny. Good tailwind from the west, and a crossing tailwind when I turned south.
Serious bad weather developing behind me on the mountains. Glad I got down when I did. Hammered on into Bridgeport, arrived about 5 PM. The clouds eventually came over Bridgeport, but didn’t storm at us.
Mine host at the Ruby Inn wanted to talk about cycling. He has a 21-speed Nishiki mountain bike, which he never takes off the road. He’s converted it to road tires. I got a slightly cheaper room by asking, but had to hoist the bike to the second floor. With only rear panniers, there was no balance point at which I could lift the bike to my shoulder, so I had to roll it up and down the stairs, upright on its rear wheel.
Unpacked. Fuel for today’s ride: one doughnut, one cup of coffee, and from the body count, five granny bars. Food now! shower later!
Wandered around town looking for a Mexican restaurant. The Burger Barn claimed to have burritos, but I’m not that desperate. Phoned Jacky. Took a picture of the classic old courthouse.
Six or eight cyclists outside Sportsmen’s restaurant. A bunch of bay area people, complete with a sag van. I was to encounter them again on the morrow. I asked one of them if the restaurant was any good, and got a qualified positive opinion. Ate there.
Sportsmen’s menu was the worst of good-ole-boy cuisine: chicken-fried steak, breaded veal cutlets… No acceptable beers in stock, so I stayed with water. I ordered a bowl of chili and a chef’s salad. Halfway through, I ordered a side of baked potato. Pretty good meal, though the waiter obviously thought I was bonkers. On the other hand, the waiter was telling the people at the next table how he had wiped out over the hood of a car on his roller blades. Maybe we’re all bonkers, each in his own way.
At the next table on the other side was an old guy telling Navy stories from World War II. At the counter were a couple of guys the waiter said were DEA.
134.97 miles, 11:42, maximum speed 40, elevation gain 9630'. Original estimate from the maps: 134 miles, 9400'.
Thought I would go out like a light after the early start and the long hard day – and I did. But woke up about 9 PM and couldn’t get back to sleep. Actually got up and did some Raynet work (horrors!).
Woke up at 6 AM, out of the room by 6:30. Everyone told me overnight temperatures have been in the 30s, so I dressed for cold weather: polypro undershirt, winter tights, jacket, winter gloves.
Stopped at Sportsmen’s for breakfast. Sure didn’t feel like 30s, but maybe just because I wasn’t outdoors long enough. Waitress and one of the other customers agreed that it really was, however. Hotcakes, bacon, and an exceptionally good cantaloupe. On the road by 7.
According to the map, there’s a big reservoir at Bridgeport, but it isn’t visible from the road. Road crosses east Walker river, which doesn’t meet up with west Walker river from Leavitt meadows for many miles.
Filtered sun through the light overcast. The road runs along Virginia creek. Plaques here and there on mining activities. One named Dogtown, so-called because of the makeshift accommodations thrown up by the miners, with the full expectation of being abandoned within a few years when the strike played out.
26 miles to Lee Vining, about 1900' of climb over Conway summit. Jacket off. Old road visible, no longer paved, with more twists and turns, less uniform grade. Not a particularly steep climb, but my legs feel like they normally would at the end of a long weekend ride. Not a good sign for the beginning of the day.
At Mono lake, a plaque commemorates the nearby grave of Kit Carson’s daughter.
Rolled into Lee Vining right at 9, just in time to see a mob of maybe fifty runners take off south down 395. Stopped at tourist info stand to get a couple of maps and remove winter tights and undershirt. Headed for Tioga pass.
Sure enough, the runners were also going to Tioga pass. I suppose they had about fifteen to twenty minutes head start; it was several hundred vertical feet up Lee Vining canyon before I caught up with the last (first?) straggler. I estimated that my typical 6 mph (10-minute miles) would not be enough to catch the leaders, though I slowly passed runners all the way up, and sometimes, runners slowly passed me. Not much chatter – we were all of us using our breath for more important things.
Woman running with a dog. The support vehicle had a doggy dish. Twice I saw him put the dish down and fill it with Gatorade for the dog. The dog didn’t need any encouragement to lap it up, either!
As a descent, Lee Vining canyon is fast and steep, and you’d better pay attention to the road. As an ascent, there’s lots of time to enjoy the scenery, and it’s pretty nice, though by the time you finally reach Ellery and Tioga lakes, you’re ready for the change.
Sure enough, there were a dozen runners already at Tioga pass when I arrived just at 11:00.
Just below the pass, I overtook another cyclist. Turned out she was one of the group I talked to in Bridgeport yesterday afternoon. I guess they came on to Lee Vining yesterday. The rest of the cyclists and their sag van were waiting at the pass. All of them from the Bay area, three of them Rebac board members. They were doing essentially the same loop I was, but doing it in four days instead of two. [They thought I was bonkers, too!]
Ranger at the gate took our money, asked whether we’d been caught in the rain. I told him no, that’s just sweat. He laid the bills aside to dry out, rather than putting them in the cash register.
Chilly and breezy at the top. Jacket back on for the descent. Chatted for a minute with the cyclists, then headed down. At this point, I had done all the legitimate climbing for the day, a total of about 5100'. The rest of the day’s uphill was rolling over irregularities in the terrain, and it almost doubled the total!
Tioga pass is at 9945'; Tuolumne meadows is a fairly direct descent to 9000'. Beautiful high Sierra country. Stopped at Tuolumne meadows for picture of Lembert dome. Once again, off with the jacket.
Getting from 9000' down to 8000' involves about 2000' of climbing! Loren and I learned that this road is difficult going east; today I learned it’s almost as difficult going west!
Stopped at Tenaya lake for another picture. Stopped again at Olmstead point for calories and to enjoy the view. The paraplegic ranger and his buddy are somewhere on Half Dome, but of course totally invisible to the naked eye – not sure whether you could see them from here anyway. There have been a couple of TV news vehicles along, probably covering that story.
I reconfirmed my Yellow Line theory from previous experience: a lot of drivers consider a yellow line sacred, even a broken yellow line, even if there’s no oncoming traffic. Tioga road is narrow and has a pebbly surface. Even though it’s after Labor day, there was lots of traffic, lots of motor homes. Even the small cars didn’t leave me enough clearance when they passed to the right of the yellow line.
So instead of hugging the edge, I started riding two to three feet out into the roadway – at all speeds. This forces drivers across the yellow line: once they bite the bullet and cross, they give me plenty of room. When there’s oncoming traffic or no visibility, it forces them to fall in behind me. Takes a bit of nerve, but it works, and no one honked or yelled at me all day. On the occasional stretches with a paved shoulder, I pulled over and let the cars have the lane, but I always made sure to reclaim a piece of the road well before the shoulder ended.
Not a good road for cycling. A lot more time looking in my rear view mirror than looking at the scenery.
Once you finally get to 8000', there’s a fairly straight shot down to about 7000', where the rolling begins again. This road is hard work!
Black clouds building up, but I was going west and the prevailing wind is from the west – thought I might escape the storm.
No such luck. Big hard raindrops, cold on my legs. Considered stopping to change into rain gear, but decided it might be more productive to try running out from under it. My jersey was fairly substantial and the raindrops hadn’t penetrated, so there was no immediate danger of hypothermia.
Right decision. Stayed chilly and gloomy, but if there was any serious rainfall, it was behind me.
Finally popped out at Crane Flat. After Tioga road, the Big Oak Flat road was wonderful. Smooth surface, lane wide enough that I could share it without concern, and enough shoulder that I didn’t have to share the lane anyway. The shoulder was frequently wide enough even for the high-speed downhills.
Crane Flat was about the point where the sun came out and the day turned hot. The chilly weather along Tioga road minimized dehydration earlier in the day; for the rest of the day, I resolved to consciously drink as much as I could.
Decided I needed something to eat besides granny bars, stopped at Buck Meadows. Crummy restaurant, waitress couldn’t be bothered. The only thing on the menu that looked even remotely palatable was chicken noodle soup, so that’s what I had. Drank the glass of water, dumped the ice into the soup to cool it. Drank the soup, spooned up the solids off the bottom. Ready to hit the road.
No check. Went to the cash register. There was a line, no cashier. Recalled from the menu that the soup was $1.95. Left $2.25 back at the counter where I had been sitting, and took off. Sorry to leave a tip of any size, but I didn’t know the sales tax situation, and it wasn’t worth waiting indefinitely for a few cents possible change.
Checked the map. Looked like Chinese Camp was about 20-25 miles. [Turned out to be nearer 30 miles.] Thought I might be able to make it by about 6.
The road rolls some more. At Groveland the shoulder disappears, the lanes narrow, and it gets steep. Just climbing out of Groveland when I passed two stopped cars, one on either side of the road. Fellow asked as I rode by, “Do you have a screwdriver in your tool kit?”
Stopped and laid the bike down. Offered my Swiss army knife first, but screwdriver blade much too small for the need: Cadillac driven by two oriental guys had a cracked radiator hose, and they were trying to loosen the clamp. I got out my little bag of tools and lent them a crescent wrench. Not ideal, but it worked on the hex-headed clamp screw. Munched a couple of granny bars while I watched them work.
The hose had cracked right at the radiator; there was enough slack to re-attach it after cutting off the end. I don’t think Linden’s hose fixer would have worked in this case, because Linden needs a couple inches of good hose on either side of the break.
The other car that had stopped, the fellow who shouted me down, was a black fellow from Sacramento. He sent his wife into Groveland to get some water to refill the radiator. He said he had a colleague who was a pretty serious cyclist – did 25 miles per day on the weekends!
He offered to sag me to Chinese Camp, but I naturally declined. No chance of making it by 6, of course. I took off as soon as the oriental guys had finished with my wrench – hope they made it to somewhere useful with no more problems. [Actually, they probably could have turned the car around and rolled it downhill into Groveland without overheating, but since they were already halfway through the repair operation when I got there, I didn’t think it was appropriate to offer that comment.]
Took New Priest Grade, the official road, the one with the gentle slope. Quite a bit of traffic, but two or three pull-outs where I could let the cars go by. Got some waves of thanks when I pulled over.
Highway 49, this part, is just another wide, hot, rural road. According to an old map, 49 used to run further down in the canyon, but the canyon is now full of Don Pedro reservoir! So this road is probably fairly recent. Pretty views of Don Pedro reservoir and a jet-skier or two. My Sacramento friend of the radiator hose adventure honked and waved as he went by.
Chinese Camp is just beyond the reservoir, and I was more than ready for it by the time I got there. Car still there, no tickets, no indication that anyone disapproved of my leaving it there. Loaded bike into the car, headed for home.
Terrific sunset, augmented by South Pacific volcanic ash. Brilliant yellow horizon, fading to reddish purple. Stopped at Newark, found a Mex restaurant. Turned out to be real Mex, formica tables, extended family sitting around, Spanish language everything. Got a good burrito, but nothing like Cal-Mex, Tex-Mex, or any other kind of gringo-Mex. Home about 9:30; good to get there.
Feasible to cross the four southern passes in four days? These two are the most difficult of the four, but I think I’d want a rest day in the middle if I were to try all four. The level of exertion is probably sustainable, but my butt was getting raw from the hours in the saddle.
Dave Hood home
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