Phone call number one:
Myself: "Hello, was wondering if I could pick your brain for a little local trail info."
Local: "What?"
Myself: "I was wondering if I could pick your brain for a little local trail info."
Local: "Uhmmm, sure I guess."
Myself: "Was wondering if summit..."
Local: "Closed, SNOW"
Myself: "How about..."
Local: "SNOW"
Myself: "What if we went...."
Local: "SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW"
Myself: "Maybe we could..."
Local: "SN-UH-UH-UH-OOOOOW!!!!
Myself: "Well, thank you for your time."
Local: "humphhh."
That couldn't have gone much better. It was fairly obvious that my years of cycling experience was picked up on right away by this friendly mechanic. Most likely he was a bit intimidated by my level of inquiry and used short, abrupt sentences to hide his embarrassment in regards to his feelings of inadequacy. It was obvious I couldn't call him back as to do so would only confuse and intimidate the lad further. Micki decided to give it a try, although I had to chuckle under my breath at the thought of a girl bringing forth any more quality information than I had received.
Phone call number two:
Micki: "Hello, was wondering if I could pick your brain for a little local trail info."
Local: "Why of course you can. How can I best assist you?"
Micki: "We are looking to do a ride and are trying to avoid the snow, can you help us?"
This was then followed with 20 minutes of uninterrupted insider local trail information that the man on the other end of the phone would promptly be hung by his fellow cyclists should they ever discover he released such secrets over the phone. Endless options were expressed in such rapid succession that Micki barely had enough time to take note of them all. He may have even offered to meet her and show her the ins and outs of the Tahoe trail system personally.
WHAT-FRICKIN...... EVEERRRRRRRR!!!
At least we had a plan. Gear and bikes were loaded into the Subaru and we were off. The road was windy as ever as we came around Emerald Bay and got some astounding views of a waterfall as well a Vikingsholm which was planted on an island some distance out from shore. We finally made it back to Bert's and with that completed our first circumnavigation of Lake Tahoe. Seventy-seven miles of asphalt and not a single foot of singletrack. Something just felt very wrong about that ratio. We ended up parking about a half mile from where we camped the first night. This dark comedy of errors did manage to bring out a smile or two on our faces as helmets were clipped into place. Of course, some of the giggles may have been gathered from the hair on my head's unique ability to reach for the heavens like some Japanese animated superhero. I am pretty sure my friends are far to polite to laugh at me and not with me.... but we may never truly know.
Reenactment of my bad ass self::
The sun was out in force and the initial whoops and steeps of the Powerline road leading to the trail were a bit much for Brooke. Tempting fate, we paused to see what she might have to expel before continuing onward. Luckily, she remained self-contained and after a short recovery we were all back on track. Cedar Trail was found and the rewards of Tahoe began to be reaped. Soft loam covered the route below and this strange silence gave a soft, even feel as we climbed. Occasional rocky sections aided in traction and gave the trail just enough tech to keep things interesting. Mostly gaining elevation at this point, we came to a "Y" and met some local radsters. Low seats and gobs of boingy travel indicated we might be headed in the wrong direction. I may have detected a small smirk as my rigid steed was observed and then quickly dismissed in regards to the upcoming terrain. A suggestion was made in regards to our route, and being trusting individuals... we decided to heed their advice.
Sidewinder now lay before us with it's almost unearthly ability to hurl riders up the hill with minimal effort. Deep berms and wide corners allowed one to carve there way back and forth. Perhaps so fluidly that not even gravity had time figure out what it was supposed to do with us. Was a truly amazing experience, almost dizzying in fact as turn after turn came at us with such rapid succession that even a sense of true direction began to get fuzzy. A log ride was noticed so we had to give it a shot. Would be a good one to remember on the way down as well. After a time the trail returned to normalcy and we came across a rock garden which offered a rest as well as our first actual photo opportunity.
Cheeeeeese...
After some food was consumed, dirt gave way to a short section of asphalt and the climb got steeper. Perhaps it was trying to make up for the cheating we had been doing so far, but the ground got silty and dry. Traction became less and less and the exposure began to grow on our tight side. A few downhillers rolled up on us and seemed truly amazed that anyone would choose to ride in the opposite direction.
Dig deep:
The views of the lake far below started to reveal themselves as the singletrack twisted between the boulders. Snow capped peaks in the distance as well as in front of us began to tell the tale that this climb wouldn't have much left before the white stuff would stop our progress.
Lake Tahoe:
Micki winds through:
Brooke on the same:
Soon after the trail degree of ascent began to taper and the sun started to loose the battle with the now denser greenery. A stream crossing was found but feet were kept dry as the planked bridge above allowed us to cross with ease. Several optional log ride obstacles were found at the top which allowed us to play for a bit. I have some video of our efforts which I plan to post up sooner than later. For now, you'll just have to imaging various heights and lengths being ridden expertly by the crew that was in attendance on this day. We soon met a XC cyclist coming back the other way with evidence of a muddy obstruction painted on his legs and frame. He stated there wasn't much trail left before things got mucky and impassible so the decision was to return the way we came to save some time for a second ride... whatever that might end up to be.
Wasn't to surprising to find the climb we had just conquered to be a well designed downhill. Alternate lines were everywhere and we even backed up a few times to give them a try. The log ride was "re-found" and then promptly reconquered.
Sunshine rolling an option:
Once back on Sidewinder those deep yet gentle curves we found so appealing on the way up became even more so on the way back down. It was almost as if the trail spiraled ever down, relentless in it's pursuit to test the riders ability with both left and right turns one after another. Never even a moments rest between. Andy carved a bit to deeply into one berm and clipped a tree with his shoulder upon exit. Undaunted of course, he dove into the next with even more fervor. We opted to take Corral back which turned out to be a high speed blitz of a trail. Dead straight and narrow, gravity pushed hard at our backs and speed built to the point of creating four dust laden fiery comets burning down the trail on two wheels. A DH'r has lost her dog and we assisted with it's recovery for as much as patience would allow. Several large doubles were skipped and left for those with full face and armor to conquer. At the bottom we re-met the Powerline road and were quickly back to the Subie.
Empty tummies made the choice to skip Mr. Toads and grab some grub instead. Leaving the flume trail as a shuttled second option after lunch. We found a "green" placed to eat and Micki joined Andooke with some creative fair. I was craving a big burrito but alas the Mexican joint I had spotted just up the road was closed, so I settled on a big turkey sub from Yellow Submarine. No burrito mind you, but close. We were now half way around the lake once more, and continued on to locate the shuttle pickup provided by Trailhead Bike Shop. It was about 4:15, so the call was made to quickly grab some much needed ice and groceries before catching the final shuttle at 5:00. We made it just in time and as the bikes were loaded and my new favorite beverage from Rockstar was consumed... the van seats met ours and we buckled up for the 20 minute ride back up the hill.
There was another couple taking the ride back with us. They had just finished the trip and were returning to their car. They were not happy. Not happy at all. The Flume Trail was their first MTB ride and had been suggested to them by some friends as a great loop to do. These downtrodden souls reinforced many times to us that they were experienced road cyclists, but that the ride itself was a physical non-challenge and for the most part unrideable by any sane person. The ridiculousness of such statements only led to our anticipation of the greatness that was sure to lay ahead. Out of the van, bikes back on the ground we were informed that the first section of the ride was nothing to dismiss. A very steep climb to Spooner lake awaited us, and we had only 3 or so hours left of sunlight to complete the entire route.
Oh... it was so on!
Up we pedaled. Memory of the morning ride quickly lept back to the front of our thoughts as weary legs fained objection. The road wasn't to bad, but steep enough in sections to keep one honest. Micki and Brooke had learned from a ranger that he steepest part of the climb was to be found at the end, so we all tried to reserve some torque for the final push.
Luminescent Aspen grove:
That ranger wasn't messing around. After a flat meadow the road just shot straight up to the heavens. I was able to grind out sections no more than 200 yards at a time before my lungs could grasp no more of the thin air. It took time, but eventually we crested the summit and were met with a large patch of snow. It was cold and getting colder. The wet patches on the ground flinging mud and water from our tires to faces didn't help much either. A fast fire road descent led us down to the lake and Micki started to loose the feeling in her fingers. Not a good time considering we still had many miles to go and much of it was expected to be very exposed. As extra layers were procured from deep within Camelbacks, I rolled out on the nearby peninsula to see what I might be able to find.
Spooner Lake:
Lonely chimney:
The reason why:
We regrouped and headed off. The sun was fading and shadows grew longer. Micki's fingers were totally numb and she doubled up with a second pair of gloves. I was now bare handed and only ina vest but sometimes when in the mountains I feel like I am in my element. It was crisp, or possibly downright freezing... but I was feeling great and full of excitement knowing what treasure of a trail lay just ahead.
Stubborn snow:
Chimney from across the lake:
We were getting close now and the road we were on was a mostly calm downhill grade. Suddenly, we reached a dead end at the waters edge. Perhaps the snow melt had filled this mountain basin a bit more than usual, but the trail had been swallowed whole by the icy water and required a group portage effort to sneak across the granite rocks that now comprised the shoreline. Once carefully across, the singeltrack began and before we knew it the Flume itself was under our knobby tires.
It was an amazing piece of miner engineering. There was no real way to tell whether or not we were climbing or going downhill. The elevation change was as close to flat as imaginable as the trail began to wind along the mountains edge. Traces of old aluminum pipe would occasionally be exposed from below but for the most part there was little evidence of human history. Every corner now began to reveal an even more spectacular view of the lake than the next. While the trail was plenty wide enough to support and controlled pedal, it was hard to remain focus on the task at hand with all the distraction surrounding us.
Tahoe vista:
Micki clinging on:
Sandy Beach far below:
Follow me:
After many miles of pure singletrack, the exposure began to lessen. The trail became an old road and Micki's fingers finally began to regain some feeling and in turn braking control. This was a good thing, as soon we were rocketing down yet another fire road. Sandy in parts, the decomposed granite gave a ghost like feel in regards to traction. As speeds increased the sensation of flight began to creep in. What must have been some sort of Amazon women walking uphill with child in tow reminded us all that even this late in the day non-wheeled public could be around any bend. A darting off leash dog put an exclamation point on the memo for Micki and Andy as they whipped around a long inside left. With one final gate the dirt was left behind and a short section of pavement led us back to the car. Dusk was almost here but it didn't matter.
Exhausted and starving, we made a call to a local pizza joint to save some time. Three of us went for individual calzones while Brook opted for a pepperoni pizza. I must admit, the idea of such wonderful food did not meet the reality of the cook who produced it. A certain level of disappointment was only forgotten due to the size of the void we were all trying to fill. Back at camp, we discussed the days events. We had now driven around the lake in it's entirety two times. 150 miles to go now where at all. But we did finally get to go for a ride and as far as Tahoe was concerned this was a big step in the right direction.
The Stats:
Ride Number One
Riders: Micki, Brooke, Andy and Elvota
Distance: 12 miles
Elevation: 1775
Ride Time: about 2.5 hours
Ride Number Two
Riders: Micki, Brooke, Andy and Elvota
Distance: 14 miles
Elevation: 1535
Ride Time: close to 3 hours
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