We had our maps, we had the route figured out and we knew where to park. All loaded into the Subie, we wound through the mountains of dense green. About 30 minutes later we were parked and Micki's sinus cavities had already been seared by the closest, throughly overused pit toilet. It was warm, but from the drive in there seemed to be a chance of much tree cover. Our first turn was wrong, and we actually started the ride going the opposite direction than recommended by the 10 year old guide book we had been using for navigation had suggested. With a quick U-turn (and unfortunately an extra bit of climb) we were off.
An asphalt start was reducing our hopes for this ride. Just when Californiapression (depression felt from wandering around Nor-Cal for several days with limited trail happiness) was setting in, we found some dirt. It was apparent right away that this trail had some potential. Dark overgrowth shaded us from the strong sun and we began to wind along the hills edge. A carpet of yellow leaves cushioned our tires which made for a soft ride with unfamiliar traction. The trail itself was well built with limited technical challenges, but the ground cover kept those unfamiliar on their toes to prevent overshooting hidden twists. After a few short climbs, we all had our heart rates up and started to feel the groove.
Micki cresting a hill:
Natural firework blast:
From here, conditions degraded slightly to a route paralleling the road. More exposed and dusty, the day started to feel hot. Making it back to a small general store, we crossed over and entered a neighborhood just as described in the directions. Up an old, broken asphalt climb the tar encrusted pebble surface finally gave way to dirt. With four pairs of sharp eyes looking for a trailhead to the left, we rolled along at a fair pace. Big downhill, scary house on the left and then suddenly back to a main road... the one we actually drove in on. Despite our best efforts, the critical turn had been missed. The unknowns of California had struck again dagnabbit!!
Speaking for myself, I tend not to interact with other people, especially strangers. I'd probably allow myself to get so lost and out of water that I'd be shaking hands with death himself before I asked for help. Andooke on the other hand is just the opposite. Brooke is especially outgoing when it comes to finding directions or gaining information. As the map was consulted, a pickup full of mining gear was noticed coming up a side road. Brooke took this opportunity to wave him down. Or at least tried to. With both arms waving as high as she could reach the driver just rolled on by with out notice. This brought about a shout from Brooke to gain attention on which gave the driver pause enough to stop some feet away and turn back. This fleeting success was soon eviscerated as not even a window was cracked, and this stranger simply accelerated away without even the slightest acknowledgment.
Brooke got dissed, a comment referencing an orifice below his belt was shouted in his general direction... and we got back to figuring out what the map had to tell us.
We backtracked a bit, which of course required an extra climb. This time we had better luck and located the trail. Right away we were heading down. Full of glee at the gravity festival that was opening up before me, I missed the deep wet mud puddle hidden in the shade. With a splash and a roar later described as that of an angry sasquatch, I was through with a big glob of brown hanging off the visor of my helmet and chunks of various sizes stuck to my shirt. Didn't matter to much though, as a ribbon of dirt now was unraveling in front of us at great speed. The occasional downed tree and awkwardly apexed turn made sure we just didn't let things fly. Views on either side was obstructed by the thick plant life, but soon enough I began to see a small house of the the right. It was hard to make out completely, but the aqua blue roof really defined itself well amongst the green surroundings.
Focusing mostly at the task at hand, not ending up off the trail and down the very steep drop to my right, I began to notice this rood appeared to be getting bigger and bigger. I was wondering how a house of such size could be built so far into this canyon. Slowly the roof began to no longer resemble any type of building at all, and with a stop that surprised the whirring riders behind me we all realized at about the same time that this blue was no man made object.. but the lake itself.
Unreal:
Bermuda anyone?:
Almost a color beyond description:
The reservoir itself was the most amazing color. The water itself wasn't very clear. In fact, it had more of a luminescent or frosted feel. I would learn later from a trusted source that this coloration was often caused by glacial flour. What ever the source, the lake was almost mesmerizing. The only problem was that the trail itself hung right at the edge, but some 15 feet up from the waterline. It was skinny enough to demand full concentration. That said, the flow of the singletrack was unparalleled. For every climb it seemed as if the builder knew exactly when the grade was to much and time after time would drop into a downhill right when your breathing was beginning to peak. Despite the fear from exposure, the trail just cooked. The earth was smooth, tacky and well groomed. The canopy overhead gave shade and we all just began to fly.
Micki and Brooke blurring along:
Andy conquering another ascent:
Flower stop:
It was as if this trail would never end. Twist after turn always leading to yet another corner. Rising and falling, never resting and never getting boring. When you had a moment to split your concentration, the lake awaited your eyes to the right. The trail almost never left the shoreline so views of the unearthly blue were a constant thrill.
Mind the edge:
At the Dark Hollow midpoint we stopped for some lunch. Mostly just a bunch of goo and pre-manufactured superfoods were consumed and all of us were truly inspired by what we had ridden already. The trail at this point got just a tad wider for a mile or so as the shoreline came closer to the trail height. Across one of the bays a strange rust type coloration could be observed leaching from the beach. It seemed as if this Bullards Bar had even more visually unique and stunning views to offer.
Red on blue:
The climbs not got longer. Not killer, but more depth than the shallow rise and fall we had all grown accustomed to. This trickery began to break our pace and found us digging deeper to keep our momentum moving forward. An amazing section of what could only be described as jungle led us away from the lake for a short while. Very twisted and dense with a small bench hidden off to the side. I thought for a moment about pausing for a pic, but the trails powers of influence were just to great and I could not slow long enough. At this point Micki took a break to gain some space between herself and the group. She wanted to experience this amazing trail with no distraction, no rider noise and full view of the trail. When she regrouped with us, her face showed a great depth of joy. She began to describe what was almost a zen like experience. She had truly felt one with the trail, something she may not have truly felt before. This alone may have actually made this CA trip worth the torment it had been providing so far.
Awareness through singletrack:
Micki going "beyond" the ride:
From here it was just a matter of a few short climbs. The trail ends back at an old asphalt road, and unfortunately a fairly steep and hot climb back to the parking area. We were tired, but an excellent ride overall. In fact, possibly one of the best we have ridden. The sun was hot so the car load was quick. We stopped at the same small country store was had seen during the first miles of the ride. The cashier infomed us that they usuallyhave farm fresh eggs, soa plan was made to hit this place up in a day or so on our way to Auburn. I then purchased a super drink with 40 grams of protein within. Micki informed me that the human body can't even absorb that much protein in one sitting but we all laughed, knowing "the Exception" could easily used at least twice that to recharge his overly powerful structure.
We then headed back to camp for some lunch. It was fairly early though and the thought of the unexplored North Yuba Trail just waiting yards from our location started to drive me crazy. I began to consult the guide book and devise a plan.
My second ride up North Yuba and back down Fiddlers Ridge would turn out to be far more epic that expected... but you can follow along here if you wish.
The Stats:
Riders: Micki, Brooke, Andy and Elvota
Distance: 22.5 miles
Elevation: 2290 feet
Ride time: close to 3 hours
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