California Trip... Day 7 (Divide Trails)

The miles on the saddle and behind the wheel were all starting to add up this morning.  We all got up a little slower than usual, except of course for the dog who was ready to go as usual.  Micki and I both decided to take her out and as we crossed the Yuba bridge one more time it was looking like it was going to be another good day.  We walked a bit further up the trail than usual and then headed back, both ready for breakfast.

I had my usual oatmeal with an extra surprise of turkey bacon courtesy of Andooke. Brooke had decided she could use a rest day, so the remaining three of us loaded up and headed into town.  The plan was to talk to Yuba Expeditions again, but they were closed.  Upon finding another tour company across the parking lot, we were approached by a radster who had been assigned to watch the shop while the owner was away. Unfortunately for him, the wind had blown the door shut and without keys he was forced to monitor any activity from the parking lot while helping an old timer fix his truck.  He did proceed to suggest trying the new Upper Yuba Trail as it was super tech and after the first steep climb was basically all downhill.  The fresh scar on his right shin was proudly shown to us as evidence of the difficulty.  We really wanted to try and ride as much of the Downieville Classic race course as possible, so head out instead to find the 2nd and 3rd divide trailheads.

The town of Downieville itself is tiny, but some awkward roads and misleading map information gave us a run for our money as we meandered through the smaller parts of town in search for a starting point.  With a few wrong turns, we found the spot and unloaded.  The sun was hot once again, but looking up the dirt road we planned to take gave some assurance of shade provided by the tall trees in the area.  Once rolling, I had to pull over to swap out the batteries in the GPS.  Micki and Andy pulled ahead and while they were waiting got to see a snake.  It was gone by the time I arrived, but just as we got back together about 4 or 5 guys gave rolling down from the trail to our left.  We spoke a bit to them in regards of where they came from and where we might want to go. They had taken advantage of the shuttle and came from the top, but passed along some advice as to what we might be in for depending on route chosen.  I was of course dismissed completely on my rigid SS XXIX 29'r but I wasn't really bothered.... I'd have dismissed myself as well if I was I not already fully aware of how capable this bike actually was turning out to be.

A few moments later, movement was caught in my periphery. It was an animal.  It was small, maybe brown and basically tumbling down the mountain side onto the road.  Much to my delight, it actually turned out to be a small brown bear!  The first one I had ever seen in the wild.  I of course kept pedaling to see how long it might stay on the road and where it might decide to go.  Oblivious of any type of self preservation or survival instincts, I started to hear a rather panicked voice ringing in my ears.

"That means MAMA!  That means MAMA!!!!"

Micki's voice came into focus and I realized what she was saying.  Baby means mama, as in huge, monstrous, aggressively defensive mama on one side with baby on the other... and myself happily spinning along in the middle.  At first I still was worried very little, as I assumed any type of bear worth it's salt would recognize the purity of my chosen ride and at a minimum give me a hive five with her meaty claw out of respect alone. This was somewhat foolish of course, as I reconsidered later that most bears are probably into the whole "free ride" movement and a rigid SS might actually fill them with disgust instead of purity of form.

I stopped, turned around and waited with Micki and Andy as a human shield in the front.

After a few minutes, we decided to move on.  We were all a bit to distracted to snap a pic, so I have taken the courtesy to recreate the event.

Cool... a little bear cub!:

Soon after, the trailhead was found:

Happy to be on singletrack:

Now things started to get really fun!  The trail is well built and even though the climbs are steep the DH sections are very rewarding.  At the first Y the map was consulted and with confidence I knew we needed to take right option.  After a very steep but quick downhill we ended up at a dead end smack dab into an old mining cabin covered with "No Trespassing" signs.  Again seeming to loose my interest in self preservation, I walked onto the back deck and snapped a few pics for the BLOG.

View down from deck:

 

Cabin itself:

Pushing back up to the correct trail, the hills got longer and in some sections very steep. There was the occasional rock garden to keep riders honest.  Very reminiscent of AZ terrain, but always bookended with silky smooth dirt.  An odd combination that took some getting used to. 

Tech section:

Traction was supreme and we were able to power up most of them, all be it stopping occasionally for some oxygen. The trees were huge, much taller than we had seen before.  One had even fallen in line with the trail and acted like a wall at least 100 yards long.  We stopped for some food and finally reached a section beyond what my legs could torque up.  Maybe it was the 40 mile plus effort of yesterday's rides... but my arms were cooked and legs were noodled.  I was forced to watch Micki and Andy clean the hill as I pushed up at my own pace.  

With a couple of deceiving switchbacks ahead, we continued up until we joined up with the 3rd Divide trail, which is actually part of the race course.  We had a pretty good feeling things were going to go all downhill from there.

Micki close to the top:  

Massive tree (keep in mind those are two-nines :-)

2nd to 3rd junction:

Now things really started to open up!  The trail was buffed out and a little wider than what we had been experiencing so far.  Speeds picked up and the hum of knobbies on packed dirt started to howl.  Visibility was great so one could really let the speeds pick up.  Occasional rocky sections made sure you were always in control, but the flow was truly spectacular. All three of ripped down the hill uninterrupted until we got creekside at the bottom.  Around one particular corner was a 2 or 3 foot face wall which had to be quickly evaluated and negotiated. It was a momentum killer for sure, but with a little luck and my 29's ruling the universe, I popped up and was through.  Soon after we made a bridge and then popped back onto a 2WD dirt road.

Creek far below:

We came across some amazing houses.  One with a putting green and the other with what appeared to be a small helicopter landing area out front.  Unsure of the direction we needed to go and weary of the treachery CA had already shown up many times before, we found a local in his Jeep to ask for some further clarifications.  With his instruction, we continued on looking to the right for the final piece of singletrack to be found for the day... 1st divide.

The grade lessened and the trail itself seemed to follow an old flume.  The river was far down to our right but the route itself was simple enough.  Good views were provided the entire way as we pulled over to snap a few more pics.

White water:

Trail hugging the edge:

Tiny flowers tucked into the rocks:

More detail:

Rolling again, the pace picked up as gravity gained a stronger hand once more.  Curves were gradual and carving lines prevailed.  Whoops and swoops brought us back to where the other riders as well as the snake had been met a few hours ago.  This time we crossed over and found the water to be on our left for once. The trail was wider here but just as fast.  With a few mellow ups the singletrack reappeared and before we knew it a final steep ascent popped us right back out at the car.

Loading up quickly in an attempt to cheat the sun we drove back into town.  I had spied yet another Mexican place on the way out and my tummy had been dreaming of the burrito I'd be having after this ride.  I may have to even get two of them to make up for all the ones I had missed so far on this trip.  Much to my dismay, but not to my surprise, this little restaurant was closed as well.  Burrito denied yet again.  What the hell is wrong with CA anyway? How can anyone survive here without chicken, beans and a flour tortilla? We continued on and got another round of sandwiches from the local shop.  No time for checkers today as Brooke would surely be anxiously awaiting her lunch as well. Besides having to run back inside for a forgotten avocado.  Actually, a forgotten "perfect" avocado... we were headed back to camp.

 Tales of todays ride were shared as the meal was devoured.  The mosquitoes picked up once more and after a quick solar shower the refuge of the screened in trailer was sought.  Mousse got one extra walk just before dusk and as sleepy heads met pillows local history was read from the newspaper and Andy found a puzzle that evidently could tell all of our futures.  With the knowledge that things had gotten much better from the start, the the future-cast looking even better... we drifted off with dreams of mulch dirt and perfect flowing corners dancing in our head.

The Stats:

Riders: Micki, Andy and Elvota
Distance: 14.5 miles
Elevation: 2250 feet
Ride time: just under 3 hours

California Trip... Day 6 (Bullards)

Good 'ol Mousse was up and trotting across the trailer floor at first light once again. That wagging tale of her's smacking the thin steal heater cover like a gong.  No time to rest. Dreary eyes forced open, hat and jacket located.  Stumbling out the door with leash in hand she was off for yet another sniffing adventure.  I had found a route that snaked it's way over to a bridge crossing the Yuba river.  Was nice to know there was access from camp to this area, for that is where the North Yuba trail began which could lead all the way back to Downieville should time allow for exploration.  We crossed the water, investigated a small beach and then returned to camp to rouse the others and get started on what hopefully would be a smoother day than yesterday.

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

California Trip... Day 5 (Downieville)

The mix was made, the dual cookie pans had been laid out on the hot grill and the biggest spoon that could be found was ready to substitute for the lost spatula. Pancakes were the call this morning and with some innovative use of kitchen utensils the BBQ grill was turned into a cook top.  We were all excited to be leaving Tahoe and hopefully the endless loops of driving finally behind us.  We packed up the trailer and headed out of camp.

Taking one more wrong turn at the light, we finally escaped the clutches of this blue laked basin and made our way down to Truckee.  Being the biggest town we'd seen in days, and probably for days into the future, the decision was made to locate yet another spare tire for the trailer to assure we'd have no issues for the remainder of the trip. A source was found after a few phone calls were made and soon we had one more tire that wasn't quite right.  This one was for trailers, but just under the weight rating for what we were pulling.  Beggars couldn't be choosers at this point, so we thanked the tire guy for his quick service and were off to get a few more supplies before Downieville.  We picked up a garden hose, wash bin and Micki scored some S'more ingredients which would turn out to be very fruitful before the end came on this day.

The road began to climb out of Truckee and the trees started to return.  Past the summit, we found ourselves winding through a valley with open meadows stretching far on either side of the road.  Old towns and seemingly forgotten houses blurred by and we began to search for food.  Andooke had been wise and filled their tummies in Truckee, but we had taken yet another sustenance gamble and seemingly were going to loose once again.  The flat plains of green gave way to steep valley walls.  An occasional glimpse or sound byte of the river down to our left could be detected as the asphalt narrowed and began to twist ever deeper.  We made a quick pull over to refill the water tank in the trailer and before we knew it we were upon Downieville with a crossing of a single lane steel girder bridge bright red in color.

The town was much smaller than I had imagined.  A blink of an eye when passing through and you'd swear it never existed.  Skinny streets crowded with ancient wooden buildings.  We found the local store, made not or nearby gasoline and found parking.  All this occurred within feet of arriving and luckily we ended up right next to Yuba Expeditions, as to which we had been informed would be the best source for local trail info and conditions. Once inside we were greeted by the man behind the counter who began to provide us with answers to the questions we were all firing at him in a rapid fire succession.  It became apparent that his first love most likely wasn't cycling, but his best guesses and suggestions were helpful.  I located a long sleeve shirt on sale for $10 so I was more than satisfied with the services and products Yuba had to offer. The girls however where looking for more specifics, but hunger took over and refocused our concerns in other directions.

Across from parking was a small general store with a sandwich shop inside.  From the outside, the best guess was that Micki was going to be in trouble but hunger has a way of making even the most limited menus work for any of us.  Once at the counter, we were met with a surprisingly varied ingredient selection.  They had everything from ribs and deli meat to whole wheat buns and veggie burgers.  Micki and I found food very easily.  I even got to choose my toppings by selecting the "drag through the garden and leave out the dirt" option on the order form.  We all found a seat, located the Chinese Checker board and began a game. It was soon enough fairly obvious who had played before, as Andy began to use some sort of actual strategy to cross the board.  Ever frustrated by the novice hacks currently opposing him, Micki ended up through sheer luck being the victor, much to a couple of local patrons glee.  We ate our food, went up to pay and got ready to go.

This is where things got a wee bit confusing....

The girls were in my opinion were dawdling by the register.  Looking at maps and trying to gain some sort of "vital" area information.  We had already made a group decision to head out of town to the "Indian Wells" campground and I was ready to get going.  Remembering we needed gas, I decided to get a head start and went for the car to loop around and fill up on the other side of the parking lot.  My haste led to confusion, and the girls then rushed out to get in their respective co-driver positions.  I mentioned to Micki I was just going to pull around and get gas.  We looped right, then realizing we had a roof clearance issue with the bikes on top had to double back left.  At first we saw Andooke pull out and seemingly do the same, but at second glance they were no where to be found.  Assuming they headed out of town towards Indian Wells, we didn't think much of it and began to fill up.

Now reading full on the gauge, we also headed in that direction and soon enough found the last camping spot.  But Andooke had disappeared.  Confused as to why, but remembering all of the camping drama we had been having so far we decided to nab the spot and setup.  We even had a small laugh thinking that they had probably pulled up around the corner and were waiting for the Hilton to be erected so they could show up after and take a nap. This unfortunately couldn't have been any farther from the truth.

With no cell service to be found, the girls vital communication link had been severed.  We decided to drive further down the road, checking every camp spot and parking area along the way.  With no luck in that direction, we headed closer to town investigating with the same intensity.  Andooke had seemingly vanished.  It just didn't make any senses.  We all knew where we were going, Micki and I could have sworn we "saw" them head out of town in the right direction.  With the only known meeting point being that where the trailer now sat, we headed back in hopes that they would now be there with an amusing story to tell.

Minutes passed and soon we were looking at an hour of separation.  This trip seemed destined for disaster with even the shortest drive of the vacation from Tahoe to Downieville seemingly not even possible without a major headache being created.  Finally the Subie slowly approached the trailer, but the occupants inside were mere shells of the shiny happy people we had left a while back at the sandwich shop.

SHAZAAAMMM!!!!

With the power of my fingertips... I now advance time and space to where the sun has buried itself under the horizon and the campfire burns bright with flames dancing upon red coals.  That's the kind of crazy magic shit I bring to the BLOG game yo!!!

The S'more supplies were broken out and sticks produced from what was left of the trailers storage area.  Surprising they had remained on board after our exploded tire had ripped things apart.  Andy was taking marshmallow browning to another level and during his search for perfect carmelization we began to peel back the layers of the onion in regards to this afternoons events. It turned out that during the several loops of trailer that had been done for gas a larger motor-home had gotten in the mix. The obstruction had given way to confusion as to my direction, and made Andooke think we had left town in the other direction.  Now for most people, that would be a source of humor and they would simply have waited in the parking lot for my dumb-ass self to realize and had gone the wrong way.  But Andooke is a loyal couple, and they followed the ghost of us out of town, simply amazed at how fast I had gone seeing that I had seemingly vanished down the road.

After several miles they let me go, then waited for me to return.  After much time had passed and equally frustrating attempts to reconnect the lifeline our smartphone had been creating throughout the trip, their frustrations boiled over at the lunacy that was this California vacation. Eventually they decided to head down to camp instead of just head home.  Luckily for us, they made the right choice and now regrouped with somewhat better moods prevailing all we had to do was try and keep our marshmallows from burning long enough to slap them into a Hershey chocolate and Graham cracker sandwich.      

Just then... disaster struck!!!!

Oh crap!!!  Andy had pushed his limits just a tad to much and his wonderful cube of puffed sugar hanging on the end of his stick had exploded into flame.  In a panic, he whipped the burning victim out of the fire in an attempt to stop the catastrophe. Have you ever seen what happens to a springy coat hanger when momentum takes over?  Well, the weight of this seemingly lost mallow flexed the thin wire downwards until physics took over and with a snap of recoil the red and blue smoking comet left the stick and escaped into the air... heading straight for Andy's face with unimaginable speed.

Ninja...?  F'n yes, Andy basically is one!

But even his cat like reflexes were no match for this flaming comet of sticky goo.  Before anything could be done, the napalm nugget had struck and stuck to his face!!  Yeah man, it totally hit his face!!! The immediate horror was quickly averted as the sticky, burning glob only rested for a second before gravity took over and dropped it down to his shirt. A rapid yet gentle padding put out and removed the nasty bastard and before we knew it we were all laughing uncontrollably at the situation.  Even a somewhat still disgruntled Andy had to smile, as we all realized that no matter how hard we tried to make this trip work, the chances were pretty good that California already owned us and we'd just be lucky to get out in one piece.

We all soon tired of the million and one mosquitoes joining the party and retreated into the trailer in hopes that tomorrow wouldn't be any worse.  But we had high hopes for Bullards Bar which was the ride scheduled for the next day...

California Trip... Day 4 (Northstar)

Early start with all four of us loaded into the HyHi leaving the 29'r Raleigh and the Mach 5 locked to the camper in a somewhat neglected pose.  The plan was to drive to Northstar for a full day of chair assisted gravity defiance.  Andooke decided to spring for some full DH rental bikes and Micki and I went with what we had. She planned to rock her Pivot Firebird and I just stuck with my aluminum hardtail with a 150mm fork.

For the first time in this trip the drive was actually far simpler and shorter than expected.  Within about 25 minutes we were at the parking lot unloading all the required equipment.  Had been a while since the full face helmets and shin guards had been worn but I was hopeful that sense of invincibility they provided would be felt once they were one as they had many times before.  Andooke walked up to start the rental process and we began to notice many of the riders around us rolling by with number plates strapped to their handlebars.  This only meant one thing, race day.  Which only meant a few other things... long lines and closed trails.

We had never ridden in Northstar but seeing that this was going to be Brooke's first experience with chairs and almost Andy's as well we were hoping for the best.  Of course, the race event wasn't going to help matters and we could tell by their faces on return from the rental counter that other possible issues may have already occurred.  Turns out the costs involved were much higher than expected for both bike rental and lift tickets. We bit the bullet as well and were only spared the full tab by paying up front long ago for our downhill steeds.  This didn't soften the blow to Andooke but they were determined to stay positive.  Bike pick-up was at mid-mountain, so we all stepped into the first gondola and headed up.

Micki and I waited at the next set of chairs while Andooke went to pick up their bikes.  We watched as armored riders all gather around the lift like dark black shiny beetles.  Plastic protection of all shapes and sizes glistened in the hot sun as massive hulks of cycling technology was lugged to the next available set of chairs.  It was taking Andooke forever to return so we decided to track them down.  They were located under a large tent converted from snowboard use after most of the snow had melted.  Inside were a bunch of radsters whose job was to make sure would be participants could get what they needed to have a fun day on the mountain.  Evidently there is not a strong drug screening program in place at Northstar which was made evident by the lackadaisical effort put forth by these young hipsters.

Brooke was struggling with her gloves and helmet when her favorite pair of sunglasses failed.  A attempt to repair was limited due to the available supplies and her face showed signs of great disappointment when they fell from her helmet into two useless pieces on the floor.  No glasses for the first run.  Outside the tent now it was pretty obvious that actual bike setup was neither taught or given out to anyone who just paid a considerable sum to ride one of these DH superbikes.  I rolled Brooke's bike back into the tent for some fine tuning only to see my two helpers struggling with a simple derailleur adjustment on a bike that was in the stand.  It was pointless to ask for any assistance and we let as much air as possible out of the front fork and reduced the rear spring tension until it was clattering on the shaft.  All that could be done was done and we decided to make the first run a bit shorter to head back to the car for an extra set of sunglasses.

First Run....

Finding an open trail was a bit of a challenge.  The start wasn't very inspiring, crossing a chopped up bit of filed and then entering some winding singletrack.  This part was fun with a series of berms and the occasional whoop.  A huge wooden feature allowed some nervous air to be caught and then we took a left into the "skills center".  Basically a bunch of jumps mostly forgotten with sticks and such in the lines.  Out of the woods and fire road back to the parking lot.  Not super inspiring so far. Andooke got some food, dropped off and picked up gear and then we all headed back up the mountain.

At the mid-way point we decided to wait in the racer line for the next chair that lead all the way to the top in hopes of finding some better terrain.  Brooke had forgotten her gloves this time, but at least she had some new sunglasses.  It was a bit chilly but the sky was mostly sunny.  We scoured the map and came up with a strategy as to what runs to try first.  The only problem was that we soon learned the main route down was closed from snow, and the secondary route was closed for the race.  All that was left was some junk off to the side.  We all tried to make the best of it, but so far Northstar was far from living up to expectation.

Micki and I looking the part:

Each run down and then chair back up we looked for more options.  I noticed the midpoint restaurant advertised the food offered in large colorfully painted fonts all along the border.  I noticed the word burrito and began to salivate with anticipation.  I couldn't wait for lunch. We started to piece things together and were coming up with some descent runs.  With confidence building, we decided to try the first double black of the day.  After all, the black runs so far hadn't been all that scary or technical, so how bad could a double actually be?

The entry should have given us a clue as we all evaluated the large stack of jumbled boulders trying to figure out a strategy.  They were awkward and didn't seem to warrant an aerial attack nor sticking to the granite faces and worming one's way down.  After some time, I lined up and took a shot.  With a pause and then failure, I backed up for one more attempt.  This time I was able to commit and rolled through as best as possible.  It felt ugly and any type of flow was not to be found.  One more time for a photo shoot and then we entered the rest of the trail together.

Intimidating entry point:

With Micki on my six, we dropped in.  The trail turned to upturned tombstones of GNAR.  It was steep, unpredictable and flat out viscous.  Rocky steps led into each other with little or no rest in between.  I was hopeful that the lines I chose would be working for the both of us but seeing that each twist and dark turn just had me making my best guess I assumed Micki would have to set out on her own course sooner than later.  I could hear her behind me as rocks dislodges and slid down the mountain of were ejected from the soil and tinged off her frame tubes.  It was fierce and just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the route arched to the left and got even worse.  At the bottom, I was able to relax my focus.  Looking back up the mountain, I didn't see anyone in my party... including Micki.

Turns out my super tech capable rockstar of a girlfriend had almost been swallowed hole by one of the voids far above.  This caused a slow speed stall resulting in a OTB ejection.  With pads and helmet in place the only evidence of the wreck was some dust and a smile. Andooke arrived next and the judgement was made to be skipping this monstrosity of a trail for the following runs.  We rolled down to mid-way and it was time to eat.  

Burrito, here I come.

Standing in line, I started to search the menu board mounted on the ground.  I skimmed through it quickly at first, but then didn't catch burrito anywhere.  I was sure I had just missed it.  I mean, it says "burritos" in massive letters just above my head.  I read through much slower this time but to my dismay, there was nothing that even resembled the flour wrapped culinary goodness I had been craving.  Just a bunch of selections from the F'n BBQ!!!   Doesn't anyone in California eat Mexican food?  How can anyone even ride a bike here with no burritos to chow on?  Ridiculous!!  False advertising fiends!!! I settled on a chicken sandwich and sulked as I ate it. At least I had a Rockstar Recovery courtesy of Andy to wash it all down with.  Maybe I'd be back in business after all.

After the meal, we realized the race was over so we were able to hit the course.  Was definitely grooved in with a few good jumps, but nothing to really write home about.  Overall the mountain was a dusty, crusty disappointment.  Each run made things click a little better, but there was way to much fire road to get anywhere truly fun.  The mountain itself really seemed to cater more to the big lofting air crowd than the carving flow junkies we were. This was a shame seeing that Northstar was going to set the example for Andooke. I wondered if they perhaps thought we were crazy for ever getting into this whole DH thing.

The day was getting close to an end now.  The rental bikes would soon be due back and with tired muscles starting to effect us all, Brook sat out the next run.  Then Andy decided to split and Micki and I hit the hill just one more last time. There was an obstacle she needed to claim, so we took the best route to get there. The option was a left line off a bridge to about a 4' foot drop.  The trick was you had to hold some speed through a nasty awkward rock garden just before it and then turn in the air to match the bermed landing at the bottom.  A bit tricky and intimidating for sure, but Micki lined up and cleaned it as smooth as silk.        

Ka-ching:

I contemplated squeezing in one last trip up, but decided I'd had enough so we cruised back down to the car to meet up with Andooke.  They had been searching for showers around the resort but with no luck.  We headed back to Tahoe to find some facilities and figure out what was for dinner.  The first parking lot was a bust, but Micki and I did get to walk down to the lake and feel the cold waters of Tahoe first hand.  In the meantime, Brooke attempted to return a pair of stray dogs to whomever would take them without any luck.  The search for cleanliness continued as we drove back towards camp.

Depth model:

The lake itself:

Locating some paid showers, I also happened to see a Mexican joint.  It was decided that I'd go and grab my burrito while the others cleaned up. I'd rather be dirty than suffer another day without salsa, chips, rice and beans anyway. We then all regrouped and headed back to the trailer to a very eagerly awaiting Mousse. After the others eat, Micki and I take the dog up on another hike behind camp.  I knew we had ridden for most of the day, but at the same time really wasn't feeling that tired.  Realizing this was our last night, and probably last time ever in Tahoe... thoughts of a night ride began to play in my imagination.  By the time we were bank at camp, I had decided to go hit the Flume Trail in the reverse direction.  I think Andy thought I was kidding at first, and then just plain crazy.  It didn't matter though, because I was excited to give the route a shot.

I'll speak about this second ride in another blog post soon to follow.

The Stats:

Riders: Micki, Brooke, Andy and Elvota
Distance: 15 miles (30 miles total with chairs)
Elevation: almost all downhill
Number of runs: eight
Ride time: maybe 4 hours

California Trip... Day 3 (Tahoe)

The maps where out and the ride was planned... but the snowy conditions we had seen on the surrounding peaks brought doubts with them.  Wondering what might be ridable, I was elected to call a shop and speak with some locals. It made sense after all, seeing that I was the only one in the group that actually works at a shop.  I was pretty confident I would be able to tap into the "Bro-chacho" local vibe and come up with some sweet route for us all to enjoy.

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