Part 1
Jackson To Reno
Jackson To Reno
At this point in the story, Jake and I were in Jackson, Wyoming. Now the original plan was to bike across Idaho and hitchhike across Nevada, but we were having such a great time in Jackson, it was hard to leave. So we stayed there for almost one week.
Taking extra days in Jackson made me somewhat worried about getting back on track and finishing the tour, but Jennifer had a car. And a car is a powerful device when there's hundreds of miles of highway to travel.
Now biking and driving are two very different worlds, and it felt odd to go from one to the other, but like I said, that was always our plan. This was a hybrid tour. We expected to have to hitchhike, but Jennifer said she'd take us the whole way to Reno, so we wouldn't have to hitchhike. And that's exactly what she did.
On the morning of July 7, Jennifer, Jake, and I left Jackson and headed west. The bikes were in the car. Jennifer had her camping gear. We flew up and over Teton Pass and didn't even break a sweat. I was looking forward to savoring the uphill, and taking lots of photos, but we crested the top and kept flying. That's the way it goes when you're in a car. Cars are fast. And faster travel usually comes at the expense of seeing less. The mind can only gather so much information at one time. And if you're in the driver's seat, well then it's even harder to take it all in. But our drive wasn't about seeing every hill and flower; it was about getting to Reno at the proper hour so that Jennifer could drive home in time for work.
But even with a strict traveling schedule, the world still forced us to slow down. Craters Of The Moon National Monument, in Idaho, was a place we knew we had to check out. So we stopped and explored the hardened lava fields and the caves.
We drove on, counting miles and making plans. That night we reached Reno. The casino lights called out to me with all the potential and power of nighttime in America. I was reminded of Vegas, that pinnacle of the gambling world, and my first big bike tour.
We walked into our hotel, a huge monstrosity of a place, and I heard the crazy melodies of the slot machines. The madness crept toward me from all sides and I accepted it. I had the urge to gamble, the urge to stay up late, the urge to run around and see as much as I could.
We checked in, took the elevator, and found our room. I opened the mini bar, just to be see what they had. I soon discovered that they had sensors on the bottles. I put back the bottle I was holding. I called the front desk, to say that I didn't even want that little bottle of vodka that I had picked up--I was just looking at it. "Oh, you'll be fine sir," said the voice in the phone. "If you pick it up and put it right back it doesn't charge you."
"Well thank goodness for that," I said. I was on guard. No extra charges. And besides, we didn't really need the mini bar. Once Jake came back, we had a couple cold six packs of PBR. I opened a beer, finished the rest of my bean burrito, and waited for Jake and Jennifer to get ready. I decided to save my shower for the morning. I had a good dirt buzz going and I thought it might be good luck.
Down to the gaming floor. The absurdity of gambling was obvious to me from the very beginning--I knew the odds were not good--but that didn't stop me hitting the slots. With a cup of strong coffee in my hand, I cruised around the carpeted floors of the casino looking for the right machine.
Jennifer and I played the penny slots. I put in one dollar. Jake kept watch over our shoulders. We won a little and lost a little more. I spent 25 cents, cashed out, and got my 75 cents back.
I kept this up for a while: put in one dollar, spend a few cents, cash out, take that money, find another machine. I found the mechanical machines to be more enjoyable than the digital ones. I moved up to the quarter machines for a time. One play on each machine. Play. Cash out. Move on. I won seven bucks. We left the casino, searching for some late night pizza. But all the pizza places were closed. I was pissed. "Are you kidding me? No late night pizza? What the hell is wrong with this town?" So we settled on a bottle of cheap champagne.
The bright light streets of Reno were mostly empty at two o'clock on a Thursday morning. Most of the people were inside the casinos. We were part of the bare bones late night gambling crew. Gotta play to win. Gotta play to loose. And loose they did. I could see it in their eyes. People with grey hair and gold jewelry, pounding the slots, smoking cigarettes. The El Doroado wasn't crowded, but it was making money.
The next morning we treated ourselves to the breakfast buffet. Then we said goodbye to Jennifer and watched her drive away. Jake and I were back on our own. We packed our rigs and wheeled them through the casino. We got someone to take our photo. Then we started biking. It felt like a new bike tour. The land was different. The heat was stronger. And Yosemite was closer than ever.
Part 2
Reno to Yosemite
Reno to Yosemite
It took us six days to ride from Reno to Yosemite Valley. They were a great six days, a perfect way to end the tour. The locomotion was fine. The sun was strong. And the scent of the Sierra Nevada was all around us.
From Reno we rode up and over the mountains. Up and over at a place called Mt. Rose Summit. It was 4,5o0 feet of elevation gained. It was one of the biggest climbs of the entire tour and it totally surprised me. It came on hard and punished me like a bottle of Carlo Rossi. A never-ending uphill. A sore mind. Feeling sick and dehydrated. Too much beer the night before and too little sleep. I kept drinking my water. My energy was low. I stayed in my lowest gear and just oozed my way up the mountain. And then, the top. My shirt was sweaty and the wind was cold. I put on all my clothes, for I knew a long downhill was coming.
We let go of the brakes and flew downhill toward Lake Tahoe. A long, fast downhill, almost 20 minutes of flying. In the distance, past the tree tops, I saw part of the huge lake. It was sitting like a great silver shadow on the land.
The monster downhill ended. We stopped on the Nevada side of the lake to see about camping. The sun was setting. It didn't look good. No camping. So we biked on over to the California side, and kept searching. It was turning out to be one of those nights. The kind where campsites are talked about but never actually found. I wasn't worried, but I was getting hungry. All the little stores and restaurants were lit up. Vacationers were strolling. Kids were roaming in packs. We stood in the darkness out front of the 7-11, waiting for some bus or trolley that might hold the answer on where to go. Then a car pulled up. A man and a woman were inside, eating ice cream cones. "You guys looking for a place to camp?"
"Yeah."
"There's a place right down the road. I'll tell you how to get there."
And that was our lucky break. The directions were perfect. The campsite still had a few extra spaces. And dinner tasted amazing.
From Tahoe we rode south, riding along the lake and underneath the big pines and cedars. There were beaches and stores and homes and docks. Here are some photos:
And then we left Tahoe. We went up and over Luther Pass. The Death Ride was happening--a total coincidence--and we rode along, passing thousands of other cyclists. We talked with some. Some were too tired to talk. I had heard about the Death Ride before. It's a tough ride, seriously tough: 125 miles, 15,000 feet of elevation, and 5 passes--all in one day! Our route overlapped with the last part of the Death Ride, so people were cheering as we rode by. Jake talked about coming back next year and doing the whole ride.
From the town of Markleville (which is where the Death Ride begins and ends), we continued south, up and over Monitor Pass. Then another awesome and tremendous downhill, with the far-reaching lands of California and Nevada in the distance:
At the bottom of the downhill, we turned right onto 395. We followed 395 all the way down to Bridgeport, which is where we met these PCT thru-hikers:
From Reno we rode up and over the mountains. Up and over at a place called Mt. Rose Summit. It was 4,5o0 feet of elevation gained. It was one of the biggest climbs of the entire tour and it totally surprised me. It came on hard and punished me like a bottle of Carlo Rossi. A never-ending uphill. A sore mind. Feeling sick and dehydrated. Too much beer the night before and too little sleep. I kept drinking my water. My energy was low. I stayed in my lowest gear and just oozed my way up the mountain. And then, the top. My shirt was sweaty and the wind was cold. I put on all my clothes, for I knew a long downhill was coming.
We let go of the brakes and flew downhill toward Lake Tahoe. A long, fast downhill, almost 20 minutes of flying. In the distance, past the tree tops, I saw part of the huge lake. It was sitting like a great silver shadow on the land.
The monster downhill ended. We stopped on the Nevada side of the lake to see about camping. The sun was setting. It didn't look good. No camping. So we biked on over to the California side, and kept searching. It was turning out to be one of those nights. The kind where campsites are talked about but never actually found. I wasn't worried, but I was getting hungry. All the little stores and restaurants were lit up. Vacationers were strolling. Kids were roaming in packs. We stood in the darkness out front of the 7-11, waiting for some bus or trolley that might hold the answer on where to go. Then a car pulled up. A man and a woman were inside, eating ice cream cones. "You guys looking for a place to camp?"
"Yeah."
"There's a place right down the road. I'll tell you how to get there."
And that was our lucky break. The directions were perfect. The campsite still had a few extra spaces. And dinner tasted amazing.
From Tahoe we rode south, riding along the lake and underneath the big pines and cedars. There were beaches and stores and homes and docks. Here are some photos:
And then we left Tahoe. We went up and over Luther Pass. The Death Ride was happening--a total coincidence--and we rode along, passing thousands of other cyclists. We talked with some. Some were too tired to talk. I had heard about the Death Ride before. It's a tough ride, seriously tough: 125 miles, 15,000 feet of elevation, and 5 passes--all in one day! Our route overlapped with the last part of the Death Ride, so people were cheering as we rode by. Jake talked about coming back next year and doing the whole ride.
From the town of Markleville (which is where the Death Ride begins and ends), we continued south, up and over Monitor Pass. Then another awesome and tremendous downhill, with the far-reaching lands of California and Nevada in the distance:
At the bottom of the downhill, we turned right onto 395. We followed 395 all the way down to Bridgeport, which is where we met these PCT thru-hikers:
Left to Right: Whiskey Jet, Backtrack, Jake, Meghan (sitting), me, and Amanda.We stayed at this crazy old hotel with these thru-hikers and had fun talking the night away. Jake played the organ. There was talk of ghosts, but we didn't see any that night.
The next day found us feasting on the World Famous Pizza of the Whoa Nellie Deli, which is inside the Tioga Gas Mart, a not-to-be-missed gas station oasis on the east side of Yosemite National Park, not far from Mono Lake.
Around 5 p.m. we packed away the extra pizza and got back to work as we stared biking up Tioga Pass, a beautiful 13-mile uphill.
Looking down at the road we came up on:
The top of the pass is the gateway into Yosemite National Park. We entered the park and accepted our reward: a fast downhill all the way to Tuolumne Meadows, with the golden light of the sun setting on the mountains. This was the Sierra! One of my favorite places in all the world! Ah yes, it was a fine thing to be back among the wondrous lands of the Sierra Nevada! Our time in Yosemite had begun.
The next day found us feasting on the World Famous Pizza of the Whoa Nellie Deli, which is inside the Tioga Gas Mart, a not-to-be-missed gas station oasis on the east side of Yosemite National Park, not far from Mono Lake.
Photos of Mono Lake:
Around 5 p.m. we packed away the extra pizza and got back to work as we stared biking up Tioga Pass, a beautiful 13-mile uphill.
The climb begins.
Looking down at the road we came up on:
The top of the pass is the gateway into Yosemite National Park. We entered the park and accepted our reward: a fast downhill all the way to Tuolumne Meadows, with the golden light of the sun setting on the mountains. This was the Sierra! One of my favorite places in all the world! Ah yes, it was a fine thing to be back among the wondrous lands of the Sierra Nevada! Our time in Yosemite had begun.
No comments:
Post a Comment