The usual route is from Bishop, through the Round Valley, up the old Sherwin Grade and along the old US395 alignment to Mono Lake, with a jaunt into Mammoth Lakes and a trip through the spectacular June Lake Loop. Then, we return via Sagehen Summit, and end the ride with a screaming wind at your back downhill from Benton to Bishop.
That’s the usual route. This year, a surprise cold front came though, making for some pretty dire weather forecasts. Snow and rain. Temperatures in the 30s. Road closures.
Jason and I went nuts trying to prepare for that kind of weather. In the end, after chewing it over endless times, we settled on rain pants, shoe covers, helmet covers … all kinds of stuff to try to keep warm and reasonably dry. And we were prepared … well, as prepared as you can be for something like that. I even made arrangements with friends in Mammoth Lakes to come pick us up if we were caught in a dangerous thunderstorm, and offered our condo to shuttle riders who were hypothermic. We also decided to stay at the condo instead of Bishop, as that would allow us to stash clothes and would also offer a bailout point
But in the end, the ride organizers begged off. They decided to change the route and avoid the high country where the weather was supposed to be the worst. We heard about it before driving up, and were truly disappointed. We had prepared for a sufferfest, and dammit … we wanted one now. Worse was the notion of riding US395 all the way down to Lone Pine or Olancha and back. There is a lot of road construction, and in some places, not much shoulder.
The drive up was pleasant and clear … a few scattered clouds at best.
We pulled into the Comfort Inn in Bishop at 6:30 … right at the time when registration was to open … and there was a line. We elected to forego waiting in line and dine at the Sizzler next door. I saw Rick standing in line and asked him to join us. It turns out Rick’s motelmate was SoCalRando … so I was right … I kinda did know him from somewhere. Well, kinda.
I dunno what it is about these rides. Maybe it is the anticipation of a long day on the bike or what, but whenever I do rides like this, my “EAT” switch turns on and I eat like a sumo wrestler on vacation. I don’t remember how many plates of food I had. Rick and Jason more than kept up with me.
Route slips were not available, but there were rumors that we were instead riding south to Big Pine and heading over an unnamed pass and into Eureka Valley. From there, we would swing back to Bishop, up Highway 6 to Benton and back.
Now I have heard of this pass … I know they do it on the Everest Challenge (so named because in 2 days, cyclists climb 30,000 feet). I had not done it, but heard it was an up and back.
At this point, Jason and I believed that we were not heading to the high country, so we left a good deal of our cold weather gear in the car. No rain pants. No helmet cover. And no heavy gloves. No worries. We would not need them. And if the weather changed, we could pick it up when we came back through Bishop. This was a decision we would soon regret.
Originally, there were to be two start times … 4AM and 5AM, and we were going to take the earlier of the two. But with the re-route, there was now only one time, and that was 5AM. We were staying 40 minutes away at my condo in Mammoth Lakes (which made total sense with the original route) so that meant for an early rise in the morning.
On the way up, I noticed a moonrise over the White Mountains, framed by a thundercloud and some rain. I begged Jason to stop so I could take just one picture. Being who I am, I took several.
And being what I am, I clowned around with the camera too.
We got to the condo, ruminated a bit more about what to wear and what to bring, set the alarms for 3:45 (ouch) and settled in.
We woke and dressed as planned. I had time to make a cup of coffee, thankfully.
The weather outside? Clear. Not a cloud in the sky. Perhaps the reroute was a mistake? Even more interesting was that when we got to US395 and turned southward, we could see that there were some clouds in the sky … and they were over the White Mountains and in the Owens Valley. So our reroute would put us IN the clouds in the morning instead of away from them. Oh well … at least we would be at a lower altitude.
We arrived just in time to put our bikes together and head to the start … courtesy of a 35 MPH ten-mile construction zone on the Sherwin Grade.
We were off, riding south through Bishop a few blocks and turning East on Line street and riding toward the White Mountains, now topped with menacing looking clouds. We followed the usual Eastern Sierra Double route, but instead of crossing US395 and beginning the climb up the alluvial fans to the Round Valley, we headed south towards Big Pine.
This pix is blurry, but you get the idea:
There were cloudbursts in front of us behind Red Mountain
But the Sierra crest was as beautiful as always:
We fairly scooted along, making very good time, and staying off of US395 as much as possible. It wasn’t necessary, though … traffic was sparse. We turned on 168 toward Westgard Pass. I took the opportunity to snap a pix at our pee stop.
After our first rest stop, our climb would begin in earnest. We’re a happy, confident looking bunch, eh?
I snapped some pictures of Jason and Rick on the way up. Hey … it was scenic!
Notice how many pictures I’m taking? Well, that would soon stop. The climb wasn’t terribly steep, but it was long, and sure steep enough. I stopped to remove my jacket and stuff it in my handlebar bag. Rick was on a mission and kept going.
“You’ll catch up with me.”
That was something I would hear all day. And I did catch him once or twice. It wasn’t easy though. He was climbing fast, and I really had to puff to make up the distance between us. The people I passed along the way must have thought I was trying to race them or something … they all speeded up when I passed. I picked up one guy who actually thought I was going fast enough for it to be worthwhile drafting me.
When I finally caught up with Rick, the three of us kept up a brisk pace. I dunno what got into us climbing so fast. The excitement of the day? The enjoyment? Oh … it was the cold. It was getting genuinely cold as we climbed. Personally, I had no idea how high or far we were going to go. And it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Since I expected heavy rain, I took my Schwinn Fastback on this ride, and didn’t even bother mounting the cyclometer. Why bother? I knew the route like the back of my hand. But that was the original route.
We climbed up, up, up, and as we went, it got colder and darker. Presently, it started to drizzle. Then, rain. A little further, it was groupel. I had been riding without a jacket or a vest, and when we neared the top, I stopped to put my jacket and shoe covers on. Cripes, I was carrying them … what sense would it make not to use them now.
Rick had no such equipment, and it did not make sense for him to stop … it would only make him colder. So he chugged on.
“You’ll catch up with me.”
Funny thing about waiting until it is raining to put on shoe covers. Where do you sit? Since there was nowhere dry to sit, I plopped my arse down on the pavement and went at it. Bye bye, dry chamois.
The booties were new, and I was to find out that putting those shoe covers on is like putting an extra-small condom on Johnny Holmes. Not hard in the comfort of your own home. Less easy when it is raining and wet.
Nonetheless, I got them on and rose to don my beloved Showers Pass jacket. This would be it’s real test.
Oh, by the way. Notice that there are no pictures for this part of the story?
So properly equipped, I pushed on. It was now snowing.
The top was not far away, though. I reached it and started down the other side. The pavement was wet, so I instantly felt wetness spraying on my arse and legs. My feet were dry, though.
All I had for gloves was an extra layer I wore under the usual gloves. Very nice for cold weather. Not the best for wet weather. And as I was to find out, not good for cold and wet weather. Since I left the cyclometer at home, I didn’t know how cold it was, but others told me it was 33 degrees. That would explain why my fingers went numb.
Funny thing about numb extremities. First it is uncomfortable. Then, it is painful. Then, mercifully, they go completely numb and you don’t feel a thing. And that’s good. Except when you NEED to feel them, and one time you NEED to feel them is when you are trying to use them to brake.
Cripes. The climb was maybe 7-8% I reckon, but the wet, frosty descent was much steeper. I was wondering why my brakes weren’t working so well. Was it that I couldn’t pull on them as hard because my hands were icicles? Was it because the brakes were wet? Yes and yes. And something else. The road was bloody steep. At least 11% I would say.
Descents are every cyclists just reward for a hard climb. But this was no reward. It was a sufferfest. Scary, cold, wet, and with every mile, you KNEW you’d have to climb up the same thing all over again into the snowstorm. And it seemed to go on forever.
To be honest, I didn’t even know we were going to descend at all. I thought the “up and back” was going to be to the top of the climb and turn around and head back for Big Pine. Silly me.
I stopped a couple of times, just to make sure I could. Here is a pix of part of the descent.
The descent was so long, I stopped a second time. The Eureka Valley below was our destination.
Truly, my fingers were cold and my legs were a little chilled. But the Showers Pass jacket kept my upper body warm. I love that thing.
As I approached the bottom, Rick was climbing out. What did he say? You guessed it.
“You’ll catch up with me.”
And Jason? How about Jason? Well, my plan was to wait for him at the top, but since I didn’t feel like being Frosty the Snowman, I abandoned that plan in favor of meeting him at the bottom.
While I was waiting, I grabbed some food and chatted with other riders. Here I saw that although I was a bit chilled, I was probably the warmest person there. It was a literal shiverfest, with people actually unable to bring food to their mouths to eat. One guy told me he was there for over an hour trying to warm up enough to continue. I suppose I should have felt sorry for him, but the guy was standing in front of me in a bike jersey, shorts, arm warmers and leg warmers. No jacket whatsoever! How can anyone have thought that to be a reasonable way to prepare for a ride in this kind of weather?!? I mean … really now.
The volunteers told us a storm had just passed through the rest stop, and rained like hell. It looked like it.
Note the guy standing there sans jacket. Cripes.
Well, I waited and waited for Jason for about 30 minutes, and he didn’t appear to be coming.
And worse yet, it appeared as if no one was coming. I was now brining up the rear of the ride. I changed plans and decided to ascend and meet him coming down.
The ascent was as long as I thought. Long. And as steep as I thought. Steep. But at least it was dry and not cold.
I paired up with a guy from Colorado, and we chatted for a bit. That made the climb easier. Near Little Cowhorn Valley, a fighter jet screamed by us, not 100 feet above, then pearled around for another pass. I dunno if those guys do that to irritate us or entertain us, but I thought it was cool, as did everyone else.
No Jason. Although sag wagons bristling with bikes made regular passes, one of them honking at me.
All climbs come to an end sometime, and the end of this one was welcome. I donned a my jacket and headed down.
Of course, I stopped for a picture.
Hey … no wonder I was chasing Rick all day … taking pictures! <dawning reality>
Thankfully, Jason was at the bottom. He had gotten so cold at the top, he could not feel his hands or feet. He sagged, hovering in the back of one of the vans amidst a gaggle of bikes. Rick? He left about 10 minutes ago … and said … “He’ll catch up.”
It was warm at the bottom, so I removed the jacket and got ready for a nice ride back to lunch in Bishop.
We pacelined back at a good pace, and had a relaxing lunch on the steps in front of the Comfort Inn. A woman was pacing the sidewalk with a cellphone in her ear. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but I heard the word “crazy.”
Jason was not going to complete the double, obviously, but he wanted to salvage something of the ride. Since he had ridden 60 miles, he planned to ride 20 miles out to Benton with me, then turn around, making it a century. I was glad for the company, since Rick left about 5 minutes before, saying … you guessed it … “You’ll catch up with me.”
In truth, I did not want to dawdle there. I know that the prevailing winds are out of the North. Combine that with the 1-2-3% climb to Benton, and you could have a little sufferfest there. I was hoping we were leaving early enough to miss the wind.
As we headed out of Bishop and up Highway 6, I thought we did it. The winds were light and manageable.
Wish I could say they stayed that way. The further we went, the stronger they got … until they were near a gale.
I pushed through them, leaving Jason about 300 yards behind me, so I took the opportunity to stop in Chalfant for a restroom break. I looked like hell when I walked in there. All the people at the bar thought I was both crazy and brave to be riding 200 miles in that wind. I would have loved to stop and drink with them, but I had to get going. Jason just passed as I hopped on the bike and headed after him.
He finally reached his 20 mile turn around point. We screamed our goodbyes over the wind, and he turned back to Bishop. I continued on.
It is hard making any kind of headway in those kind of winds … and especially dispiriting when you are going toward a town some 25 miles distant. That is a long way to go pedaling hard to make only 7 miles per hour. I passed a few people, and they tagged on to me. Eventually, this became a paceline. Kinda comical really, as we were only going 7 MPH or so, but the wind was so vicious, it was a relief to duck out of it.
Mercifully, as we neared Benton, the winds slowed down enough to chat a bit with the gents I was suffering with. It turns out that one of them was RickOCRR! What a way to meet again. I thought he looked familiar!
There is a junkyard full of mobile homes and RVs just south of Benton. My buddy Bill jokingly calls it Nirvana. Well, this time, it WAS Nirvana, because when we saw it, I knew we had finally arrived in Benton. Nirvana is being cleaned up, though … not nearly as much junk as before. And guess what it is called? Bill’s junkyard.
Oh, by the way … notice again, there are no pictures of this sufferfest.
Once we arrived at Benton, I was informed that it was not yet time to turn around. Instead, we had to ascend 7 miles and 1500 feet up a ridge and then turn around.
Ugh. I didn’t feel like it. But I threw down some Oreos and headed out … RickOCRR had left before me, saying … you guessed it …
“You’ll catch up.”
I paired up with another gent and we talked about some of the double horrorfests we’ve had. He was good company. We actually did catch RickOCRR on the way up, but continued on to the top.
About a mile from the top, I saw Rick again, zooming down. This time, he didn’t bother suggesting I’d catch up. Or maybe he did and I didn’t hear it through the din.
We arrived at the long-awaited summit. What? No one here to take our names? WTF is that about? How do they know that we got here? It was then I realized that we had to head DOWN the hill to check in. No big deal, because the hill is only maybe 200 feet high. But I didn’t feel like it.
We got to the bottom of the hill and saw no one and nothing. No sign. No arrows. So we continued toward Adobe Meadows. I dunno how far we went … maybe a mile or two … but I stopped.
“They can’t be sending us to Adobe Meadows. Do you have a map?”
My companion produced one.
“We are supposed to make a U-Turn at Benton Crossing Road.”
Now, I have taken hundreds of pictures on Benton Crossing Road, but not the section we were on. And I was tired from the windy beat down.
By and by, RickOCRR appeared, and we asked him what he thought. Putting all our heads together, we decided that we passed the U-turn point, and resolved to turn around. So we did some extra miles.
But we dutifully climbed out and to the top of the ridge, donned our jackets and headed down.
My climbing companion at the top.
Me at the top. Note the love handles there … courtesy of two PBJ sandwiches in my back pockets. And note those shoes … I never took the booties off.
The descent from the ridge. Note the angry clouds.
Further down the Benton descent:
I stopped at the Benton checkin one more time, got my light, threw down a few cookies and kept going. I wanted to cash in on that wind we fought all the way up before it died down for the evening.
The descent to Bishop is wonderful. With the wind at our backs and a 1-3% descent, we motored over to Bishop quickly. And it was a good thing … the clouds were threatening again.
I tag-teamed to Bishop with yet another rider. We chatted for a spell about riding, kids and all kinds of things. It was none other than Isabelle Drake.
I also took the time for a self portrait.
We made good time to Bishop, finishing at about 7:30. I had told Jason that I expected to finish sometime between 8:30 and 9:30, so I waited for his arrival. While I was waiting, I chatted with Deb and Keith Brodsky, who was felled in a paceline and injured his elbow.
Jason snapped my pix upon his arrival, and we headed out for the post-ride food fest.
Jason and I split a large pizza and ate like pigs. I had most of the pitcher of Fat Tire too.
And here’s a pix of the foodfest. That’s SoCalRando, Keith, Jason, R.J. , Sarah, and Rick. Oh, and by the way, I finally did catch up with him … at the end.
Jason and I headed up to the condo. Rick was doing a ride up to Lake Sabrina, but we had to head home. For some reason, I had trouble sleeping and woke up at 4:30AM. That was a good opportunity to have a cup of joe, throw down some Cheerios, and watch “Angels with Dirty Faces” on the boob tube.
We took a short tour of the June Lake Loop to see what we missed before heading home, and breakfasted with Sierra Lady and Sierra Guy. That was a lovely morning. Here’s the view from the June Lake Loop. Jeebers, June Sux.
deserves another
