Often while I am biking, i am reminded of and surrounded by may of the words of Walt Whitman. He spoke of beauty and of ugliness, of good and bad, of the nature of man that contains all, and that is what makes us human. I easily have seen this in myself, others and the earth as I have moved across it by bicycle. But another writer has been in my head recently, Steinbeck. in California, a land of extreme differences, people have flocked here for many different reasons, some to peril, some to perish, and some to profit.
From the magnificent Big Sur coast, we left the ocean for the last time as we started out trek east over the coastal range mountains and the Diablo range, with a storm front chasing us the whole way. Getting into the first valley east of the ocean, we say a different world, much drier, much sparser. Luckily, we made it to Avenal, an oasis in the sun as they say, where we tried out hand at stealh camping for the first time. Some police intervention and sprinklers later, we were up early and on our way on our longest day yet to cross the "fertile" San Joaquin valley, where dust bowlers came to escape their desert only to come to another, the desert of human greed.
In the valley, where a hefty chunk of America's food is grown, little poor towns dot the landscape along with cotton, pistachios, almonds and garlic. All of these fields are worked by immigrant labor, all of these fields are feed by pesticides, all of these fields are watered by stolen, redirected water, and all of these fields make only a very very few people rich, as it makes other poorer. It was flat, it was windy, it was a 93 mile day getting through, and despite our exhaustion when we got to Millerton lake to camp, we couldn't have been happier to have gotten trough the valley, though another valley loomed in the distance.
From Millerton, it was a more or less steady climb towards 5,000 ft to the entrance of Yosemite National Park and the Sierra Nevada. The Sierra Nevada is actually one huge chunk of rock that formed miles underground and has been pushed up, exposed, and craved in the ensuing time. The majestic sight of the Yosemite Valley, of El Cap, Half Dome, and the huge expanse of the valley was breath taking and we knew that we had made it to one of the very special places on earth. A quick bomb downhill and we made the valley floor and found our first bikers since leaving Morro Bay. A pair of Brits were cycling a similar route as us, and we decided we would bike out of the valley the next day together and camp up at 6,200 ft. it rained off and on that day, soaking us, chilling us, but not in the least stopping us.
From our wet camp, we had a daunting 40 mile ride up to 10,000 ft and Tioga pass, where rumours of snow abounded. They were true. But so were the rumours of how beautiful the ride would be. We would climb, descend, climb, and descend, in shade and sun and sun lined forests. After summiting, it was 12 miles downhill, instantly in the dry side of the east Sierras, with Mono lake staring out in the distance. As the sun set, all four of us made it to a warmshower for the night in June Lake and we sleepily ate chili and spoke of our day.
Me and Chris decided to spend a short day cycling only to the wonderful hot springs near Mammoth, where we soaked our legs and watched as the full moon rose over the mountains and made us forget our weariness. The next morning was a wee chilly as we were camping in the desert at about 8,000ft. So, covered in ice, we jumped into the spring for about an hour to let the sun do her job, packed up and continued south on our course for Death Valley. We took two days getting to Lone Pine, our turn off for the park, and made plans to get to the free campground in the park, about a 60 mile ride form Lone Pine. Of course, plans, like civilization, are foolish and crumble easily.
It started well enough. We did a small pass that got us up to over 4,000ft and to the entrance of Death Valley. We were right on schedule. Oh yeah. A twisting, canyon filled descent and we made it to 1,900 feet and Panamint springs. What we didn't count on was: A) That it would nearly 100 degrees and B) the next pass would be a 3,500 ft climb. So, being the smart, resourceful biker that we are, we went with a new plan. We sat in the shade for hours, and hour, and hours, and woke up at 3am, with a near full moon shining and the temperature and good 70 degrees and spent the next 3 hours climbing with the stars, the shaded mountains, and the wonderful silence that we have found only in the desert. With a 5,000 ft descent to sea level, the sun was rising on our epic day. From Stovepipe Wells it was 200 feet down over the next 30 miles into the belly of the hottest, driest, and lowest place in America, Badwater Basin. With salt, and sand dunes, strange plants, little kangaroo rats, and being just as interesting to the tourists as the environment itself, we made our way to Furnace Creek and stopped. We had another 3am bike ride ahead, so we spent the rest of the day in the shade.
Waking up at 3am again, we were noticeably more tired, and it was a bit warmer than yesterday, around 80's, but with the moon leading us, we bike 30 miles and 3,000 ft to Death Valley Junction as the sun rose. We had made it across one of the most extreme, dangerous landscapes anywhere. Yes, we rock.
In California, we found it all. The extremes that come together that make this planet so incredible, the people who share their homes and lives with us, along with those who speed by us, the differences are always staggering, but they make it alive. And now, having cross the official state line into Nevada, we turn another chapter of our trip and begin a new terrain. We'll spend a few days in Las Vegas doing unbloggable things, and then head north east towards Zion National Park in Utah before heading south to the Grand Canyon and Flagstaff Arizona. We have only adventure ahead.
Check out all the photos from Vermont to California at
picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics, and all new photos from Never onward can be found at by
clicking here. As our exhilaration at being alive increases, so does our appreciation of each moment we get to pedal through the majestic beauty that graces this humble, small planet. With Freedom and Love, keep pedaling.
