Bishop, CA: Shakedown Tour

One Sunday morning, a couple of weeks ago, we loaded our bikes and drove south an hour to the relative balminess and snow-free roads of Bishop. This was a fully-loaded day ride, a test of body and gear: a shakedown tour. We will soon be on a plane to Greece to begin our next bike tour, and a few things are different this time.

For one, there will be four of us. For first three weeks we will be joined by Ann and Joe, good friends and neighbors. Both are enthusiastic, adventurous, and of good humor. Bike touring is new for Ann, but Joe has a past of bike touring in Europe and the United States when he was in his twenties. And he is an intimidatingly strong cyclist, so we may need to sneak some weight into his panniers just to slow him down.

We also have new bikes. John spent the winter building them, and they are mighty fine. Besides lighter frames and lower gearing, they have a couple features we think are important based on our past touring experiences. John found these Ritchey Breakaway Ascent frames, which have integrated couplers that allow us to collapse the frames and pack them into smaller bike boxes. It is always a hassle to try and find boxes to pack and check them in as extra baggage on the plane, especially in a foreign city at the end of a tour. At least now we can utilize smaller boxes, which tend to be more available. The second feature are disk brakes, to save wear and tear on the hands and rims on long, steep descents. Ann has adopted my old bike for this tour, and with some stem and gear adjustments, it seems to suit her well. A bike becomes like a family member on a tour, something you keep healthy and safe and rely on. Even after almost 20,0000 miles, there is still some life left in my old ride, and I hope Ann bonds with it and loves travel on two wheels as much as we do.

Also different on this tour is that we have lost this blog’s biggest fan. My mother passed away at the end of November 2016. She was always so excited about the places we traveled. Without fail I would get an enthusiastic email after I posted a story. Those blog posts were really letters to her. I miss her, and think of her every day. But enough people have asked about the blog, so I will continue writing and sharing pictures. Thanks for your interest.

We arrive in Athens the last day of March, and need to be in Berlin by end of July for our flight home. John has planned a route through Greece and eight other countries (more or less – the itinerary is always a bit fluid). We are looking forward to the new landscapes, foods, languages, and challenges that make for interesting experiences worthy of sharing. I hope you will follow along.

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June Lake, California: Hello, America!

There was an idea we tossed around during our five months of travel.  We had to figure out how to get ourselves and our bikes back to June Lake from my sister’s house in the Bay Area.  Last March we left both our cars at home parked snugly in the garage and crossed the Sierra using buses and trains.  Our idea was, if we weren’t too burned out, if the weather was right, and if we had the time, that maybe we could bike back home. 

When we left Copenhagen the coolness of autumn had already arrived.  When we stepped outside of the terminal in Oakland it was sunny and blazing hot like it can so often get around Labor Day in California.  And the forecast was for another week of hot weather, at least ten degrees above normal for early September, which translates to 100+ degrees in the San Joaquin Valley and the western foothills of the Sierra.  So our idea morphed, and we decided to take the train to Sacramento and a bus to Truckee and start our trip from there.

Outside the train station in Truckee with signs heralding the best of America -- money, internet access, and bathrooms that are clean, free, and with toilet paper!

After four years of drought, the low level of Lake Tahoe were shocking. Boat docks to nowhere.

It took us five days to get home.  It was an adventure, and we are glad we did it.  There were a couple of tough passes and it was challenging.  John came down with a cold on the day we left my sister’s, and he did it all with a nose running like a faucet and a raw throat.  Despite the hanndicap I still could not keep up with him on the big hills!

The first night we stayed in a small walk-in campground just south of Tahoe City in the west shore of Lake Tahoe.  It was a warm day and we took a dip in the lake.  All summer we heard the news reports of fires burning in the mountains, but our afternoon of cycling from Truckee was relatively clear.  Overnight, however, smoke drifted in from a new fire and we had hazy conditions on the rest of our journey. 

Check this pass off the list!

The next day we met our first challenge -- crossing over Luther Pass.  It was a huff, but what takes hours to go up is a quick but thrilling descent on the other side.  We dropped down to Highway 89 where we knew there were several campgrounds.  We went by one that had a rusty old gate and look closed.  We ventured in, and it must have been closed for years. There were a few picnic tables around, but half the campground was destroyed from floods many years ago.  So we wheeled down next to the creek and had a wonderful campsite.  Just like if we were backpacking, peaceful, with rocks for sitting and the place to ourselves!

Our campsite in the abandoned campground.

Monitor Pass was the challenge for the next day and the highest point on the journey at 8,314 feet.  It took us all morning, crawling up that grade.  When we neared the top I looked back at the sign for the downhill traffic that indicated an 8% grade for six miles.  I am glad I didn’t know that bit of trivia before we started.  On the other side of the pass we dropped 3,000 feet down to the Walker River, and the temperature must have increased 20 degrees.  We had a Popsicle to celebrate and took skinny dips in the Walker River.  Camp was on a hidden spot in the sandy floodplain.  We slept like logs that night, we were so tired.

Monitor Pass, check!

Heading down into the smoky haze towards Walker Canyon after crossing Monitor Pass.

The next day we were in Bridgeport by noon, had lunch, and then pushed on the Conway Summit.  We were so hot we stopped along the way to dip our shirts in the creek and put them on wet to cool down.  But by the time we were just below the pass and before our shirts even dried, the clouds came in and it started raining.  We sought shelter under the eave of the CalTrans building at the pass.  John got a bit drenched because he had to cycle up the road to intersect the creek to get water for the night, and he thought he timed a break in the action, but it started to really rain hard shortly after he took off.  We got down a short way and camped in the rocks at a place we knew about with a full view of Mono Lake below us.  But it rained and then the next morning it was really smoky, a bit disappointing.  We were home by noon, and we just got in the door and it started to pour again.  And it rained on and off the rest of the afternoon and again the next day.  We were so happy to be home and indoors!

Our last breakfast overlooking the smoke in the Mono Basin from just below Conway Summit.

After bike touring for months in Europe and then doing the same thing right away in America, the cultural contrasts between the two are apparent.  On both continents we often were approached by people who were curious about where we started, where we were going, how far we travel each day.  But in America it seems like the people who ask often had a story they wanted to share of a past trip that they still remember and wish they could repeat.  It happened at the train station, outside the grocery store, and even on the side of the road.  One couple stopped their car and waited until we pulled alongside and asked if we needed water.  She had done a bike trip across the country and knew the value of small acts of kindness. 

And then there was the man in his 70‘s in a flannel shirt and blue jeans sailing down Monitor Pass as we were laboring our way up.  At this point in the upward grind I was filled with less than positive thoughts.  My inner voice was asking --  whose idea was this, anyway? Why is it so hot? Maybe I’m too old for this?  When he saw us he braked and stopped.  He offered encouragement and told us it was only 1,200 feet more elevation gain to the pass.  We smiled and nodded acknowledgement, since oxygen was in short supply at that moment.  An then he said he so admired what we were doing, that he had also done many bike tours in years past, all over Europe.  He said they were the best years of his life.

I couldn’t agree more.

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Pleasant Hill, CA: Anticipation Becomes Reality

The bikes have new tires. Our panniers are filled with camping gear and way too much food. And John has learned enough French to get by. After months of planning and anticipation we are on our way to Europe! It is a few hundred miles from our house to Oakland Airport. On past trips we transported our bikes in our car to my sister's house and left the car in her garage for the duration of the trip. But now we have our own garage, so we decided to find a way to leave the car at home and somehow get ourselves and our bikes over the mountains and to the Bay Area. So two days, two buses, one train, and some muscle power brought us to my sister's doorstep. 

An early morning start, heading towards the June Lake Junction as the sun comes up and the temperature gets above freezing.

We took advantage of the Eastern Sierra Transport Authority (ESTA) bus that stops at June Lake Junction to get us to Reno. We were up early to load the bikes and shut down the utilities at the house. With a few minutes to spare we weighed our gear. It's not like we don't know how to pack light -- we backpack and have done this bike tour thing before. But we had 65 pounds of gear each, not counting the bikes themselves. Ouch! As we were biking from the house to the junction I started listing in my mind what gear to leave at my sister's. Our neighbor Joe passed us on the way, and we unburdened ourselves of a couple pounds of trail mix and other dense food -- I am sure he was glad he stopped! 

Our bikes on the front of the ESTA bus. We appreciated the sturdiness of the racks and that it wasn't snowing.

We stayed the night in Reno on the 23rd floor, looking down on the Amtrak station from where we would depart the next morning. A bus then transported us to Sacramento, and then it was an hour and a half by train to the station in Martinez. We cycled the last ten miles to my sister's house in Pleasant Hill. That familiar feeling of pedaling much and moving slowly on a bike that steers like ship came back. It was a good feeling.   Really!

Downtown Reno from our room.  It was pretty exciting when the Circus Circus clown lit up.

 

Casting a long shadow at sunrise outside the Amtrak station in Reno.

 We had a couple of layover days, so we had some time to do a Sunday morning ride along the Iron Horse Regional Trail. which follows the former railway right-of-way. It was flat. Our bikes were unloaded. It was easy. Things are going to be a little different when we land in Barcelona, just 20 hours away as I write this. Anticipation will then become reality.

Bridge on the Iron Horse Rail Trail

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