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MountainBikeReview.com's Forum Archives - Singlespeed
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How the Sierras bitch slapped us, or a weekday ride (16 posts)
|  How the Sierras bitch slapped us, or a weekday ride | Roger (warning very long)
Jun 26, 2002 11:45 AM | | Hot days in Auburn make us turn east toward the Sierra's and the cool mtns and streams. I'd heard Hole in the Ground was rideable except for a small spot of snow here and there, so my wife and I figured we'd hit a lil weeknight loop to get out of the heat. It's a 2 hr loop at a steady pace and we started at 5:30, even with a mishap we'd have plenty of light to finish (foreshadowing!), at least that's what we thought.
What I had heard to be small spots of snow on the trail turned out to be quite a bit more. At points we'd cross over snowdrifts only to lose the direction of the trail, after several hunts we'd find the trail and move on. Since the trail descends and rolls on the backside, we figured we'd see less snow and although we were running late finishing still wouldn't be a problem. That wasn't going to happen.
First we missed a split and ended up at Sand lake, after backtracking we were back on the right trail, heading down and up at a more measured pace we ran into a dense section of woods, we followed tracks across snow, but than they stopped. Where did they go? We hunted and searched to find the trail, but couldn't find it, it was lost somewhere under the snow. It was almost 8pm now, and thunder clouds were heading in from the Northeast, and a light drizzle began to come down. Fricking great, insult to injury. A sense of urgency was kind of taking over in that it was becoming apparent that we weren't going to be finishing in the daylight. We were about half way thru the loop, decisions had to be made. Do we turn back? If we do turn back will we be able to find the trail that way thru all the snowdrifts? If we continue forward, even without the trail we know that a fire road crosses the trail. That is our decision; get to the fire road and head up the fire road toward hwy 80 and Soda Springs.
Off the bikes, we zig zag thru the woods keeping the setting sun ahead of us and the direction of hwy 80 on our left. The first star came out, and we called it Auburn which was to our west the direction of our a nice cozy home, that way we would always know that the direction we needed to finally go would be to our left. After about 15 minutes of dragging our bikes we ran into the fire road. Oh the relief, we'd be able to pedal the remaining gray light up the fire road and back into Soda Springs.
The fire road meandered around the ridge that had been our left, it turned steep and continued to climb, but was now climbing higher and higher, requiring us to clamber over snow drifts, the road began heading the wrong direction, but we continued to follow until finally the road disappeared into the snow. It's dark now, and we're on a fire road that heads nowhere. We decide to head back down the fire road and back track to see if we can find any other roads or trails. We find one fire road and began taking it, but it's dark and after two or so miles, the fire road leads into a canyon wall where it dead-ends. Again we back track to that intersection. Again it's decision time. It's dark, we're lost, but we know the direction of our car and hwy 80. We have no lights, only the clothing that we're wearing, each a camelback and each of cliffbar. Neither of us wants to sit thru the night, and we both are determined to get back to the car.
We could hear a stream down the mountain and to our left cutting below the ridge. We decided to work our way down to the stream and to use that as our guide in heading in the proper direction. There was no trail, only woods, thick manzanita and other brush, fallen trees, and granite boulder fields. It was 9pm, and we were determined. Luckily, the moon was full and the thunderclouds had moved off toward Blue Canyon, so the sky remained clear.
We bushwhacked our way down canyon walls and ravines, over boulders and thru fields of tall brush always trying to get closer to hwy 80. It became frustrating, as we'd make our way long canyon walls only to be turned back by 30+ foot cliffs. We'd redirect our route, thru whatever means necessary, scaling rocks or climbing over fallen trees. There was something comfortable in resigning ourselves to the fact we were responsible for our predicament and we're the only ones that are going to get us out of it. We lightly laughed at thoughts of being the lost mountainbikers in the Sierra's on the morning's news reports. We didn't want to be the idiotic looking hikers you see on TV, with an explanation of " I don't know how I got lost." I'd like a lil more flattering 15 minutes of fame please.
After meandering this way and that, we made our way up to the top of the next ridge, hoping to see hwy 80 right there in front of us. We did see hwy 80, and the ribbon of lights from the cars, but it was still so far away, and there were at least three ravines, we'd have to traverse down and up to get even a hint of being back. Maybe only 5 to 6 miles as the crow flies, but an eternity given the terrain.
We worked our way down the ridge and came upon a lake. At first we were excited with glee, we thought it was the lower lake we swim in at the end of our summer rides, but it was too small. We found old hiking campgrounds and old fire pits at the lake, and found what seemed to be a trail heading in the right direction, but it would soon disappear into thick groves of under brush and manzanita, this happened twice during our long journey. Frustrating as that was, it was more frustrating knowing that there was probably a well marked trail either to our left or to our right that we just couldn't see with just the moon light. But the moon shone so bright, it too like the mother Sierra's played tricks on us. It's light shone thru trees gave the perception of well groomed trails, but which always turned into boulder fields or flesh ripping shrubs eventually leading to nowhere or a steep canyon wall.
As we continued on always trying to follow the stream other streams would meander and connect to the larger stream requiring us to further portage our bikes thru fresh snow melt water. Walking on slippery boulders while fatigued with a bike is something that can be passed on. It's a very cold experience.
Hours went by, quiet except for our crashing thru the woods, and periodic "beep" of my watch letting us know another hour had passed. We'd made it down and over two more ravines and sets of ridges. On the last ridge we could now not only see the cars but hear the cars traveling hwy 80. We were definitely making progress, slow and painful progress. We worked our way down the ridge, tired, we began seeking even more the path of least resistance even if it wasn't very direct. We meandered thru a grove of trees, and strips of moonlight lay silver silhouettes across the forest floor, each a deceiving a mirage of a nice open trail, but each just nothing more than fallen trees and brush. I picked up my bike and crossed over a large fallen log, as I looked ahead the trees opened up, and I thought oh great more granite slabs, but the moon shone wide and bright on an open strip. I blinked my eyes hard to clear my vision, is that a fireroad? I came to the opening, two feet from the fireroad squinting and peering down at it like I'm an 80 year old man reading the morning paper. I put my foot on it, almost testing it to see if it disappeared. Oh no, it couldn't be it's a fire road! It's really a fireroad! I yell to my wife behind me, as I bounce up and down yelling, "it's a fireroad it's a fireroad!" It's man made yes! At this point I couldn't care where the fireroad went, it could have gone all the way to Colfax, I was just so happy to be walking on something so open, so clear, oh you precious fire road.
It's 1:30 in the morning, we've been hiking thru rugged terrain, over boulders, down canyon walls, up ridges, backtracking here, crawling over that, always portaging our bikes, but finally we feel progress. We begin wandering down the fire road as it leads toward that same stream we had been following all night and morning. The fire road curves and opens up, that stream, we know that stream, it's the last stream crossing on the "normal" loop, it heads straight up a climb and than down a hill to the last piece of st, that lead to our car. We let out a yelp, we made it, we made it. Woohoo! We climbed the hill laughing at our stupidity, but at the same time kind of proud, that we remained positive, persevered and got ourselves thru a very sticky situation.
We reached our car, thankfully still there, and slowly changed our clothes; washing off our legs that felt like a thousand razorblades had been run across. It was 2 in the morning, 8 ½ hours after we had started our lil weekday ride, and we were finally going home.
It was a dumb situation we put ourselves in, no lights, no real warm clothing, but our expectations of what hole in the ground is like from many prior experiences out weighed those items, and the Sierra's and the hole in the ground educated us and served us up a big piece of humble pie.
Thanks for reading. |
| Glad to still have ya, nm. | General Coonskins
Jun 26, 2002 12:08 PM | | nm |
| Dayam! Glad you made it home! | tamjam
Jun 26, 2002 12:24 PM | | Way to keep your wits and find your way out! |
| wow! | DAS
Jun 26, 2002 12:33 PM | | Yeah, way to stay calm in a crisis situation. The Sierras are for real, I agree.
(Tamjam would have broken down and cried like a little girl before sunset. The Sissy.)
Thank goodness the moon was out, too. And, the clouds went away. Tell Amanda she's a trooper. Good job orienteering. I know the feeling of trying to find a trail in the dark. Peering down in the dark, feeling around...'hey, i think i'm on a trail!'
PS. Next time I ride with you i'm taking emergency rations. :) |
| W-o-freaking-w. | CaveRock
Jun 26, 2002 12:35 PM | | I haven't got any more to add to the topic, so there's (nm). |
| What an ordeal! | shiggy
Jun 26, 2002 12:41 PM | | Glad you are both safe and a good reminder for us all. |
| Holy Cow! Snow, snowdrifts, darkness, lost?!!!... | terminaut
Jun 26, 2002 12:45 PM | | I started to panic just reading about being lost amongst manzanita groves! Glad to read that you got back to the car without much incident. Phew! |
| take the day off today? | francis
Jun 26, 2002 12:46 PM | | Y'all deserve it!
That's scary! I'm sure it took a lot to get yourself out of that situation.
Corbin Bernsen from 'Wild Survival' will be calling.
francis |
| crazy! | bones
Jun 26, 2002 12:52 PM | | Great read Roger, glad you guys made it out ok!
b. |
| Not having met her.... | Brent
Jun 26, 2002 1:04 PM | | and for fear of sounding sexist, that's one tough trooper you've married there Roger. Glad you two are OK! |
| woah... and I was thinking about hitting it this Friday... | onehotchili
Jun 26, 2002 1:30 PM | | Glad you and the wife made it out of there. I know that ride pretty well and can imagine crossing some of those ridges/ravines in the dark. Pretty scary. If I *do* ride it this weekend, I'll be sure to leave some extra time for "hike-a-bike". |
| :0 | PROGRE-SS
Jun 26, 2002 2:45 PM | | :0 That's me with my mouth wide open after I read your post!!! Glad to hear your not-so-excellent adventure turned out ok! As the wedding vows go "...through thick and thin..." Way to keep your positive attitude through testing times!!
Pre-SS |
| i had a similarly frightening experience... | kyezle
Jun 26, 2002 4:04 PM | | ...though not nearly in as rugged of terrain. i decided to ride a not-so-legal, sweet piece of singletrack in quicksilver park. on a cold winter night. alone. with no moon out. using a brand new light with only two charges. can you say stupid? the ride was great until the light went out instantly, not the slow fade it would have done, had i charged it three or four more times. when the light went out, i was in one of the many "armpits" of the trail. it zigzagged in and out of thick brush and trees following the contour of the hills. with no moon out, in the open, there was about 5% visibility. under any tree cover, it was reduced to zero. i waited in the exact spot where i lost light for twenty minutes, knowing it would take that long for my eyes to adjust to the available light. while i waited, i cooled down considerably. now my sweat was freezing. after twenty minutes, i couldn't see crap. not even a hint of crap. if i closed my eyes, there was no less light. i had no idea which way the trail went. thats when i started to get a little worried. even though i was only a few miles from a neighborhood, it could be hours before getting my bearings. i resolved that i had to just start moving. i shuffled my feet forward about 6 inches at a time, feeling for a path. when i kicked a rock, i'd feel around it for grass or a ledge, trying to read the terrain and stay on the trail. i moved very slowly. i finally kicked a board and realized i was stepping up to a footbridge. ah thank god! the right way. i proceeded to dip in and out of zero visibility each time i went into an "armpit" and under the tree cover. it was so dark it was weirding out my eyes. i kept seeing grey fuzzy circles in my vision. i stepped off the trail at one point and slid down a four foot ravine, my bike tumbling on top of me. after two hours of this, i finally made it out and rode back to my car. when i got home, i gave my wife a really big kiss. i was very happy to be sleeping next to her that night and not a rock or tree.
glad to hear you two made it home safely, roger! |
| re: How to become one with the Sierras | crazy mike
Jun 26, 2002 10:30 PM | | Great story Roger! The most memorable adventures are always the ones that go array. I'm sure the two of you will cherish the memory for years to come!
I've been rock climbing since 1980 and the first adventure that comes to mind was a "five hour" climb up Warpy Moople in New Mexico's Sandia mountain range. The short story is we started at 10:30 am and ended at 1:30am the next morning.
A jammed rope held us up at six hundred feet while a snow storm dumped on us until nightfall. Melting snow made the rope heavy enough to finally free itself but with all of our lights and warm clothing six hundred feet below us we were forced to abort the climb. We tied our knots by braille, then repelled into the abyss. The whole time we never stopped laughing at the predicament we got ourselves into. Had I not lost touch with the nut that was on the other end of the rope we'd still be laughing.
crazymike
By the way, Warpy Moople is dangerously unprotected with high exposure and poor rock quality which made the mini-epic even more memorable. A party of three fell to their deaths on this route a few months later. |
| Wow. Glad to see you kept a clear head and made it out. | Single Speed Outlaw
Jun 27, 2002 10:47 AM | | Good write up too. |
| Okay, this definitely qualifies as THE
| Spar¡cus
Jun 27, 2002 12:08 PM | | .short story of the year.
I'm just glad you didn't have to resort to eating one another in order to stay alive.
Way to make it out & live to tell about it.
--Spary |
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