June/July 2022
It wasn’t the best start to a road trip.
Somewhere between Needles, California and Barstow, our truck lost AC.
In July.
Cruising through Death Valley in the middle of summer was the one inevitable leg we dreaded. No matter which route we planned, there was no going around it, physically or metaphorically, and I was worried this hiccup, with our backs soaked in sweat, the windows down blowing oven-like air into our faces, was setting the precedence for the rest of the trip.
It felt like forever driving through the oppressive heat, each of us privately refusing to let it beat us down. It’s a story-book desert through there: desolate, scorching, and boring, but we eventually made it to the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The digital mercury slowly dropped as we ascended and rugged views replaced endless azure skies.
We weaved our way through small town after small town, marveling at the old buildings, flags flying proudly (this was California after all), and the quaintness of a simpler life. Simple, maybe, but not in the least easy.
These were farm towns, some fields as dry and yellow as the rolling grasslands back home in winter. Other towns were able to take advantage of the creeks and rivers that flowed from the mountains towering above them and were green. Situated between the mountains and the creeks, there was little space for expansion, and each town had an air of isolation to them as if the next one over didn’t even exist.
We stopped at the side of the road next to a park to get a picture of Mt. Whitney, the tallest peak in the contiguous United States. Even at a distance, its presence was known. Snowcapped, it stood as a sentinel, regarding the towns nested in its saddles and witnessing the use of its resources…
…and all I could think about was how close we were to another mountain.
The one where we’d be shuttled to the top, only to strap tight our helmets and let gravity do its job to get us to the bottom.
Before we checked into our RV slot in Mammoth Lakes, we found our way, camper and all, to the trailhead of Mammoth Rock, where a moto-cross event was in full swing and the parking lot was full. With nowhere to park, we were disappointed and headed back toward our tiny RV slot.
A change in the greenery at the corner, and a great big overhanging sign caught my eye. An outdoor wedding venue sprawled toward the flats and up into the foothills just two blocks from the trailhead. We decided to take a chance and pulled into the gravel lot. After a quick ask and a promise to be gone in less than three hours, they were kind enough to let us back into a space out of the way.
It was partly sunny and cool, perfect riding weather, as we pedaled our way up the mountain. This was our first taste of the Sierra Nevadas.
Steep inclines, loose dirt, and nasty switchbacks were quickly overshadowed by the rugged and ever-changing scenery.
With the steep inclines came some fun descents, helping me keep my promise to the manager at the garden venue.
The RV camping lot was less than ideal. It had been rated one of the best in the area, with massive trees, a pool, a playground, and good showers. What we got was pavement sardined so close to our neighbor we couldn’t get the shade on the camper fully open, and a hot tub that was out of service.
Though discouraged, we reminded ourselves this was just a place to sleep. We weren’t planning on having a lot of downtime there, we just needed a hot shower and a place to cook. Looking at the positive side, there was a paved trail that ran right through the park and across town. It was nice to stop and read some history of the town and see the marked landscapes from the plaques posted along the shoulder.
The morning we hit Mammoth Mountain Bike Park, we were so excited forgot to use the GoPro, so there’s not much footage of us riding. But I did take lots of pictures!
Li’l Ripper hit his first ever bike-park Black Diamond, Richter, and was absolutely stoked.
The best part of our day was when he met another grom up on the mountain by himself in full armor, hitting the black just about as fast as Ripper. Daniel and I followed them down lap after lap, barely able to keep up.
At one point we let them go down one trail mid-mountain while we took another, with the plan to meet where the trails converged and take Richter down together. Apparently, we were too slow, so they took the line on their own.
By the time we got back to base and the lift, they were headed back up, faces turned to make sure we saw them, and they waved. I laughed, proud of Ripper’s confidence to hit the trails on his own.
After a long, fun day of riding, the showers were a luxury and the wooden picnic table might as well have been mahogany.
When it was time to move on, we headed north, through Reno and around Lake Tahoe.
Truckee wasn’t too far from there, and we spent a few nights camped in a first-come campground. Although it was sandwiched between the river and the highway, it was a quiet spot and the camp host was friendly. We met a couple that rides their bikes, travels, and write for a living. (Can you say DREAM JOB!)
Every night we were lulled to sleep by the sound of the river and the damp-earth smell of the forest.
One relaxing day, the guys tubed down the Truckee River, thinking it would be a relaxing little float.
Ha! They ended up needing to hold on for every second until they floated to where I was waiting. They bobbed over class one rapids, around tree falls, and kicked off exposed rocks in the middle. All smiles and laughs, a little sun, and wet hair.
We had a nice dinner at the 1812 Bar and Grill where we got to sit on the deck facing the water. Good food, good beer, good views, and great company.
The Truckee Bike Park was absolutely incredible. There was everything from a pump track for minis, where a clinic was being held one of the days we were there, to slopestyle freeride ramps. Li’l Ripper kicked my butt a few times on the dual slalom, which was his favorite.
We were in Northern Cali to shred one of the best-rated bike parks in the high sierras, North Star Bike Park, and it was one of the highlights of our trip. We warmed up on the blues from mid-mountain, then made our way to the tougher blues at the top. The runs were long and seemed to, blissfully, last a lifetime.
We found a route that connected a few blue and black trails that we couldn’t get enough of. Ripper’s favorite was Live Wire, a fast, flowy line with tall berms and jumps.
We had so much fun there that we hustled to slip into the last chair lift and completely missed the gift shop.
From there, we headed to Susanville to visit family. They have some unexpectedly tough riding there, with the mountain range’s patented fine dirt and steep inclines. We visited a dormant volcano and did the touristy thing. For the 4th of July with my grandparents, we got to participate in one of the most spectacular fireworks shows. The parking lots were full of people and their sparklers, noise-makers, and box fireworks. Li’l Ripper zoomed around the lot on his scooter checking out the different pyrotechnics.
By the next day, our adventures were catching up with us and we noticed we were getting snippy with each other and the family we had gone to visit. We took a day off, each of us doing a little something apart from the other.
It was a nice little break from the see-it-all pace we’d been going at.
It wasn’t long before we got antsy and ready to hit the trails again, though. We still had a lot planned.
At the last minute, we were able to book a few nights stay in a coveted RV campground in South Lake Tahoe.
When we got there, it came to our attention that we didn’t book enough nights by one. I took my bike, phone, and credit card as high up the mountain as possible and somehow squeaked out enough internet service to book that last night. (For some reason they didn’t do any booking at the campsite office.) It took standing on a boulder on one foot, arm extending the phone, and squinting at the screen to get it done, but it worked.
This campground also backed a river, but it was way too rough to get to the water, let alone tube down it. The campsites were spread apart from each other, giving you privacy. Giant Sequoia, with their thick red bark, dotted the site and shaded everything.
We spent a chill day on a dog beach at Lake Tahoe, just minutes from the camper, soaking up as much sun and wave as possible. We walked along the river behind our beautiful campsite and even checked out Fallen Leaf Lake, a short gravel ride from our slot. It’s a pretty, little lake, with steep banks and views to match. We even checked out the Viking-inspired mansion at the edge of Lake Tahoe.
Daniel found us a fun trail with glimpses of Lake Tahoe between the evergreens. It was a fun cross-country trail with granite boulders that looked like pebbles made for giants, and shadows that shifted between the tree trunks. We crossed a wooden bridge over some very cold water, found some grains of sand that were magnetic, and descended a fun jump line the locals had built.
We wished we could have stayed forever.
But we couldn’t.
Coming home we had the same AC issues as we traversed through Las Vegas. We ended up camped at a truck stop just this side of the Arizona line because we were so exhausted, running the generator dry of gas so we wouldn’t wake up in puddles.
Though we had a few setbacks on our journey, we were conscious of keeping up our spirits and attitudes. We could have let a broken AC, crummy campsites, and a few unexpected issues let us down or set precedence, but we didn’t. We went with it. We got to explore, visit loved ones, and ride our bikes in spectacular places, and we had a great time.