We woke up kinda late after way too much homebrew and good food. It was the smell of fresh bacon and coffee that got my attention. It was as if Ron had been at it all night long. The table was set-up with a full breakfast ready to go. What a way to start the day…. You da man Ron. ADVriders have a well deserved reputation for looking out for one another. You've taken that to whole new level. One we'll never forget.
Today was to be Reno. A mere 190 miles to I-80 plus 60 miles of freeway. No sweat for this crew. Rested, ready and hung over…. Berti still couldn't make that SAT phone work, despite many efforts.
The map for today looks just like the one yesterday, and that's kinda what it was. More up and over and down and back up again. Crossing river and dale and highway or two for good measure. This would be a last push across the western slopes of the Sierra after which we would rejoin the PCT and continue north.
Here we go again, shortly after leaving Rt 4 on an easy dirt track we found ourselves here. Weeds in the road generally mean no tracks. No tracks mean dead-end coming soon.
We checked the map and it looked right. The GPS said it was the right place.
So we pressed on….
Fortunately, we sent TT on up ahead to check things out. The road got worse, and no, it didn't go down to cross the river below. We were on the wrong road, again…. The right road turned out to be a less than a hundred yards away, and yes there was another nice water crossing (Solinsky Crossing) that took us where we wanted to go.
Turned out to be a rough morning. A few miles after finding the crossing, JL was leading and took a turn. We were trying not to stop too often, because dust becomes a problem if we lose our spacing for no reason. He put his hand up to signal for me to wait for the next rider. I spaced out and followed him without waiting. Real dumb. We had had a couple dozen such turns already that day, and I was on auto pilot. Berti and Aaron, who were not far behind, must have gone straight. A hundred yards into the road, I realized it was the wrong road and that I had missed the others. I hauled ass down the other road, but couldn't catch them. Now we were all lost. It was dense woods with steep rocky trails. Great….
I went up ahead just a piece and waited at a bridge with multiple forks on the other side. There was no way to know for sure which direction the others had gone. Fortunately, J-L showed up about ten minutes later. He had gone back and looped down the correct road towards me. We waited a long time… After going back up to the last verified intersection (about three miles) and finding no one, we had no idea what had become of our pals. We got a little pissed, and just a wee bit frustrated. It was my screw-up, and they needed to come back when they realized that J-L was no longer leading. About thirty minutes later they did come back. Yikes…. We knew it could happen, but when it did we were all pretty freaked out. After that, we were all real clear about the tag team rules. It never happened again.
We crossed Hwy 88 and continued north. At US50, Berti downed a couple cans of sardines, gassed and we were back on the road.
Above US50 is some very historic terrain. We took an old cut across from Kyburz called Weber Mill Road. It passed through heavily burned slopes tracking west.
From there we took Icehouse Rd. to Wentworth Springs Rd. and stopped at Uncle Toms Cabin. What a freak show that is. Out in the middle of nowhere, inhabited by drunk mountaineers who must have gotten lost a very long time ago.
We hit the dirt once again and made our way toward French Meadows
Started out nice enough.
Think J-L needs a new tire?
We made it to Reno by 6pm and had a surprisingly fantastic dinner at the casino restaurant. So good, it was almost French. We smelled really bad, all the cloths were dirty and hanging out in a hotel for the night was just what we needed.