The loop started with a climb from the forested western slopes of the Sierra Nevada mountains, toward the east, up and over the main crest at the northernmost end of the Sierra. From the rim of the crest, high alkali desert -- the Modoc Plateau -- stretches to the east as far as the eye can see, two thousand feet below. I spent less than a half-day there in the desert and that was plenty. Heading north and then back to the west, I re-entered the mountains, which again provided shade and water in great abundance. I was now in the Cascade range, on the bucolic lava plateau to the north of Mt. Lassen -- a still-brewing volcano which last erupted in 1915. Day four featured a big climb over Mt. Lassen, where snow from last winter is still hanging in there; and an unbeatable descent on the world's most spectacular alpine road.
This was a fully loaded tour on my road bike (Cannondale touring frame with a hodgepodge of components; 700x35c tires). Most of the miles were on paved roads. The bike did a great job on most of the unpaved road surfaces, even though fully loaded and even when the roadbed was rutted and rocky. On these "maintained dirt" road surfaces the miles went by slowly but the bike was up to it. Gravelled roads were a tougher problem and the bike is really out of its league then. I gambled and didn't bring a tent, just a bivvy bag. Brought my water filter and collapsible six-litre jug, which relieved me from having to find an official Forest Service campsite each night. This is the way to go.
The majority of the route was in National Forest land. This is perfect for cycle touring, since one can stop and camp nearly anywhere that looks nice. They asked that I get a (free) campfire permit. This is basically just so they can spend a few minutes explaining how to camp in the woods without setting the west on fire.
Here are some of the day-by-day details and highlights:
I really wanted to find a place to camp up there, before plunging down to Janesville and the desert. But finding water was a big problem. I slowly pedaled along, looking hard into every little fold in the mountainside where a trickle of water might be hiding. Finally found a tiny spring, filtered six litres, and schlepped the bike way up to the nose of a ridgetop where I set up camp. This felt like the top of the world, with huge views to the north, east, and south. A stiff wind blew across the ridgetop until about midnight, but it was sixty eight degrees so the comfort level was perfect.
Pedaling north on the desert floor toward Susanville was actually pretty enjoyable. But I was glad I was doing it in the morning and not the afternoon. Stopped to replenish my food supplies in Susanville. Stopped at a Forest Service ranger station after a pretty tough three mile climb up out of town. The ranger told me about the "Bizz Johnson Trail" which would take me about fifteen miles in the direction I was headed. More importantly, it would keep me off of state highway 44, which I wasn't fond of after my first three mile dose due to the heavy logging traffic. The bad news was ... I'd have to turn around and ride back down that long hill to Susanville. Oh well, it was a "sunk cost" at that point.
The Bizz Johnson Trail was pretty nice. It's a converted railroad grade which runs along the gorgeous, sparkling clear Susan River. There are even a couple places where the trail goes through the old tunnels blasted through the rocky mountainside. It climbs 1000 feet in those fifteen miles, but the grade is so moderate it feels flat.
Stopped for a swim at about 4:30, and filtered some water. It was beautiful there along the river, and I decided to cook dinner there and to do some more riding in the evening. The map showed a "no fee" Forest Service campsite about twenty miles up the paved road.
After dinner, the early evening pedaling was great. The scene there is rich, green, pine and cedar forest growing from the red rock/soil that makes up the lava plateau. Sure enough, I soon came to a sign pointing to a campground one mile up a Forest Service spur road. This road was gravelled and the pedalling was tough ... similar to pedaling through sand. After two miles the road ended and I still hadn't seen any campground. Backtracked about a mile, then gave up and just took an abandoned logging road down to a nice creek, and found myself a flat area there to camp. It turned out to be a nice place.
I made fast progress as soon as I reached the paved road ... covered the first seventeen miles in thirty-five minutes. The road was fairly flat, so I must have had a big tailwind. By that time, the scenery was starting to get pretty spectacular. Stopped a few times to take some pictures; stopped at the Ranger Station along Hat Creek ... I pretty much forgot all about the storm threat. When I finally regained my senses, I realized the air was totally calm and stable. Way back to the east, where I had come from, I could see a wicked looking line of thunderheads, but it was looking like they were going to be stationary and that I was going to stay dry.
Pedaled south along gorgeous Hat Creek for a few miles. This is apparently a very famous trout creek amoungst fly fisherman; only the single-barbless-hook, catch-and-release types fish here. Now I was approaching Mt. Lassen from the north. The road climbed gradually about fifteen hundred feet in the next ten miles or so, to a minor pass at 5900 ft where it was really chilly and blustery. A half mile down the other side was the entrance to the Mt Lassen National Park. I turned in there and rolled up to the entrance kiosk. Sign said "Admission $10" so I handed two fives to the ranger. She handed one of them right back to me and said "Five dollars for you; you're on a bike!". A couple miles of small rollers, then a fun descent for 2~3 miles brought me to the Crags Campground, which was my destination for the day.
Mt Lassen is a big volcano which is actually the southernmost peak in the Cascade range. Its most recent (enormous) eruption was in 1915. It, along with its neighbor Mt Shasta to the north, are considered to be the most likely sites for the next major eruption in the Cascade system.
Tomorrow will be the big bopper ... the climb from the camp at 5700 ft to the pass at 8512 feet, in the first ~15 miles. But I'm prepared! I have with me my "Markleeville Death Ride" socks from last year's Death Ride!
By the time I was on the road at 9:40, the sun was finding its way into most of the nooks and crannies of the mountain, and it was reasonably comfortable riding with shorts and a short sleeve jersey. This is a gorgeuos climb. It started to get pretty cold by the time I reached 7000 feet, and I started to pedal past some snowbanks here and there. But it was sunny so not a real problem. At 11:40 I reached the col at 8512 ft. What a breeze ... two hours! I'd been expecting this climb to be a real battle that would consume most of the day, what with all the tonnage loaded on the bike. Those Death Ride socks are the greatest! I flagged down a car and asked if they'd shoot my picture standing next to the summit sign. They were visitors from New Zealand, and they advised me that if I kept riding up Mt. Lassen I'd be able to beat Lance Armstrong in next year's Tour.
The descent down the south side of the mountain was the most spectacular descent I've ever done. It's springtime up there now: everything is bright green, the streams and lakes are robust and sparkling, ... blah blah blah ... of course you expect this kind of spectacle in any high alpine setting. What sets Lassen apart is the coloring of the mountain itself; the coloring of the volcanic rock that crops out of and rises above all the greenery and blue-ery. It's kind of brick-red colored ... like you might expect to see in desert settings in Utah or southwestern Colorado. It's breathtaking to see it here, where the palette also includes all the intense bright greens and reds and yellows of the spring vegetation and the deep clear blues of the streams and lakes. The other great thing about this road is the routing of it. It's incredibly appealing to a cyclist. It snakes down the mountain in such a way that you always see some little ribbon of it way off in the distance. Way over on the other side of a canyon; way down the mountainside; wrapping in and out of little side canyons up ahead; ... I'd be up there still taking photos if I hadn't run out of film.
Left the park, and had lunch in the tiny town of Mineral at 4800 ft elevation. Oh oh, big problem! ... I'm out of the instant outmeal packets I've been fixing for my breakfasts, and the store here *doesn't have any*. It'll be cold breakfast tomorrow ... pretty barbaric.
Left Mineral, by way of state highway 172, another tiny, pretty road through dense forest. It's hard to imagine anyone ever deciding to call it a "highway". This road treated me to another climb, but only for about two miles and 460 vertical feet. Then came several miles of fine descending along another gorgeous, sparkling mountain stream (Mill Creek).
I stopped for my afternoon swim, and resumed pedaling at about 5 pm, headed toward Chester on the north edge of Lake Almanor. Pedaling through these mountains in the early evening light is really the greatest. Tomorrow's my last day, and I'll have an easy agenda, so I stopped and made camp after about an hour, hiking back into the woods near a big meander in Gurnsey Creek. Just as I stopped, two anglers climbed up to the road from the creek; each one had three or four nice trout with them.
There are three enormous ponderosa pines at the edge of the flat spot where I camped. If I reach my arms around one as far as I can, they'll get about one third of the way around its circumference. The floor of the forest here has a perfect carpeting of pine needles. John Muir wouldn't need a Thermarest here but I used mine.
"The discovery of a pass through the Sierras in the Feather River region was a lucky break for Peter Lassen. In 1848, Lassen boldly promised to lead a party of immigrants along a new and easy route to California -- which he had yet to discover. Becoming confused and uncertain while traversing the mountains east of the peak that now bears his name, Lassen and his group were saved when a larger party happened to follow their tracks and overtook them. With additional provisions, and aided by Thomas McKay, a longtime mountain man and veteran of the Hudson's Bay Company, Lassen was able to continue exploring, and forged a path leading to his rancho in the Sacramento Valley."There's a great FS Ranger station in Chester. In it is a huge relief map of this whole area ... it's about six feet on each side. I had to pry myself away from that thing or else I'd spend the whole day looking at it.
Chester is actually a few miles out of my way, but I had plenty of time and wanted to stop there; it contains the only bike shop within probably sixty miles any direction of here. The shop is called "Bodfish Bikes and Quiet Mountain Sports". Some of you probably recognize the name Bodfish from the guidebooks he's published; they describe totally epic rides and tours through the extreme hinterlands of California. When I stopped in, the "wrench" came out front and started asking all sorts of questions about my route, etc, and we had a great time yakking for about an hour. He turned out to be Bodfish himself, a.k.a. Chuck Elliot. There's a bumper sticker mounted near the front counter that says "Screw the internet; surf the backcountry".
Back on the road after lunch. About twenty to twenty-five miles and I'll be back in Greenville where I started five days ago.
Along the west side of Lake Almanor, I saw a big osprey nest at the very top of a dead pine tree. Actually I heard it before I saw it. In the nest was an osprey, yelling like mad about something ... so loud that I heard it above all the wind and road noise. A few branches below sat another osprey, maybe its parent, not too concerned about all the complaining from above.
Rolled into Greenville about 3pm. Great tour. Perfect weather. No mechanical trouble whatsoever, not even a flat.
Here are some closing words, clipped from one of the Bodfish guidebooks:
"For the cyclist who chooses to wander the Feather River Country, there is never an end to the spectacular views, crystal cold springs, swimming holes, lush meadows, and shady lanes for exploring on two wheels. You'll carry these quiet places in your daydreams when back in civilization until you can no longer resist the lure to explore another canyon, bag another lookout, or balance along just one more ridge."- Jeff