They Rode West: California

Started the day traveling south and exited Carson City. We were only a mountain range away from Lake Tahoe but never saw it. We passed a Trader Joe's in a shopping center just outside of town but pressed on. A morning of almosts. Our first stop was in a town called Genoa, site of Nevada's first gold strike. Tree-lined streets and dare I say, charming, small shops and eateries. A few minutes there and the climbing began. We thought we might get a break because of the altitude, but it was hot, real hot.

We took a stop at the entry sign for our final state, California. Strangely enough, it was the least impressive yet but we retained high spirits anyway. It's good to be back. A couple of photos and dancing back and forth between states and we were off again. The climbing continued. Slow, melodious dancing with our bicycle and the hill, trading punches and taking blows up the slope until our next break in Woodfords. Our intention was to refill the water bottles but their water was rank and they were a bit grouchy about it. We had had enough of their nonsense and began climbing again. Up. Wait, down? No. Just up. There was a lot of travel traffic now but the scenery became striking – the crisp Carson river ran alongside the road. Rays glinting off glimmering rocks as the water ran quickly down the mountain. We climbed into the pines and to our next stop, a cafe with decidedly more positive results. There were two cute girls working the counter and the kitchen and there were discount pastries among the other delectable treats. Coconut macaroons were a popular choice. Their water was good and so was the company, but soon it was time to inch up the mountain again.

More up, more slog. A stunning view of Red Lake near the end of the ascent but our legs had no fire. No passion or punch but we did make it to the top eventually. There's a small visitor's center at the top and both of the docents had ridden cross country years prior. It seems we're going to have to step up our game. They gave us bananas and oranges originally intended for Pacific Crest Trail hikers, but they deemed us worthy as well. They offered us water as well and I think we went through all of their Culligan supply. There was some hesitation about when we would split with Kevin and Nate,as Nate had to get to San Francisco a day head of us.

We rode down the other side aways to Silver Lake and the Silver Lake Lodge. The post office I chose to mail the charger to is actually a resort but the replacement cord was there and all was well. Jordan, Jeremy, and I thought we might camp near the lodge but both campgrounds were full so we took in some calories and rode on. Had our next break at a place called Cooks Station where we ate real meals, ordered from a menu, and felt all the better for it. The place was a wooden building set into the trees, quite nice for a stop. I took out the laptop to test the new charger and got electrocuted plugging it in. Don't worry, I'm fine. We got the word from our waitress about camping at Cooks Station, ten dollars. She also suggested a school farther along the road and we decided that was the spot. More downhill and a departure from the 88 to Omo Ranch Road. Perhaps the best riding of the entire trip. The sun was drifing to sleep and we chased it down deep, twisting downhills and thrilling curves. There were no marker signs for the tight turns and it made it all the better. The road was rough, bumpy – but not with potholes, more like roots underneath the road surging up through the asphalt. Shaking the fillings. Nate's trailer was jumping all over the place, might have been up on a single wheel at some points. This was narrow mountain road too, it slipped to one lane as we descended.

We arrived at the school with wide grins from the descent and a fine place to stay. Passed through a gate and set up our stuff next to some tables and the playground. The neighbor next door, Larry, came over and told us he had called the principal and it was fine for us to stay there. Some of us ate Indian food and we did the usual business and then conked out.