| RUNNING ON EMPTY Part I: Mono Lake to Boundary Peak Trip Report |
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| RUNNING ON EMPTY Part I: Mono Lake to Boundary Peak   | 
| Page Type: Trip Report Location: California, United States, North America Date Ridden: Apr 1, 1996 Activities: BMX/Stunt, Trials, Paved Season: Spring | Page By: junodirtrider Created/Edited: Nov 16, 2009 / Dec 2, 2009 Object ID: 273382 Hits: 1121 Loading... Page Score: 89.24% - 13 Votes Loading... Vote: Log in to vote |
Lighting The Fire!! It's a joke to take a Greyhound bus trip, but that’s how I started the most exciting adventure I had ever set out on. I left Santa Rosa on an evening Hound the day before and I was groggy after a hard, sleepless night in the Reno bus terminal. Five of us stepped on another bus just before 7 am that was southbound on Highway 395 for Carson City and San Bernardino and all points in between. I fell asleep knowing I had a few hours to recuperate before starting my bicycle trip where I intended to climb two state high points and tour an amazing national park.
When I awoke I was relaxed and could see that we had entered higher country. The gentle hills out my tinted window displayed a new foot of snow from last night's storm. Within the next hour, the bus had not only arrived in Lee Vining, but had emptied its cargo hold of my possessions and disappeared forever. I was left there in the cool warmth of the sun under brilliantly blue skies, yawning and stretching with a mess of gear to load onto a fairly new bike that I intended to ride for the next two weeks and roughly 250 miles.
By the time the bike prepped and assembled, the mass was mondo!! Not skimping on the necessities for climbing, it’s funny to think the mountaineering boots, snowshoes, crampons, ice axe, trekking poles, and bivy, along with regular camping essentials packed so easily on the bike. Finally, the streamlined unit was rearing to go, to say the least, as it was awkwardly aft heavy. From my drop off at the only restaurant in town, I slowly rolled past the gas station, a few houses, and a curio shop boasting an extensive display of international flags. With town and about ten miles behind me, I felt like my lungs had collapsed through my intestines. I was dragging ass big time! The elevation was around 4500’ and my body knew that I had left home about 4400’ beneath me. A Bit Wrung Out...The scenery was great! The mountains to the west either rolled or jarred up into the horizon, but were draped with glistening white sheets of snow. To my left the land slanted down towards the tear shaped outline of Mono Lake. I sat propped upon my handlebars, while the road whoopty-dooed across the surface of the land. At the intersection with state road 120, there was a highly decorated grave that stood guard and beckoned a toll from those who chose to stop and gaze. Unable to find a name for the person buried here, I ripped off a piece of a cup of soup label and placed it atop a wooden cross. It said, “Trader Joe.” Minutes later, there was another turn off and I took it. The pavement turned to gravel and descended to the mystical shores and famous tufa towers formations of Mono Lake. Boom!! Mono Lake!
As the 120 climbed, the ground was comprised of pebbled gravels of white granite and brown lava. The topography was almost level, yet four chop-topped volcanoes resided just off to the right. Tall Ponderosa pine trees jettisoned from the ground and everywhere looked like a great place to camp. I pushed on though and found that the desire to hitchhike struck my mind and tempted me with every passing car. Actually, I didn’t really want to take a ride, but it is just that the high elevation and a slight headwind had insto-whipped me so badly. After a couple hours, the road began arc around and level out on the summit of a high plateau called Sagehen Summit at an elevation of 8130’. No wonder I had got so spanked!
Here I got my first glimpse of my initial destination, the summit of Boundary Peak, Nevada. A pale cream moon loomed above the mountain and wetted the alpine slopes in soft evening colors. As I descended into the Inyo Valley, a cold wind bit my face with a crisp awakening and just as I was forced to start pedaling again at the bottom of the pass, there was a turn off next to a very small stream by which I slept soundly.
The next morning the stream was topped with a layer of ice, but as I mounted my bike and took my first peddles, a small, eyebrow shaped rainbow pointed me onward. Soon I came across a dead rabbit and attempted to pry off its foot... for good luck!! Without a knife I yanked and twisted and pulled and when it squirted me with blood, I dropped the stupid rabbit and the bad idea and continued on my way. After a long uninhabited stretch of road, I finished the 120 with a splendid eight mile downhill coast, which took me to the valley floor. Intersecting with state highway 6, I was then slapped with an eight mile 1.5% gradient and a 15mph headwind. Ugg.
A warm wind and even hotter day led to exasperation. I felt dissatisfied with my lofty goals, which now seemed beyond reach and the desire to quit kept entering my mind. At the state’s border, I pulled up to a couple standing in the brush illegally harvesting cactus for their yard and explained my drear. They hustled and bustled to stash their contraband and as they locked their doors to drive off, the guy refused to share any aid with me except the suggestion that I would reach my goal eventually. I felt alone, finished, empty, and stuck in this huge valley of weeds and gravel, cactus and sky, pavement and aridness! Feeling overwhelmed and emotionally disgusted with the alternatives, I began pedaling my bike again and kept trudging into the wind. Yet within minutes, that outlook changed and things turned pretty peachy.
Righting The Ship's Sails! Oh, gosh, how my attitude changed as I realized I was on track. Boundary Peak’s access road lie right across the street but I hung a left at a big water tank and headed for a broken down barn with a giant sign that read Janie’s Ranch. Past a cattle guard, there was a double sized trailer with a duck pond in front of the house with a sliding glass door. Ducks squabbled as they were alerted to my presence and a big black lab blurred out in dog talk that his master wasn’t home. I explained that I was here to climb the mountain and that I needed to stash some of my stuff in the dilapidated shed out back. The old pup regurgitated that his master wasn’t home, but that, yes, I could use the shed for a couple of days. “Gosh,” I said, “Thank you very much.” He answered with an approving ruff and then I turned and headed for the shed 150’ away.
I stashed my things then crossed the highway and continued up a well kept gravel road. After five miles or so I was forced to get off the bike and walk. To ease the pushing of the bike, I bungeed the back rack to my backpack and push/pulled my bike the rest of the way up Queen Canyon Mine Road. I pulled up about three miles short of the trail head and cut my own direct line up half of the mountain. The weather pelted me with miniature bee bee like snowballs for a good portion of the night, but summit day shone as bright as one could ever imagine a summit day to be. The best thing about this climb was the chance to see the Bristlecone Pines of the White Mountains, known for being the oldest living organism on the face of planet Earth. Here, high up in this environment, I spotted a live rabbit just like that dead from the side of the road. This living rodent brought joy to my heart and I worried not about its mortality.
After a number of vertical feet just shy of 8000 from where I started the day before, I attained my goal. I spent the next six hours slogging through hip deep drifts cutting an even straighter descent route to my bike. Miserably fatigued, the bike coasted me down the road and out into the big valley under the light of a full moon. Once again, my presence alerted the ducks and old lab at Janie’s Ranch, but neither cared. At the shed I changed clothes and cracked a 22 ounce bottle of Red Hook Double Black Stout, ripped a binger, and lay my sleeping pad on a wooden door between the sidewalls of a huge tractor tire. There I fell asleep beneath a blinding moon with Neil Young songs ringing through my brain. Images |
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