A Hole in the Plan

I called almost everyone I knew.  After spending the first leg as a mute, unable to speak with anyone, I found the ability to talk on the phone to be exhilarating.  I am sure many of my friends got tired of hearing me babble on and on about nothing in particular.  I called Nancy on the way to Grand Canyon.  For years she had been after me to go and see this monument of nature.  And for just as long, I had been putting it off for one reason or another.  I told her that I was headed for the Grand Canyon.  I believe her exact words were, “Don’t you dare look in that stinkin’ hole without me.”  So now, I only had to take a picture of the “stinkin’ hole” without actually looking at it.  This would actually be a lot easier than it sounded.

I entered the park at the North Rim and made my way to the Cape Royal overlook to get the picture.  About 10 miles from the overlook the road was closed for maintenance or some reason.  With the road being closed, I took a picture of the closure to claim the bonus.  It was on to Sin City thereafter.

Not so Grand Canyon

The bonus in Las Vegas was pretty simple.  Take a photograph of the Statue of Liberty in front of New York, New York.  Riding into the city, I rode through a small but violent line of storms that dumped rain and hail on me.  I narrowly avoided a multi-car pile up that happened right in front of me just outside the city.  The rain cooled everything off and actually felt pretty good once I was through the storms. 

I pulled onto the median on the Strip in Las Vegas across from New York, New York.  It is rare that I would ever actually park for any bonus unless I absolutely had to.  This would be no exception.  But the traffic on the Strip made my normal practice a bit touchy.  There is a reason why pedestrians routinely get whacked along this road.  I quickly snapped the photo, grabbed a gas receipt and headed north toward Beatty, Nevada.

Statue of Liberty, Top Center of Picture

I stopped in Beatty, Nevada and got a room for the night.  I called Paul.  Paul had been to my next bonus, the Ancient Bristlecone Forest on numerous occasions, most famously with Dennis Kessler during the 2003 Iron Butt Rally when Dennis’ bike had spontaneously burst into flames and burnt down nearly to ashes.  I picked Paul’s brain for any details that could be helpful about the road in and out.  The bonus, the Patriach Tree was located at the dead end of a 12 mile dirt road at 11,000 feet in the White Mountains, east of the Sierra Nevada.  The trees are the believed to be the oldest living things on earth at an estimated age of 4,000 years old.

Paul suggested I lower the air pressure in my tires to increase traction once I reached the dirt road.  This would be advice I wish I had taken and would come to regret ignoring.  I then called Vicki Johnston.   Though I had not talked with her since shortly after leaving St. Louis, I thought she might somewhere in the area.  I wanted to be at the bonus at sunrise, which meant riding up the mountain in the dark.  I thought it would be prudent to be with another rider, should anything unexpected happen. 

Normally, I believe it is a huge mistake to ride a Rally with another rider.  Two people are rarely, if ever, as efficient as one.  I have known Vicki and her husband for a number of years, but had never ridden with her before.  During the 2005 Rally, Vicki had passed me a number of times, but we did not ride together. 

I was pleasantly surprised to find that Vicki had also planned to ride to the Patriarch tree at dawn the next day.  We agreed to meet in the parking lot of the hotel at 3:00 AM to give us plenty of time to get up the mountain.  As it turned out, we would need every minute of it. My original thought was to just ride together for this one bonus, but as things turned out, we would end up riding most of the remaining Rally together.

A few hours later, I pulled my gear together and met Vicki out in the parking lot.  There were a couple other bikes parked in the lot, but none appeared to be stirring just yet.  There was not a lot to say and I had a long day ahead.  We got on the bikes and got moving with me in the lead.  Riding through the desert at night, the moon illuminated the road ahead pretty well.

Animals did not seem to be a concern until we got closer to the bonus.  As the road began twisting and turning in the foothills approaching the mountains.  We began to see rabbits all over the place.  There were dozens of them at every turn.  Unlike deer which seem to run directly at you at times, the “wascally wabbits” seem to be pretty adept at avoiding us.  One particularly athletic one was able to scoot between my wheels without getting hit.  Alas, one poor critter fell victim to Vicki’s bike, but other than that, all the rest made it unscathed.

As we rode along California Highway 168, the GPS showed a turn to the right to reach the bonus.  I stopped and confirmed with Vicki that her GPS was showing the same thing.  The only problem was that there wasn’t much of a road there.   In fact, there was barely a trail there.  We both surmised that this was the beginning of the stretch of bad road.  Neither one of us was very happy looking at a sandy path barely 4 feet wide that seemed to go straight up the mountain.  With nothing else to do, we headed up the “road”.  I nearly went down a half dozen times in the first 100 yards.  This was terribly difficult.  Not to mention, it was still pitch dark and the road seemed to be disappearing, or at least becoming harder to make out.  Other trails seemed to criss-cross in and out making navigation even harder. 

About one mile in, I began to think there was no way I could go on like this for another 11 miles.  I stopped and zoomed the GPS out to show the “big” picture.  At that point it became clear what had happened to us.  The GPS had routed us up this goat path in an effort to shave a mile or two from the route.  Had we just gone another mile down CA 168, we would have come to the paved road that would lead us up the mountain.  Cursing myself for being incredibly stupid, I waved Vicki up to tell her of our mistake.  It was at that point I noticed she was not behind me.  My guess was that she had gone down somewhere in the past mile. 

I turned my bike around and started down the mountain, again nearly dropping it a half dozen times.  I came across Vicki a few minutes later.  She had not gone down, but had the good sense to turn around and head back.  After nearly an hour of hard work we made it back to pavement having traveled barely a mile or two.  I told Vicki about our mistake.  We rode down the highway and came to the correct entrance. 

We entered the park and headed up the mountain.  The road was narrow and twisty, but nothing really unusual.  It was still dark when we came across another dirt trail.  Once again, both GPS’s were directing us down the path, indicating the bonus was located only .2 miles down the road.  Vicki confirmed her GPS was showing the same.  She asked if I felt like walking .2 miles to get the bonus.  How hard could it be?  We rode down the path.

We searched everywhere but could find nothing that looked like Patriarch Tree or plaque.  We rode from one tree to another with no luck.  Finally, when all else fails, read the directions.  I pulled out the bonus listing.  With good directions we headed back to the paved road and continue up the mountain.  Following the GPS had now cost us close to 2 hours aimlessly riding through the woods in the dark.  Just plain stupidity.

As dawn was breaking we came to the Visitor center and the end of the paved road.  Signs clearly showed the way to the Patriarch Tree, 12 miles ahead.  The pavement abruptly ended but we pushed on.  The road was rocky and narrow, but nothing too extreme.  We hit some soft sand about three miles in that certainly got our attention.  Vicki slowed as I nearly went down.  I stopped on the switchback above sand, more to take a quick break.  We both agreed we had no business being on this road, but there was no turning back at this point.

I looked back at the section we had just traveled and saw another rider heading up.  As he hit the heavy sand, the bike abruptly went down.  It was hard to see the rider from our vantage point, but we could see the bike on its’ side in the pre dawn light.  As we slowly began turning our bikes around to head down to help the rider, the downed rider had lifted the bike and was once again heading up the mountain.  We continued up the mountain and came to Patriarch Tree just after dawn.

The Patriarch Tree

We snapped our photos and headed back down.  Despite our best efforts to get lost, we were still more or less on time.  Going out, we made much better time.  I began to get a low tire pressure warning from my Smart Tire monitor.  It was showing slightly low pressure in my rear tire.  I began cursing the monitor.  I have complained for years that the system was not accurate and not worth the money it cost.  It was just another false warning.

As we rode on, the monitor continued to show a slow and steady loss of air pressure.  I stopped and asked Vicki to look at my rear tire.  She could not see anything wrong, so we continued on.  The monitor now showed I had lost nearly half the air in the tire.  Something was definitely wrong.  I stopped and rolled the bike forward as Vicki examined the tire.  The problem became obvious.  A large bolt had penetrated the rear tire and was still embedded in the tire.  It was perfectly placed in the tread of the tire.

Deflating experience

I nursed the bike back to pavement and assessed the situation.  Vicki offered whatever assistance she could, but there was nothing she could do.  She left me her can of Fix-O-Flat and continued down the mountain.  If I could not repair the tire, getting a tow truck up the mountain could be problematic.  I pulled the bolt out of the tire.  It left a quarter inch hole in the tire.  I pulled out my Stop-N-Go Tire Plugger and went to work.  Several riders stopped and offered their assistance as I worked on the bike.  Amazingly, I plugged the tire and pumped it back up within 15 minutes. 

I hopped on the bike and headed down the mountain, silently composing the letter of endorsement I would be sending to the Stop-N-Go people after the Rally.  I soon caught up with Vicki at a gas station outside of Yosemite National Park.  There were several large bonuses in the park and we began once again riding together.  I quickly forgot about my tire problems as I looked forward to seeing the park for the first time.  That was a mistake. Twenty miles later, the tire monitor again began showing a slow leak.  I stared at the digital readout, trying to will air back into the tire.  Despite my psychic abilities, the pressure was steadily falling through the 30’s and then into the 20’s.

Shortly after entering Yosemite, I had to pull over to try and address the problem.  After speaking with Vicki, we knew there was nothing for her to do.  She continued on, as I tried to re-seal the tire.  No matter what I tried, I could not find a way to completely seal the hole.  I had now decided to change the Stop-N-Go tire plugging kit name, to Stop-N-Go-About-100-Miles.  In all fairness, the tire had a large hole in, nearly a quarter inch wide that any plug would struggle to fill.

I called Roger.  He suggested removing the valve stem core and filling the tire with the Fix-O-Flat foam.  This was more involved than I wanted to get.  Plus if I was unable to get the core back in the stem, I would definitely be stranded.  I also spoke with Nancy and Paul.  All three of them began working to find me another tire somewhere near me or where I planned to be later in the day.  I pumped the tire back up and headed out again.  Predictably, within 20 minutes or so, the tire would start losing pressure.  So began the tedious process I would follow for the rest of the day.  When I stopped to get a bonus, I would attach the pump to re-inflate the tire, while I got the bonus.  Once inflated, I would ride to the next bonus and repeat the process all over again.

I grabbed the Hotel bonus in Yosemite and headed for the El Capitan bonus at Glacier Point.  The sheer size of the wall was breathtaking.  Getting both bonuses allowed the rider to see the wall from below and above.  It was yet another bonus where I wish I could have spent more time taking in the sights.

Ahwahnee Hotel, Yosemite National Park

The road up to Glacier Point is long and curvy.  The vista at the top provides a view of El Capitan from the other side of a small valley.  Careful observers can follow the progress of climbers as they make their way up the famous wall.  I arrived at the top to find Vicki just returning from taking her photo.  I half jogged and walked to the bonus point while Vicki waited for me to return.  I found a volunteer to hold my flag while I took the picture.  For one brief, terrifying second, my helper dropped the flag, allowing it to briefly flutter in the breeze.  He quickly snatched it back and held it up with a more determined grip.

El Capitan from the Top

I made my way back to the bikes.  The Rally seemed to be set up for the riders to follow a natural line of large bonuses all the way to the Lick Observatory the next day.  In that line was the bonus at the Mono Hot Springs.  Vicki asked me what I knew about the road going into the bonus, which was nothing other than it was worth a lot of points.  Another rider had told her the road was horrendous and he would not be going there because of that.  As we road out of Yosemite, I tried getting in touch with Roger and Paul, but spotty cell service proved to be problematic.  Finally after leaving the park, I was able to reach Paul.  He had made arrangements with Santa Cruz BMW for a new tire, if I could get the bike there.  The service manager and mechanic would come in at 5:00 AM Tuesday morning to take care of the bike. 

I asked Paul about the road into Mono Hot Springs.  Like other bonuses, this was a bonus that had been used in previous Rallies.  Carefully straddling the truth, Paul replied that road was “nothing special” and is paved all the way to the bonus.  A short while later, Paul called as he watched us approaching the bonus via my GPS tracker and gave me one last word of caution.  The road would deteriorate the closer we got to the bonus.  This would be an understatement.  This road was just plain horrible.

I found this description of the road to Mono Hot Springs on the internet:

 “State 168 out of Fresno is your ticket to Kaiser Pass. For last minute supplies and gasoline, stop in the small town of Prather, 16 miles before Shaver Lake. (Prather is also the site of the forest service’s High Sierra Ranger Station.) The highway winds uphill past Shaver Lake to the eastern shore of Huntington Lake and the turnoff for Kaiser Pass. From this point you must go easy on the gas pedal—Kaiser Pass Road is a narrow, circuitous byway that locals call a mountain pig path.”

Having now been down this road, I find this description to be an insult to all self respecting mountain pig paths.  I didn’t think this road was nearly as well maintained as most mountain pig paths.  I cannot imagine any scenario where someone would voluntarily ride down this road.  I certainly didn’t.

Once we passed beautiful Shaver Lake, I lost all cell service.  It would take us nearly three hours round trip to the bonus and backtracking our way out.  The road gradually narrowed to something about the size of a golf cart path.  And though it remained paved, much of the pavement was nothing more than rock than had been carved out of the side of the mountain.  About 15 miles before the bonus, rain started to fall, making the rocks slippery.  The switchbacks were tight and numerous.  Being in the lead, I held my breath every time I came around a corner looking for oncoming traffic.  To my astonishment, occasional cars would pass us the other way.  Most seem to be some type commercial traffic for a mining operation but some seem to be civilians out for a drive. 

The road would narrow down to 8-10 feet wide at parts.  The rock surface was hard on my rear tire which was again desperately low on air.  I tried to not lean the bike at all for fear of pulling the tire off the wheel.  When we finally pulled into Mono Hot Springs, I let a full sigh of relief out and began my routine of pumping the tire back up.  The depressing thought was that we would have to do it all over again on the way out.

Edge of Civilization, Mono Hot Springs, CA.  No Mountain Pigs in Sight

With the tire again re-inflated we started working our way out.  Coming around yet another blind turn, I came face to face with a large SUV coming the other way.  There was nowhere for me to go.  I braked to a stop, a scant three feet from edge of the road staring down into nothing but empty air.  The SUV kept coming.  I put my head down and just braced for the impact that was sure to come and push me off the mountain.  The other driver finally turned back to the right and slid by me on the left.  I said a silent prayer of thanks and continued down the mountain. 

Back in civilization, we stopped to get gas.  We still had one more bonus before nightfall.  With no room for error, we could still make the General Sherman Tree in the Sequoia National Park, but we would need every bit of the daylight left to make it in time.  Wasting little time, we made our way back toward Fresno.  I put the bonus location into the GPS, but for some reason the GPS was routing me on a route that traveled through Nevada and would get us to the bonus some 10 hours later.  This obviously wasn’t going to work.

I called Nancy and had her pull up the longitude and latitude for the General Sherman Tree.  Using these coordinates, I was finally able to get a good route to the bonus.  Because we would be pushing the daylight limit, I also asked her to start searching for a location where we could obtain a timed receipt in case we were not able to obtain a good daylight picture.  She called me back and confirmed that the gift shop would still be open where we could get a receipt.  This turned out to be completely unnecessary, as the receipt for the entrance to the park would turn out to be sufficient proof that we were there before sunset.

We arrived at the park and made our way to the General Sherman Tree.  This is believed to be the largest living thing on the planet.  As I suspected, given the denseness of the forest and the time of day, it was impossible to obtain a picture showing daylight.  We would use our entrance receipts as proof of our time at the bonus.

General Sherman

          Vicki led as we backtracked our way out of the park toward Fresno.  I called Nancy.  She made hotel reservations for us at a hotel next to the BMW dealership in Santa Cruz.  I had hoped to make it there before midnight so we could start our 5 hour rest bonus and pick up an extra hour or two.  Unfortunately, we were both pretty tired after over 20 hours of hard riding.  When we arrived in Santa Cruz I left the bike in the parking lot of the dealership and walked over to the hotel for some well deserved sleep.

Continue to Chapter 9

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