Yosemite to Lake Tahoe

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It is a joy to finally get off some highways and onto some back roads. We have a 200km ride to Yosemite and we start out on some great roads travelling through farming country in the early morning light. The roads are straight and fast so the k's turn over quick. As we near Yosemite, we turn up toward the mountains, thinking how clever we are to find this lesser known road that on the map looks like it winds its way up to the national park.

Generally when a road is winding it is because it is following the contours of hills and mountains, rivers and streams. This road didn't seem to follow these rules and twisted and turned for no apparent reason. The hills were still gentle and rolling and the road could have gone straight over, but nope. Around and up and down. Andrew suggested it was designed by a blind, drunk road planner. He must have been the same one who laid it, as it wasn't so much a road as a series of bitumen patches all joined together with the occasional pothole interspersed. We bumped and shook our way up into the hills. If only I'd known to appreciate the quality of that road.

We came to a junction and stopped to decide which direction to take. Both roads from this point forward were gravel. Well, at least it might be smoother than the road we've just ridden, Andrew suggested, ever the optimist. To be fair, he did have a point. The road was smoother in parts, those parts where it became sand and bull dust. For those of you who don't know much about motorbikes, 350kg Harleys are not really designed for off-road riding. Just power through the corners, was Andrew's advice. I did and almost slid off the road. Turns out you can also go through the corners gently in first gear. At some point ARuss decides it would be a good idea to take a photo. I stop and he directs me where to manoeuvre my bike for the best light. Why you want a photo of a shitty road is beyond me, but I am eager to please. Remember, Harley + gravel not ideal. I drop my bike. Fortunately I am doing 0kmh so the only injury is to marital harmony.

We soldier on, stopping at some point to wash the dust out of our throats. I park my bike in the middle of the road, pretty confident no other traffic will venture this way. When we finally hit the bitumen it is a relief to feel a solid surface under the tires and to open her up again. The last hour was (almost) worth the trouble to have this road to ourselves with forest on all sides, rising mountains and sweeping bends. This is what we came for.

As we enter into the western boundary of Yosemite National Park the traffic gets heavier, but as always it isn't too hard to get out in front. The road follows stunning gorges and rivers, climbing up the mountains amongst absolutely breathtaking scenery. We stop at El Capitan like the other thousands of tourists here for the day. Later in the afternoon we will see two tiny ant-people scaling one of the faces, and I just can't imagine what it takes to be able to do that. In the meantime, we people who stay on the ground must negotiate our way through the traffic. It is like the David Jones car park on Boxing Day. Not quite the serenity we were seeking. After a quick lunch and visit to the main area we hightail out to find a swimming hole (have I mentioned how hot it is yet?). The water in the creek is gloriously ice-cold and we find a nice shady tree for an afternoon siesta.

It would be great to be able to spend time here and do some hiking to get a real sense of the scale and beauty of this place but the whole park is over 3,000 square kms and it is time for us to roll again. We head upward and eastward over the highest pass in the park at 9,900feet. The views are spectacular. We descend 3,000 feet down the other side to the town of Lee Vining where we hope to stay for the night.

We are surprised to see the first hotel with a No Vacancy sign. Never mind, there are a few more in town. All with no vacancy signs. Well, I guess this happens some times when you're riding footloose and fancy free. The next town is Bridgeport and its only 35k's away. Andrew decides to ring ahead to make sure we can get a room as it is 7pm already. No luck with the first couple he tries, but then he lands one. He is surprised that the receptionist is Australian, but pleased to get one of the last rooms in town. We're right on the corner, just past the bridge she tells us. We get into town and ride up Main Street. We turn around and ride back again. There is no Bridgeport Hotel. There is not even any bridge. Andrew has booked a lovely hotel in Bridgeport, South Australia. There are no hotel rooms to be had in Bridgeport, California. In fact there are no hotel rooms for the next couple of towns. Kerfuckle. Big kerfuckle. We finally score a room about an hour away at Topaz Lake. It is now dark and we have been passing signs all along the road to watch out for deer and bears. For the first time on the trip we are happy to tuck ourselves behind a couple of cars, hoping they'll greet the wildlife before we do. We arrive weary, but safe and sound at Topaz Lake.

With our best luck of the day, we get in five minutes before the restaurant closes. Our waiter is an enthusiastic motorbike rider and keen to recommend all the best roads and passes we simply must do. I don't have the heart to tell him that all I'm planning to do tomorrow is head out on the quickest and straightest highway to Lake Tahoe, about one hour away. I nod and smile politely and ask for another drink.

It is surprising what a good night's sleep can do. Also, our waiter was so excited for us and wrote down all his favourite routes, I felt like I couldn't let him down. We ride out of town, looking for his favourite back road to Lake Tahoe. I won't keep you in suspense - it was glorious. If yesterday morning's dirt road was designed by a drunk, blind planner, this one was designed by a motorbike choreographer. Now grace and elegance may not be two of the adjectives which first come to mind when you think of Andrew. But on roads like this he is a ballerina on a bike. The man has moves. He calls it his two-wheel meditation. I feel like I have more of a hip-hop vibe going on. Random elbow pops and foot shuffles.

We come out at Lake Tahoe which of course is stunningly beautiful. I think we may have found Andrew's retirement place. Riding in summer, skiing in winter, sailing and hiking whenever he feels like it. A shame about the real estate prices.

We plan on a rest day here, so look for somewhere for lunch first and then accommodation. A nice place on the water beckons. It looks a bit fancy so I wipe some of the dead bugs off my jacket. We settle in at a table on the jetty, watching boats come and go on a glorious blue-sky day. I check if they have a room available for the night. Only a lake-view suite unfortunately, madam. We'll take it! I cancel the glass of wine I had ordered and replace it with a bottle. At some point in the afternoon someone orders another bottle. I blame my husband. If only I'd known what a bad influence he was going to be before I married him. Again.

The afternoon disappears and I am starting to wonder if we will ever make it out of California. You can check out, but you can never leave.

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Photos

Off-Road Adventure
A photo of the only rider still smiling.

Lake Tahoe Lunch
The lost hours.

Comments

[Jim]

Dirt roads...
Only one word to say.... BMW!