Sierra Cascades - Day 12 - Giant Sequoia National Monument
Date: June 17, 2021
83.47 Miles
7,239 Feet of Gain
Lake Isabella, CA to Springville, CA
The clock groans out its alarm at 3:00 am. My eyes snap open, but I feel well-rested. We quickly move from the bed to gather our things, prep the bikes, dress, eat, and move to the door to get riding. The temperature is predicted to be 109 degrees F today - that thought keeps buzzing my mind. I drink one more Pedialyte I've saved, savoring its sweet electrolyte mix before turning in the dim room to scan for any forgotten items. There are none, so we get moving on our bikes into the night.
The Earth is quiet and dark. We climb the pavement out of Hot Spring Valley where the town of Lake Isabella sits on the south side of the lake proper. A hillside and forest rise up around us. I can taste the fact that we are in a new section - the Sierra Nevada. Neither of us talk much; our focus in keenly on putting miles below us to attempt to gain elevation before the worst of the heat hits. My mind drifts to thinking about bears and mountain lions in the dark, but that concern is shaken away by the greater anxiety of how my body will hold up in the high temperatures of the day. I'm drinking mouthfuls of water on timed intervals to help my rehydration. The campground we had considered staying at passes silently in the night on our lefts - thank god we didn't sit there and bake yesterday. We reach Kernville as the first almost imperceptible hues of light push into the sky just before 5 am. I immediately regret that I don't get to see the town when it's open because it seems to be a cool and cute place. Heck, I feel forlorn that we spent the night in such shoddy accommodations in Lake Isabella compared to the lodging options here in Kernville. I make a mental note to visit this place again someday. So I keep pushing on.
Dawn arrives as the road out of town carries us into Sequoia National Forest. The Kern River Canyon lights up as we trace up the hills. The peaks around us are scrubland grass-covered. I feel the promise of the day's heat just from their appearance. I know the Sierras start here, but this is still the lowlands all steeped in desert-kiss. The Kern River roars and tumbles parallel to the road on our lefts. I promise to jump in that water. Soft light really starts to make everything visible as soft yellow pastels streak as cloud across the newborn blue sky. And the Southern Sierras really start to look gorgeous with their might and size. I let all those colors and the warming but still-cool dawn move through me; I am alive. Somehow, the morning gains increasing beauty as a cream-cloud drifts to cover the sun and dazzles as a softened blaze of light anchored just above the mountain peaks.
We pull into Headquarters Campground with morning sure and here. I can feel the heat rising. We stop at the first restrooms just off the stone-strewn Kern River to refill our water. I dunk my head under the cold water for some preemptive cooling. We guzzle water. I'm a bit worried that my supplies will run dry today as there aren't too many places to stop before we reach the mountain tops. So I drink and drink with the fear of yesterday's dehydration clanging in my veins. Janna says we need to keep moving, so I whisper goodbye to the water and jump back on the route. The heat is pushing now, pulling sweat dryly off my skin. We stop for morning shade under the leaves of a cottonwood. Then, onwards again. The Kern River gloriously babbles and roars next to us as a respite from the desert. Green riparian vegetation crowds its banks in contrast to the tope slopes nearby.
Ahead we can see McNally's General Store. This is probably one of our only opportunities for cold, electrolyte drinks today so we pull up. But it's too early and the place is closed. We start to un-lean our bikes away from the store's railings when the shopkeeper comes out. He beckons us in and says he'll let us buy some drinks early given the heat. We smile and eagerly head in where cold Gatorades are quickly drank. We each pack an extra in our framebags as rewards for later in the heat of the day. As we exit the door, he follows us out and warns about the 109 F heat. We nod our heads and tell him our goal to rise up into the Sierras to escape the worst of it. Janna and I get moving but pull over at Fairview Campground to top off our water and dunk our bodies under spigots one last time before the Kern River corridor narrows up amid adjoining peaks. From this point, campgrounds will fall away and opportunities for soaking in the Kern will diminish. We savor the moment. I fill up 5 L for safekeeping as yesterday's dehydration plays anxiety in my head. Then, we keep moving.
I've got some mental and physical benchmarks for today. One is a goal to reach Johnsondale by 9 am at 4500 in elevation. The two of us hit the Johnsondale Bridge on schedule, crossing over the Kern River one last time before leaving its canyon. The peaks ahead are now covered in tree-branch green. Elevation is rising. I begin to feel relief as altitude equates with heat-reduction. My mind settles that we will survive. We pass by the rural ranches and camping resorts of Johnsondale right on mark. I feel a steady beat of accomplishment.
But now the climbing starts in earnest. The mild grades up the Kern River from this morning fade into the steep punchy climbs of the Sierras. And it's hot - maybe not as much as down by Lake Isabella but torching all the same. We begin shade hopping. We pedal on the lowest gears until the salt from my sweat stains my clothes in streaks and I see a patch of shade from an overhanging tree across the road. We pump to it and absolutely melt on the pavement, sipping water to keep heart rates even. I'm cooked but feeling a mental sort of relief. The elevation gain and the well-wooded mountains means we have shade and a marker of progress. I see my first sequoia along the road. The land is changing. This means something. The Sierras are true.
Somehow, this staccato riding brings us into Giant Sequoia National Monument and the Trail of 100 Giants by noon. We are at 6,300 feet under the shelter of monstrous boughs. I feel so alive despite my physical exhaustion. We stop at the first true giants along the Sierra Cascades route for photos of our bikes and bodies to serve as size comparisons to the sequoias. The two of us keep riding but also keep stopping over and over again to take in the hulking trunks. We get to Redwood Meadow Campground where we have reservations to camp. We can't check-in yet so Janna and I grab a picnic table at a day-use area next to the parking lot. Even at this elevation, it's 90 F in the shade. The joy is strong, but the drain from heat is equal. As we sit and snack at the picnic table, a guy comes over and asks if he can sit with us and eat his lunch. He's driving the National Parks, saw our bikes, and wanted to come talk. With utter kindness, he gives Janna and I free breakfast sandwiches and loads of ice-water. We eat with gratitude and spend the next hour with him. Others come over to tell us how amazed they are that we pedaled up here.
As early afternoon hits, we walk our bikes over to Redwood Meadow Campground to size up our site. But planning becomes our real focus. It's only 1 pm, and we're technically at the end of our ride for today. We both acknowledge that tomorrow will be the lowest elevation and crucially hottest day predicted for this heat dome. Where we're crossing, little shade or structures exist for us to safely escape the heat. I'm worried; Janna is too. We've got two options: (a) stay here for the night, get up at midnight, and bike over 70 miles in 110 F heat across high desert to Three Rivers. Or (b), we wait out the heat of the day here and then bike 25 more miles down to the small town of Springville where we try for a hotel leaving us with only 45 miles to Three Rivers tomorrow to cut down on the distance during our lowest/hottest day. We head to the campground's main office which is a yurt situated among the baking sequoias. Inside, we talk to the manager who remarks on the heat; we ask him his advice. He tells us we can decide in a few hours about our campsite as there are so many cancellations from the heat. The two of us head to our campsite which is luckily in the shade. I lay down on the soil tuft, Janna next to me, and try to get a few hours of napping in. I'm somewhat successful but wake intermittently from the heat.
I stir and tell Janna that I absolutely want to walk all of the Trail of 100 Giants just in-case we decide to leave. She's cooked in the heat and says she'll stay and watch our gear. I wander among the trees with their gnarled root burls and wide bases. Some trees are ancient husks of burned logs. I head back to swap with Janna who takes a brisk stroll through the giants. She hurries back and says she absolutely wants to head out and cover miles today. There's internet Wi-Fi in the camp store which she uses to secure a motel stay for us down in the desert foothills. At 4 pm, we ride out on our last 2,000 foot elevation gain push. The road cleaves through the white granite peaks of Giant Sequoia National Monument taking us on the east side of the mountains where sweeping views through the dense groves of evergreens lends views into the heart of the Southern Sierras. Storm clouds boil upwards in the distance. There are no cars. It feels somehow remote given the pavement. And the late afternoon's light is catching that perfect slant of glow and color.
We reach the small store at Ponderosa Lodge (elevation 7200 feet) at 6 pm. The broad porch offers room for us to lean our bikes and grab some seats on rocking chairs. There's a small store and grill on the inside. The two of us both grab some sandwiches and Gatorade where we eat quickly on the porch. The day's sun is sliding down, and we are both eager to get to our motel in Springville with enough time to actually relax and fall asleep before another midnight rise. I wave goodbye, and we bike with urgency.
What follows is a descent of over 6000 feet of loss as we steeply decline from over 7200 feet to almost perfectly 1000 feet above sea level. The elevation loss is wild; brake-slamming and unbelievable. We take a bend in the road and enter the charred remains of forest from the Camp Fire a year ago. Switchbacks curve tightly, stacked one on top of the other as we hit curves and hammer hard. My hands literally ache from holding my brakes so much. The heat is barreling upwards as we get lower and lower until we are back over 100 F in the triple digits. I look down to see my disc rotor obviously hot from the braking and heat. Insane. We trace the descent next to the Middle Fork Tule River and enter the low desert grasslands of the western slopes. With that, we glide in Springville, CA at 7:30 pm under golden hour light that's still at 103 F. No sooner do we pull into town then we make straight for The Hamburger Stand - the last restaurant open. I stagger in famished and baked from the heat. We order burgers and the best peanut butter milkshake I've ever had in my life. Literally, I let its cold cream slide slowly into my core. Janna does the same. We pedal over to the Springville Inn for our reservation; thank god our bodies can recuperate from the heat in A/C tonight. As Janna and I pedal into the parking lot, a group of locals calls out and wonders where we came.
"From Lake Isabella over the mountain," I reply.
"Holy shit!" a man with a pickup calls out. "You DESERVE a beer." He walks to the back of his truck and opens a giant cooler of iced beers. I don't really drink, and definitely not beer when I do, so I politely decline. "You mean to tell me you did something that badass and don't want a beer? Take it as a trophy." His last words hit me, so I take one.
"You rock," I reply. The man high-fives me. Someone shouts in celebration. It feels epic. Janna and I check into the motel where A/C slowly cools the embers of our bones. We take the coldest showers we can before preparing for what will end up being the most extreme day of heat of the trip.
