Sierra Cascades - Day 13 - Heat Dome Struggles, Reality, and Fear + Day 14 - Zero Day in Three Rivers, CA
Date: June 18 - 19, 2021
56.55 Miles
3,206 Feet of Gain
Springville, CA to Three Rivers, CA
A boom thunders in the night. My mind, in a barely-slept haze, confronts the noise and attempts to attribute it. CLAP! Again, a reverberating long and deep noise. I think to myself, "Is this a storm? After such a hot and dry day? In the middle of the night? Unlikely…" as I drift back to sleep. But then the room flashes as lightning hits nearby so close with a thunderclap so loud that we both awaken. I struggle to fall back asleep. 2 AM arrives and so do our alarms. We dress hurriedly in the dark conversing about whether a storm really did occur or not. We leave shortly thereafter into the dark wall of night. Both us feel completely unrecovered and utterly destroyed. It is already 90 F out with a projected high of 110 F as we dip to the Sierra Cascade's lowest point at 400 feet in elevation. I note that I am exhausted but also pumped with adrenaline to make this low crossing under the cover of darkness.
We exit the motel door and close it behind us. For all the noise of a storm, outside is bone dry. I start to question whether a storm ever did come through as we pedal into the night. Down rural roads through open hillsides covered with desert grasslands we ride.
As we bicycle through the black, I look beside me at the silhouette of a mountain hillside stretching upwards but also with a foot directly to my right. The hill is aflame with wildfire. I startle. I shake my head. Oh god, there is a wildfire directly to my right. We pedal faster. A pine tree crown catches flame and lights with fire from root to tip. The scene is almost too fantastical to believe in this dead of night. I stop for only a moment with Janna, both of us physically exerted and staring with jaws agape. We need to move now! That storm was indeed real last night and a lightning strike set this mountainside ablaze. And just like that we see the distant headlights of hot shot crews barreling towards it.
The night continues. Janna and I are among ranches and farms amid a sprawling arid expanse. We steadily climb up to 2000 feet in elevation for a pass through the Blue Ridge range. Then, we coast downhill through vast empty gold-brown hills of grass. The sun creeps up and reveals a sky the color of bleached blue jeans. It's the sky of a desert summer with more bleach than blue. Damn, just looking at it feels like heat. I can sense the humidity in the air and check my phone to find it's nearly 60%. Thankfully, clouds sling off the Sierra foothills blocking the direct sun as it rises in the east. I don't really stop to take many photos - I'm too focused on getting the miles done. After the pass through Blue Ridge, we ride downhill through the Yokohl Valley which has absolutely nothing but flat drylands punctuated by molten hills and cow ranches.
We pass through Lindcove where agricultural fields all water-fed spring up around us. It's a surprising terrain change and lends a soft comfort that we are closer to amenities should we need to escape the heat. We pass through the small rural community of Lemon Cove with a few fruit stands and wood carvings of John Muir found road-side. I am dripping cups of sweat. The road gains a rise of a few hundred feet as we swing east. Lake Kaweah stretches out next to us. The road begins a series of up-and-downs around its perimeter. I'm so exhausted and heat smacked that I slow to a dribble. Janna crushes it, and I lose sight of her as she accelerates ahead. I'm soaked through with perspiration between the rising heat already over 100 F and the air thrumming with humidity. I finally catch up to her at the edge of Three Rivers, CA.
It feels utterly relieving to be here. The only problem is that we can't check into our hotel yet. We call but they have a strict check-in policy of 4 pm. It's about 10 am and we need to kill 6 hours in the worst of the heat of the day somehow. We first stop at Mariscos La Langosta for some brunch and to get into a little A/C. Here, we spend some time trying to figure out which businesses are open and allowing people in (it's only been a year since COVID-19) who also happen to have A/C. The options are regretfully limited. We see that the Three Rivers Historical Museum is open for several hours. We make our way there. It's well over 100 F and climbing as we pull up to the little museum. Inside is gloriously cool. Janna and I both feel completely drained of sleep and by the heat; we are like walking zombies making a good show of it to read every single panel, every single placard, to prolong our time in the cool. I get really, really dizzy at one point - the heat and sleep deprivation hitting my head like two punches. I stand in front of some A/C vents and think about vomiting or blacking out. Janna comes over and says I look unwell. The museum's volunteer comes and chats with us. It takes my full effort to maintain my composure and lean in with interest; internally, I want to lay down and pass out. After two trips around the place, it's obvious we are buying time in the A/C. In an effort to avoid pushing the good graces of the place, we decide to head to the public Three Rivers Branch Library.
We step outside where it's now 106 F and 70% humidity. I feel sick, literally. Like my body is on shutdown. It's so bad as I'm spiraling into nausea. Panic rises in me. I've got to keep my shit together. We bike over to the library and walk into the cool. We're the only patrons there. The librarian looks at us and announces that the library will close in 1 hour for her lunch. Shit - that means we have to exit this place at 12:30 pm. We plug in our phones and zoom through options but can't seem to find a place to spend the next four hours or so. We resign to not move, to just sit in the library chairs. The plan now is to bike to restaurants to see who allows indoor seating once we leave here. Janna tries to strike up friendly conversation with the librarian but it goes nowhere. I'm always aware of looking a little dingy when on a biking trip but the way she treats us is like were homeless and addled. 15 minutes before the place is slated to close she asks us to leave. Damn. Janna politely asks if she knows a place where we can spend a few hours in A/C. She looks perturbed by the question and says it's time to go.
I exit the building into 109 degree heat at 75% humidity. I feel the roiling nausea of blacking out. Janna seems calm; I'm trashed by the exertion, sleeplessness, and weather. We start biking down the side of the highway south again towards Three Rivers. The pavement is so hot that a sensation starts up through my bike. My tread starts to wobble on the rim, like it's unstable and pliable. My whole bike feels off. Maybe it's in my head as heat exhaustion thrashes me internally. I tell Janna - she's having the same situation with her bike. You know it's hot when your tires feel like they are melting on the rims. The two of us stop at every restaurant but none allow indoor dining; it's like it's the winter of 2020 with COVID-19. Finally, we find Casa Mendoza Mexican Restaurant which allows indoor seating. I'm panting as I sit. I chug cold Coca-Cola for caffeine and kick. We order plate after plate of food, slowly eating to pass the time. Luckily, there aren't a lot of customers so the owners don't care that we are using the A/C. The food, the cola, and the air conditioning all contribute to a sudden sense of wellness. My nausea fades and I feel alert and strong. Janna and I talk away the hours with a brief interlude where I run over to the post office to collect a few items from our Bounce Box before sending it forward. Next door is the Village Market grocery. We head in to catch food for tomorrow on our planned Zero Day. At last, it's time for check-in at the Lazy J Ranch Motel just as the temperature passes 110 F.
It is insanely glorious to take the coldest shower possible on the coldest setting and then just lay in straight cranked air conditioning with the television on. We snack and relax the rest of the afternoon. It's a blur of release and relaxation. My anxiety melts. My body survives.
By early evening, we are both hungry and feel recuperated. We decide to make the 5 mile roundtrip bike ride to Sierra Subs and Salad because some locals recommended it to us. It's amazing what a few hours in the cold can do, because the now 109 F heat outside doesn't feel as bad anymore. This restaurant still has COVID measures in place, so no sitting inside. In fact, they use a long clamping rod to pass food to everyone outside. We buy a few sandwiches for tonight and for tomorrow so that we don't need to head back out again. As we wait standing to the side, a guy pulls up in a truck with his daughter and begins filming us. He rolls down the window and calls out. Turns out he is a local Shimano bike mechanic and absolutely cannot fathom two bike tourers just casually standing in 109 F heat. He laughs and shows us the truck console to prove the temperature; I laugh and ask him to text me that video. His name is Tom Riddle and he hands me his contact information saying if we need anything to just give him a shout. My broken rear brake immediately comes to mind. I ask him if he has one to sell. He says to text him tomorrow and that he'll pick me up and take me back to his place to work on the bike in his shop. Absolutely grateful, we say goodbye and then pick up our sandwiches. Ice cream at Sequoia Scoops immediately follows. With that, we bike back to the motel where food is consumed, and I crash hard into the deepest of sleeps.
The next day is our 11th Wedding Anniversary. The day is spent rightly sleeping in, doing laundry, calling family/friends, and taking a single bike ride to the market for loads of cold drinks and electrolytes. It is relaxing in all the ways one needs on the best of Zero Days. The one task I set my mind to as soon as I wake up is getting my bike looked at by Tom. I text him and we set up a time together mid-morning. Tom, who owns/runs Three Rivers Bicycle Solutions, drives over to the motel to pick me up on another 110 F day. The two of us throw my bike in the bed of his truck, and I jump in with him. Janna decides to stay in the motel to just continue in the comfort on the Zero Day - which is exactly what I'd be doing if it wasn't for my broken brake. Tom shows me the video again of us at Sierra Subs he took along with the flash of his truck console reporting 109 F outside. "Proof you two are crazy," he says laughing. I laugh too - we are crazy for riding in this heat. Back at his place, he's got an entire bike mechanic's workshop in his garage, which makes sense given his large Shimano mechanic credentials hanging all over the walls. It turns out he has an AVID BB7 that he is able to swap out with my broken Tektro. It's perfect - I can have a brake again. We do a swap because he actually wants to keep the Tektro and work on the cable-actuated-hydraulic system. I thank Tom profusely before he takes me back to the motel. It's the kindness of others that fuels a ride when you face challenges.
