insert fart noise here

After all that, we drove over to the El Rio tacqueria for the best burrito I have ever had. Ever. What made it so yummy? Papas fritas y hambre, mis amigos. Little cubes of fried potato in the veggie burrito. I do not recommend their onion rings, however. While there, waiting for 20 minutes for them to make 12 burritos, we whiled away the time talking to the "cooler" for the local saloon. (He appreciated my intimate knowledge of Road House.) He claimed to be able to tell all kinds of things about people as soon as they walked in the door, and that it is actually about being nice...until it is time to not be nice. He said that most of the out of towners coming through were from Bakersfield trying to leave the heat. (They bring all their stupidity with them though, which explains the D batteries and the mystery foam, Lord Hayden.) For those that are not familiar with Bakersfield, it is the lamest place in California. Hands down.

When we got back, lots of people ate burritos. Then I went to bed; partied out.

Woke up relatively late, but refreshed. Coffee. Blueberry pancakes. Waiting. Chamois time, all kitted up. More coffee. Safety break. Waiting. A dozen or so people is a long time getting going- that surprises none of us. The morning turned into the early afternoon due to some very ill-considered decisions on the part of 2 and the resultant involvement of many. There was a horse trailer. There was a narrow and technical rock strewn road. There was a lack of skill. There was poor planning. There was a lot of back and fill, directing, ill-conceived attempts to dig out rocks which may have been boulders, human dynamics, losses of patience, and so forth. Waiting well is an important component of a successful field trip. It helps to have a well stocked cooler and some shade. I had long since changed back into my sneakers for comfort.



Fiasco complete, we piled into various vehicles to rendezvous at a different spot to accommodate everone's differing plans for leaving after the ride. I picked up some beers for the ride. We all met up and got into the shuttle cars.

To the top!

The day's trail- Just Outstanding. And it truly is outstanding.



F____ rode rigid and single, all weekend long. Hard.



The Manzanita Tunnel.

Right about this section I crashed. My foot came off the downslope pedal and I went over the edge and down into a thorny tree. I came to rest in said tree-head downhill , bike in the trail. I had torn my fancy boy white perforated! leather gloves, and there my palm. My first thought was how having wrecked hands would keep me from working, and that's no good. It ended up not being bad, just bleedy. I was able to right myself and remove my bike before F____ crashed into it.

My foot had come off the pedal on account of I forgot to grab my cycling shoes when we swapped vehicles. I found this out when I was getting ready to ride at the top of the mountain. What are you gonna do? Time pedals and sneakers are not a great combination, but that's what I brung.










Lots and lots of downhill. Lots. I recommend it.



Reload.


We sent our mountain bikes to C______, to be picked up by J____ on his way back later in the month, as we'd picked up an extra passenger for the return.



Going home.


In closing the Kernville Weekend 2009, I'd like to point out that canned beer snobbery is laughable. I can see your point about microbrews, but if you chose a can of ________ over a Hamm's you are kidding yourself. And, it would be a whole lot of fun to tour over CA 155 earlier in the spring, as it is a twisty windy road with little traffic.

you can fight it, or you can ROCK OUT to it

Mineral King.

First of all, here is a little video to document the epic scope, the PROness of the riders,




and how little grasp of the camera's features I possess.


As with last year, we camped well up South Fork Road outside of Three Rivers CA. Adding the ride from camp and back adds significantly to the mileage and climbing. We think it's around 80 miles now. It feels like a lot.




The difference this year? Par and tee. Or maybe the cloud cover which kept it from approaching the low 100s as in years past.



Yeah that cloud cover. Which kept a lid on it all day long.



Climb, sucka!


It got to the point at which I put on gloves. Then, it got to the point at which I needed a hat. Then, arm warmers. Then, knee warmers. Then, undershirt. Then, vest. I was glad to have had all that stowed away. The mountains will do what they do. It is best to be prepared.

We reached the top(ish) at Silver City, which is really just a grouping of cabins and a store that serves no beer, and overheard a fella tell the clerk about snow further up top. We opted to turn around at this point. We'd already had our miles of pave climb, complete with 13% grades and had our several miles more of dirt through the Sequoias. No point in risking marmot attack and snow.




Bonus:

We came tearing around a corner on the downhill and this guy was standing in the road looking confused. Apparently shouting road bikers are one of the things that frighten bears. He took off for the hill. Big bear, I'd guess over 5' tall. He looked lean and shaggy.


Which I suppose ups the totem ante in my favor.

Again.






It was hot enough down low for some beer drinking and some foot dunking.



Next day=travel day. Driving over to Kernville for the mountain bike portion of the Birfday Weekend. I will say, it is sweet to travel with folks who enjoy the journey. We stopped in Porterville at the Salvation Army and shopped the local fashions. Always entertaining, and occasionally rewarding. Who really cares? A Good Time is far more important than simply making good time.


To that end, we set in with the beer drinking (and then) when we arrived, really applied ourselves. Members of the group continued to arrive from points further South.

First we laughed at these guys camped next to us, for taking many pictures of their massive 4x4 after they'd driven the front end up onto that large rock you see to the right of it. then they backed off the rock and parked. And set up the biggest tent I have ever seen, and their portable picnic table for 6 complete with tablecloth, and outdoor shower stall, and 3 lanterns (so the entire camp was lit in series, like a front yard walkway). They left the camera set up on it's 4' tripod all weekend, to be ready at a moment's notice.


But they ended up being very gracious and polite young men. I thought I was lending a hand by going over with some kindling for them (after witnessing the amazing display of wood splitting; which involved at minimum 2 practice/aiming slow motion swings with the axe blade reversed before finally striking the upright log and sending it flying off towards one of the other Armenians wearing flip flops). The lead Armenian was attempting to start the fire with his homemade mixture of dryer lint and petroleum soaked cotton balls... and with a flint and steel! They invited us over for drinks.

Some of us ended up smoking Salvia with these guys. I can't say I recommend it.




But it was about bikes, not experimental drug use. So, there it is. Shuttle run to the top of Cannell Trail, which I can wholeheartedly recommendo!



To the top!



And then, up and around the other side of the top, briefly. Just some extra singletrack before back down to the parking area for the real start of the trail...





Miles. Tall trees.






The terrain there is very different from any other alpine areas to which I have been. The mountains feel low and dome-like. They have amazingly beautiful flat meadows. There is a lot of granite.






Hike a bike, stupid. The trail had to have been better. Had to. But you can see the meadow again.


Mr. E___ P______, not enjoying himself as much as at other moments. The Birfday Boy hisself.


Another party member loving the hike.



Getting more Southerly. The faces here were pretty sheer. That is Lake Isabella, I believe.


L_______, ruling it.


The inimitable Craig Ashcroft.


Then we rode some more. Around 36 miles, or so. 6 hours. Ridiculous amounts of fun. Do it, if you are in the area.