The End of All Things (Part 2): Tuolumne Meadows to San Francisco, CA

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” --Albert Camus

“The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress and grow.” --Thomas Paine

I rose from sleep early on the morning of the 22nd and headed down to the small store and cafe near my campsite. It was only about 6:30 and the place didn't open until 8 am. I had a nice long talk with a fellow camper about everything I'd seen and experienced on the trip and she told me a little about life in San Francisco. When the cafe opened I ate a nice breakfast to fuel myself for the 40 miles to Tamarack Flat Campground while my new friend headed off to do some hiking. I took off around 9:30 and was enjoying the ride until I came upon a traffic snarl. There was a highly inefficient road crew painting the lines on a new stretch of road and we were stuck in a (not particularly scenic) part of the road. I arrived at Tamarack Flat to find the campground full. I'd kind of expected that and had a backup plan to ask a camper there if I could give them some money and camp out on the same site. There weren't many people hanging about the campground but I found a very friendly couple from the UK. They'd already given a couple from Mexico City on motorcycle permission so things were a bit tight but there was quite enough space for all of us. They wouldn't accept payment, though, so I got a free place to stay the night! The couple from the UK was heading out just as I arrived but the Mexican couple offered me some of their mac and cheese and then we all went on a hike together. They'd just started their journey and were planning quite the elaborate trip taking them all over the place but ending up in Alaska. El Capitan was a 12 mile round trip and it was mid afternoon when we took off so we only went a couple of miles before turning around. They planned to make the full hike the following morning before heading off to San Francisco. We returned and hung about the campsite for a couple of hours before our hosts returned from Glacier Point. I wished I'd known that's where they were going as I'd have asked if I could come along. We enjoyed sharing travel stories and other conversation while our campfire burned until about 10 o'clock. I had a 100 mile day tomorrow to Modesto so I went to sleep quickly.

The following morning I wanted to leave early. Even though most of the trip was downhill I knew from previous experiences that 100 miles was still 100 miles and there would be some decent uphill stretches from time to time. I stopped at a convenience store just outside of Yosemite and grabbed a coffee and a bite of breakfast. The ride was beautiful and since I was going downhill I got to enjoy it without the physical exertion. The 29 miles before Oakdale were pretty intense, though, and there were no services between Chinese Camp and there. The golden hills of California were gorgeous but I was starting to get really thirsty by the time I pulled into Oakdale. I had 15 miles to go before hitting Modesto but I let Robyn know I was getting pretty close. On arriving in Modesto I breathed a sigh of relief. But when I typed the address in I found it was almost 9 miles from where I was. I hadn't banked on Modesto being such a big place. Grumbling a bit, I pedaled off and made it to the Heisel residence at about a quarter past 5. Took a load off, relaxed for a few minutes, got cleaned up and enjoyed a delicious dinner of meatloaf.

I started getting uneasy the following morning as I copied the turn by turn directions onto a piece of notebook paper. I was used to taking one or two highways the entire way to my destination. To get to the West Oakland BART station required about 4 different freeways. Nevertheless, I set out to get on the first major stretch. When I arrived at the on-ramp to CA-99, I was dismayed to find a sign saying bicycles were not permitted. So I pulled up the cycling directions on Google Maps and started heading down that route. It was almost 10 am at this point (I hadn't left the house until 8:30.) and then I ran across an unpaved road. I didn't know how many times this might happen and was worried about arriving in San Fran after dark so I got back in touch with Robyn and decided to stop in at the local bike shop to get help with directions for the following day. The owner essentially advised me to simply utilize the directions from Google Maps. Spent the rest of the day relaxing.

The following morning I left the house at about 6:30 am, excited to be finished. The cycling route was about 87 miles to the BART station which I would use to cross the bay. From the Embarcadero station it was about 7 miles to the beach. I'd gone about 25 miles and reached the outskirts of Tracy when my front tire went flat. I angrily replaced the tube (took about 25 minutes) and got back on the road. The angriest I'd been on the whole entire trip came next. I'd ridden 2 or 3 more miles when my back tire went flat. I don't think I'd ever been that angry in my entire life. I had no more inner tubes with me. It took me a good 10 or 15 minutes to calm down to where I could make a decision about what to do. I called Robyn and asked if she could stop by the bike shop and run a couple of tubes out to me. She did and I was able to get back on the road around 12:15. For the whole rest of the ride the headwinds were strong and unrelenting. There was one more mountain called the Altamont just before I would reach Livermore. My pace was reduced to probably 5 miles/hour for a couple of miles on that road. In fact, on reaching Livermore around 4:30 I seriously considered calling my friends, the Watts, and staying a night in Livermore, finishing on Monday. But I knew I would just feel amazing if I finished the whole entire thing that day and rested afterwards. And I knew Monday morning would be a bad time to try to get into the city. So I kept going. I was so happy to reach the BART station and get into San Francisco proper. I last few miles were agonizingly long. There are some intense hills in the city and I expected to see the beach as I approached each and every crest. When I finally saw the ocean I was so, so happy. The sun was in the West and sunset was fast approaching and people on the streets likely looked at me funny as I pedaled giddily towards the beachfront. On reaching the sand, I eagerly picked up Fledge and ran the few hundred feet to the water's edge not caring how sandy my shoes were getting. And then I was there. I stood in the surf, my shoes getting completely soaked, with a broad grin on my face while others looked on the maniacal scene. I flagged down a beach walker, explained what I'd just finished and smiled as she snapped pictures on my cameras. It was all over. 3 months to the day. 12 states. More than 3,000 miles. I didn't cry like I thought I would. I was so tired but so, so happy. The hardest thing I'd ever done in my life. But I'd done it. A cashier from Walmart. A guy who'd never set a goal and seen it through to completion. Except for this. I don't have any more words now. In fact I think the scope of this achievement eludes even myself. I can scarcely take in the whole experience as a unified whole that's able to be commended or celebrated. Nevertheless, the fact remains that this is a tremendous achievement and I saw it all the way through.

The End of All Things (Part 1: Cedar City, Utah to Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite National Park)

I write this blog entry much as Frodo would have written the final chapters retelling his tale in The Lord of the Rings. When one is in the midst of a struggle, most of what one can see is purely negative; the frustration, the aggravation, the disappointment, at times the unbridled wrath at the status quo. It's when we perceive that we have at last transcended our difficulties that our spirits calm. It's only through adversity that we realize the strength lying within each of us. It's in the hard times that most of our growth happens. Pleasure, ease and comfort do almost nothing to transform us and it's the transformation that opens our souls to deeper, purer joys that run deeper than whatever situation we happen to find ourselves in.

Now I don't want to paint the picture that I didn't have a great time riding from Cedar City, Utah to San Francisco, California! Sorry if I was laying it on a little heavy there talking about difficulty and struggle. I did, in fact, have a fantastic experience on a lot of the ride. But I must confess that Nevada was quite likely the most physically difficult stretch of the whole trip. Here was my itinerary:

1. Cedar City, UT to Caliente, NV (93 miles)

2. Caliente to Rachel (83 miles)

3. Rachel to Tonopah (took a rest day in Tonopah) (110 miles)

4. Tonopah to Benton, CA (81 miles)

5. Benton to Lee Vining (53 miles)

6. Lee Vining to Tuolumne Meadows Campground (inside Yosemite National Park) (21 miles)

7. Tuolumne Meadows Campground to Tamarack Flat Campground (still in Yosemite) (40 miles)

8. Tamarack Flat Campground to Modesto (took a rest day in Modesto) (97 miles)

9. Modesto to San Francisco (with a quick retreat to Livermore) (94 miles)

I set out for Caliente the day after arriving in Cedar City but got a flat tire before leaving the city. Got it patched up but then a problem with my chain arose and I wasn't able to pedal. Decided to take one extra day in Utah. I got Fledge fixed up at the bike shop, checked out the local library and wrote my last set of postcards before finishing. I swung by Walmart that evening and picked up a few backpacking meals and miscellaneous supplies I'd need to finish the trip.

The next day I made it the 93 miles to Caliente. The scenery was nice but nothing quite so breathtaking as what I'd seen the day or two previous. It was about 80 miles of nothing from Cedar City to Panaca, NV; good practice, I thought, for the barren couple of days to follow. Caliente was, of course, a fairly small town with only a couple of restaurants but enough motels that you wondered how they all stay in business with so few tourist-type places in the area. I ate dinner at a pizza place and decided on a small, very reasonably priced motel for the night.

As a whole, Nevada was the one state to measure up very closely to my expectations. The scenery wasn't anything great; just dried up, withering vegetation, no water, sand and a couple small tourist traps for UFO enthusiasts. I expected the ride from Caliente to Rachel to be easier than the previous day but it actually was considerably harder. I suppose the cumulative effect of the heat and dry air was getting to me on top of the conspicuous lack of striking scenery. I had adopted a special motto for the duration of my ride through this state, "Never turn down water if it is offered to you in Nevada." It didn't matter if all my hydration sources were full, I would always accept water if someone offered it to me while riding here. So I naturally accepted when a motorist pulled off the road on a downhill stretch to offer me a refill. "My name is Billy Peacock," he declared. "I didn't want to bother you on that uphill stretch back there so I pulled off on this downhill to see if you need any water."

"If you've got extra, I'll definitely take some. Thank you!" The uphill he referenced was absolute misery. It was a high grade and I had a strong headwind the whole entire time. My speed had been reduced to perhaps only 5 miles/ hour for a good bit of it. I gulped down some of the water he offered me. My parched throat was in agony. He told me about how he wanted to do a trip like I was doing. After that uphill, I wanted to scoff and tell him that only idiots like me take trips like this one but I refrained knowing that it would be worth it in the end. We parted ways and I made it the rest of the way into Rachel.

I'd never been in a place like Rachel before. My heart sank when I first saw it because it seemed that almost nothing was there. The campground had been abandoned and I could see no human activity anywhere. It seemed like a ghostly trailer park with a post-apocalyptic aura hanging over the place. On the west end of the "town", though, I spotted some people sitting outside a small bar/restaurant/"motel" establishment. The owner was sitting outside talking with some people and smiled at me as she informed me that cold drinks and air conditioning were inside. I was in misery. Quite possibly the beginnings of heat exhaustion. I staggered inside and enjoyed some ice cold refreshment. There was no campground here so I took a room. The way the "motel" was organized was that there were all these trailers behind the bar/restaurant and each trailer had 3 rooms in it. The kitchen, bathroom and living space were all shared if there were others staying in the trailer but due to the very small number of people in Rachel I had a trailer all to myself. I retired to my room and relaxed for a good, long while before taking a shower and heading over to get dinner. I was pleasantly surprised at how low all the prices were. I had them prepare a sandwich for the following day's lunch as well.

The ride from Rachel to Tonopah (pronounced tone-uh-paw) was extremely strenuous, probably the single hardest ride in the entire trip. 110 miles with no services or places to refill water. I left very early the next morning. Now the route I'd looked at on Google maps showed one tough climb soon after leaving Rachel followed by two challenging but not overly difficult climbs. As I rode, though, I recognized that something was off. The climbing just seemed to get worse and worse. I would say there were at least 4 substantial summits I attained. And when I say substantial I mean these were *hard* climbs; steep grades, climbing again and again and again. The headwinds weren't quite as bad as yesterday's but they were still aggravatingly strong and my progress was made much slower than I'd hoped. About 40 miles from Tonopah I came across a cyclist trying to head in the opposite direction but who was experiencing recurring flat tires. A state police cruiser showed up right at the same time as I did. The poor guy was out of inner tubes and in need of help. Had the police officer not been there I certainly would have stayed with the guy for moral support but he was able to get a ride back to Tonopah in the cruiser. I can't express how hard the last 20 miles of the ride were. I had plenty of water but all I wanted was to get to town so I could relax. My whole focus was on continuing to pedal and just get there. My throat was parched and every hill drew curses from me. The wind was strong. The heat was bad. I was praying for strength. At last I reached the sign informing me I'd reached Tonopah's city limits. I didn't care how much a motel room would cost, I just wanted a bed. My legs were exhausted; my throat screaming for a drink of something besides warm water. Something cold. Anything cold. I felt like Aron Ralston dreaming of all the things he wanted to drink while his arm was pinned between the boulder and the canyon wall. The first motel I came to charged the unbelievably low price of $37/night. I drank an ice cold root beer. It was amazing. Instead of showering, I went immediately over to the restaurant knowing that if I waited I would simply lie down on the bed and not leave my room until the following morning. I had a nice big steak and some potatoes and veggies for dinner.

The following morning I made a judgment call to wait one more day. My legs were still very sore and it was more than 80 miles to Benton, California. Another 80 miles of pretty much nothing. I spent the day relaxing and enjoying the Lord of the Rings marathon on TNT. I picked up some supplies at the local grocery store but other than that I just rested.

The ride to Benton went well enough and I arrived at my host's house in the mid afternoon. They were off hiking until about 9 o'clock at night so I had lunch at the small cafe and ate a backpacking meal for dinner. When my hosts arrived they invited me in for a beer and access to their internet. We hung out for a while sharing cycling stories and other shop talk. I had planned to plow straight from Benton to Tuolumne Meadows the following day but altered my plans to include Lee Vining right on the edge of the park.

The foothills of the Sierras were much harder than expected. The scenery was nice but I was so excited to get into the park where I knew the scenery would easily trump it. I arrived in Lee Vining without too much trouble. The place was jumping with people from all over the world. I pulled into the first campground I found and prayed they had a spot available. All the individual tent sites were full but they were able to offer me a spot in a group campground if I didn't mind camping near a large group of French teenagers. Of course I accepted. I grabbed dinner at a local restaurant and hit the sack at a reasonable hour.

The next morning I only had to cover 20 miles but I wanted to get into Yosemite early so I left around 7:30. The 20 miles were tough but I got to Tuolumne Meadows by 10 am. I set up camp in the backpacker's area and set off to catch a shuttle. I took the bus to Olmstead Point to the west and got some nice pictures. That was the furthest stop on the shuttle line. A hiker's bus was offered from Tuolumne to Yosemite Valley but it only ran 3 times daily and was intended for people interested in a long hike followed by a bus ride or a bus ride followed by a long hike. I didn't have the energy for a hike of that magnitude so I was limited to things I could see on foot from my campground. I decided to hike to Dog Lake (about a 6 mile round trip) but took a few minutes hiking up part of Lambert Dome first. The scenery was spectacular!

On the return trip from Dog Lake I heard the sound of wood snapping. I paused and looked around. About 70 yards away I saw something rusty brown but couldn't see it very clearly through the foliage. I did make out the top of something's head. I cleared my throat loudly a couple of times to let the animal know there were humans around but he either didn't hear me or didn't care as he kept ripping at the tree with his teeth. I wasn't sure if it was a bear or something else but I kept going. About 10 minutes later I bumped into a family and let them know what I'd seen and heard. About another 15 minutes after that I met up with another hiker. I told her about my encounter but she hadn't planned on going that far up anyway. We walked back together and she was thrilled to hear me talk about my trip when she found out what I was doing. After dinner that night I attended a campfire event hosted by a ranger and learned about the history of Yosemite. At the beginning of the event we had a chance to talk about any wildlife encounters we'd had. I brought up mine and posited that it could have been a beaver as it was going after a tree. The ranger said there were no beavers around and told me I'd more than likely seen a bear. Really exciting! After the campfire was over I went immediately to bed.

And since I don't want to rush through the events of the final 4 days of the trip I'm going to do another blog entry in a couple of days. I promise it won't be as long as your wait for this entry! In fact, I'll probably do it on the 8th. Cheers!