West 2007
  
 

Day 04

September 15

  
  I'm up early this morning, still a bit undecided about my exact route. There's a shortcut that looks promising so I decide that I will take it. Soon I'm up and headed out of Reno. It's kind of funny how deserted the streets of 'The Biggest Little City In The World' are compared to what I drove through late last night.  
 
 
  My plans are to take the shortcut to Yuba, west to Donner then I'll be headed mostly south the rest of the day. I finally find the secondary street I'm looking for and work my way through the neighborhood to the shortcut. It will take me through Toiyabe National Forest and shave off several miles.  
 
 
  But shortly after the sign, the road turns into a horrible, rutted, washed out mess. Do I continue on for 20 miles and have my guts shaken out or do I turn around? Knowing the bolt is missing from my front fender, I can see it cracking under the vibration - which could create a real problem. Such is the vulgarity of the unknown road - some days you play 'em some days you fold 'em. So today I fold my hand on this route and decide to head back the way I came. But this is not going to be easy on the ST - the road is up hill, it's canted uphill, it's single lane and there's no turnaround in sight. One miscalculation and the SweetTreat and I are going to be rolling down the ridge side. Today is a day that I'm glad my legs are long and strong as I gently nurse the bike up the camber and back, rocking her gently like a sleeping baby. Finally SweetTreat's nose and my nose are headed back down the hill. But the trouble doesn't end here - the exit I got off on does not have a western ramp so I have to head east on the slab. Finally after 2 east only ramps, I find one that I can get off and head back west. So much for a quick start to a long day! I figure that if change my plans and do Donner Pass first which is on the Interstate, I can double back and head for Yuba and be done with the slab for the day. So Donner is the first pass I snag. I decide that at each pass I will ride over the pass, turn around and get pictures of the pass signs from both sides.  
 
 
  I'm glad to get one out of the way, so it's back to highway 89 through the little town of Sierraville. I've been running hot, trying to make up for lost time when I hear the music of my radar detector (my wife calls her 'Betty Boops') in my headset. I ease way back on the throttle as I get close to town. Sure enough, one of California's finest is hiding behind the bushes waiting for a revenue opportunity. I behave myself quite well and before long I'm out of range and out of sight. Highway 49 comes up and it's on to the Yuba Pass.  
 
 
  It feels great to be off the slab on on the backroads, and I have them mostly to myself. As I make my way back down the mountain, I take a moment to enjoy the vista before I blast on down the mountain.  
 
 
  My stomach has begun to telegraph my brain, asking if my throat has been cut. I know time is short but I also know I need to feed the beast. As I get back on the flats and approach Sierraville, I see this little sign near a barnyard.  
 
 
 

I was raised out in the country where breakfast wasn't breakfast unless you had sweet milk gravy made with sausage grease, a little flour to take it up, and some sausage chunked in for good measure. So I reckon I'll just see if they live up to their billing. Of course, there's probably not another restaurant in town anyway, but it's worth a shot. I pull into the parking lot and make my way in.

  
 
 
 

It's sort of crowded so I find a spot at the end of the counter and flop myself down. A sweet lady hands me a menu and I order -

"Ma'am, I'd like a ham and cheese omelet and an order of your gravy and biscuits I saw about on a sign up the road."

She looks at me like I'd lost what little mind I had, and she said "Are you sure?"

"Well, is there something here I'm missing?" I ask her.

"How about I bring you a half order since you're getting an omelet" she offers.

"Well, I defer to your judgment and that'll be just fine."

When the plates arrive, I am dumbfounded. I've never seen so much food in my life and it looks mighty good. She just smiles and leaves me to my eating. I eat and eat til I almost pop, and finally give up. Here's what was left after I ate till I could eat no more!

  
 
 
 

When she drops the check off, I tell her

"You won't tell on me if I don't clean my plate, will you?"

She just laughs and says "Glad you enjoyed it."

My clothes are fitting a bit tighter, but I know I can make it the rest of day off of that meal. Before long, I'm working my way past the western shore of Lake Tahoe. I can only imagine what property must cost just to have a good view of the beautiful lake and mountains, much less be close to the water. I never thought growing up I'd see people willing to pay extra for a piece of property advertised 'with a view'. But it seems to have become a way of life in most places.

 
 
 
 

As I get south of the lake, there's a service station handy, so I fill up SweetTreat. I don't know how available fuel will be as I chase the rest of the passes but this tank will get me through a lot of them. I decide to take a quick coke and peanuts break and I notice a old, orange VW bug with Tennessee license plate filling up also. He sees my Tennessee plate and comes over.

"I'm from Tennessee too"' he says with a grin. "But I've got a house here and there."

"Well, I'm just passing through today, running the passes. This is some kind of beautiful place around here."

"Yes, beautiful and expensive!" he adds. "Well, have a great ride out here and be careful."

"Thanks a bunch!" I tell him "And you be careful too."

I realize daylight is a burning, so I mount back up and come to an old familiar intersection - highway 50 and highway 89. Back in 2002 when I was running highway 50 to Dodge City I was coming from the opposite direction. It's funny how I have a hard time remembering people's names, but I generally don't forget a road. I stay on highway 50 and arrive at Echo Pass quickly. I find it sort of odd that it is labeled Echo Summit instead of pass, but it'll do.

 
 
 
  Traffic is starting to pick up a bit as I work my way back to highway 89, but the views are just compelling. I can only imagine what it would be like to wake up to that view every morning. But I reckon a feller would probably get used to it after while like he would anything else.  
 
 
  My friends that live out here have warned me that the weather this time of the year can be a bit surprising - snow just blows in and can shut down most of the passes in short order. I'm tickled to death to see this sign which gives me encouragement that I'm good to go for at least three more of the passes.  
 
 
  It's only ten miles or so and I'm hanging a hard right onto highway 88 to go see Carson Pass. This is more technical riding than I've been doing the last few days, and it is a welcome relief. But without many guardrails, I realize quickly this is not the place to go stupid. When I arrive at the pass, I learn that it is named after the famous explorer and scout, Kit Carson. I should figured that one out ahead of time.  
 
 
 

I run over and down the other side a bit, then I'm headed hard back to highway 89, looking for turnoff to highway 4 and Ebbetts Pass. I figure this pass and Sonora Pass will probably be the most challenging rides of the day, and I'm not too far off. As I make my way up the elevations, there's two big, slow-moving hay trucks and a F-150 Ford in front of me. There's a passing lane so the F-150 takes off like a shot cat with me in hot pursuit. Just as he pulls up beside the last hay truck, he gets a bad case of the chickens and throws out the land anchor. I almost put the SweetTreat right up in his truck bed. There's no way I can come to an orderly stop and there's traffic coming on strong. It's just grab a gear and go and hope it turns out all right. I tuck back in front of him just in time to keep from becoming a hood ornament. All I can do is shake my head at the man that just about killed me. When I arrive at Ebbetts, I have it all to myself once again.

 
 
 
 

And again the views on my way back down remind me of what it must have looked like to the early settlers of the area. From this vantage point, there's no sign that man had ever been in this part of the country.

  
 
 
 
As I head back down toward highway 89 and Monitor Pass, I stop for a moment to reflect at a pretty nearby lake. My wife is ever the 'fishing person' and she sure would enjoy this one whether she caught anything or not.
 
 
 
 

Most of the passes are marked with green type highway signs, so I keep my eyes peeled for the one for Monitor Pass. I see some bicyclists pulled off on the side, but I whizz on by. I think to myself

"I ought to be close now, but I sure don't see no sign."

I had been going up, but now I'm headed down the hill. Sometimes it will fool you, but this seems a continual decline. Then it hits me - I bet those bicyclists were pulled off at the pass sign. I do a quick U-turn and head back. Sure enough, Monitor Pass is only marked with a stone obelisk, not a green highway sign.

 
 
 
  It is such a subtle pass, that I almost missed it. Glad to have solved that mystery, I head for my two remaining passes - Sonora and Tioga. I had been at Sonora following my old friend, Dennis Ryan, Bamarider and some more friends after CanyonSToc. I remember it being a pretty technical road on the way up. When I get on highway 395, I once again see a much welcomed sign.  
 
 
  My mental calculations tell me I've got about 140 more miles to go. If I stay after it and push a little bit, I should be able to make Tioga just before sundown. Before long, I reach the turnoff to highway 108 and Sonora Pass. I make as good a speed as I can, but carefully so. Again, this is not the place to go stupid, and I am so close to making my dream of hitting all the major Sierra Passes in one day. The ride is enjoyable and SweetTreat is doing what she does best - eat the miles and hang the twisties. I finally reach the summit and once again have it all to my self. I remember the last time I was here there was snow on the ground and we pelted Bamarider with snowballs as he looked around. I head down the other side a bit and then make my way back up to get the other sign shot. Just as I mount up, what seems like 1000 Harleys and their Japanese riders pull up coming from the opposite direction. I've never seen so many bikes in such a tight spot before. They're all decked out in leathers, some of the bikes have apehangers - quite an interesting group. I'm just glad I'm headed the opposite direction, which I do very quickly!  
 
 
  As I work my way back down highway 108, I run up on a herd of free range cattle. Understanding the slickness of their green byproduct and their propensity to dump it wherever they like, I put on the binders and proceed cautiously. This one does not seem to be happy that I am interloping into his space, so I bid him a fond adieu and head on down the mountain.  
 
 
 

When I see this view, I can't help but remember the line from America, the Beautiful -

"For Purple Mountains Majesties ..."

  
 
 
  Back on highway 395, Mono Lake comes into view. I find the very pull-off that Dennis Ryan and I stopped at several years ago. We lost at him at Christmas time in 2003 from a massive heart attack and I still miss him. He was a friend, a joy to be around and great to ride with. Just this pass summer, I got a graduation card from Tommy his son. It just doesn't see possible that it's been that long. I ask the Lord might be gracious and kind to Norma, his widow and Tommy. I'm sure Christmas is never the same for both of them since the loss of Dennis during that special season.  
 
 
 

The sun is getting lower in the sky, and I've still got Tioga left to reach. This one will be a bit tougher to get a picture of since the only pass sign is on front of the ranger gate hut. As I arrive, I pull out my National Park Card, and my best hillbilly grin as I address the ranger on duty -

"You reckon it would be okay if I just pulled my motorcycle in front of your shack here for a little bit, so I could get a picture?" I asked him. "I'm all the way from Tennessee and it sure would be nice if it'd be okay with you."

Much to my relief, he replies -

"Sure thing, we're not that busy right now."

I thank him profusely, and maneuver the SweetTreat into position.

 
 
 
 
With the snapping of that shot, a profound sense of accomplishment washes over me. I have just completed riding to each major Sierra Pass and getting pictures of the SweetTreat in front of each sign. It's still a long, slow run through the Yosemite Park to Stockton and Bill's house where I will be spending the evening, but I can rejoice in the pleasure of completing one of my riding goals of this trip. As I pull into the park, I take one more picture before the darkness closes in on me.
 
 
 
 

I do not relish passing through the park after dark, but I have to do what I have to do. I have been warned about how serious the rangers are here on watching your speed, so I mind my manners. As I make my way through the park, I notice a large Mercedes trailing me. I can't quite sort out what he'd doing, other than using me for radar bait. When I speed up, he speeds up, when I slow down, he slows down. I just keep a close eye on him so I don't become part of a Mercedes hood ornament. Finally after 1 1/2 hours I emerge from the gate on the other side and leave Mr. Mercedes like he is parked. Highway 120 will take me pretty much straight to I5 and the exit I need so I motor along, keeping a close eye out for livestock and wildlife. Realizing it is getting later that I like, I pull off and give Bill a call. I'm delighted to get a cell signal, but then I remember that this is California and not the hills of Tennessee. Bill tells me that I'm about an hour and a half from his house. As it turns out, he hits it right on the head. When I finally pull into his driveway, he makes room for the SweetTreat in his garage. His lovely wife, Miss Veronica welcomes me to their home.

"Are you hungry?" he asks me.

"Well, the last meal was breakfast, so I am a little bit" I tell him.

"What would like?"

"Oh, I ain't particular - just whatever you got handy."

"Well, I will whip up a Bill special omelet then. I really make good omelets" he says.

He's got some special cheese, some salmon, tomatoes and a few other bits and he's right - he does make a killer omelet. I love omelets about as well as anything and this one really hits the spot. We retire to their living room and talk about riding and the adventures motorcycles bring to our lives. But before long, the tiredness of the day begins to wash over me and I realize I need some rest if I'm going to ride on Bill's Birthday Ride tomorrow. He graciously shows me my room and before long I'm making a serious concerto of snore.