Devil’s Postpile and Deadman Summit

Bill Bushnell — Thursday, July 23, 1992

On short notice, I was invited to join some friends at their rented condo in Mammoth Lakes, CA for the week of July 18 through July 25. Since there are some good riding roads and since the scenery is magnificent in that part of the Sierras, I decided bring my bike along.

The day is crystal clear and cool as I start riding up Minaret Rd. and head towards Minaret Summit. I intend to ride over to Devil’s Postpile and then out to June Lake and back. This is my first day at 8000 feet, and being a “near-sea-level-dweller”, I huff and puff as my body tries desperately to digest breakfast and to supply oxygen to my legs. As I climb the steady grade toward the Mammoth Ski area, I notice that most of the passing cars have mountain bikes strapped to their roofs. As I near the Ski Lodge, it is clear that a big event is happening on the Mountain today. Hundreds of cars are parked along the road, and in front of the big lawn between the Mammoth Inn and the Ski Lodge, manufacturer and retailer booths displaying large banners have been erected. Apparently, I have arrived in the midst of the NORBA 1992 World Cup Mountain Bike Race.

I continue on to Minaret Summit. From Mammoth Ski Lodge all the way to Red’s Meadow, Minaret Rd. is closed to the general public. You must walk, ride a bike, take a shuttle bus, or have a reservation at one of the campgrounds along the way. These restrictions mean that the road is relatively free of motorized traffic. After another short hill, a dip, and then another hill, I reach the ranger’s kiosk at the pass. Just before the kiosk I turn right and head up to Minaret Vista. The views of Mt. Ritter, Banner Peak, The Minarets, and the headwaters of the San Joaquin River to the west are magnificent. Minaret Summit lies on the Pacific Crest, so one could argue that this is the southernmost crossing of the Sierra Crest, only Minaret Rd. doesn’t connect to any other through roads on the west side.

After taking several pictures, I get back on my bike and head down the west side of the ridge. For the upper three miles of the descent the road is narrow and steep, but not too steep. I manage good speed, but I take care not to get careless in the turns. Fortunately, the road descends in two long switchbacks and remains visible far ahead, even while a few points in between are obscured. Since traffic is very light, I use the entire width of the road most of the way down. The air is cool, dry, and smog-free or nearly so. This is fun.

After the corner of the only switchback, the overall grade becomes more gradual and I have to pedal over slight upgrades in places. As I near the turn-off for Devil’s Postpile, I pass the driveways for a couple of campgrounds and Starkweather Lake. An odd name for a place out west, Starkweather Lake sounds like a New England name rather than a Sierra name. Most places in the Sierras are named after miners, prospectors, early settlers, early settlers’ things like “Dirty Sock Springs”, their wives or lovers, or are named after Indians or Indian things.

Finally I turn right and head into the Devil’s Postpile National Monument. The road twists briefly downhill before ending at a picnic area where there is a ranger station and restrooms. After locking my bike to the railing at the ranger station, I take the short, 0.4 mile hike to the Postpile itself.

The Postpile is a volcanic plug thrust up to the surface and cooled to form thousands of hexagonal columns. A sign at the base warns that the monument has become more geologically active in the last 12 years, and that earthquakes can happen any time. Recent earthquakes have caused some of the columns of the monument to peel away and come crashing down. Anyone in the path of a falling column would probably die. Therefore, one should not linger near the base of the monument.

I suspect that the monument is best viewed in the evening, as the morning sun and the accompanying glare make it difficult to view. After a few minutes I walk back to my bike. The picnic tables are more crowded now, and a group of kids have shattered the morning silence playing music on their boom boxes. I look over to glare at them and notice that some are playing Nintendo games, oblivious to the surrounding beauty.

I get back on my bike and climb back up to Minaret Rd., turn right, and head to Sotcher Lake. From the road, Sotcher Lake looks like a mosquito bog, but through the trees I can see the larger part of the lake. Because of my ambitious plans, I decide not to stay too long. So, I eat a snack and begin the long return trip up to Minaret Summit.

The air is warmer now, and since I’ve only been at altitude for about 15 hours, I pedal slowly. After about 54 minutes, I reach the ranger hut at the summit. The temperature is 71F.

“Nice ride, huh?”, says the ranger.

“Yeah. The weather’s great.”, I add.

“Did you ride all the way up from Red’s Meadow?”, he asks.

“No. I just went as far as Sotcher Lake. I’m planning to ride out to June Lake this afternoon.”, I answer.

From here it’s downhill all the way to the turn off for the Mammoth Scenic Loop. I begin coasting downhill toward the Mammoth ski area. When I reach the big lawn in front of the ski lodge, more booths have been set up, and mountain bikers and their friends are lounging around watching people who are also watching people. Loudspeakers blare advertisments and MTV-type music. There doesn’t seem to be an event happening at the moment, but the urgency in the voice over the loudspeaker hints that the excitement is about to begin—a complete contrast to the calm and serenity just a few miles on the other side of Minaret Summit. I decide to eat some of my lunch and watch the activity.

“What race is happening now?”, asks large woman in stretch polyester pants.

“I’m afraid I don’t really know how this event is organized.”, I reply.

“Oh! Well since you have a bike I thought you’d know!”, she says.

Everyone is riding mountain bikes, and I ride a touring bike with skinny slick tires and drop handlebars.

After several minutes of resting, I get back on my bike and start down the hill. More cars have parked along the road; about half of them are small pickup trucks with shells or vans stuffed with all sorts of bicycling paraphernalia. Many picnic from their tailgates. As I pass down the parade route, resting mountain bikers eye me warily. What a sight I must be riding a last-year’s-model touring bike laden with pack and kickstand instead of a fully-suspended composite mountain bike frame with all the latest whiz-bang gizmos and wearing a sloppy oversized sweatshirt instead of a smart fitting peacock-colored jersey emblazoned with the names of manufacturers of the latest and greatest thingamadoodles!

Soon I leave all the commotion and begin the brief gradual downgrade to the Mammoth Scenic Loop turnoff. Three miles later I turn left and pedal up a brief hill at the start of the Mammoth Scenic Loop. The Mammoth Scenic Loop, named so as not to scare off the tourists, isn’t really a loop at all, more like an alternate escape road from the town in case Mammoth Mountain blows its stack. It’s just an alternate route to the Mammoth Ski area connecting Minaret Rd. to US-395 north of the CA-203 junction. The road begins with a brief uphill and then a long straight downhill followed by another moderately long uphill. Then the road begins a long descent to US-395. As I speed down the final descent, I pass a couple of cyclists riding up looking hot and sweaty. It must be warm.

When I reach the bottom, I feel tired. It doesn’t feel very warm to me, though, so I continue north on US-395. I begin riding up a short hill and then level for a stretch. A headwind blows. After a quick dip, the road begins a long gradual downhill. Near the bottom there is a left turn for a rest area. My water bottles are running low, so I decide to stop.

Now I’m starting to ache all over. I drink alot of water and rest. I’ve found that drinking alot of water helps flush the lactic acid out of my system. I check the thermometer. 89F! And it feels like 70F! Something’s wrong. The air must be very dry and I must have lost a lot of fluids.

After resting a few minutes I resume riding north on US-395. Not feeling particularly energetic, I pedal slowly. I think I’ll scratch June Lake and turn around at the approaching summit, aptly named Deadman Summit. The grade is just over a mile long at 6%, but by the time I reach the summit I feel nearly dead. Now I definitely don’t want to head down the other side, and I start to worry about the climb back up the Mammoth Scenic Loop Rd.

Managing my most energetic posture, I duly take my picture next to the summit sign and then turn around and head back down toward Mammoth Lakes. Glorious downhill! It feels good not to pedal. Unfortunately, the downhill doesn’t last very long, and soon I find myself pedaling again. Several minutes later I reach the rest area again. This time I rest for about 15 minutes before continuing back to Mammoth Lakes.

As I start riding again, I feel light-headed and slightly dizzy. I’ve been drinking lots of water. I don’t understand why I’m starting to feel sick. The ride back up Mammoth Scenic Loop Rd. is no fun at all. I spend the entire time watching my altimeter tick off the feet climbed and the odometer tick of the tenths of miles to the end.

Finally I make it back to the condo. I’m thoroughly exhausted, and now I feel chilled. I’m also disappointed. I’ve only ridden just over 50 miles and 5000 feet of climbing! It’s not fair!

After showering I went straight to bed. I learned later that I had probably suffered from a combination of heat exhaustion, salt depletion, and altitude sickness. The six hours immediately following the ride were quite unpleasant with diarrhea, a fever over 101, and a splitting headache. Yes. I guess I had overdone it for my first day at altitude. The dry heat didn’t help either. Since I eat a diet low in salt, I’m going to carry salt tablets with me from now on. I’m also going to look into bringing along electrolyte-replacement energy drinks on long and/or hot, dry rides. A couple weeks earlier I had suffered similar, though less severe, symptoms after riding 112 miles locally on a hot and muggy day.

The next day was an off day. Feeling lazy, I rode the gondola to the top of Mammoth Mountain and ate lunch up there while I enjoyed the view. In the afternoon I took a leisurely trip with my friends out to Convict Lake (Now there’s a wild-west sort of name!) some 10 miles southeast of Mammoth Lakes. I had originally planned to ride through the Yosemite high country, but I put those plans off for the third day. Unfortunately, this meant that I would not get to ride over Sonora Pass and back on my last day as I had originally planned. I did drive home over Sonora Pass just to get a look at the road and take a record of the mileage and altitude between US-395 and Kennedy Meadows, the interesting section of CA-108. Oh well, there’s something left for another visit.

Ride stats:

distance: 53.3 miles

climbing: 5160 feet

total time: 6:23

riding time: 4:10

average speed: 12.8 mph

maximum speed: 44.5 mph

index: 74

irp: 12

mirp: 18

An article on indexing can be found here.

©2004, Bill Bushnell

Please do not publish or distribute for profit without permission.