Ebbetts Pass and Pacific Grade Summit

Bill Bushnell — September 20, 1992

After eating breakfast and bringing ourselves outside into the 40F air, Jules and I drive down to Markleeville and beyond to the CA-89/CA-4 junction for the start of our ride. By the time we reach CA-4, the air has warmed considerably, though I still wear a sweater and leg-warmers. While we prepare our bikes for the ride, a couple of bicyclists come coasting down CA-89 from Monitor Pass. Apparently, they’re sagging themselves up the hill so they can coast down. That sounds like fun, but I don’t imagine they get much exercise doing that. Besides, you really can’t say you’ve ridden a hill until you’ve gone up and down under your own power.

“We saw a big black bear ambling across the road just up there.”, one of them says as he approaches us at the bottom.

“Well, we probably won’t see him since we’re heading up CA-4.”, I reply.

We start pedaling slowly south on CA-4 alongside the East Fork Carson River. The road rises very slowly as it meanders through the canyon. This is a good warmup. We stop to peel some clothing at the turnoff for Wolf Creek Rd at Centerville Flat. After Wolf Creek Rd. the highway veers right and continues up along Silver Creek. We pass a few cabins, and someone is trying to sell an historic mansion. On the left side of the road is a tiny ruin with a fence around it. A sign reads, “Silver Mountain Historic Site”. Apparently, the surrounding hills used to be mined for silver.

About a mile later we begin our first real climb. The center line disappears, and the road steepens. We climb steeply for about half a mile before reaching the Silver Creek Campground. A working water faucet stands near the entrance on the downhill side of the road. This is our last water stop before we reach Lake Alpine. A sign on the bulletin board inside the campground says that the camp closes on September 21 at 14:00. I guess we’re doing this ride as late in the year as is practical. Even though we haven’t been drinking much water we top off our bottles. I carry two large bottles and one small, and Jules carries two large and two small. This should be enough water for both of us unless it gets really hot.

After stretching for a few minutes we continue up a few long switchbacks. Through the breaks in the trees, the view is magnificent. We can see all the way down Silver Creek valley and the mountains on either side. Beyond the switchbacks the road still continues to rise as it hugs the steep hillside. The road is very narrow here, barely more than a lane wide, and some motorists pass without being able to see if another vehicle is coming downhill from around a blind corner.

As we continue, the road begins to rise in stairstep fashion through alternating groves of bright-yellow and orange aspen and open meadows. There’s even one short downhill before the road passes Kinney Reservoir. Beyond Kinney Reservior, the road rises steeply for 2/3 mile, then levels off briefly at the Pacific Crest Trail access, and then makes one final push to Ebbetts Pass.

At the pass we take a “victory picture” in front of the Historic Sign and eat part of our lunches. The air is comfortable, about 70F, I’d guess. Unfortunately, my thermometer is on top of Monitor Pass where I accidentally left it yesterday, so I don’t know for sure how hot or cold it is here. As a rule I find that without a thermometer, I tend to underestimate the temperature in the Sierras, especially if it’s hot.

After resting for a half-hour, we begin the mentally difficult 1700-foot descent from Ebbetts Pass to Hermit Valley down the west side of the pass. Traffic is light and most of the descent can be handled without braking. The road is straight as it descends along the hillside with only one major deviation about halfway down at The Elbow as the road veers into the hillside to cross Elbow Creek.

Having crossed Elbow Creek we continue down the long straight road. I don’t find myself moving too fast even though I don’t use the brakes. Finally in what seems all too short a time, we reach Hermit Valley. We stop at the small campground in search of a water faucet. Unfortunately, there doesn’t appear to be one. The only sign of development is a small brick building housing a foul-smelling pit toilet. We used up most of our water on the ascent from Silver Creek Campground to Ebbetts Pass. Right now we each have about one and a half small water bottle’s worth.

We continue on to Lake Alpine. Immediately after crossing the Mokelumne River the road begins a vicious ascent up the east side of Pacific Grade Summit. The road is very steep in places as it climbs 1000 feet in less than 2 miles. The only respite comes when the road levels off near the turnoff for the Pacific Valley campground. Following the turnoff, the road rises through several very steep switchbacks. For some reason the traffic has decided to pick up, and along with the heat and the steep hill, we have to contend with smog belching from the tailpipes of pickup trucks and campers. Despite the signs at CA-89 and Lake Alpine warning long vehicles away from this road, several campers and camper-trailers roll by. Were it not for the traffic, this would be a beautiful section of road.

After about a half-hour of steep climbing we finally reach the summit. The summit sign is planted next to the green waters of Mosquito Lake. Mosquito Lake is at the head of the North Fork Stanislaus River, but what feeds the lake? Streams drain from both ends, and there isn’t much watershed above the lake to keep it full. The map shows a campground near Mosquito Lake, but after searching for a water faucet, we find only the ubiquitous pit toilet. We continue on.

The west side descent from Pacific Grade Summit is barely a descent for several miles as it parallels the 8000-foot contour, but after rounding Cape Horn (Yes, that’s the name.) it begins a short, fast drop to Lake Alpine. At the east end of the lake just as the centerline of the road returns, there is a working water faucet. We refill our bottles and sit at one of the picnic tables, eating more food and drinking more water. The air is neither too hot nor too cool, but it is dry.

At this point we decide not to continue to Bear Valley, but to return. But before we start back, we ride down the road a little way to take a picture of the cool blue lake.

As we start back I feel strangely invigorated. Maybe it’s because I’m properly hydrated or because I’ve eaten, but I think it’s the “horse returning to the stable” syndrome—I know that each pedal stroke brings me closer to rather than farther from the end of the ride.

We climb quickly up from Lake Alpine to Cape Horn and on to Mosquito Lake and Pacific Grade Summit. Then we begin the quick descent to Hermit Valley. Near the end of the first long, steep downhill just before the first switchback, there’s a fun whoop-de-do. I manage to get up to about 40 mph as I sail over the hump. It feels as if I weigh about half as much at the apex. But as soon as my full weight is over the wheels, I slam on the brakes for the right-hand switchback 50 feet ahead. I stop a couple times to take pictures on the way down and to let the rims cool a bit. This descent requires braking.

After blasting across the bridge at the bottom we continue without stopping and start the long climb back up to Ebbetts Pass. As we climb we notice that people have driven their campers into the turnouts and set up camp among the trees.

I wonder why we haven’t seen any other bicyclists on the road? The only place we saw bicyclists was at the bottom of Monitor Pass where we started the ride and at Lake Alpine where a couple were taking a lazy ride along the lake. One reason might be because we’ve come up during hunting season. In the distance across Hermit Valley we hear the occasional sharp report of a gun. It seems that deer season has come again to the Sierras, and there is no lack of hunters willing to shoot deer. I notice for the first time that the people in the pickup trucks and campers driving by are wearing orange vests or bright red caps. Guns are displayed prominently on racks across the rear windows. The grizzled, heavyset men in the cabs invariably give us dumbfounded looks as they drive by as if to say, “Look at those crazy bicyclists! You wouldn’t catch me huffing and puffing up these hills!”

Several pickup trucks pass down the hill. In the back of a one I see a dead deer. A yellow tag has been taped to its antlers, and its unblinking eye stares at me as I ride past. Did it die painfully? What do the hunters do with the deer? Eat it? Ribs poked from under the skins of the few living deer we saw earlier venturing along the highway. There couldn’t be much food on most of these deer. Do they stuff its head and mount it like a trophy of great accomplishment on the wall at home? Or do they show off the corpse to their friends and then toss it out with the garbage?

“I don’t like all this hunting going on. What do you think?”, I ask Jules.

“I think hunting is dumb, but I don’t think it should be outlawed. In fact I’m against gun control, even banning assault weapons.”, Jules says, surprising me. “I’m very much a believer in the 2^nd amendment right to bear arms. I think it’s important for citizens to have legal access to weapons so the government can’t declare martial law.”

“Oh, come on, Jules. How likely is it that martial law will be declared and that we’ll all be sorry because we don’t each have a gun?”, I ask.

“Well, I don’t like guns personally but I think that people should have the right to own them.”, Jules answers. “Americans have become too complacent while their rights are being taken away right and left. I don’t think it’s too far-fetched for martial law to be declared sometime in the future. I take a libertarian view on this, generally.”

We ride on silently while I ponder what Jules has said. I hate guns, and this discussion about hunting, guns, and martial law has made me even more depressed. Jules doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d be pro-gun, and his views surprise me.

I just hope these hunters know enough not to shoot toward the highway. To be fair, I will say that as bicyclists we are treated with courtesy by most of the motor vehicle traffic. These guys do seem to be more polite than the average teenage “Joe” racing up and down the mountain roads near home in the Bay Area.

We continue on for a while before stopping to stretch at the level section along The Elbow. We both get off, stretch, and eat a snack.

“We’re about halfway up to Ebbetts Pass from Hermit Valley. It shouldn’t take us too much longer to reach the summit.”, I say.

“Yeah. I think it’s probably a good thing we turned around at Lake Alpine.

This makes the ride back less urgent.”, Jules says.

We begin climbing again. On the upper half of the climb, the road comes into the open for a few extended stretches. The air is cool, but the sun is hot, and we’re both working hard.

At about a half-mile before the pass Jules says, “Hey Bill, I’ve got to stop and cool off. I’m beginning to overheat.” Jules hates riding when he can’t keep cool. Maybe it’s his dark-colored jersey.

“O.K. How about under this big tree up here?”, I point to the nearest spot of shade alongside the road.

We stop and while Jules cools off, he checks his rear tire. “Uh oh, I think maybe I should add some air. It looks like I’ve got a slow leak.”

I feel the tire, and sure enough it feels like there’s only about 40 psi inside. “Yeah, you’d better pump it up some.”, I say.

Jules starts pumping, but after a few strokes a loud hissing comes from the valve, and soon the tire is flat. “It looks like I’ve just busted the tube.”

Since Jules forgot his spare tube, I take the spare tube out of my tool pouch, and after some struggling with the tightly fitting tire (Continental GPs on Mavic MA rims), Jules’s bike is ready to roll. We reach the pass a few minutes later, and after taking another victory picture in front of the historic sign, we begin the fun descent.

Since it’s late in the day, the sun casts sharp shadows bringing the surrounding peaks and mountains into sharp relief. I stop a couple of times to take pictures of the scenery. Someone has spraypainted in green paint warnings of sharp turns or blind corners just ahead.

When we reach the Silver Creek Campground, the gate has been locked. The faucet near the road is still working, so we stop anyway to top off one water bottle each.

The last seven miles go by swiftly as we continue without stopping until we reach the car at CA-89. The sun has just set behind the walls of the canyon, but the air is still hot when we reach the end.

Ride stats:

distance: 55.2 miles

climbing: 6450 feet

total time: 8:17

riding time: 5:12

average speed: 10.6 mph

maximum speed: 43.5 mph

index: 81

irp (Index Rate-of-Progress): 10

mirp (Moving irp): 16

An article on indexing can be found here.

©2004, Bill Bushnell

Please do not publish or distribute for profit without permission.