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| Kernvill, November 2003 (Read report) | |||
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It was early November, that we went for a weekend at Kernvill, just north to Isabella Lake, California...
October 31-November 2, 2003
Eight of us showed up for the Kernville mountain biking weekend,
staying in an A-frame cabin located on the hillside above the small town. I arrived Friday
afternoon and went on a short solo ride on the Whiskey Flat Trail to unwind from the 3 hour drive.
5 others (Greg, Mario, Rod, Joe, and George) left L.A. late in the afternoon, fighting Friday
traffic and rain before arriving around 10 p.m. That rain translated into snow at the
upper elevations where we were to ride and that set the tone for one white
weekend.
Saturday
Saturday morning found us at the local tour guide where we were
to get a shuttle up the mountain for some downhill fun.
Because of the previous night's snow, we had to make a decision
about where to ride....how high should we be shuttled? How deep would the snow cover be? How easily
could we find the trails in the snow? Based on our vast wealth of combined ignorance, we opted for
a ride that took us to a drop off point over 5,000 feet up.
Brrrrr.....It was pretty darn cold and we decided to warm up by
climbing a fireroad. Here is Rod making his way in the crunchy snow.
And here is Mario who could not find enough layers to wear.
We missed a right hand turn we were supposed to make and so
ended up climbing a different section of the fireroad than originally planned, but Rod spotted the
bottom of a singletrack called the Portuguese Trail and we eventually found the top of the trail off
of our fireroad. We decided to test our ability to find our way in virgin snow on a single-track
trail. We were able to pretty much follow the trail by terrain and various trail markers and it
proved to be a blast, especially the downhill sections.....whoooosh.....
At the top of a climb, we stop to rest
My bike packed in ice
We completed the wonderful Portuguese Trail and then headed back
down the fireroad to our start point. Greg decided he had had enough of the cold and snow for the
day and headed back down the road while the rest of us decided to try the 2nd leg of our day: the
Unal Trail. We thought this was going to take us DOWN the hill. Instead the trail climbed and
climbed, and, in the fresh snow and high altitude, exhausted us. Also, several of us had so much
snow and ice and dirt get into our pedals and cleats that we couldn't clip in. We finally found a
spot in the trail that allowed us to head down to a fireroad which took us to a paved road which
took us right back to where we had left Greg--the start of our ride! So much for navigational
skills. We had originally planned to do a third leg on our Saturday ride--a trail called Just
Outstanding--but we were Just Cold and Tired. We decided to follow Greg's lead and head back down
the long, steep road (13% grade at times) back down to Kernville. The cold air bit thru our layers
of clothing and I found myself shivering in exhaustion as we coasted down to the valley
floor after 30 miles of riding. The only thing that revived me was the HOT coffee at Cheryl's Diner
in Kernville.
Saturday evening saw the arrival of Tal and Matthew to bring our
number up to eight. They met us at the cabin after we got back from chowing down some Mexican food
at a local eatery that I think was called El Jacalito .
Sunday
The next morning saw some pre-ride repairs in the cabin's
billiard room. This is how we were dressed at around 2700 feet inside the cabin, and our plan was
to start today's ride at about 7800 feet. Are we crazy?
After making the repairs we rode into town to pick up our
shuttle ride. This was to be the grand ride of the weekend--The Cannell Trail. The top of the
trail starts at 9200 feet, but for some odd reason, common sense filtered into our group and we
decided to start the trail at a lower point--a mere 7800 feet up--due to the weather conditions.
But before we made it to this Lower Cannell Meadow Trailhead, we had to deal with the shuttle van
sliding across an icy curve in the road and becoming stuck in soft dirt under the ice. Our driver
was an old codger named Bud whom I think the docs in our group were afraid might have a heart attack
and so Doc George took over the driving while Mario uprooted a pine tree to lodge in the ditch that
the wheel was in while the rest of us shouted directions and jumped up and down and waved our arms.
Old Bud
Waving Directions
At last, we did enough shouting and jumping up and down so that
George was finally able to drive the van out of its sinkhole (having made toothpicks out of Mario's
pine tree). We held our collective breaths (the air is thin up there) as we continued
driving further up the road, praying that we didn't slide off the road again, this time to perhaps
be swallowed up by a hidden crevasse. Fortunately, we made it to the drop off point and, after
unloading the bikes from the trailer, bid a fond farewell to ol' Bud, hoping that he would make it
safely back down to the bottom of the hill and that he would celebrate yet another birthday.
We pedaled a few miles up the road to the "official" start of
our 17 miles of the Lower Cannell Trail. Several of our group put on their custom snow booties
(plastic Glad bags) over their cycling shoes in hope of greater warmth. The first section was
fireroad, some up, some down, some sliding sideways. We finally spotted the trail entrance and
started a long climb which was fairly steep and rocky under the snow. I scouted ahead because I did
not feel 100% confident that this was THE trail. But then I figured "what the hell", it's only 8
bodies freezing in a vast white wilderness.....let's go for it. Fortunately this was the
trail and once we got to the downhill sections it was a wild experience, swooshing between the trees
on a white blanket of singletrack. It was a unique and unforgettable experience: if you were in
the lead you made your way thru the virgin snow, always alert for signs of which way the trail went:
a slight indentation in the snow or a marker on a tree trunk or a trail flag....if you were behind,
you simply followed the clearly marked tire tread of the leader. If you fell, at least you had a
cushion of snow to help break the fall. Some pictures:
 
Eventually we left the snow behind as we dropped to somewhat less cold climes. But the fun was not
to end, for we came to the famous Cannell Plunge, an approximate 6,000 foot drop in 8 miles. It was
a "relatively" smooth trail, albeit a few sections with narrow ruts or rocks. Down, down we went,
rounding curves, maneuvering tight switchbacks, and even a short, steep hike-a-bike to keep us
honest.
Misty View of Lake Isabella fed by the Kern River
 
We made it down in pretty good shape. Matt banged a knee and
George bruised the palm area of his hand below the thumb (anyone know a good hand doctor?) in some
falls. We also had a few minor mechanicals, including brake pads wearing fast in the snow and grit,
but all in all we had a great weekend of riding. The cold snowy weather, first appearing to be a
curse on our weekend, ended up being a blessing by giving us a unique riding experience. One that
this RCYer will not soon forget.
And let me not forget to express a special thank you to Greg for
planning and organizing one heck of a trip.
Greg lovin' it!!
I hope this report gives some sense of our weekend.
See you soon on a warm trail,
Robco
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