At the outset of this April Escape series, I mentioned that this trip ended up being about more than traveling for travel’s sake. It presented an opportunity to shake up various travel ruts I’ve unexpectedly found myself in. My cache of travel skills and tools had shrunk in spite of all of the places I’ve been over the past few years. I was traveling on autopilot. Turning routine on its head is a powerful way to see your world through new eyes and I desperately needed it.
Being back on the road solo was exactly what I needed to bust out of my travel rut.
Traveling solo
One of the changes that has snuck up on me over the last few years is the shift from mostly solo travel to mostly couple adventures. There’s not a problem with that necessarily but it is a very different way of traveling and requires different skills. It also means the layers of travel experience are different. Both have value in their own ways, of course. To be a well-rounded traveler and to have a broad travel experience, both are necessary. Putting a little solo travel in this trip was really the most important piece of my travel revival puzzle.
Solo travel requires unique skills and decisions. You have only yourself to count on. Self reliance is an often-overlooked skill, especially in a risk-averse society. Solo travel builds empowerment and capability you simply can’t get any other way. You have to answer only to yourself. You also have to solve problems on your own—without the safety net of home, friends, or family nearby. And for better or worse, your choices are completely yours. That’s fabulous freedom everyone needs from time to time.
I love my travels with my dear man. We’re really good at it and we have a fabulous time together. But realizing how much my solo travel skills had atrophied was startling. I wasn’t fearful setting out but I did have to hesitate and ask myself if I still knew how to do it well on my own. Along with my solo travel savvy, my comfort zone had shriveled without me noticing.
Possibly my best night of camping ever as I reclaimed my travel groove.
Moto camping
There was a time I camped constantly. By car or motorcycle, I took every opportunity to go somewhere and sleep in a tent . Over the course of the last few years, as my life shifted from Georgia to Nevada, my camping trips somehow evaporated. Right out from under me without me even noticing.
Once I saw what had happened dusting off my camping skills became a non-negotiable piece of the trip. My dear man was suffering from the same camping skills atrophy. It didn’t even sound fun to him anymore. But he embraced my desire to camp on this trip, partly out of trusting my judgment and partly for knowing how important it was to me.
Getting our gear together was another story. In my transition to Nevada, my well-refined camping gear management system had also evaporated. The situation now is pure chaos and an exercise in frustration. Of course, you have to be home for more than a hot minute to take on a big organizational project so that will be a challenge to fix.
On the road, I was able to camp solo and with a partner. Both were crucial to see what we need to refine in our moto camping systems. And there will be more camping. The camping nights on this trip were fantastic. I felt completely and utterly me again. And that is a very good feeling.
Traveling with my dear man is quirky and fun and well worth the mental gymnastics it takes to meet up on the road.
Meeting up
Our first time trying to meet up mid-trip showed me how important that skill can be. It gives us more options in our travel plans rather than ditching or shortening a trip because we can’t both be gone at the same time. But it takes orchestration when your plans are not tied to exact times and places. Add in that your ability to get to a particular place is tied to the whims of weather and it’s a complex travel puzzle. Motorcycle travel and strict timelines simply do not mix well so it requires flexing our adaptability muscles.
Reviving “me” on the road.
Me
Having said all of this, I’ve had some great adventures in the last few years. I love all of my travels. But they’ve been different. And change is fine as long as it’s thoughtful. That’s where I had gone astray. I was missing things I still wanted and wasn’t making happen for myself. My April Escape went a long way towards defining what I need to do and what I still want.
Travel is awesome. But like anything, you have to mix it up to keep it fresh.
I awoke reluctantly, submerged in pure white linens and the cushy softness of hotel pillows. I was wrapped in comfort. My eyes took in the dim light as my brain tried to recollect where I was. After five days on the road, disorientation began to set in each morning. You know the feeling—coming out of sleep bewildered by unfamiliar surroundings. Oh yes, I remember now. We stopped in Visalia last night but it wasn’t our goal. That’s how the day played out on this April Escape mini-trip, though.
Still sluggish but gathering some coherence, I began to picture the day ahead. I was determined to get back to camping. The comfort and luxury of a hotel room is marvelous, of course, but that wasn’t what I set out for on this trip. I was fixated on the luxury of sleeping under the moonlight, immersed in the sounds and smells of the outdoors.
That motivation drove me out of bed earlier than usual. I took advantage of the hotel suite to spread out and do some yoga before another muscle-stiffening day on two wheels. Over breakfast, I scoured my campground app for options. We would move towards the Groveland-ish area where there are several campgrounds that might work.
Day 6
Day – Visalia, CA to Friant, CA
Mileage: 115
Route: CA 198, CA 216, CA 63, CA 180, CA 168, N Friant Rd, North Fork Rd/CA 206, CA 145
Setting out:
We set out from downtown Visalia, refreshed from showers and a good night’s sleep. We also set out thinking we knew Visalia’s roads better than we did. Riding back out the way we came in, we didn’t realize we’d missed our route north until we were way off course. There were moments of conversation between us in our headsets, as you can imagine. “Hmmm… shouldn’t we have made that turn by now?” and “This doesn’t seem quite right.” Clearly we weren’t as awake as we thought, since we continued on in the wrong direction.
Eventually we stopped to regroup. Sure enough we were already way off. No matter. We embrace the surprise discoveries that unexpected detours can reveal. This case was no different. Looping back to catch our intended path, we rode through grove after grove of orange trees. The blossoms filled the air with their thick scent, so sweet it was nearly overwhelming. Bees filled the air as well, smacking into our arms and chests as we rode.
Deciding on an end game for the day:
It was an excellent ride but slow going with lots of farm equipment using the roads to move between the orange groves. The detour to get out of town cost us time. Getting to Groveland would be a stretch. And we didn’t need or want to push hard on this trip.
By the time we descended from the foothills back into the valley we were tired. We’d been riding non-stop and needed a rest. We kept riding through to Clovis, looking for a one-stop solution for lunch, fuel, and camping rations. We eventually found it but not before getting wrapped up in aggressive Clovis traffic.
Over lunch, we rethought our plans and found a new camping destination not far from Clovis. We pushed on to Millerton Lake State Recreation Area. I had managed our navigation for most of the day as fatigue beset my dear man. Now it was my turn to be cared for. I was cooked. Looping around and around the campground to find an agreeable hammock camping site was about to push me over the edge into full-on “fuck this” mode. We were tired and decisions became an ordeal. So he took the lead and stopped to chat with the campground host, Shirtless Steve.
That worked out well. Steve pointed us to the sites best suited for our gear and protection from the evening winds. We chose a site from the few he recommended and it turned out to be one of the best campsites I’ve ever had. It overlooked the lake with trees ideal for hanging our hammocks right next to one another. And because it was the middle of the week in off-peak season, the campground was nearly empty. It was glorious.
Problem-solving, MacGyver style
Camp setup was fairly simple and we were soon only concerned with how to chill beer and wine in the cool lake water. The wave action precluded simply setting them at the water’s edge as they would quickly drift away. We needed to get creative with a bit of MacGuyvering. With my dear man’s Rok Straps and a hastily emptied Eagle Creek packing cube, I had my solution in short order. We would have passably chilled beverages with our dinner.
For all of our foibles that day we ended having one of the best camping nights ever. I felt light and free. I set up my camera for a time lapse over the lake, something I haven’t done in ages. We embraced sleep nestled closely together in our hanging cradles. In all of our travels, this was our first night ever camping off the motorcycles together. And it was amazing.
Cool stuff:
Fort Miller Campground at Millerton Lake State Recreation Area, Friant. This is a gem of a campground, especially if you can catch it when it isn’t busy.
The ride into Millerton Lake State Recreation Area.
A subtle sunset over the lake.
My dear Evie looking stately at camp.
Cozy hammock campers.
Mood lighting at camp. Yes, that’s my travel whiskey flask.
Our “glamorous” camp dinner.
Our cozy hammock camping set up.
MacGuyvering an adult beverage cooling system with Rok Straps and and Eagle Creek packing cube.
I love this campsite so much!
Day 7
Day 7 – Friant, CA to Sonora, CA
Mileage: 148
Route: CA 145, Rd 211, CA 200, CA 41, CA 140, CA 120, CA 49
Camp exit:
We packed up camp slowly, taking in the scenery before we left and basking in the delight of our time at Millerton Lake. But it wasn’t long before we were under attack. Resident Columbia ground squirrels had their sights set on our food. And they were clever little boogers. They worked together, distracting us on one side of camp by initiating a chase while others snuck in from behind to boldly jump into our gear in pursuit of a yummy treasure. Even when we caught on, they circled, waiting for us to drop our guard so they could run their next gambit.
It was exhausting and certainly evaporated our desire to linger. They were clearly better at this game than we were. I had a lengthy inner-rant about the campers who feed these animals and/or don’t keep their food secure. The squirrels are not at fault; they are simply going for the easy meal they’ve learned exists around humans.
The internal rant faded as we finished packing and set out to ride again. I left with some sadness knowing this would be the last camping night of this trip. But Yosemite was ahead. We wouldn’t stay there but we would ride into the valley, have lunch, and soak in the majesty. Amidst the traffic, of course. You have to accept that if you want to visit a marquis-level national park.
Bring on Sonora:
Yosemite Valley was as stunning, as always. Then it was time to move on. One of the only plans we made on this trip was for our last night to be in Sonora. We wanted to revisit the fabulous Bourbon Barrel whiskey bar to cap off our adventure.
We didn’t make a reservation at our favorite hotel, The Sonora Inn, until we arrived in town. That’s typical for us—a safety net in case we don’t get as far as we planned on any given day. The Sonora Inn is a wonderful historic hotel. And it has its quirks because of its historic nature. So when I called and was told the elevator was out of service, I was not only unsurprised, it was a non-issue. It’s not fun hauling all of our gear up stairs but not a deal breaker. The desk clerk asked if I wanted second or third floor. Under the circumstances, that answer was clear, “Second floor, please.”.
Oh, silly Val! You forgot this isn’t a “normal” hotel. The Sonora Inn has wonky floor levels. We were assigned a room on an odd half-floor. We had to schlep our bags from the back parking lot to the front of the hotel, up the stairs, then to the back of the hotel, and back down the “half-level” of circular stairs to our room. It was a fucking expedition. Had I chosen the third floor, life would have been much less exhausting. Not fewer stairs, but less distance and easier going. Lesson learned for the next time in Sonora!
Surprise in Sonora:
The next issue? Fuck me if the Bourbon Barrel wasn’t closed for a construction project. It was one of our main reasons for returning to Sonora. But we’re flexible travelers, right? So we moved on in hopes of finding a new experience in Sonora. We found it at Emberz, thanks to an excellent bartender. As we often do, we enjoyed a leisurely tapas-style dinner at the bar.
A couple of cocktails into the evening, a rather animated woman sat down next to us. We often chat with our bar-mates on the road but this one was more memorable than others. The evening transmuted into a counseling session about her boyfriend woes. Therapist Val was in order, it seemed. I hope I was helpful. She’s a nice lady, her situation unenviable and both parties have a lot of issues. We wandered out of the restaurant many hours later a bit shell shocked for the experience but all the more grateful for our healthy relationship.
Cool stuff:
Yosemite National Park. Really, what else needs to be said? It’s Yosemite. It’s spectacular.
The Sonora Inn, Sonora. Wonky floors and fussy elevator be damned, I love staying here.
Emberz Wood-Fired Foodz, Sonora. Good food, great bar staff. A nice place to spend an evening in Sonora.
Yosemite. ‘Nuff said.
Exiting Millerton Lake State Recreation Area.
A fellow rider in the ditch. He was ok and help was on the scene but still disconcerting.
Groovy tunnel action in Yosemite.
Riding Yosemite.
Bracing for Clovis traffic.
Stealth squirrels sneaking in for the heist.
A camp interloper.
The streets of Sonora.
Day 8
Day 8 – Sonora, CA to Dayton, NV
Mileage: 161
Route: CA 49, CA 88, Hwy 395, Hwy 50
The road home:
Day 8. Heading home. I’m somewhat notorious for saying home is a four letter word. That was before embracing my amazing life in Nevada with my dear man. While having a home base isn’t necessary for me, what I have now is an incredible sanctuary. Even so, re-entry is a task to be handled carefully. The ride today would be a mental exercise. To shift gears and embrace the next phase of travel. This trip was meant to be an antidote to that. And now it was ending.
Our route on the final day was about getting home. What lay ahead was a familiar ride from Sonora to Dayton along CA 49 and US 88. Familiar doesn’t mean boring, though. After the biggest breakfast in human history at Riderz in Sonora, we set out.
Highway 88 is the southernmost trans-Sierra highway that the state keeps open year round. And even though it was late April, snowbanks clung to the hillside along the route. A reminder that I was far from my lifelong stomping grounds in the southeast.
We rode. Sometimes silent. Sometimes marveling at the sights together by talking through our headsets. There’s always a somberness to the end of a journey, though. Wondering what would happen if you just kept riding, responsibility be damned. We went home, of course, collected the adventure dog from the sitter and returned to our daily life.
Cool stuff:
Riderz Family Restaurant, Sonora. Super nice folks running this little restaurant connected to the Sonora Inn. More food than is humanly possible to eat in one sitting.
Carson Pass. This is a fabulous ride peaking at 8,652 feet. Stop and enjoy the view. It’s worth it.
Caples Lake. It’s glorious when the lake comes into view along Highway 88. Take the time to stop and marvel.
Mad Dog Cafe, Woodfords Station. This little cafe is spitting distance from home and a frequent stop for us on a day ride over Monitor Pass. Stop, grab great food, take your chance on a lottery ticket.
Climbing Carson Pass into chilly elevations
Riding Carson Pass towards home
Ginormous breakfast at Riderz Family Restaurant in Sonora before the last leg home
Thanks for following along on the April Escape series! I hope you found out about some places you’d like to visit. Like I said early on, this trip was about refreshing some of my stagnant travel routines and skills.
I only ended up with two nights of camping which is slightly disappointing. It’s ok, though. I have enough information now to know what I need to refine in my setup. More importantly, I have renewed confidence about getting out on the bike this way. More thoughts on that to come. Stay tuned.
I had to shift mental gears. My brief solo travel adventure was over and it was time to re-embrace travel with my dear man. It isn’t better or worse, just different. We managed our on-the-road meetup fairly seamlessly, given the circumstances. Now we’re back to doing what we do best—traveling together. We woke up in one of our favorite getaways to the possibilities and unknowns of the travel that lay ahead.
Day 4
Day 4 – Benton Hot Springs, CA to Kernville, CA
Mileage: 209
Route: US 6, US 395, CA 14, CA 178, Sierra Way
Route Choice:
Breakfast is served at 8 am at Benton Hot Springs. With chow time earlier than my usual rhythm, there was no lounging about in bed on the morning of Day 4. But the benefit of emerging at a reasonable hour is swapping travel stories with the other guests over a lovely meal prepared by someone else in a cozy historic bed and breakfast. And although our host was probably unprepared for the amount of coffee I guzzle in the morning, he kept the java flowing without a glitch.
We lingered over coffee with our fellow travelers before heading out. And of course, it was time to figure out where we were going. Certainly south on US 395. Weather dictated crossing the Sierra to get to the western side. But which pass to use for the crossing? We eyed Sherman Pass closely, having ridden west to east before and knowing how spectacular it is. The problem with tackling it on Day 4? Time. With a late exit from Benton, we were in for a long day to complete the pass and at higher elevations. If we got tired, camping would be a very chilly prospect. There aren’t a lot of services along the way and fewer open for business this time of year.
The Ride:
So we took a chance on unfamiliar roads, pushing fairly far south on US 395 in heavy winds to cross the mountains on CA 178 through Kernville. We hoped to scope out campsites along the way and see if we could get back to camping. No such luck. The sites along Lake Isabella were exposed to the winds and without adequate opportunities to hang our hammocks. We knew we could find lodging in Kernville so we pressed on.
Neither of us had ever been there before and it was a fabulous little surprise. It’s like a little mountain hideaway. Clearly we aren’t the first to discover this. It’s a summer resort town, with room prices to match. After finding a more budget-friendly option, we wandered to dinner at Kern River Brewing Company followed by cocktails at the Kernville Saloon prepared by an excellent bartender. I’m not sure if the locals visit in the high season but we got to chat a bit with them during our visit. It’s always enlightening to share time with local folks.
Cool stuff:
Spainhower Park, Lone Pine. This is my favorite little place to take a rest stop when I don’t have any needs in Lone Pine other than stretching my legs and taking a loo break.
Lake Isabella, Kernville. Clearly a summer playground for Southern Californians. I understand the attraction; it’s gorgeous.
Kern River Brewing Company, Kernville. Nice little place to grab a bite and a local brew. Great fried pickles and pulled pork. It’s a reasonable walking distance from the town center.
After a long day in the saddle, beer, pulled pork, and other fired goodness hit the spot at Kern River Brewing.
The ride around Lake Isabella is fun and beautiful.
The ride along CA 178 is picturesque and dotted with little roadside stands.
Elegant sweepers around the lake.
Day 5
Day 5 – Kernville, CA to Visalia, CA
Mileage: 145
Route: Sierra Hwy/M-99, M-50, CA 107/M-90, CA 190, CA 65, CA 198
Route choice:
You’ve probably noticed by now that I rarely get an early start on these trips. Day 5 was no different. After a leisurely breakfast, I was in dire need of my yoga and physical therapy routine to maintain strength and combat motorcycling stiffness.
As we finally departed, we set our sights on a campsite on Lake Kaweah. Being motorcyclists, we know the most direct route is often the least interesting. So we whipped out our Butler map and plotted a curvy trajectory toward the campground.
The route north out of Kernville was not marked on the map as being a good riding road but it was the best way to get to the other good roads ahead. Plus, we knew there were many Forest Service campsites along the way so going that direction served as a scouting opportunity for future trips.
The ride:
Turns out the road is gorgeous. The pavement is shitty but the scenery is well worth the ride, even if the Butler folks don’t agree.
Somewhere along that section we met Ninja Squirrel. Ninja Squirrel is not your run-of-the-mill indecisive rodent. No, Ninja Squirrel will jet across the road at full speed without hesitation. You see him coming and know you have to maintain your line, not only because that’s good practice but also because any variation in your chosen path will put your wheels in a pothole. I pressed on waiting for the inevitable thump based upon my assessment of his speed and trajectory as well as mine. It never came. No, Ninja Squirrel bolted right between my front and rear wheels, underneath my feet. That’s some serious skill. And I will forever wish I had a camera mounted on my dear man’s bike to see it for myself. Given my vantage point, I had to rely on his report from behind me of how epic that squirrel’s performance was.
Ninja Squirrel was the source of much admiration the rest of the day as we moved through Sequoia National Forest. We eventually got to familiar roads. The area has seen large wildfires since our previous visits. The vegetation in many areas has been destroyed. The roads were sloppy with gravel and debris from the now-unstable road cuts. That makes for more challenges in maintaining traction on the bike.
Plus, full disclosure, I was riding like shit. I don’t know why. I just didn’t have my groove. I chose poor lines through the curves. I was hesitant. That mental state is a nasty negative feedback loop. I try to pay close attention to my needs for rest breaks and water. Technical riding requires more of those breaks and this was very technical riding. We’d been in the saddle for a long time non-stop, without so much as a quick opportunity to put our feet on the ground. I knew I was fatigued and needed a rest stop. The problem was that I couldn’t find a reasonable place to take one. The small turnouts along the way either came up too quickly around a corner to make them, or were a gravel and sand mess, or both. Fuck. It took quite a while to find a place to pull off safely. Once we did, I was able to reset a good bit. My dear man took the lead from that point and we eased out of the mountains towards camp. Of course, there was a much-needed taco stop along the way to help us finish off the day of tough riding.
The camping attempt:
We slid into Horsecreek Campground at Lake Kaweah, optimistic we were in for a treat. Imagine our dismay at finding much of the campground flooded and no suitable spot remaining for us hammock campers. We gave it the college try, examining all the sites to find one that seemed like it might be just comfortable enough to be able to enjoy a night there. It was a no go.
Remember that late start I mentioned? With that timing, there was not enough time to get to another campground that would work for us. Certainly not in our fatigued states after a challenging day of twisties. Our mileage wasn’t much really but the intensity was and I needed to stop for the day as soon as possible. We made a few soft inquiries to lodging options nearish the campground, all a little too pricey B&B-style for us. We’re familiar with Visalia, though, so into town we rode to regroup for the night.
We fell into our usual but tried and true routine. Rest, showers, dinner, cocktails, and an evening stroll to enjoy the town. Admittedly I was pretty tired from the day and feeling quite punchy but in the course of our post-cocktail stroll we came across Rasta-banana-monkey. My dear man didn’t even notice it until I pointed to the shop window and exclaimed “What IS that thing?”
On a day when you’ve met Rasta Banana Monkey and Ninja Squirrel, you have to laugh at the oddities of travel.
Sequoia National Forest: Ok, the forest covers a lot of area but it’s gorgeous. Go do something, somewhere in this magical place.
Primo’s Tacos, Lindsay. If you like to include a taco safari vibe in your travels, this place makes the grade.
Brewbakers Brewing Company, Visalia. I crave large amounts of fat and salt after hard days in the saddle so their potato skins are my go-to when I’m in Visalia. Plus, good beer and sausages.
Fugazzi’s Bistro, Visalia. Our post-dinner cocktail stop this time. We finally found a winner in Visalia! On past visits here, we’ve had less than stellar cocktails at other places. Go straight to Fugazzi’s for good drinks.
Thanks for following along. What’s coming up? Will we ever camp again?
Until next time, adventure on, friends!
The full ride map
(PS – the map is interactive if you want to take a closer look. I’ve dropped pins on points of interest. Zoom in to see those.)
I was high. High on successful travel. Motorcycle travel, solo travel, and managing challenging conditions while still having fun.
It’s Day 3 of my April Escape. I’ll meet up with my dear man a day earlier than expected. But where and how? Winds are still daunting. And we don’t know where we’ll be heading after we manage to reconnect on the road.
But for now we have to focus on what lies ahead today, making the short-term decision of where to meet up. We do know that the further south I move, the harder it will be for him to catch up to me. That’s a problem I will have to solve over breakfast.
Day 3
Day 3 – Lone Pine, CA to Benton Hot Springs, CA
Miles: 94
Route: US 395, US 6
My experience: With such low-mileage days, I had another slow-paced morning before getting back on the road. Plus I needed to consider how to meet up with my dear man. So I mulled on it over breakfast as I watched the winds rage outside the window of the cafe. It came to me.
I would ride back north a short way and meet him at one of our favorite remote hidey-holes, The Inn at Benton Hot Springs. The distance wasn’t terribly far but the winds would be challenging; the kind that make you feel like you’ve been pummeled in a boxing ring all day.
But the Inn isn’t far. As long as they had a vacancy, we’d be all set. Success! A quick phone call and our room was secured for the night. I faced another challenge, though. There would be no access to restaurants for dinner. Benton is a lovely place but very remote. They provide breakfast but we needed to have our own dinner sorted.
I pondered this as I walked back to my room, simply trying to stay upright in the gusts that seemed determined to toss me like a tumbleweed. After loading up the bike, it was time to muster unstoppable-motorcycle-chick attitude to combat the conditions I was up against. I tossed my leg over the bike and rode with determination back north to Bishop.
A short ride through gales, dust storms, and errant tractor trailers unable to keep to their lanes put me in Bishop. I stopped at the grocery store and wandered the aisles, partly recovering from the intense ride and partly unsure what I was looking for. I wanted to grab some food that didn’t require much effort. Although I had the ability to do some light cooking with camping gear on hand and the use of the grill at the Inn, I didn’t want to. So, not different from any other day of the week at home, really.
After fielding questions from curious staff at the store about how I would be getting all of the food on the bike, I set to actually accomplishing the task. It took some patience since the bike was quite well loaded already. But I stuffed and crammed everything into little bits of empty space in my panniers. Wine, cheese, salmon, crackers, capers and the like formed pieces of my unique puzzle. Some water and a deep breath and it was time to forge on.
I’d been so lackadaisical about my short ride ahead that I found it to be quite late in the day. It was looking like I might not beat my dear man to the Inn even though I had much less distance to cover. I managed it though and even had time for a nice walk around the property with a gentleman who is apparently the manager. He was friendly and proud of the place.
Once my dear man arrived, we proceeded with a fabulous night catching up and soaking in the hot spring tubs. It was glorious. The Inn was almost empty and we scored a room that didn’t require us to share a bathroom with a neighbor. It is a historic building after all. You have to make allowances for them not meeting modern sensibilities about these things.
There was no talk of where to go next that night. We’d get out the maps and sort that in the morning. That’s a tale for next time.
I did it! I was off on my first solo motorcycle trip in over two years. I thought my grin would split my helmet in half as I turned onto Highway 50 from my neighborhood. Relief was a small part of the equation, to be sure. Packing and getting out the door had its challenges. But really it was the pure joy of motorcycle travel that coursed through my body. I basked in the motorcycle traveler’s equivalent of “runner’s high” as I opened Evie up and felt her thrust forward underneath me. Ahead lay endless open road. Looking at the expanse stretching out in front of me, all I saw was possibility.
The solo ride
As I talked about in the first part of this series, it took some orchestration to put this trip together. Timing, weather, and logistics were not as straightforward as I would have liked. But once on the road everything fell into place. Other than a general direction for the first night and knowing I had about eight days to explore, I didn’t have a plan. That’s the beauty of the coddiwomple.
With no plan though, what did I know that shaped the trip you see on the map?
I’d be working around challenging wind and temperatures the entire trip.
I needed to be prepared to have a day off the bike. Depending on how the forecast shaped up, I knew I might have to wait out disagreeable and potentially unsafe riding conditions.
At some point, I’d meet up with my dear man.
I wanted to renew my motorcycle camping skills.
In the end, those factors led me to a sort of circumnavigation of the southern Sierra. Only 1,132 miles but they were glorious. Revisiting some familiar roads and exploring some new ones made for a pleasant mix of comfort and excitement. (PS – the map is interactive if you want to take a closer look. I’ve dropped pins on points of interest. Zoom in to see those.)
Map fun
Here’s the breakdown and highlights by day with some recommendations if you find yourself in these areas.
Day 1
Day 1 – Dayton, NV to Bishop, CA
Miles: 191
Route: US 50, US 95A, NV 339, NV 208, NV 338, US 395
My experience: I headed south towards Bishop, California with the intent of finding a campsite somewhere along the way. I watched the weather shape up through the day. The overnight temperatures in the higher-elevation Forest Service sites along US 395 were going to be a little lower than I was prepared for. With some reluctance I pushed into Bishop and set up shop at an agreeable county park. Still chilly but manageable. It wouldn’t have the peace and quiet I was hoping for but it gained me a few perks like easy access to water.
Getting my moto-camping skills reinvigorated that first night was a bit of a goat rodeo. I’d made a good choice on camp though. A developed front-country site made the transition easier. Fortunately a lot came back to me quickly and I had camp set up in fairly short order. I got reacquainted with my equipment, feeling like a beginner. Things like remembering how to run my camp stove, set up my cot, and how to store my moto gear in my tiny tent.
Access to electricity was a nice bonus. Working at my little computer while bats hunted overhead in the evening was exquisite. I could feel the off-kilter things in my life resetting as I pecked away at my tasks and watched their winged acrobatics, sometimes even feeling them swoop within a few inches of my head.
Cool stuff:
Mono Lake Vista on US 395: If you’re in the area, be sure to stop at the overlook. The view over the lake is spectacular. If you’re approaching from the north, you’ll get a jaw-dropping eyeful of the lake as the view opens up around a big downhill curve.
Browns Millpond Campground: This is a nice little county campground, especially if you need amenities like water, electricity, and showers.
The view over Mono Lake is well worth a stop. It’s breathtaking.
Being welcomed to camp by bats is a groovy experience.
My first moto camp in years!
Day 2
Day 2 – Bishop, CA to Lone Pine, CA
Miles: 68
Route: US 395
My experience: Yep, a very low-mileage day; the lowest of the whole trip. I was relaxed and reveling in my solitude. Dusting off my solo motorcycle travel and camping skills felt amazing. I took the time for a leisurely working breakfast, a stop to refuel, a beef jerky run, and a trip to the auto parts store to pick up a new headlight bulb for Evie.
In between all of these stops, I watched the winds to decide what to take on for Day 2. It was not a favorable day for motorcycling. I’m well aware of what wind speeds I can handle, as well as the limits on the fun factor when gusts are high. Being able to handle the winds and enjoying the ride are two distinctly different aspects of a motorcycle trip.
So I mosied south though Big Pine to Lone Pine, stopping at places I normally blast through on my way to other destinations. I took a long break at the Bristlecone Pine Information Center, waffling greatly (ok, maybe epically) about riding the rough, twisty road up to the forest. And I almost decided to go for it after chatting with a couple who was heading up. They promised they’d have my back if shit went bad for me. I took one last look at the wind reports and opted for prudence. Riding an unfamiliar and challenging road alone in high winds on a heavily loaded motorcycle seemed to cross the line from adventure into unnecessary risk. Really, it was only a postponement in hopes the winds would subside in the next day or two and I could ride it then.
Instead, I wandered into Lone Pine and spent some time at the Lone Pine Film History Museum I’d always passed by but never visited. I’m not a film buff by any means but the whole point of this trip was to travel slowly and dig a little deeper, knowing that there are surprises in expected places. In addition to honoring the vision for this trip an hour or so respite from the wind did me good.
By the time I finished up at the museum that afternoon I had a better idea of timing, location, and weather to meet up with my dear man. We initially thought that would be on Day 4, given the weather forecast. But he was anxious to get on the road and the winds were proving to be tolerable for a short ride on Day 3. That meant I would stay the night in Lone Pine and head back north the next day to meet him.
That gave me a motel night to shower, get some work done, maintain my physical therapy routine, and be out of the wind for a spell. Chatting with a fellow rider at the motel had me tempted to leave my load in the room and ride some dirt in the Alabama Hills less encumbered with heavy gear. Again, prudence won out. Dust filled the air from the heavy winds. Visibility was abysmal. The wind gusts were bone rattling. An evening walk through town to dinner at a taco truck was a better choice.
Mahogany Meats: Great sandwiches and all kinds of yummy jerky. I typically stock up here for snacks on the road.
The Roosevelt Tree: Located at the Bristlecone Pine Forest Information Kiosk at the intersection of US 395 and CA 168 in Big Pine.
Lone Pine Film History Museum: The Lone Pine area is home to the Alabama Hills, a popular filming location mainly for westerns but some sci-fi productions as well. It’s a small museum that you can enjoy in about an hour.
Castro’s Taco truck: If you like to add a taco safari to your travels like I do, this is a great stop. Lovely people, great food, and budget friendly.
The solo adventure portion of this trip only encompassed two nights instead of four. Is that ok? I’m happy with it. I did what I needed to do for myself and that’s just how it played out. Will I arrange more solo travel and camping? You betcha. It’s an extraordinary experience to be self-sufficient.
Next up in the April Escape saga: orchestrating a rendezvous with my dear man in horrendous winds.
You have three straight weeks of challenging travel looming on the calendar. It’s taunting you. It knows you’re bracing for impact; that you just hope you make it through without too many issues. But that trip is still a couple of weeks away. What do you do? How do you get yourself ready for traveling in a way that isn’t your strong suit?
You take a little trip on your terms first, of course! For me, the rhythm of the coddiwomple is what lights my travel fire. There’s such freedom in travel when you’re not tied to exact timelines, reservations, and expectations. That flexibility is intoxicating.
Back in April, I had about a two-week window between spring break with the kiddos in Lake Tahoe and heading to the southeast for my intense FrankenTravel adventure. Knowing I had unusual and difficult travel ahead, I wanted to take advantage of that window to adventure on my terms—to be entirely me. I also wanted to get in some good riding, knowing I would be off the bike for several weeks.
At the get-go, hitting the road wasn’t meant to be anything other than an exploration ride to take advantage of that window and travel my way. But it ended up being so much more. A simple coddiwomple became important in unexpected ways.
As I prepared, I did some traveler soul searching. The conclusions? Many aspects of my travel life have shifted over time—the how, where, and why. Other aspects have become routine. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, I worked myself into a travel rut. Not that my travels have been unpleasant or bad, just autopilot-like—unimaginative.
Clearly, I needed to shake up my mini-adventures. So in the course of this little eight-day jaunt, I did some new things, refreshed some dusty skills, and identified problem areas I need to refine. In this April Escape series, I’ll share those thoughts and tales. For now, though, the bones of this trip are where it all began.
A little of what my planning process looks like.
Logistics
Issue #1 – When
I had a two-week window but I couldn’t dedicate that entire time to travel. I had to pick about nine to 10 days. That became difficult with my dear man having a previous commitment right smack in the middle of the available time. While it added some complication, it was clear we were going to have to split up this adventure. Either we would start off together and have him return home before me, or I would have to start off without him and he would catch up. After much discussion of all of the pros, cons, and considerations, we opted for him to meet up with me. No set time or place, just a vague notion that we’d figure it out based upon weather and where I was by that time.
Issue #2 – Where
Originally I wanted to poke around southern Nevada and explore the cluster of state parks there. The weather laughed at me. Forecasts of sustained 30-mph winds in the area filled my entire travel window. As I shifted my gaze around the state in search of a different general direction, but hoping to stay in Nevada, there was simply no place the winds or temperatures would be agreeable for a motorcyclist.
That pushed me to look at the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Winds and temperatures there would at least be manageable though not ideal. So I pointed myself southward in the Eastern Sierra with no intent to get very far, just explore more deeply and remember how to travel solo. This trip was about how to take eight days to not go very far.
Issue #3 – How
I also desperately wanted to camp. I had not camped at all, much less off of the bike, in an embarrassingly long time. So adding to the plans and preparation was finding all of my gear and dusting off those dormant skills. I waffled tremendously on how to go about it—tent or hammock, which sleeping bag, what food to take, and those sorts of details. My ability to pack up and go on a camping trip on a whim had atrophied. I fussed and overthought every detail for lack of exercising that perishable skill. But more on how that worked out in a later post.
Issue #4 – Delay
At long last after all of the hemming and hawing, I had the bike packed. Now, while just watching weather forecasts to pick the optimum departure time, we heard from our dear buddy, Neil. He would be coming our way and was hoping to get together. Certainly my dear man would be home to greet Neil since he wasn’t leaving with me. I didn’t want to miss seeing Neil though. Decision time for me.
Quite honestly, the weather wasn’t cooperating all that well. I was feeling a little bit intimidated by it when considering all of the other details I was trying to manage. I also knew the further I was into the trip the harder it would be for my dear man to catch up with me, given the weather conditions. So holding back a day didn’t seem like a sacrifice. Granted, it ended up being a day and a half delay since we had a good bit of fun hanging out with Neil which left me not moving too quickly the next morning.
An unexpected but very welcome house guest delayed departure. Totally worth it.
Execution
Eventually I did get on the road. With the men-folk waving me off, I set out for my first solo motorcycle adventure in easily two years, probably closer to three.
Overall the trip was only 1,132 miles. If you’re doing the math, that’s only about a 140 mile-a-day average. But big mileage wasn’t the point. It was about diving a little deeper into places I normally fly through. It was also about reclaiming some solo travel, figuring out how to blend that with couples travel and meet up mid-trip, and refresh my languishing skills. And it worked. But I’ll get back to that later in the series.
I hope by sharing the thought and planning process, I can show you that it can take a lot to put a trip together, even for a seasoned independent traveler. Especially when you’ve allowed some areas of your expertise to wither. Toss in aspects that are out of your control, like weather, and there are a multitude of things to consider before setting out.
But I love traveling. And traveling on my motorcycle is my favorite thing in the world. Even in the context of some complications, it’s always worth it.
And as always, once I was on the road, everything fell away. All of the challenges, decisions, and details came together into accomplishment. Freedom, empowerment, and joy all swelled into a giant grin on my face as Nina Simone sang “Feelin’ Good” in my headset and I hit the throttle into the unknown.
Much more to come in this series. Stay tuned and adventure on, friends!
By my first rest break of the trip overlooking Mono Lake, I’d found my solo groove again.
