Mountain biking has become an infrequent activity for me,
since for the last several years I’ve ridden almost exclusively on my road
bike. But last week, I put a mountain bike lent to me in the car and headed to
the Sierra Nevada foothills to a place called Cronan Ranch. It has plenty of
steep, rocky, rutted, technical single track, and two years ago I was
introduced to it by my buddy Marc.
Low clouds and fog dominated the sky for most of the hour-long
drive up to the foothills. But, just as I got to the ridge and dipped down a
winding road to Cronan Ranch, the sky was suddenly blue and the sun was out.
Cronan Ranch, a vast unspoiled wilderness turned over to
public use, was quiet with a steady cool breeze out of the southwest. It is a huge expanse of rolling grassy hills
sloping down to the South Fork of the American River, where hikers hike, dog
owners stroll and let their dogs run off leash, and mountain bikers ride its
dirt trails, both roads and single track.
The steady wind blew updrafts to a high grassy hill nearby where
hang gliders floated back and forth over the sloping grass without much danger.
The thick prairie grass provided a soft landing when the gliders came back to
earth.
I rode a short warm up loop on a gradual uphill dirt road
that then dipped steeply down and around toward another ascending road headed
south toward the river. It turned into rugged single track before long, with
plenty of dips and rock strewn climbs.
I used to mountain bike exclusively for years before my bike
was stolen out of my garage. I got the insurance money for it and bought a road
bike, since there’s a world-class road bike trail close to home, and my
mountain bike buddies had stopped riding.
But I missed mountain biking. A friend is leaving the
country for several months and lent me his mountain bike in his absence. It’s a
good basic Specialized hard tail with Shimano components, but the power train
is a bit trashed. My buddy rarely rode it, but bought it used.
I washed and degreased the chain and cassette and gave the
chain a fresh line of oil. Made sure the cleats allowed a quick kick out,
something I found out years ago will definitely limit chances of falling while
clipped into the pedals. I adjusted the seat, aired up the tires and was good
to go.
Once on the bike I soon learned that the largest ring of the
three – the highest gear for speed – would not take the chain when attempting a
shift to it. The derailleur was out of adjustment. But no worries, the middle
and smallest rings -- the ones crucial for steep climbs – shifted on command.
So I rode on to the challenging single-track trail ahead.
I wore my most padded riding gloves, since the last time I
was on this trail, my hands needed a lot more cushion than they got. Lots of
hard gripping and shake rattle and roll on this ride.
Before long I was in the lowest granny gear in a high-speed
spin, eluding rocks and ruts in a long, steep climb. I made it up, and gathered
my breath on the false flat at the top and kept on. The climbs kept coming,
making low gear sprint spins necessary to keep moving. One climb was steep and
long, an extra gritty gut check. By the time I got to the top, I heaved hard for
air, and had to stop to get my breath back. Turned out to be a great place to
stop. It offered a huge view of the south fork of the American River below and
the steep gorge it flows through.
And as I rode on, first in southerly direction, then west, I
came back under overcast cloud cover. Along with the cloud cover the
temperature dropped from the sunny 70 degrees at the start, to 51 degrees. I
brought long sleeves in case it was a cold at the start, but opted for a short
sleeve T-shirt, since the sun was out at the start and I didn’t expect to be
headed into clouds and a 20-degree drop in temp. So I learned, long sleeves
were probably the better call.
I did a few more fast descents and gnarly steep climbs, and
while I was pretty lathered up from climbing, it was cool and breezy. As I got
to the spot where I needed to stop, eat and turn around to get back in time, I
told myself to walk around and keep moving while I ate my snacks.
I know from experience it’s really easy to get a nasty chill
sitting still in the cool air after being lathered up. The sweat turns icy and
you’re suddenly cold and clammy.
So I ate and walked back and forth, and managed to keep warm.
I looked up to the cold gray clouds, and felt the isolation of being in the
middle of the wilderness, with no other people. It was a little eerie as I
thought about all the climbing I had left to get back. Definitely didn’t want
to get stuck out here in the cool breeze with a mechanical or an injury.
I hopped back on the bike and started back. The trail was a
series of gradual descents and sharp turns, then I was on a huge almost
vertical descent that had taken all I had to get up a few minutes earlier.
After some more fast, down-slope trail, the first climb on the ride back was
front and center. It was fairly steep and rocky, but not too long, and I made
it up. But soon the second, toughest climb of the day was in the way: A long
very steep pitch full of loose rocks.
I remembered I had to get off the bike on this sucker two
years ago. I started in again, trying to pick my way through. I got about a
fourth of the way up and my back tire wasn’t going fast enough to roll over a
rock, so the bike just stopped. I hopped off and walked it up the rest of the
way. This climb requires some speed to get through, but I lost the speed I had
doing quick turns to avoid rocks, and eventually a rock stopped me.
Maybe next time!
I did get through three of four steep climb switchbacks on
the way out, which was better than last time, so I took that as a gain in my bike
handling skills. But I was still rusty on tight steep turns.
At a stream crossing I looked at my right-gloved hand and
the glove’s foam palm padding had ripped out with the covering flap, dangling
in the air. So much for well padded gloves!
As I got over the big climbs, the rest of the ride back was
back in the sun and relatively fast with plenty of long descents. Top speed was
a fun 25 mph rattle-fest fly-down over rocks, gravel, ruts and sand.
Back at the car, I’d ridden 15.6 miles and had spent two
hours 23 minutes in the saddle. I packed the bike, got out my lunch and sat in
the 60-degree sun with a cool breeze. Definitely a welcome change from the
cold, cloudy weather I rode out of. I watched as the hang gliders, still in
action in the late afternoon, put on a show off in the distance.
Here’s a good video of this ride done by a couple guys a few years ago. It doesn’t show any of the gnarly climb action, which is by far the toughest part of the ride. But it gives a good feel of how good a single-track trail this is. Check it out…
Til next time, remember to pull on a helmet every time you
get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side down, ride safely, and have a
blast.
-- Mark Eric Larson
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