What is your favorite book?

Elmo, The Early Years...It's a quick read and has lots of pictures.

What is your favorite movie?

Old School....I like to laugh, it's funny every time.

What is your favorite musician/song?

Jane's Addiction, love a number of their songs.

Describe a memorable bike related moment?

Amanda and I getting lost on the backside of Hole in the Ground and having to hike out in the middle of the night. No one else I'd want to get lost with. (see story below)

Anything else you would like to add?

How the Sierra’s beatch slapped us, or how we got lost at Hole in the Ground.

 

Early June 2002:

 

Hot days in Auburn have us looking up and to the east toward the Sierra’s and the cool mtns and its streams. I’d heard Hole in the Ground was rideable except for a small spot of snow here and there, so my wife Amanda and I figured we’d hit a lil weeknight loop to get out of the heat. It’s a 2 hr loop at a steady pace and we started at 5:30 P.M., even with a mishap we’d have plenty of light to finish (foreshadowing!).

 

What I had heard to be small spots of snow on the trail turned out to be quite a bit more. At points, we’d cross over snowdrifts only to lose the direction of the trail, after several meanderings we’d find the trail and move on. Since the trail descends and rolls on the backside, we figured we’d see less snow, and although we were running behind, finishing still wouldn’t be a problem. That sure didn’t happen.

 

First, we missed a split and ended up at Sand Lake. After backtracking, we were back on the right trail. We continued to ride the rollers at a more measured until we reached a dense section of woods deep in snow. We followed tracks across snow, but than they stopped. Where did they go? We hunted and searched to find the trail, but couldn’t find it, it was lost somewhere under the snow. It was almost 8pm, and thunderclouds were heading in from the Northeast, and a light drizzle began to fall. Fricking great, insult to injury. There’s nothing like being wet and lost. A sense of urgency kind of took over. It was becoming apparent that we weren’t going to be finishing in the daylight. We were about half way thru the loop, decisions had to be made. Do we turn back? If we do turn back will we be able to find the trail that traversing back through all the snowdrifts? If we continue forward, even without the trail, we know that there is a fire road that crosses the trail. That was our decision; get to the fire road and head up the fire road toward hwy 80 and Soda Springs. Sounds simple.

 

Off the bikes, we zig zagged through the woods with the setting sun ahead and the direction of hwy 80 on our left. As the sun’s light continued to fade, the first star toward the west appeared and we called it Auburn. It appeared like it was sitting right above our nice cozy home to the west. The star also allowed us to know that the direction we needed to finally go would be to our left. After about 15 minutes of dragging our bikes through the woods, we ran into the fire road. Oh the relief, we’d be able to pedal the remaining light up the fire road and back into Soda Springs.

 

We were back on our bikes. The fire road meandered around the ridge that had been our left, it turned steep and continued to climb, but now climbed higher and higher, requiring us to clamber over more snow drifts. The road turned and began heading the wrong direction; we continued to follow until finally the road disappeared into solid snow. It was now dark, and we were on a fire road that headed nowhere. We decide to head back down the fire road and back track to see if we could find any other roads or trails. We found one fire road and began following it. However, after two or so miles, the fire road led into a canyon wall where it dead-ends. Again we backtracked to the previous intersection. Again it’s decision time. It’s dark, we’re lost, but we know the direction of our car and hwy 80. We have no lights, only the clothing that we’re wearing, each a camelback and each a cliffbar. Neither of us wants to sit thru the night, and we both are determined to get back to the car.

 

We could hear a stream down the mountain and to our left cutting below the ridge. We decided to work our way down to the stream and to use it as our guide heading in the proper direction. There was no trail, only woods, thick deer brush, fallen trees, and granite boulder fields. It was 9:00 P.M. and we were determined. Luckily, the moon was full and the thunderclouds had moved off to the Northeast, so the sky was clear.

We bushwhacked our way down canyon walls and ravines, over boulders and thru fields of deer brush always trying to get closer to hwy 80. It became frustrating, as we’d make our way along canyon walls we’d be turned back by 30+ foot cliffs. We’d redirect our route, thru whatever means necessary, scaling rocks or climbing over fallen trees. There was something comfortable in resigning ourselves to the situation. We knew we were responsible for our predicament and were the only ones that were going to get us out of it. We lightly laughed at thoughts of being the lost mountainbikers in the Sierra’s on the morning news reports. We didn’t want to be the idiotic looking hikers you see on TV, with an explanation of “I don’t know how I got lost.” I’d like a little more flattering 15 minutes of fame please.

 

After meandering this way and that, we made our way up to the top of the next ridge, hoping to see hwy 80 right there in front of us. We did see hwy 80, and the ribbon of lights from the cars, but it was still so far away. There were at least three ravines and ridges, we’d have to traverse down and up to get even a hint of being back. It was maybe a short 5 to 6 miles as the crow flies, but an eternity given the terrain.

 

We worked our way down the ridge and came upon a lake. At first we were excited, we thought it was the lower lake we swim in at the end of our summer rides, but it was too small. We found old hiking campgrounds and old fire pits at the lake, and found what seemed to be a trail heading in the right direction, but it soon disappeared into thick groves of deer brush. This happened numerous times and brought many frustrating moments. Frustrating as that was, it was more frustrating knowing there was probably a well marked trail either to our left or to our right that we couldn’t see with just the moon light. That bright moon was also devious and like the mother Sierra’s played tricks on us. Its light shone through trees gave the perception of well groomed trails, which always turned into boulder fields or flesh ripping shrubs that eventually led to nowhere or a steep canyon wall.

 

As we continued to try and follow the stream, other streams would meander and connect to the larger stream requiring us to further portage our bikes thru fresh snow melted water. Walking on slippery boulders while fatigued with a bike is something that can be passed on. It’s a very cold and wet experience.

 

Hours went by; quiet except for our crashing thru the woods, and the periodic “beep” of my watch letting us know another hour had passed. We’d made it down and over two more ravines and sets of ridges. On the last ridge, we could not only see the cars, but hear the cars traveling on hwy 80. We were definitely making progress, slow and painful progress. We worked our way down the ridge. Tired, we began seeking even more the path of least resistance, even if it wasn’t very direct. We meandered thru a grove of trees, and strips of moonlight lay silver silhouettes across the forest floor, each a deceiving mirage of a nice open trail, but each just nothing more than fallen trees and brush. I picked up my bike and crossed over a large fallen log, as I looked ahead the trees opened up, and I thought oh great more granite slabs, but the moon shone wide and bright on an open strip. I blinked my eyes hard to clear my vision, and thought ‘is that a fire road?’ I came to the edge of the trees, my eyes squinted, I peered down at the open strip; unsure of what I saw, peering like an 80 year old man reading the morning paper. I lightly put my foot on it, unsure if it would disappear. Oh no, it couldn’t be, it’s a fire road! It’s really a fire road! I yelled to my Amanda behind me “it’s a fire road, it’s a fire road!” It’s man made, yes! At this point, I couldn’t care where the fire road went, it could have gone all the way to Colfax, I was just so happy to be walking on something so open, so clear, oh you precious fire road.

 

It’s 1:30 a.m. in the morning. We had been hiking thru rugged terrain, over boulders, down canyon walls, up ridges, backtracking here, crawling over that, always portaging our bikes, but finally we felt progress. We wandered down the fire road as it led toward that same stream we had been following all night and morning. The fire road curved and opened up, that stream, we knew that stream, it’s the last stream crossing on the “normal” Hole in the Ground loop. It heads straight up a climb and then down a hill to the last piece of single track, that led to our car. We let out a yelp, we made it, we made it. Woohoo! We climbed the hill laughing at our stupidity, but at the same time kind of proud, that we remained positive, persevered and got ourselves thru a very sticky situation.

We reached our car, thankfully still there, and slowly changed our clothes. We washed off our legs that felt like a thousand razorblades had been run across. It was 2:00 A.M., 8 ½ hours after we had started our lil weekday ride, and we were finally going home.

 

It was a dumb situation we put ourselves in with little food, water, no lights, and no warm clothing. Our expectations of what Hole in the Ground is like from many prior experiences made those things seem unnecessary, boy was that wrong. Assumptions are the mother of all f ups, and boy were they here. The Sierra’s and the Hole in the Ground educated us and served us up a big piece of humble pie.

 

Roger

Photos?