Before building the Summit Hut power system last week I took four days to explore the eastside region. I simply wandered by motorcycle, maybe 500 miles in total. I began by heading down Silver Canyon, rather than the main paved road. The drop is about 6,000′ to Bishop, and this had to be the steepest route I have ever ridden, as well as stark and beautiful.
I crossed this creek nine times, I believe, heading down beautiful Silver Canyon.
Once through Bishop I headed north, as the highway soon climbed from 4,000′ to 7,000′, and was much cooler and more comfortable. I headed to Mammoth, which I had never seen. It’s a ski-resort town in winter and now a major mountain-biking destination in summer, with the ski lifts hauling people and their rented bikes to their summits. Mammoth has an urban feel, with the faster pace of the cities from which everyone comes here to vacation.
I left the town after dinner, and camped in a clean and sweet impromptu campsite, in the pines just east of US395, the highway that is the main north-south highway along the Owens Valley, east of the Sierra Nevada range. Complete privacy. I returned to the town in the morning to spend the obligatory time in a commercial center, as I made coffee but wanted a restaurant breakfast. Then I had a couple of calls and texts to make, and it was nearly noon by the time I got on the road.
The Dakar (that’s the motorcycle, properly identified as a 2001 BMW F650 GS Dakar) had been out of commission for nearly a month as I struggled through replacement of a rear wheel bearing that failed while returning from the Oregon Country Fair. I had to ride 130 miles on the disintegrated bearing, as there was no way to replace it while en route in the mountains, so the hub was pretty messed up. Indeed, I only got it back together (on my own, after seeking assistance from local motorcycle shops) the day before yesterday, and left on this trip the next day.
I then discovered that the speedometer drive, with its electronic sensor on the rear wheel, had been damaged by the oscillations of wheel sans bearing. I couldn’t have known this until I started riding again, so now I have no speedometer or odometer. Wheel bearings shouldn’t fail at 15,000 miles. That could have real consequence in the outback terrain that this motorcycle was ostensibly designed to handle. So I don’t entirely trust the bike yet.
The peak in the far distance is White Mountain, looking from the northwest.
I’m riding some pretty obscure roads today, dirt and sand often, with few other vehicles and long miles between junctions. I’m not choosing the riskiest roads, as I’d like to be able to expect a car or truck or two an hour if I break down. And I’m keeping the tank full, just in case.
From Mammoth Lakes in the morning I rode the Benton Crossing road, then the Dobie Canyon road, which was beautiful and stark but also sandy and unstable on the bike. I then rode west on Highway 120 from Benton Hot Springs, watching the different views of the young and uncontrolled forest fire west of Mono Lake, near the road up and over Tioga Pass, the highest road pass over the Sierra Crest at 9941′ and the entrance to Yosemite National Park’s high country. The fire is just a couple of days old, and has six centers of fire, according to a ranger I spoke with. I took several photos of this fire from different locations.
First view of a new fire
A bit later in the day. The fire was west of Mono Lake, which is visible in this photo.
I was heading to Bodie, Califormia, a 19th century mining ghost town that has been beautifully preserved as a California State Park. I hadn’t known until I read on a sign that it’s a state park that closes each day at 6pm, and I arrived at 5:35. It was a blessing, though, as a wonderful ranger named Tara showed up at the entrance station to answer my questions.
After only a glance at the town, I knew I want to return at 9 am when it opens tomorrow. Tara suggested a route that passed through the park onto BLM lands, where most anywhere is legal to camp, and recommended some precious camping spots, including where I landed for the evening.
I’m minimal-impact camped near the ruins of a late-1800s “stamp mill” from mining days. The photos best capture the essential basic machine that crushed the ore brought by the miners.
The stamp mill in the distance
In the dry climate, buildings and machinery are well preserved.
The rotating wheel lifted and let drop the heavy cylinders, pulverizing the ore to release the gold and silver.
There’s nothing obvious to explain what spun the wooden pulley wheel that ran the stamps. No apparent water, no foundation for a steam boiler… and this is before internal combustion engines.