I managed to sneak up to the mountain house last night. With Thursday and Friday as approved work-from-home days, it only makes sense to work where the only background noise is wind through pine trees. Six adults at the valley house makes for a circus—this was an escape act.
The wife had her own plans, so this solo trip was part therapy, part scouting mission. Today’s ride was centered around a loop I’ve tried (and failed) to complete multiple times. Early sunsets, impassable mud bogs, and some questionable navigation had previously shut me down. Today, the strategy was to reverse the loop and come at it from the other side.
The mission? Get down to the South Fork Stanislaus River, scout some photo ops, and finally close this chapter.
Wrapped up work on time (for once), slapped on the old Moose fender bag with flat-fix gear, mounted the new Tusk Traverse Pannier bags, and rolled out with my tool kit loaded. The weather was a dreamy high 70s—every vent on my MSR jacket and pants wide open. Let’s ride.
The paved start was more “single-lane mountain scar” than anything, complete with sheer drop-offs taunting my fear of heights. Music helped. Eventually, I missed my first dirt turn (tradition at this point) and, after looping back around, ended up on a short private road. I looked for an alternate, but no luck. The good news? No gates, no angry ranchers, just a few waves from locals and I was back on public access pavement in under half a mile.
Once off the pavement again, the ride got spicy. The road was single-lane two-track, some of it barely passable after winter’s wrath. At one point, I passed a Ford pickup flipped on its roof—looked like it had been there for a few weeks.
More View
Eventually, I hit the river. Took some photos. Pushed a bit further. Took more photos. Found some excellent spots I’ll revisit with proper camera gear. But daylight was burning, and the loop still had secrets left to reveal.
The climb out of the valley was a highlight. Some steep, technical climbs, broken up with fast sections that begged for throttle. The former mud bogs were dry enough to cross with a little finesse, though I started running into inbound commuter traffic from the other direction—locals heading home. I stayed right, took it easy, and gave friendly waves.
Final stretch was sketchy: freshly graveled, loose as marbles. The only way to stay upright was to embrace the drift and keep speed up. A few more reps of riding loose never hurt anyone (well, almost no one).
In the end, I logged 42 miles in just under 3 hours, took some great shots, stayed upright, and finally—finally—closed the loop. Mission complete. Mind cleared.
