The Eastern High Sierra Classic 50
Nick Warhol
(Or, more aptly named “The great mountain sheep round up.”)
There’s nothing like doing a ride for the first time. I love seeing different trails and terrain, especially in a place as pretty as the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Jackie Bumgardner, the wandering ride manager, lives in the So Cal desert in Ridgecrest in the winter, and then when the XP rolls around in June, she relocates to Bridgeport for the summer. She hosts the Death Valley Encounter and the 20 Mule Team ride in the winter down in the Dez, and puts on the EHSC in the fall in the mountains. I have done the first two rides a bunch of times, but this was my first attempt at the mountain ride. Big mistake. Not for going, but for waiting. In all my rides to date, this one has to rank up there with the best in terms of the incredible terrain. It was a long drive from the Bay Area, since I wasn’t about to take the rolling breakdown rig over one of those Yosemite passes. (yeah, we need a new truck.) We drove to Reno, then headed south on 395. Judy elected to leave Wabi the wondrous at home this time, so I made the trip with my riding buddy Sally and her new horse Phathom, the guy I rode at the Fireworks a couple of weeks ago. She is jazzed about this horse, as she should be. I got to ride Zayante again, which for me is a treat, every time. We’ll see if we can’t get the old Tursk to 11,000 miles at some point soon. Judy drove over early in her car to hang out in the mountains for a few days and give Jackie a hand with the ride. The base camp is located in a big, green, pasture at the foot of the mountains, at about 7000 feet. This place is pretty, especially since I have a soft spot for high desert. The turnout was okay with about 80 people total, a little less than usual. There were only 10 LD riders or so, that surprised me a little. Head vet Dave “the Duck” Nicholson gave a good talk at the riders meeting about his theory of endurance riding and vetting, in that the rider is responsible for the well being of their horse, the vets are there to help. In a ride like this, where assistance can be a long way off, the rider really has to be in charge, and willing to take on that responsibility.
The 50 mile ride started out at 6:00 am- it was a little warmer than people thought it should be, but the day ended up being very pleasant, especially up at the high elevations we were headed for. Sally and I started out at the back of the pack, wanting to see how her horse would behave with fewer horses around. He was a little “in a hurry” at Fireworks, but with Zayante in the lead he was being a good boy. The ride is a controlled start for the first mile or so over a desert hill covered with sagebrush (smells sooo good). We walked over the hill and down to the road, then started trotting along the green pastures of the dude ranch on the left, the open desert on the right. After a half-mile or so we got on to a nice desert single track that started heading up right away. The climb was mild to start, but got steep enough to walk the last third of the way up. We climbed up maybe a thousand feet to the top of a huge ridge that led up to the actual mountains that line the valley. These are big mountains, very similar to Yosemite. The trail on the ridge was fun- great trotting on good footing. It was pretty easy to follow the trail, but once I tried to go left, nope, wrong, said Zayante. He bolted to the right, he was on trail. Pretty handy to have my own personal guide! We crested the top of the ridge and saw the incredible sight of the twin lakes down in the valley below, it was a spectacular site that could be on a postcard. We started down a long, long switchback trail that took us all the way down to the edge of the lake and a quick pulse and trot vet check without a hold. Zay and Phathom zipped right through the check, we were on our way along the lake on a dirt road that wound in and out of cabins and homes. After a couple of miles we hung a left and started up. We went up. And up. Oh boy, we went up. It was a single-track trail that we just walked up, being flabbergasted at the views. There were rocks, and some pretty steep drops on the side of the trail, but not too bad. It was hard to quit looking down at the lakes, but when we got to the top at last it was worth the climb. There was this trail up there, only a mile or more long, that you really have to ride to believe. It is a rolling single track, with nice sandy footing, that winds along the top of this ridge, between Aspen and pine trees, with views you can’t imagine. If you ever wanted to shoot a video of the perfect trail in the mountains, this one would be a contender. If only it were longer. We just flew along at a fast trot and canter, diving in and out of the trees, just whooping it up. What a rush! Much too soon for my taste, the trail become tighter and more technical, so we had to slow down and walk most of it as we climbed some more. We were coming up to the top of another ridge, on a real steep part of the trail, when I heard something. It sounded like, well, loud gargling? What in the heck is that? The horses didn’t seem to care, but it got louder. It wasn’t cows, but there was something out there. Suddenly there was a long line of horses stopped on the trail in front of us, waiting for something. Not a great place to be stopping, since it was single track on a steep mountain. Then the mountain seemed to be moving. And then I hear a cowbell. And more gargling. What in the world…. It was sheep. Lots of sheep. I mean lots of sheep, as in hundreds. Thousands maybe. The whole mountain, including the trail, was covered in sheep. Big sheep, little sheep. Even some black sheep. There was more wool out there than you can imagine. And it was blocking the trail! The first horses had to split the herd in order to move forward. We were parting the sea of sheep at 8500 feet! My first thought was- I hope the horses like sheep! It wasn’t a problem for any of us in our string of horses. The weird part was having a solid sea of sheep on both sides of the trail, with the stupid sheep not sure which side they should be on. They were dashing back and forth, between the horses. Talk about a spook potential! Zay was fine, I was worried about Phathom, I don’t think he has ever even seen a sheep! He just stood there, taking it all in like a spectator at a chess match. Boring! What a good horse. It took several minutes to crawl through the sea of wool, but most people were laughing. Except maybe the poor sheepherder, who no doubt would spend the next couple of hours trying to get those bah bah’s back in line. He just smiled and said hi, what else could he say?
We continued climbing the mountain, and got to enjoy (?) a short stretch of trail that was composed of rocks all in a pile, it was like walking on a million tennis balls, ball bearings, and potatoes made of rock. Most wobbly, but interesting to walk over. There were a couple of horseshoes in there, though. The trail took us almost to the base of these peaks that look like the Swiss Alps, including snow. Absolutely spectacular. It would have been neat to keep climbing, (we would have eventually needed ropes and pitons) but we started down again on more nice trails towards the sounds of rushing water. Must be a river? Yes, and a waterfall! I forget the name, but it was a genuine waterfall, a couple of hundred feet high at least. It was really neat, since we went right down to the base before turning down the mountain. The views from up here are like being in an airplane- you look at the lakes way, way, down there and think to yourself- “we are going all the way back down there?” Yep- all on more single-track trails that were half trot-able and half walk-able due to rocky sections. It took a while to work our way down the mountain on the switchback trails, we ended up at the far end of the high lake, right near the big resort. There were lots of tourists out watching, cheering us on. “Are you leading the race?” “Uh, yeah, sure!” How would they know? I figured once we were off the mountain we would be out of the rocks, but not quite. We had to clamber through mega-rocks on another trail that wound its way around the edge of the lake. Shoot- I’m up here tip-toeing through these boulders, while 30 feet away there is a nice, flat beach. It would have been cool to ride on the shore of the lake, but I realized in a while we would need to do a lot of swimming. Warpaint would be up for it. There were several sections on this trail that were actually a little hard to navigate- you had to step through a stream, stop, turn, leap up a bank, stop, turn hard left, then continue through the trees. The name “knee knocker trail” was very appropriate. Zayante was in one of his “let’s hurry up now” moods and was on the gas through that section. We made it back to the nice roads that led us through the homes and cabins along the shore. A quick stop for water at the trough, then a very enjoyable couple of miles on a soft, rolling dirt road that was perfect for cantering. Before I knew it we were back at base camp for our hour lunch. Judy was crewing for a group of six horses- she was pretty busy since we were all in there at the same time. Lunch was the usual egg salad sandwich and Dr. Pepper. Zayante was being his ornery self- he was tied to the trailer right next to the vets, so every time a horse was trotted by he’d talk to them between mouthfuls of hay. He just has to speak to every horse. I wonder what he’s saying? After a splendid hour of R&R, we headed back out and promptly missed the first turn. We continued on through the green pasture for a bit and took a couple of horses with us. Oops- back to the gate and turn across the river. Back on trail, we rode along for a while with Dave Rabe until we got to the climb after a water stop. Phathom walks up hills faster than Warpaint, if that’s possible. He would just leave Zayante at a walk, who would trot along slowly to keep up. I’d say it was because Sally weighs 95 pounds, but the horse did it with me on his back as well. The ride up the mountain was long and steady, but not really steep. We walked and trotted all the way up, then down the other side, into the forests of Aspen trees. It’s very pretty up there. More creek crossings led us to a long, rocky downhill road that we had to walk on. Once off that, we trotted on nice roads to where the buckeye vet check is, but no stop for us until we went through and did the loop through the meadow first. Picture a green valley, about a half-mile across, lined by Yosemite-quality mountains, that twisted and turned for miles. It was a splendid trot for the next 45 minutes or so, stopping only for creeks, ditches, and renegade cattle. The trail was marked across the pastures with cute little signs, since there was nothing to tie a ribbon to. At the end of the valley we came to the picnic spot- a beautiful winding stream crossing with lush green grass banks. The horses just wanted to stay and eat, we obliged them for a while, but needed to go on. Apparently Rebecca had a bit of a problem here with Rowdy and a sponge, but came out unscathed.
The ride back to the check started out with more rocky trails in the forest, but then we were treated to a few miles of nice roads. We even saw people fishing; even if there were no fish in there, it was a nice enough place to spend time in, that you would not care. The vet check went quickly, Sally was bubbling when the vet told her she had a lot of horse left. He really looked un-ridden, very nice. The check workers were all very helpful, especially the one who was saying “candy, candy!” Oh boy! I was hungry. Visions of Nestles crunch bars and red licorice filled my head. Note to ride managers- avoid tootsie rolls that are left in the sun. Goo city. Fifteen minutes flew by, we headed out for our last 7 miles to the finish. It was an easy ride down the valley, where we got dumped into a neat little twisty canyon that gave us even more single track. Once in the main valley it was an easy romp to the finish, where we finished at about 3:15 or so. Dinner wasn’t until 6, so after stowing the beasts I took a nice, hot, shower and sat in a chair, in the shade, with 2 cold beers, in the green meadow, with the nice, cool air blowing down the valley. It doesn’t get much better that that. Dinner was very good, except for the cardboard they called cake. I think the air molecules mixed with the flour and frosting atoms, creating some kind of brick-like-structure, that with a little mortar could have been used to build a wall. But the ribs, oh boy, they were good. And I’m not much of a meat eater. I swiped some of Judy’s broccoli salad while she wasn’t looking. We got nice laundry bags as completion awards. I think only 6 got pulled in the fifty, all the LD riders made it.
This is a great ride if you are comfortable with the mountains. The LD was nice, since it did the second, non-mountainous loop. I would call the 50 a moderate ride, maybe even a little difficult, but like the Quicksilver 50 I did in Henry Coe Park last year, if you have the horse for it, don’t miss this ride.
Nick Warhol
Hayward, Ca
Zayante- 10,400 miles and climbing.