Travel Feature | Twisted California, Tenachapi through Yosemite, Part 2

In California, you can string together corner after corner, spectacular view after spectacular view... Just months before the fires, Nige toured it on two wheels... Words & Pics: Nigel Paterson

Taking backroads north through Tenachapi I found myself on a winding road with a view of a valley with an Interstate Highway running through it, so I stopped to do a few drone shots beside a road I shared only with other bikes on a glorious autumn day… Part 2. Yosemite.

I was heading for Bakersfield with the aim to turn before the city and ride the 178, the Kern Canyon Road. I’m a sucker for any American road which has ‘Canyon’ in its name… and this one lived up to its title. The Kern River has carved its way out of the Sierra Nevadas over millions of years, twisting and turning through the desert landscape and giving me an awesome ride and opportunity to capture some stunning landscapes.

The Kern River has carved its way out of the Sierra Nevadas over millions of years, twisting and turning through the desert landscape…

The road has been built very close to the river and features numerous ‘turn-outs’, places designed for slower vehicles to pull off and let faster machines through – and those using the road were generally very good at doing so – it was very rare a slow moving car, truck or RV wouldn’t pull into the first turn-out available once they’d seen me in their mirrors.

The road surface itself started out like a racetrack – grippy, bump-free and even cambered a little – but deteriorated as I got higher and higher into the mountains. After my visit to Blackbird Park (see Part 1) I had hit the road not long before lunch, so I was never going to get too far on this ride… and continually stopping to capture great photos along the way didn’t help!

I aimed for Lake Isabella, a town on the shores of (you guessed it) Isabella Lake… and scored the last motel room I could find. Isabella Lake has long been used for watersports recreation – it’s reasonably close to Los Angeles and is big enough to support lots of action and fun.

It’s been this way for many decades, although the town itself looks like it fell on hard times sometime in the past – I’m guessing 10-20 years ago – started to be re-born with some relatively recent new construction and businesses opening. But why they don’t knock down some of the dilapidated buildings and use that land instead of building new beside the disused is a mystery to me.

An internet search had me looking for motels which have since closed down and finding something affordable was proving tough, until I scored the last room available at the Lakeview Motel. I’d booked it online and followed the map, finding a 1950s-style motel which looked, well, pretty sad. I’d actually ridden past it and hadn’t really acknowledged it was still trading on that first pass.

My trepidation at what I’d booked didn’t subside as I tried to check in, for the office was locked up, but luckily I was able to get management on the phone – turns out the staff member on duty had a family emergency and had left early – but the room was able to be unlocked remotely. The internet had arrived here, even if the room looked like something from the Elvis Era.

My initial impressions of the Lakeview Motel were poor, but it turned out to be a really interesting experience – the accommodation had three rooms – there was a small kitchenette and bathroom off the bedroom – and it had been well maintained. The literature in the room pointed out the motel has been maintained and kept in its original style so visitors could experience what life was like for travellers decades ago.

Luckily the bed was new enough though. And the WiFi worked well, and there was a TV in the wardrobe for those who want one. More interesting to me was the old stove, which ran on gas and featured a couple of hot plates. Banned from use some years ago, the owners had rendered it non-functional but left it in place. Nothing quite like staying in a comfortable museum.

Dinner options were limited near the motel, but I found a Mexican restaurant about a 15 minute walk up the road, where the Fajitas were great and the mojitos even better, managing to spend a stupid amount of money on dinner, again. The cost of living as a tourist in the USA was getting out of hand, but coffee the next morning, that took the cake.

“The Fajitas were great and the mojitos even better”…

I woke early and was on the road before 8am, looking to eat some miles… my initial plans to ride up to Yosemite National Park then across to the coastal highway before turning south back to Los Angeles were in tatters thanks to glorious roads, fantastic scenery and my unending desire to photograph the great scenery I see. At 40 degrees, leaving early wasn’t much fun – it’s a horrible temperature to ride a motorcycle in, being freezing cold (5°C) in California and stinking hot (104°F) in Australia.

And I was wearing summer gear, having looked at the California climate and deciding I wouldn’t need warm riding gear… Still, on the BMW R 1200 RT I’d rented there was a giant accessory touring screen, heated grips and good weather protection from the fairing, so I was OK, if a little chilled.

So stopping for coffee at the picturesque town of Kern River seemed like a no-brainer, and when I saw multiple signs advertising the Cappuccino at the only open store, I was up for some breakfast. Paying for the food and coffee before it’s served is commonplace in Australia too, but being asked to add a tip – and it’s common for the tips to be 20 per cent these days – before you actually experience any service beyond your order being taken absolutely, positively, sucks.

I don’t mind paying a little extra for good service and I know wages are terrible in the USA, but I really hate some things about the USA. Their coffee is another problem – it’s usually awful, or at least not what an Australian coffee snob wants, but this establishment’s idea of what a cappuccino is beggars belief. Having finished my scrambled eggs and bacon, which was OK but not great, I’d moved back to the counter to wait for my coffee… yeah, and I hate getting fed before the caffeine hit too, but whatever…

I watched as the young lady moved a cup with a shot of espresso in its base and proceeded to spoon milk foam over the espresso before putting a lid on it and pushing it toward me… “I’m sorry, I ordered a cappuccino,” I said, somewhat stunned. “That is a cappuccino,” came the reply. “I’m sorry, that’s not how they are made where I come from, would you mind adding some steamed milk?” I said, having whipped off the lid and pushed the cup back toward her.

With a cheeky smile I believe she was thinking about how the idiot tourist doesn’t know squat about coffee, but at least she added the milk. I disappeared out of the door before she could hit me up for another tip, which would have been “Learn to make coffee”. Unfair, unreasonable and not my place to say it, so I’m glad I didn’t. But I needed caffeine… I stopped asking for cappuccinos and switched to lattes, which American Baristas do much better. Completely unpredictable in their strength and invariably too hot, but the closest I could find to a flat white.

The Sierra Navada is a 600km long 130km-wide mountain range. It runs north-south and blocks weather fronts from passing over in places, contributing to the creation of Death Valley, one of the driest, hottest and most barren places in the world… and yet it’s only a day’s ride from the lush meadows of Yosemite National Park.

I’d been to Yosemite before, visiting in 2015 with my family and spending a few days exploring – going back was high on my bucket list. Roads don’t generally run through the most mountainous parts of ranges, so the best route I could find north from Kern River eventually popped my out at Springville after travelling the Mountain 99 and 50 roads and Highway 190 to Springvale.

On the way through this region I went past places with famous names from the black-and-white westerns I’d watch as a kid on Saturday afternoons – Ponderosa, Horse Canyon, The Trail of 100 Giants. The reality though, was I saw the signs and fabulous scenery, but the road itself was a motorcyclist’s idea of joy & wonder, just an awesome place to ride with great corner after great corner…

Coming back down the range into Springville was awesome, and when I got there it was festival time, the town hosting its annual Apple Festival. Place was bustling so much I couldn’t get lunch, it was going to take ages, but it was great to see and photograph. I’d used too much time getting out of Los Angeles and riding Yosemite then getting to the coast was starting to look like all ride and no photos – which is unacceptable. So I made the decision to ride to the coast and head south from there, giving me a north–west–south loop.

The Yokhol Road to Exeter looked like the perfect road to get me across to the plains of western California so I could cross to the coast… but it turned out to be the worst road I’d ride on the whole trip. Poorly maintained and with a very dodgy surface for nearly all of its length, it was truly awful… but the lack of traffic made for some interesting road sharing as I scattered ducks, and hundreds of squirrels with the approach of the bike.

 I was on the bike at 6am. It was dark, it was cold…

The less said about Exeter to Los Banos, the better. Dramas booking a room (the place had had its driveways resurfaced and looked closed) and a very straight, very boring ride was a let-down after the fun of the mountains – I was starting to wonder if my route choices were smart.

That night in a crappy motel, eating over-processed food from a Seven-11 because the restaurant options were worse, I examined the route for the following days and noticed a warning sign on the coastal highway… turns out it was closed for maintenance. The route around the problem was lengthy, the time it would take undetermined and what I’d miss out on fairly extensive.

So, back to plan A – Yosemite. Los Banos to the Western entrance of Yosemite was 210km. If I started early, less than three hours, including breakfast. I was on the bike at 6am. It was dark, it was cold… and it turned out to be one of the best days of motorcycle touring I’ve ever experienced.

Sundays start slowly in country California, so the roads were quiet, the roads fairly straight and the pre-dawn light more and more glorious as the sun came up over the mountains. I’ve almost given up riding at night in the Australian countryside, my paranoia at the chances of a close encounter with a kangaroo destroying the joy I get from a warm summer evening’s ride… but here, where I am oblivious to any wildlife dangers, it was a fabulous morning’s ride, topped off by a great chat with the owner of a little servo/shop near the park whose daughter had married an Australian and moved to Adelaide.

He misses grandchildren but I think felt they were better off growing up in Australia than the USA. This was Cathey’s Valley on the 140, just outside Mariposa… and the 140 takes you into the Yosemite National Park, where you need to stop and pay the $US35 (!) entry fee… but it’s worth it. If you get even the tiniest amount of joy from the natural world – and I know plenty of people who prefer a good bar to a spectacular waterfall, no judgement – you’ll love Yosemite.

Take it easy on the road in, stop a lot to take in the scenery, walk away from you bike and you’ll see more and more – like the sign showing the flood level from 1997 towering over my head. I rode into the main valley floor and had lunch at the shop there, more bad American food but I didn’t care. Every time you turn around there’s another spectacular view surrounded by a stunning blue sky. The highlights were El Capitan, a 900m tall sheer granite rock face, Brideveil Falls, the Half Dome and lots more.

From the entrance to the park to Mammoth Lakes, outside the park and where I thought I’d booked a room, is 140km… but it took me many hours, stopping along the view to take in the sights and shoot some pictures (unfortunately no drone shots, banned inside the park).

When I arrived at the very pretty town of Mammoth Lakes in Yosemite the motel couldn’t find my booking… because I’m an idiot. I’d booked with the same chain, but in Bishop, 68km down the road. Given there were no refunds and I’d already paid, I was back on the bike, despite being dog-tired… but again, sometimes the world impresses you when you least expect it.

In the dying light of the day as I approached Bishop the twilight lit up the mountain ranges in the distance, allowing me to get a great photo of the bike with the mountains behind. Bishop lies in the Owens Valley which is in a ‘rain shadow’ of the Sierra Nevada, so it’s very dry compared to Yosemite – the contrast of terrain I’d ridden in this single day was incredible.

South-East of Bishop is Death Valley National Park, which I rode into the following day and was surprised at finding some great roads to ride and scenery as spectacular in its own way as Yosemite had been – but that’s a story for Part 3…