Hungry Hillclimb Up HWY 39

in CALIFORNIA

I’ve got a weird relationship with California. California gave me my first job out of college, so I really wanted to like it. I spent 2 weeks riding a touring bicycle and camping down the California coast. The state really is beautiful. But I found it difficult to adjust to a new job, new friends and new city all at once, so I found myself leaping at the opportunity to move back to AZ…

Yet, since those seeds were planted, there’s something in me that keeps coming back…

My friend Katie sent me a text a couple weeks ago: “Wanna drive out to LA next weekend?”

Her SIGNIFICANT OTHER/my friend Geoff lives out there, so she’s been making this trip somewhat regularly.

And so we drove out Friday night, fueled by coconut water and Blythe’s finest Albertacos.

Saturday morning, after a leisurely Chemex, I left South Central around 9:30 am. I parked on the street near a place called Encanto Park in Azusa, and the pre-ride stoke started brewing. I neglected to buy any sort of energy bars, opting instead to bring a few pretzel sandwich rolls from home. But when I open it up, I discover the worst has happened: little green spots covered all my breads! Shoot! Oh well, at least I have a few pistachio cookies p/b Trader Joe’s left. I’ll bring those with me, and if I bonk before the end, oh well. I stick those and my spare tube in my military-spec burrito fred handlebar bag (those are cool now, right?). I then take off down a bike path that would eventually bring me to hwy 39 and into the canyon. It was a warm day, and humid, but just right for a short sleeve excursion in the mountains. Additionally, I had brought a warm can of San Tan Grapefran Shandan- I mean Grapefruit Shandy- to enjoy at the top!

I get a few miles down highway 39 and notice something is missing. Uh-oh, I never strapped my olive drab food receptacle to my handlebars. Welp. This was about to be a long, hungry, risky ride. Worst of all, I wouldn’t have a beer at the top. Most of you will probably chide me for embarking on a 50 mile ride in the middle of nowhere without cell phone reception, and generally other human beings without a spare tube, but YOLO. Fortunately, there’s a notable lack of cacti and goatheads in southern California. Case in point, in the 7 months I lived there, I never got a single flat! Weird, how all memories of being on the side of the road, fixing a flat or waiting for a ride never took place in LA, despite a decent amount of riding that I did there.

My concerns slowly melted away as I made my way over the lightly trafficked rollers at the base of the climb. This isn’t so bad, I thought. I can keep this pace up for a couple more hours! Several miles in, I come to a large gate. ROAD CLOSED it says. I had heard that most of this was closed to car traffic. Technically, it’s probably supposed to be off limits to cyclists as well, but it was a Saturday, and what forest ranger is going to be patrolling a mountain road giving tickets to cyclists?? (This isn’t rhetorical; I’d really like to know). I definitely thought about turning around at this point. What if this day ends much differently than I imagined?? What would the ramifications be?? In the end, I decided the risk was likely very small, and that the benefits gained from riding without traffic would be worth it.

So I picked up my moderately light carbon bike and squeezed through the gate (maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t bring those cookies after all…). I set off up the highway, in a way, now almost completely isolated from civilization, but at one with my thoughts and nature.

I passed by some construction vehicles, all unoccupied, which further reassured any fears I had of being chided. The views started ramping up in quality. With each corner, a new layer was added to the range of hills behind me. I passed by copses of trees with cautionary signs warning away California parkgoers, in an attempt to preserve what was left by damaging wildfires which had paid their visit years ago. It’s kind of sobering to consider the volatility of nature, and its tendency to reset itself, even without human intervention, this made clear by charred remains of trees interspersed with new plant life. Another sign of environmental distress was the receding reservoirs of water along the highway (mostly before I reached the closed off portion).

The sun was starting to get hot, and my legs were running out of juice. Bonking was always a real possibility on this ride, made all the more probable by insufficient food and nothing more than basic water. Still, I pushed on, allowing my garmin to ease me into mile after mile. The target here was 25. 25 miles to Crystal Lake. I’d heard tales of a café at the top of hwy 39, but I couldn’t confirm it would be open, especially with the highway closed as it is, and no phone reception to check. This would be my only chance of a return in one piece, so I allowed myself to hope.

When the sun and bonk got to me, I found a nice spot to pull off in the shade around mile 21. This would be a great place to enjoy a nap and/or snack. But neither were in the cards, so after a minute of stretching and sick ‘gram-getting, I hopped back on for the last stretch of climbing, a couple more steep switchback miles brought me to the turn-off for Crystal Lake Park. Two more miles to the Crystal Lake Café – OPEN.

This sign definitely conveyed welcome news. The grade happened to taper off a little bit as well as the road took me under a tree cover and around some more mild switchbacks. Even with a shallower grade, my legs refused to push me forward in anything past my second biggest cog. Chalk it up to a real lack of food. Too long of a ride through the trees, and I saw a sign pointing ahead to the Café. This, this is what I’ve been waiting for!

Even though the sign said open down the hill, there was still some doubt in my mind… But the front door was open, and two other road bikes were in the rack out front. I slotted mine adjacent to them, and headed inside (with my sunglasses on, because Rx yo). The two other cyclists were inside waiting for their meals, I asked what was best, to which one replied “everything, but he only has the burger and the chicken sandwich right now”.

Chicken sandwich it was! And a coke. And a cinnamon roll. And a Gatorade. That chicken sandwich definitely hit the spot. I had two cats observe as I stuffed my face and got ketchup in my beard.

Food in my belly, which according to one of the cyclists would take 45 minutes to metabolize, I poured the Gatorade in my bottles and got ready to go. Good thing I wouldn’t really be pedaling for the next 45 minutes!

Alright, the descent: I don’t have many pictures from this part of the ride (for obvious reasons). The first several miles were a ripper. The switchbacks now made for challenging corners to carve and test the limits of my confidence in balding specialized rubber. My neck was starting to get sore after several minutes spent in extreme aero position! The rollers at the bottom were a bit of a chore, having thoroughly cooled down my legs, the mileage was getting to me. The view of the mountains was even better coming down, their height in front of me a more striking sight.

Re-entry to the open highway brought me to the bridge which brought me to the stem of the highway. Once again accessing the bike path, I spotted a man taking a dip in the river, a compelling proposition if not for the overwhelming desire to crack open that beer I had in the car.

And enjoy it I did, warm beer, cinnamon bun and stale pistachio cookies in the privacy of my hatchback’s rear perch.

On my way back to South Central LA, I stopped by the Team Dream Team Cub House and splurged on some boutique cycling gear, so that everyone back home can know how cool I am. The cashier there alerted me to a place called Donut Friend a few miles away. Here, I finished off my epic LA day with a custom fritter filled with Bavarian cream and topped with lemon glaze and sea salt.

The rest of the weekend was spent reconnecting with old friends and relaxing at the beach with Geoff and Katie. Not a bad way to spend my two days away from work! Can’t wait to make it out there again and tackle the next mountain.