July 25, 2017
The Flagmen Are My Friends
Day 32: Crystal Springs Campground (near Woodfords, California) to Placerville, California
It got windy in the night, but I slept alright, probably because I was so tired after yesterday's long ride. The bears (if they even existed, and were not a product of the campground host's imagination) didn't disturb my food cache, which at this point was down to a single Payday bar and the nearly-depleted jar of Nutella.
I got things together very quickly, visited the cleanest pit toilet in California, and immediately started up the last big climb of the trip. After a while I stopped at a resort with a cafe for a leisurely breakfast. There was road construction outside the place, but as usual the flagmen were my friends, and I had the road to myself for about twenty minutes after they stopped traffic behind me.
It was a long, slow climb to Carson Pass, but I had done these climbs so many times in the last weeks that I knew how to deal with it: Turn off my brain and keep pedaling. The summit itself was a bit of a disappointment, without even a mildly impressive sign announcing the elevation. There was a visitor center at the summit, but I left as soon as I determined that there was no cold soda pop for sale there.
In contrast to the descents from the many Colorado and Utah passes I'd done, this one was annoying in that I couldn't just coast down for miles at a time: There were irritating sections that required more climbing. One of these was in a construction zone, and as I struggled (mostly successfully) to keep up with the line of cars behind the pilot truck, one of the flagmen called out "You are the man!"
Later, during one of the steeper parts of the descent (about a mile of 7% grade), one of the scariest traffic-related incidents of the entire trip occurred. A truck pulling a camper got very close to me and the driver lay on his horn. WTF? There was no place for me to get off the road for this short section, and I was already going within a couple of miles of the speed limit (40 mph) anyway. As soon as I could, I pulled onto a turnout and let the guy around me.
A mile or two later, I stopped behind a line of cars in yet another construction zone. As usual, I rode to the front of the line to talk to the flagman and find out what was going on. There at the front of the line was the guy who almost ran over me.
Well, well, well.
After learning from the flagman that we were going to be there for several minutes, I parked my bike, got out my camera and walked around the camper taking a few pictures (including the license plate), making sure the driver saw what I was doing. I decided I wasn't going to speak to the guy unless he said something first. After a few minutes, he spoke up, defending himself by telling me that his brakes could barely slow down his camper. There followed some (atypically) polite comments from me pointing out that he was responsible for controlling his vehicle, and that he shouldn't be driving it down a mountain if his brakes and/or driving abilities were not up to the task. Other people, including the nearby construction workers, overheard all of this, and I hope that I succeeded in publicly shaming the guy.
Later on, I stopped at Cook's Station for lunch, then turned off the busy road I'd been on all morning onto Omo Ranch Road. This was nice and shady and quiet, virtually traffic-free (at least at this time of day.) The little community of Omo Ranch was pleasant, and I spent some time at the small store there, talking to the friendly owner. She allows camping next to the store, and if I hadn't needed to get as far as Placerville today in order to maintain my schedule, I would have probably stayed there. It looked appealing. (A few days later I talked to Andy and Claudia on the phone, and they told me they camped there, and that it was a fun place to stay.)
After some more quiet riding through an area dotted with vineyards, I turned onto an unfortunately busier and hillier road. There was one more steep climb - the very last one of this tour, if my map's elevation profile could be believed, and I certainly hoped it could be - and then it was easy riding to Placerville, a large-ish, not especially attractive town. I was too tired to spend an hour hunting for the best motel deal in town, so I settled for the first reasonable-looking place. While I was settling up with the clerk, a sheepish guy came in, handed the clerk a room key, and said "She doesn't like the room - can we look at another one?" Heh. I briefly thought of making the "whipping" sound, but then thought better of it. It appeared this might not have been the first room his wife had rejected, and he might not have been in the mood for this kind of gentle ribbing.
After cleaning up, I walked a few blocks to a supermarket where I purchased a half gallon of ice cream and a two liter of root beer, continued to a Subway where I picked up a sandwich, then retired to my room for the evening.
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Today's ride: 86 miles (138 km)
Total: 2,647 miles (4,260 km)
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