Bitterwater Road

January 30, 2022

It’s even colder this morning when we first check the weather - only 30 - and by 9:30 it’s still only warmed up to 33. So of course we’re in no rush to get out the door. When we do we’re on the road with the Raven driving east on the 46 again, this time bound for Bitterwater Road. It’s another ranch road, this time branching off to the south just about a mile this side of Cholame Valley. Mentally I’ve lumped them together and am expecting a similar riding experience today. Which would be good with us, since yesterday’s was exceptional.

We were wrong. Today is better. I’m having to think back a long ways to recall rides as fine as this one will prove to be.

It’s warmed up considerably by the time we park on the dusty shoulder of Bitterwater Road, immediately crossing Cholame Creek and then climbing up into the hills on the other side. Right away it’s obvious we’re in for an exceptional day.

Oh, my gosh. This is going to be amazing.

The first seven miles are a steady but gentle climb, rising 900 feet into these striking green hills, their slopes studded with oaks. It’s a mesmerizing scene, with the hillside almost shimmering in the morning sun. It’s still chilly enough to call for extra layers when we start out, but the coats come off a few miles into the climb.

The oaks are extraordinary through this stretch. This shot doesn’t quite capture the shimmering quality of the light on the hill behind this magnificent tree. Maybe it requires motion to create the effect.

Rachael’s long gone of course, as we’re on another out and back and she can just afford to leave me behind staring at trees while she continues on. I sense that I’m getting well behind again, but I don’t know for sure because once again our Garmins haven’t connected to reveal her position.

But then, we connect. I’m only four miles into my ride and it’s a little surprising to find that I’m almost three miles behind already. Two miles further on, and now I’m five miles behind - she’s moving at twice my speed today, presumably because she’s over the top and coasting down the far side already.

Finally it occurs to me I’ve just been tricked again. The Garmins apparently briefly connected but then lost it and Rachael’s apparent position is locked in at the last point it was registered - not far from where we left the car. Garmin doesn’t think she’s five miles ahead of me, but that far behind instead.

So who knows where Rocky actually is by this time? I decide to quit worrying about it and just enjoy the ride, which is fabulous. It’s a good day again for hawks, cattle on the slopes or up ahead in the road, ground squirrels racing pell-mell across the road and plunging into a burrow. Mostly though it’s the stunning scenery that’s so captivating today.

It’s hard to make progress with so many striking scenes like this to hold you up.

Enticing enough to make you wish you were on a dirt bike.

Seven miles into the ride the road tops out and generally levels off for a few miles. We’ve left the oaks behind by now and the bare grassy hills all around are this astonishing green. Lime, or perhaps chartreuse as The Color Thesaurus offers as a possibility.

By now I’ve registered that Rachael is off the map somewhere, so it’s a surprise when I’m taking a shot down the road ahead and see her emerging in the distance coming at me. It’s a disappointment seeing her, really. So soon? Maybe the headwind or the roughish road surface is getting to her, but I’m nowhere near ready to turn back yet.

But no, she’s just taken advantage of the fairly level terrain to double back and check in on me, since she has no idea where I am either. She turns around and we ride more or less together for the next ten miles or so, hardly believing the experience as it if anything just keeps getting more exceptional as we ride.

Rachael time-boxes us, saying we should stop for lunch at 1:30. But before long she pulls ahead as we effortlessly bike slightly downhill and into the wind, and just keeps going because it’s all so transfixing that it’s unbearable to not continue on and see what amazing vision will be around the next bend in the road. We come to a few junctions, branching first onto Annette and finally Bitterwater Valley Road, the best one of all. For several miles we drop through an incredible valley following deep gashes cutting through the green carpet on one side and incredibly hued gold-flecked hills on the other.

Along Bitterwater Road, or maybe we’re on to Annette by now.

On the top we’re starting to see a few signs of civilization, with an isolated ranch or lonely outbuilding here and there.

Dropping down Bitterwater Valley Road, the best of the best.

I haven’t been many places where there were so many windmills still in good repair and in operation. We must have seen a few dozen of them up here pumping up well water.

Finally though she doubles back and we look for a spot for lunch. Easy enough to find on this deserted road, and we just plop down on the dusty shoulder and look around ourselves in wonder. When the time comes to relieve ourselves before heading back, it’s simple enough. There’s no shelter to hide behind but there’s no one here but the two of us so it’s a matter of walking a discrete distance down the shoulder and positioning yourself with your back to the wind.

It’s easy enough to find a picnic spot here.

So that’s all been totally amazing. Who could imagine that the ride in reverse would be just as sublime, and possibly even better? For one thing, the wind’s at our back the whole way, so we just sail along as we climb the ten miles back up to the summit; and after that there’s no need to rotate the cranks at all for the last seven as we glide back to the car.

And the utter absence of traffic is nice too. I might have lost count, but I don’t think so because one is such a small number. Unless I missed or forgot one, I think we were only passed by one car in twenty miles.

And the bird scene is exceptional as clouds of sparrows and meadowlarks burst from the fence lines as we approach. I’m sure that I haven’t seen such a concentration of meadowlarks since biking through the Sand Hills of Nebraska fifty years ago. It makes me feel more optimistic and hopeful just discovering that places like this still exist in our overpopulated, overdeveloped, overheated world.

The video gives a good sense of the sublime serenity of the ride. Even if you’re generally not a video viewer you might take a look and imagine yourself out here on your bike someday.

Video sound track: I Gotta’ Feeling, by the Dallas String Quartet

Wonderful to see and hear so many of these out here.

The mill and water tower of the JT Ranch, one of the few outposts along the road.

Another shot that doesn’t quite do justice to the picture. The hills are so colorful in the low afternoon light.

So if any ride could be rated as perfect, this would be the one. What could be better? Well, there is the fact that I haven’t gotten a photo of any of the zillion ground squirrels we’ve been seeing the last few days, and Bill has expressed disappointment in not seeing one because he’d like to see if they’re antelope squirrels. They’re a tough subject because they’re fast and dive for cover so quickly once they see you’re approaching. Once you see one in motion it’s already too late.

And then, not half a mile from the car I’m stopped to take a photo of one last evocative oak tree and I sense a motion off the edge of my vision. He’s just milling around calmly for the moment. I’ve just got a few seconds, but it’s enough.

Here you go, Bill. Sorry though - they’re just California Ground Squirrels. Common as weeds, and just about as damaging.

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Ride stats today: Rachael: 51 miles, 2,400’; Scott: 42 miles,2,000’

Today's ride: 42 miles (68 km)
Total: 2,140 miles (3,444 km)

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Kathleen JonesYou sure the jackpot. Springtime is the best around here.
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2 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Kathleen JonesIt feels like it alright. I had no idea it ever looked like this down here.
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2 years ago

Susan CarpenterOh Joy!
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2 years ago

Rich FrasierI’m ready to throw the bike in the car and come up to join you!!
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2 years ago

Suzanne GibsonI'm afraid you're not going to want to come to Europe... Looks like you can't top a ride like that.
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2 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Suzanne GibsonOh, I think we’ll find something to capture our attention. Catalonia in the spring should be pretty exceptional too. Or the Dromme. Or the Alps. Or Burgundy. I’m not worried.
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2 years ago

Jen RahnIs the antelope squirrel a distant cousin of the jackalope? 😉

Love that video!! I can totally imagine riding there someday. Stunning scenery and would be so cool to hear all the birds.

Would be fun to collect and name all the different shades of green.
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2 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Jen RahnI was thinking of the jackalope when Bill brought this up, but no. It looks more like a chipmunk.
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2 years ago

Rachael AndersonTo Jen RahnYou definitely should bicycle here. It’s so nice to have such fabulous scenery and no cars!
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2 years ago