![]() ![]() By the time we start sweating-about three minutes in-it had become obvious our collective subconscious was on a much different schedule than we’d hoped to be.Īt 8,000 feet, our average cruising elevation, there is roughly 76 percent of the oxygen available at sea level. We finally kicked off into the midday heat. Stan Jorgensen and Kevin Landry keep the brakes open and tires centered while descending through one of the TRT's stonier sections. Then it was on to the trailhead for one more round of buckle tightening and gear shuffling, my call to the Department of Wildlife, and the last roadside beer. After a second round of coffees, we jumped into a high-stress, low-speed shopping and packing spree, which wound down about noon. Freehub publisher Brandon Watts, photographer Margus Riga, Canadian all-star Kevin Landry, and I had made the 14-hour drive from the Pacific Northwest the day before, and upon rendezvousing we exchanged hugs and handshakes with Stan. that morning, but in a grocery-store parking lot in Incline Village. We’d remembered a few hours before that we’d need fishing licenses, and securing them was one of the last-minute tasks that kept us from our crack-of-dawn deadline. ![]() Since we’re already exceedingly late, we all indulge in a beer after I hang up the phone with the Nevada Department of Wildlife. when we arrive at the trailhead, and the sun is a raging ball of fire directly above our six-hour-tardy heads. Then we’d strike off into the early morning sun, cruising the ridgeline that borders the eastern side of the lake. Rose Highway, which connects Reno, NV to nearby Lake Tahoe, at 7 a.m., arriving even earlier to pack our final essentials. Our goal was to begin pedaling from the Mt. When a trip starts multiple hours behind schedule, it sets a particular tone. But as I slowly push myself up, worried I’ll find teeth on the ground, an old Yiddish proverb runs through my head: “We plan, God laughs.” Bikepacking requires careful gear selection: Too much, and you'll feel like you're driving a snowmobile too little, and you'll spend your nights shivering and hungry Veteran Stan Jorgensen keeps his kit dialed enough to wheelie, but comfy enough to include some campsite moccasins. Along the way, we’d make stops at Marlette, Spooner and Star lakes, all with fish but only the latter two legally in season, ideally augmenting our other bare-bones rations with trout delicacies. Rose Ski Area to Freel Peak, from which we’d drop into the small town of South Lake Tahoe. We’d decided to ride the section connecting Mt. In its entirety, the Rim Trail completely circumnavigates Lake Tahoe, but a majority of the western portion is closed to bikes. After thorough deliberation, several relocations and a late-summer shoulder blowout for Stan, we settled on a three-day adventure on California’s Tahoe Rim Trail in early October. Enduro racer and good friend Stan Jorgensen had been trying to put together a bikepacking and fly-fishing trip for the better part of a year. This bloody tumble may be particularly brutal, but we’ve been plagued by chaos since we started riding yesterday-45 minutes into our trip, to be exact, when Kevin’s derailleur exploded.ĭespite its frustrating persistence, this logistical mess didn’t arise from lack of planning. I only have time to hope I don’t lose teeth before slamming into the dusty singletrack. Either way, the ground seems to rush toward my face with unusual speed. Perhaps because I can barely see my front wheel over my handlebar bag, or maybe because gravity takes a quicker-than-usual pull on my unwisely heavy backpack.
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