The weather in California proved to be unpredictable. We went through cycles of sweating bullets to freezing cold over and over again.
The hottest weather we experienced was along the aptly named Hot Springs Drive around Porterville. The grassy hills were fried to a golden crisp with a garnish of a few green trees, the occasional boulder and four-legged beef to round out the plate.
Ed and Kenny – knowing me as they do – opted to keep their distance from me since the temperature had to be at least 300°. I become a super-cranky viper once the thermometer edges over 85 or so. Smart boys.
The valley landscape was so far removed from my everyday life. Its spartan look drew me right it. It seemed to me that you could really do some good thinking out there.
During the course of our week of riding I came to the realization that I am more of a rock person than a tree person. I love wide open landscapes or being above the tree line. With the exception of being amongst the Redwood or Sequoia trees, I feel much more connected to rocky mountains or treeless rolling hills.
What does that say about me? Surely that has something to do with my psychological makeup.
The three of us were positively simmering inside of our gear. When the cows on the side of the road tried to use us as a salt lick, we decided that it was time to get back up into the cool of the mountains. Since we were in the neighborhood, taking a turn through Sequoia National Park seemed in order.