It began on a Saturday morning. The sun was rising, the air was just this side of chilly. It was time to mount up.

Sean and me @Sonora Pass (State Route 108)

The first leg of our trip would wind up the central Sierra Nevada via Califorina State Route 108, finally peaking at the 9,624-foot high Sonora Pass, then descend with a good many twists and turns on the way to U.S. Highway 395 and our first stop near Bridgeport. It’s a scenic drive, but the open-air experience of a motorcycle brings nature just a shade closer. Especially the seemingly suicidal chipmunks and squirrels that would dash into the roadway, only to reverse direction inches from Sean’s wheels.

We knew I’d be comfy in my full-on riding gear. Any question regarding Sean’s comfort was quickly dismissed with references to youthful vigor and his machismo. He’d only have to tough it out a few times, when we passed through sheltered valleys kept cold by overshadowing mountains. That’d change at the pass. The sun is always brighter on the Eastern side of the Sierras, where high desert terrain takes hold. Via hand signals and the occasional tap on the horn, we’d coordinate stops here and there so I could describe to Sean the lay of the land. About 9:30 a.m. we pulled off the road to park alongside the East Walker River, our first of two fishing venues.

Blue skies and warming temperatures greeted us as we changed from riding gear to waders and assembled our rods. The river wasn’t so welcoming. It was a tad high for my tastes. I gave Sean a few suggestions regarding fly selection and possible fish locations.

The East Walker’s always been friendly to me, or at least the trout that live there have been willing to play during previous visits. This time there must have been a collective agreement to make me work for my first and only fish of the day. Sean wandered off and I moved upstream to some likely riffles.

East Walker Brown

The ride from Bridgeport to Lee Vining is easy, with good pavement, multiple lanes much of the way and incredible views of Long Valley and Mono Lake. The back up plan for lunch was Whoa Nellie Deli in the Tioga Gas Mart, but Bodie Mike’s Barbeque caught our eye midway through town. Splitting a tasty sampler plate, we enjoyed an outdoor table and great weather for a spell.

After topping off the tanks at Tioga Gas Mart, we began the ride up Tioga Pass. We’d be rising 3,162 feet in less than 12 miles on State Route 120; from Lee Vining (elev. 6,781 feet/2,067 m.) to Tioga Pass (elevation 9,943 ft./3,031 m.). We’d stop just short of the pass to wet the lines again.

A favorite roadside “tailwater” of ours is a small section of Lee Vining Creek, just below Tioga Lake. This area takes on a wholly different flavor with the seasons of the year. Spring seems to offer the greatest challenge. The reeds are still bent, dead and brown from the killing cold of winter, offering little protection for the wild brookies and dramatically reducing an angler’s ability to camouflage an approach. Even though it’s controlled, the water is a bit high. The channels and pockets of this upper section had dissolved into wide flats extending across gravel bars.

High Sierra Brook Trout

This is typical high Sierra freestone stream, with granite pebbles and larger rocks providing perfect concealment for trout, particularly brook trout. It requires reading the water and picking pockets. I found a few such pockets and was able to bring a few fish up to my flies but without hooking them. Sean tried a few other sections as we walked along.

Though this stream rarely offers channels deeper than 12 inches, I had put on my waders knowing that the meadows through which it flowed would still be more of a marsh. So I left Sean behind to continue further downstream, where the higher volume of water forced the creek into multiple braids. (Later in the season the creek would settle down into two main channels.) In customary high Sierra fashion, the creek would expand to a few feet in width to bubble over runs of granite stones, then shrink to less than a foot across, rushing through bends to create undercut banks.

I finally found more brook trout in the small tailouts at the end of those undercut banks. Thanks to the velocity of the water, they hooked themselves well enough that I landed three. Small, as one would expect at an altitude where the growing season is four months at best, but good wild fish. Soon we saddled up to head over Tioga Pass.

@the Tioga Pass Entrance Station (Yosemite National Park)

The road through Tuolumne Meadows, in addition to passing the meadows and the Tuolumne River, passes Lembert Dome (there’s a family story about how not to descend it), Tenya Lake, Olmstead Point (overlooking Yosemite Valley), and the Tuolumne Grove of sequoias. Thankfully, we were able to bump start Sean’s bike the 3 times it was necessary. Nonetheless, we kept our stops to a minimum and made good progress. The ride took longer than expected as a motor home, which should be anticipated on these roads, kept our speed well below 40 mph.

It was probably a good thing we were operating at a reduced speed. Just short of Tuolumne Grove, out from a stand of spring-green trees shading a sharp turn bolted a buck with a decent rack of antlers, crossing the road directly in front of Sean. I never did ask Sean if he needed to stop and change his underwear.

The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful. We cleared the western entrance station, filled up at Big Oak Flat, where Sean declared a “butt break.” We enjoyed buffalo burgers at Diamondback Grill, and Sean treated me to some goodies at the Candy Vault. Then it was a short ride to The Cabin.

The stats:

263 miles
11.97 gallons of fuel
43.94 mpg
1 platoon of suicidal chipmunks
3 daredevil gray squirrels
2 stops to fish
1 brown trout
1 shared lunch of 4 ribs and 1 chicken breast
3 brook trout
1 crazy buck
2 buffalo burgers

The dream is now a memory. Our arses may never be the same again.

The Trip in Pictures
(Use “Compatibility View” in Internet Explorer if pictures overlap.)

So, in this tale we’ll shove the more mundane stuff out of the way first.

The last Friday in June, Sean and I loaded up the motorcycles with more gear than each has ever been asked to carry. A quick review of the route, and we began the inaugural Konoske Boys Two-Wheel/Fly Fishing RoadTrip 2010. The fishing looked iffy. The weather looked good. We knew the scenery would be great.

Two bikes, two fly rods, two reels and an extra gallon of gas.

Our first multi-day m/c trip would push the total mileage into triple digits three days in a row. Call it a trial run.

The thing about a trial run — “a test or rehearsal of something new or untried to assess its effectiveness” — is the haunting expectation that something will be found to be ineffective. Skipping ahead to the end of our last day, that’s when the battery on Sean’s bike went kaput, thanks to a charging system known to be most effective above 5,000 rpm. A few attempts to bump start the engine ended as quickly as started. Thankfully, we weren’t so far from The Cabin that we…actually Sean, it’s his bike after all…couldn’t push it back.

So our fantastic weekend ended on a subdued note. Sean rode my bike home as he had to get to work and I awaited rescue. A few hours later The Wife delivered a battery tender.  Sean’s bike was charging and I was headed home.

Forty-five hours and 408 miles earlier Sean and I had only edged onto Hwy 780. Somewhere around Livermore any idea of membership in the Iron Butt Association was out the window. In the end, the biggest “trial” of this trial run was butt endurance. Actually, lack thereof. Our longest run without a stop was 62 miles. My butt went numb at mile 46. You can bet I’ll be researching custom seats during the coming months.

Luckily, short breaks were all it took to restore a semblance of normalness to our gait. And with a smaller tank on the CB650, we made up excuses and stopped often enough. Of course, there was the traditional A&W root beer stop in Oakdale.

Thankfully, the road just outside of Oakdale twists over rolling hills; a welcome change from the monotony of the highway slabs. We pulled into the driveway less than an hour later, unpacked and sat for a spell.

The decent stocked rainbow that surprised Sean at the canal.

Then Sean began to give me the eye. He’s so keen on fishing that, apparently, it was ill-mannered of me to take time to rest my weary rear when there’s trout to play with. A quick ride to the outskirts of town put us on the canal. Most of the time we’re hard pressed to entice anything but wild browns that live there to take a fly. I plucked about 5 out. Sean pulled out another of the wild brethren as well as a decent stocker rainbow estimated at 14 to 15 inches. Deeming that 2 hours or so was enough of a warm up for Saturday, we headed off to fill the tanks and grab dinner. We discovered, however, that the only gas station in town no longer dispenses fuel. We’d solve that dilemma later.

In hindsight, the 40 miles from Oakdale to The Cabin presaged the fun we’d find on Hwy 108, 395 and 120 the next day.

But that’s next week’s post.

The where we were.

Google Street View: Tioga Pass Road from Austin Leirvik on Vimeo.

That’s when we set out on the inaugural Konoske Boys Two-Wheel/Fly Fishing RoadTrip 2010.

After years of talking about it, miles of practice rides, a few hours of tinkering with gear, and a sudden opportunity to stay at the family cabin, it’s nearly go time. The route is planned. Soon the bikes will be sorted.

One day up to Twain Harte and one day back. From sea level to 9943 feet/3031 meters over 530 miles/853 kilometers. Squeezed into that total is a one-day, 250-mile/403-kilometer loop up and over and back over the Sierra Nevadas.

Kinks just past Sonora Pass.

The first leg of our one-day tour will take us over Sonora Pass (elevation 9624 ft./2933 m.). This is the only stretch that gives me pause: 15 miles with 9 blind or partially blind hairpin turns, often with steep uphill or downhill grades. The greater cause for concern is oncoming drivers cutting corners short. We’ll take it slow, to be sure. We’ll put our training to good use, following the adage “Look ahead, then look where you want to go.” We’ll be looking as far ahead as we can.

First stop: East Walker River. Reports put this tailwater fishery a bit high right now, but with any luck a dry/dropper combo will get us into some brown trout.

A quick ride south, past Bodie and Mono Lake, will put us in Lee Vining. A left turn and we’re gaining elevation again, up Hwy 120 toward Tioga Pass (elevation 9943 ft./3031 m.) and Yosemite National Park. Hopefully we’ll wet our lines again in a section of Lee Vining Creek. That’s if we don’t have to hike through too much snow to reach what we trust will be hungry brook trout.

After the Tioga Pass entrance station we’ll wheel past likely still-snowy Tuolumne Meadows, with a stop here and there, perhaps at Tenaya Lake (no fish there), and Olmsted Point, before winding up the engines, flicking into fifth gear and making tracks for Old Priest Grade.

A portion of Old Priest Grade.

Old Priest Grade is one heck of a road. Two miles long with an approximately 1,500 feet elevation gain and an average gradient of 14 percent. To compare, New Priest Grade (SR120) is three times as long with twice as many curves, and an average gradient of less than 10 percent. However, Old Priest Grade is a great shortcut with relatively new asphalt. It just commands a bit of respect. So we’ll take the shortcut. At least that’s the plan for now.

After Old Priest Grade, it’s an easy and fast road toward the cabin, with the promise of a dinner of our favorite burgers fueling anticipation.

As for this weekend, I’ll be selflessly gathering fodder for future fishing posts by dragging myself up to the Eagle Lake area for a few days of playing with big rainbows in the lake and making a few casts on nearby streams and rivers. Rotten business, I know, but I do it for you.

The only trouble is the nagging thought that I could ride past the office. Just a few miles north or south are roads winding through the wine country, the redwoods or within sight of the Pacific Ocean.

But no. Seems I’m hooked. Just a bit.

It’s like fishing, when I tell myself I’ll leave a fishing spot after just one more cast, a cast that never comes.  Every time I hook the Honda up to the battery tender, I lie to myself saying, “Self, time to put the bike away for the winter.” A day or two later I’m waiting for the engine to warm up for another ride.

It’s been cold in the a.m., no more than 40°F. Often less. Then almost as cold during the ride home from work in the afternoon.

It’s not a bad thing, because when I’m riding, I seem to see so much more; smell so much more; and actually enjoy the commute so much more.

But soon, Mother Nature may win. There’s only so many layers I can add and still ride without looking like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

…actually it was $11.13, but I’m not complaining.