6:15 am. I roll into the town of Big Pine just before daybreak. Let’s just say it’s a one dog town and I don’t see any dogs. As usual at this time in the morning parking options are plentiful. I strategically pick a space under a big oak tree behind the Copper Top BBQ for late afternoon shade and a plethora of potential meaty and hoppy rewards at the the end of the ride.

Why am I up this early? Why am I looking for afternoon shade? Today it is supposed to reach 107 degrees in the Owens Valley. The sooner I start climbing to higher elevation the better. It is literally going to be a race against the big evil fireball in the sky to climb as fast as I can before the temps rise and get up into a more hospitable range of elevation.

It was a short roll from the edge of town before I turned right onto Hwy 168. As usual, I didn’t do a lot of recon in relation to where I was going. I like to be somewhat surprised on my rides. The adventure and discovery is more rewarding that way. That’s why I didn’t really think much of the big sign that said Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. I figured that I would probably end up in that forest and become educated in an immersive fashion as usually happens on my trips. I would end up being more than right on that prediction.

The beginning of the route at this time in the morning is a lonely one. I was climbing Eastward through the desert valley floor where there were no trees, humans, or much of anything else. Just brush and rocks pretty much and the rising sun still behind the mountain in front of me. It was the beginning of a long 24 mile grade with few moments of rest. It wasn’t the steepest, but it rarely let up. It was just a constant lonely grind.

After about 5 miles, it got hard. The road didn’t look hard, but you could feel the gravity of the desert pulling you down. Plus, I was sucked into this never ending canyon that wouldn’t allow the sun in. It was a double edged sword. I wanted the sun to give me energy and not feel so lonely and vulnerable to whatever lived out here. However, I didn’t want the sun because I knew the more elevation I could climb before I had to shake hands with the fireball the better.

Finally, it the road turned into switchbacks. I like switchbacks. It makes me feel like I am getting somewhere because I only need to go short distances before another turn and I feel like I am accomplishing something. Those long straight grinds just don’t give anything back to me. They only take my soul and hope. The switchbacks also hinted at a brighter day to come. A day with sunshine, and at this point in the climb, with tolerable sunshine that wouldn’t melt my tires.

I came to an interesting narrowing of the road. It was clear that whoever constructed this road ran out of sufficient funds to blast more rock away. My two lane road turned into a single lane road. A single lane road with a grade to keep me busy while looking and listening for vehicles coming from either direction. This was an easy feat to accomplish since I was deep in a canyon in the middle of nowhere. If something was headed my way, I would surely hear it well in advance.

As I rode through the single lane canyon, I thought to myself that likely on the other side would be kind of another world. Well, maybe another climate at least. Sure enough, in the span of probably no more that a quarter mile I transitioned from the desert to a Western mountainous landscape with pine trees. It literally happened that quick.

Fortunately, on the other side I had also broken through some sort of elevation as well. The sun was in full force here on the Eastern side of that canyon but the temperature was reasonable and inviting. Not that there was anyone there to welcome me. At 11 miles I could count the number of cars I had seen on one hand and definitely no bicycles to speak of.

I continued on through this landscape wondering if I had reached this mythical Ancient Bristlecone Forest announced by the sign illuminated by the the early morning glow of the sun from behind the mountains. The pines didn’t look particularly unique so I was reasonably sure I wasn’t in the midst of the wise conifers yet. Sure enough, I came to what we would be my final left hand turn with a sign. A sign that would lead me to what I would learn were the oldest trees in the world. Yes, the OLDEST TREES IN THE WORLD! What? Crazy!

The higher I climbed, the more interesting it became. I began to witness a change in the pine trees to feature these tightly twisted versions with sparse needles. It was like they were stressed, but strong at the same time. Even as I was fascinated by them, the views from up here took over my attention. I surpassed 8,000ft above sea level and to my left appeared not only the Owens Valley below me, but the grandeur of the Sierra’s as well.

The more I climbed, the more truly incredible the views expanded. It was one of those moments where you felt very, very fortunate. I felt that it was a gift that I was allowed to be there. A gift that I should be thankful for and thank someone for. I surpassed 9,000ft and it opened up even more and I felt even more thankful. I almost felt guilty that I was alone up here looking taking all this in when others couldn’t or didn’t know they could.

At this point, I began to be above tree line but I would find out there was another tree line. An ancient tree line. One that has literally stood the test of time. Could there be a tree line above 10,000ft?

10,000ft? How did that happen? I have climbed above 9,100ft in Bryce Canyon, 8,300ft just down the road at Whitney Portal, and the day before eclipsed 9,600ft at the top of the Onion Valley climb. However, at this moment I reached a personal record of 5 digits on the elevation above sea level.

The higher I climbed, the stronger the Ancient Bristlecones seem to be. Finally, I reached the visitor center where I could stop and enjoy the crisp air and my friends that have been hanging around waiting for me to visit for the past 4,800 years. Yes, there is a tree in that forest that is that old. We humans are such little ants with such a short life. We know nothing. It was a very humbling moment.

Due to COVID, the visitor center was not open. However, I stopped and enjoyed the quiet and the wisdom of these trees while I refueled for the ride back. There were a few hikers who passed by me to hit the trails. Some of the only humans I saw on this day.

The good news is that after climbing 6,000ft since leaving Big Pine, there would not be a lot of peddling on the way back. Additionally, the views that were mostly behind me would be in front of me now on the descent.

As expected, as I descended through through the one lane canyon in the opposite direction, the climate change was not hospitable. A blow torch in the face actually. It was well above 100 degrees at this point and I was descending fast into the valley. I wasn’t working hard, but I was sweating plenty., As I hit the valley floor I only had to ride about two miles with any effort, but it was painful from the heat.

Fortunately, I had once again positioned the Subaru well from the sun and there was a cold beer and ribs waiting for me under a patio with misters only a few steps away. I might not plan my rides out, but I tend to plan the end of my rides well.