Kennedy Meadows
This one’s for CPTJack & Woodsy
R2s, Shorty and I left home at noon, and a few hours later into the drive, was able to observe thunderclouds above the southern tip of the Sierras, near Tehachapi (Tah-hatch-ah-pea.) Some big raindrops landed on the windshield. We arrived at Fish Creek Campground just past 5 o’clock, and while making it around the paved loop; our progress was stopped by a parked ranger’s vehicle. After finishing up a conversation with some campers, he approached and asked to inspect the bikes for plates and spark arresters. “Help yourself”. He says to me “You look tired”, and with a new map and short Q&A we continued looking for a site moreover DRNers.
Finding the crew arrayed in the usual setting, we said our hellos and settled in a site not far from the entrance; GSR had used the spot to park but had setup elsewhere, and welcomed us to use it and save space for her Explorer.
As food is on the mind of teenage boys, dinner was started and on the stove while setting up camp. Upon swallowing the chow, we joined the campfire crowd for evening conversation, except for r2s, being a shy one.
Let’s see if I can capture the attendees: Scar and wife with two little Scars (those boys can sure hit that b'ball); neighbor Gus, wife and cute daughter; Eddie & Aimee; Natalie, Kelso Rat, Dirtjunkie, Farmer John, Thumbs & friend; (post midnight-arriving) Bundy & wife w/two girls; 2strok4fun w/wife and 2 small strokes (fun kids); Kiwi and (me put big foot in mouth: I met you last year?) friend. Did I miss anyone? Sorry if I had. Oh, and sorry to miss Ol’89r, and Boodac.
Getmetoca offered some leftovers and I volunteered HR2s and Shorty lest such fine and scrumptious chow go to waste. Thanks - they thought it was outrageous, although with Shorty it’s not cool to tell dad?! My only regret is they may not have followed through in offering cleanup-assist duties. Did they? (Uh, I forgot, dad.)
Eventually the conversations lean towards who’s riding what trails and decisions about which groups to join the following day of riding.
As midnight approached it was time to turn it in to rest for the morning’s ride. It’s difficult to do so earlier with the presence and fine conversation of DRNers and guests.
Scar Tissue (WR250F) and I (RMX) were up early, then Old and Slow (XR400R), 2strok4fun (250 E/XC) and lastly Kelso Rat (300 M/XC) – we were to do a loop consisting of Beach, Little Horse, Albanita and Granite/Broder Trails by driving to a remote drop off point. Kelso decided to stay behind and sort out jetting. The first half of our morning led us to Os Meadows and back.
My two sons cut a deal; they share the KDX - and Shorty went first, though he had a few difficulties (thanks for the assist, guys) but eventually got into the groove despite his rustiness and short stature on a grownup’s-sized bike. Fading back to keep an eye on him, I was unaware of how the others fared, other than Scar stopping once or twice to record our passing on film. One of the rocky photo-ops caught me in classic spode form: feet out, paddling over a large boulder. (Dang! No standup, elbows out, head-over-# plate pose.) Shorty needed some help in an uphill hairpin, which looped around a sapling, and his brother of course just had to tell him how to whip around those once we were back at the staging area; maybe by next year he’ll have grown enough to dab where needed to clear the more difficult sections like these and others. Although this is my fifth consecutive summer, I later read this loop is black diamond – a bit beyond his skill set but just as well for his development.
The soil was well on the dry side but by spacing things out a bit made a difference. A quick 15 miles of weaving through the pines and aspens – with meadows and water crossings thrown in for good measure, and we were back at the pickups for a recharge before heading down to Monache Meadow. Scar and 2s4fun mentioned having an hour before they needed to head back, and were going to turn around ½ hour in. It was r2s’ turn to carry the rear.
As we headed east Scar set a reasonable clip, and at one time I pondered the chase in spite of the dust. My thought upon catching up and seeing him riding fast by sitting on the seat(!) was a surprise and could have been a front to my challenge (after all, how can a guy ride thus sitting?), until I remembered him saying the night before of being a sit-down rider. Good riding dude.
Before Powell and Smith Meadows they turned around, whilst oe&S, r2s and I headed further in towards the Monache 4wt/Granite split; this has to be one of the finest areas – just north of the paved road crossing – where the soil changes from sandy to that with more clay/organic-material content (less dust) as it weaves between a long stand of aspens. A quick right and we were about to approach Monache Meadow proper.
Stopping on one ridge we see a big herd of cattle, along with some ranch hands. As such it seemed courteous to turn around, not wanting to disturb matters. Before leaving we took photos of r2s going through a sandy whoop section with Broder Meadow as a backdrop. O&S offers to snap a photo of me doing the same, and I take him up on it. As we finished the photo session, one last look reveled the cattle had move on; therefore we continued north. Before last rise, we had to cross Soda Creek, and it was dry - a first in five years.
Monache Meadow is always a welcomed site. There were other folks (less than ½ -dozen to be seen, even in the distance) spread about the expanse here and there, some fishing and others riding 4wds and quads. The water was axle deep - lowest by far. As such, coupled with the presence of others who are more familiar with the ideal fishing holes, I decided not to return later in the day as an angler on this South fork of the Kern River.
We took the 4wd trail back to avoid a rocky, chewed-up section of trail, and ended up with 35 miles on the odos.
Now it was decision time as to where best to ride and fish. When talking to the ranger the day before it was disappointing to discover the two trails which would have greatly eased access to access Bonita Flat – my former spot of fishing and catching of many trout - turned out to be for horses only these days. So with the recommendation of oe&S we drove as far as possible on access roads and a connector to Rattlesnake Trail.
It didn’ta take much to notice the high clouds while unloading, with the big gray canopy to the east. We then descended a steep 1 ½-mile connector of Beach Trail to Rattlesnake Trail. My how have things changed: the fire of a few years ago, which allegedly started by a backpacker’s campfire in the Dome Land Wilderness, spread and brought much destruction/devastation here; it’s like oe&S said: you either log it or it burns.
The 7-mile black-diamond ride down was a challenge as Shorty and I haven’t paired up for a few years; nonetheless was doable as long as I stayed in the lower gears, and monkey butt a small price to pay for remote alpine fishing opportunities. For some reason, the two difficult rock sections of the way in escaped memory, although the experience of the flooded creek beds remained.
We arrived at Bonita Flat to the scene of something quite different than memory of a couple decades before. In the presence of once-mighty-now-charred pines, the undergrowth had taken over the creek, although not the steep slopes. And as consequence water temperature rise, as does silt runoff; thus with the absence of clean and cool conditions, the trout population apparently disappeared – this was not a day nor place for fishing – so sorry, boys.
While scouting out the few up and downstream pools, distant thunder could be heard and a few flashes witnessed. Less than a minute into our return leg it began to sprinkle alarmingly-large drops, then the gates opened and it began to pour: I wondered with the lack of vegetation to hold soil on the steep inclines if we could become trapped by flash flood (insert Extreme Clear Creek memories here) or slides. At times hail would interrupt the rain; BA-sized ice balls went “tick…tick, tick” on my visor and arms. Small streams of runoff formed on the trail, creeks sprung out of nowhere, and everywhere pools formed, although traction certainly picked up; it was a strange mixture of fun and fright, as you would understand.
As we trudged along, we came to the inevitable: the two forgotten rock sections. Both were difficult going down, when dry, and we had gravity on our side; going up it worked against us, along with wet tires. I took both bikes up and over both locations, but not without assistance on the second, where we had some lift, tug, and rolling to do so. By this time we were soaked. Oh, and we were wearing flow-through gear. Negotiating the trail with fogged-up goggles/glasses proved risky and a gamble, and they eventually had to come off if we were to continue. Our final arrival at Beach Trail provided emotional relief, and the 1 ½ miles of black-diamond uphill a piece-o-cake for r2s as he tractored right up; it was a different story for Shorty and me on the 250 since it began knocking (from?) lost coolant or way-off jetting via the increased humidity, or that coupled with the combined 300-lb passenger/operator weight. While loading up one of us mentioned what a hoot it was to ride in the rain, and it looked like the pickup went through a carwash.
Arriving back at camp before sunset allowed my sons to wander and fish Fish Creek while I kept an eye on the spaghetti cooking on the stove. The trip down Rattlesnake Trail was beginning to take it’s toll as there wasn’t much motivation in my movement the rest of the evening; a fixture with minimum participation. Me tired. Although good conversation could be had, with The Eel and Rhona and Eel’s sister and friend, 10pm being a early closing of an adventuresome day for this old, beaten body.
Waking up at 4am wasn’t part of the plan nonetheless occurred, and after an hour of turning with a newfound small bruise on my calf, I decided to give up and start the day with breakfast, and packing for our return trip. Leaving at 7am afforded few goodbyes other than a wave to Kelso and Dirtjunkie.
On the way down the Tehachapi pass there was this homegrown billboard calling my name re: a fruit stand at the base of the mountains. We stopped and bought some nectarines, peaches, grapes and of course a watermelon for the 4th. Up to that point of being stirred at that stop, my sons caught even more sleep, and thereafter took in the rows upon rows of vineyards, dairy farms, and cotton and cornfields up to Maricopa. Near Ballinger Canyon we stopped for some pistachios, and could not have felt better than to pull in to home at 1pm. Whattatrip!