Our 18 year-old grandson (the handsome one in the middle) and two pals biked through Scott Valley into Trinity Center over the holiday and I had hoped to buy them a burger and shake to celebrate but, like a few other things in this project, it didn't turn out quite as planned.
As noted in an earlier post they had brought most of their personal belongings to carry, thinking I suppose they were moving into a college dorm. There was so much packed onto each bike that we had several near-fatal tip-overs on top of Forest Mountain at launch time. This proved significant for the plan because they made several stops to re-tie their loose loads and were not able to reach Callahan until 8pm the first day.
Truman and I had carefully planned this route and the hope was to get going early and reach the crest of Scott Mountain well before dark because we could not find any campsites in Scott Valley. There was a sort of wide spot in the road at the summit however, that hikers and horsemen apparently use as a jumping-off point for treks. The late start (almost noon) and repeated stops prevented that however and the boys ended up "hoboeing it" across from the USFS station a couple miles east of Callahan.
But they reached the summit shortly after noon the next day and were in the jump-off area where my son Pete caught up with them. He was on a resupply mission with bannanas, cookies, & water because of another unforseen wrinkle; cell phones don't work well in that area. Tru was supposed to check in and we all got a little anxious when he didn't, especially Uncle Pete who takes Truman under his wing.
They were repairing a flat tire and after Pete left they cruised ___ that is too generous, they finagled down the south side of Scott ___ a hair-raising series of U- turning steep grades. I know, we drove back this way, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
At the bottom, where the Trinity River enters the lake, the tire let go completely so they hid the bike in some brush and Isaac who was riding it hitched into Trinity Center behind the other two who rode the 5 miles into town. They spent the day and night there before calling on a pay phone for the pick-up which originally was to be in Weaverville, another 25 miles or so down the lake.
When we arrived they were mucho tired and very tanned. They led us back to the abandoned bike and we parted ways . . . they headed to Weaverville and then to Redding where they turned south for home. We retraced our route and thereby got to appreciate their Scott Mountain experience. Trinity Center by the way was almost shut down. The lake was so low that no boats could launch and the lake is the lifeblood of the community so I couldn't find a burger/milkshake to save my life.
I think it was one of those out-on-your-own experiences that all of us can remember from our pre-adult lives and probably a good thing to do before the seriousness of college. I won't know for probably ten more years, though.
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