Lifestyle

We love series on Slowtwitch. Here’s another one and we’re sorry to say that (so far) it’s not going to be of too much value to people who don’t live in the Southwest. Maybe we’ll expand it.

For now, though, it’s just this: The great alpine century rides of Southern California. These are not established races. They’re just rides. They’re all loops. And 90-percent (we’ll wager) of all triathletes (and bike racers) who live in Southern California haven’t done any of them.

By Southern California we mean south of Fresno, which, when you look at the map, consists of the southern third of the state. These “centuries” are not necessarily precisely 100 miles. They range from 90 to 105 miles in length. In fact, the first one we’ll preview is the short one. But these are alpine centuries—mountain rides—and we’ll wager if you ride this 90-mile loop you’ll not feel gypped.

Angeles Crest Century

This ride features the Angeles Crest Highway, one of the great mountain roads anywhere. But there’s more to this loop than the Angeles Crest, and this century—almost all of which takes place within the Angeles National Forest—includes roads you should know but almost certainly don’t.

A good part of this loop looks out over the L.A. Basin, but none of it takes place in L.A. proper. In fact, we’ll pay you a buck if you ever see a traffic light during this entire ride. Like any loop, this ride can be started at any point around it. I started it in Valyermo, at 3600’ of elevation overlooking the 2600’ high desert that is called Antelope Valley (find Hwy 138 on the map and everything north of that is Antelope Valley, leading all the way to Death Valley). I started here because it can get steamy down at 3000’—the low elevation of this ride—and I thought it better to tackle this 15-mile segment in the morning rather than during the heat of the afternoon and at the end of a boatload of climbing.

Descending gently a mile or two from Valyermo on Big Pines Highway you’ll come to Pallet Creek Road, and you’ll turn left and then make a quick right on Fort Tejon Road.

(NOTE: For those who want to make a true century out of this ride, stay on Pallet Creek Road. It’ll dead end into Longview road after a hop and a skip, and Longview (turn left) will ascend to its terminus at Juniper Hills Rd. The only way you can go is right, and this will take you back down to Fort Tejon Rd. further along the way. This extra loop is quite scenic and will get you much of the way toward 100 miles.)

Whichever way you choose, stay on gently undulating and rural Fort Tejon Rd. for several miles until you come to a left-hand turn called Mt. Emma Rd. Shortly after that turn Fort Tejon Rd. dead-ends into Pearblossom Hwy (#138), so if you find yourself there you’ve just passed Mt. Emma Rd.

For the next half-dozen or so miles Mt. Emma doesn’t turn much at all, and it’s my least favorite part of the ride. I don’t like any road that’s straight. The road isn’t flat, mind you, it’s just that it’s straight. In fact, the undulations are deceiving, and as will be described later these early miles are hillier than you notice. Thankfully this road gets twisty as it starts to climb in earnest and the desert scrub turns gives way to pinon pines and larger junipers. At the summit I met two riders coming in the other direction, and we shared a few words. They were surprised to see me because they never (they said) saw riders out here, which was a mystery to them as this is such prime riding territory.

I descended the other side of Mt. Emma Rd., and this would be the first of many, many summits reached on this ride—a lot more than I reckoned on.

Mt. Emma Rd. dead-ends into Angeles Forest Hwy (N3), not to be confused with Angeles Crest Hwy (#2). N3 would be considered an alpine road anywhere else, except compared to the Angeles Crest it’s just a cub scout. Stilll it’s another nice stiff climb, and at its summit, several miles up the road, there’s a ranger station with a spigot and I recommend refilling your water bottles, as there is no other place to refill for a good while. This summit is also the first of many times this ride will cross the Pacific Crest Trail.

The Angeles Forest Hwy is then descended westbound, toward L.A., and after a healthy loss of altitude the rider will want to pay close attention to a left-hand turn called Upper Big Tugunga Canyon Rd. There is no sign here saying that this road leads to Angeles Crest Hwy but it does, and this very pretty undulating road is what you want to take. (You can miss this "short cut" intentionally if you want and add 15 or 20 miles to the ride, since N3 will eventually dead-end into #2, at a spot 1500' lower in altitude).

You’ll spend, I don’t know, maybe 9 miles in Upper Big Tujunga Canyon. The final couple of miles ascend out of it, and about a quarter of a mile from its intersection with the Angeles Crest Hwy the knowing eye will spy a very healthy 25-foot tall Giant Sequoia on the other side of the road (it looks like a Cedar but it isn't). Who planted it there, and why they (rightly) thought it would prosper is anyone’s guess (in the wild Sequoias neither grow this low in elevation—4500'—nor this far south). This road dead-ends into the Angeles Crest Highway, and until you make your left turn onto Big Pines Highway and descend to your car you won’t have to worry about any more roads to look for.

Heck, you’re 45-miles into this ride, exactly halfway, and it just doesn’t seem like it’s that hard of a ride. What you don’t realize is that you already have a good three thousand feet of vertical in your legs, although you haven’t climbed anything monumental.

At this intersection you’re 4700’ above sea level. Over to the right you'll notice Mt. Wilson, atop which sits an observatory and about a hundred antennas. All L.A. radio stations beam down from Mt. Wilson. Somehow those radio waves are able to cut through the smog and find their way to your car.

At this point you're already a good distance up toward the road’s high spot of 7900’. Climbing 3200’ on a road that isn’t throwing that much of a pitch at you. Certainly this road isn’t steep doesn’t sound all that hard. But it’s a royal pain in the arse as those who’ve ascended it will tell you. The reason is, you’ll spend more than 30 miles on this road, and it doesn’t just climb up to the summit and descend over that distance. It climbs to a bit over 5000’ and then descends, and then it climbs up to 6000’ and descends, and then after you’ve just about had enough climbing you pop out at the top and a sign that herald's "Cloudburst Summit . 7008'."

You figure, "That’s got to be it." Nope, not even close. You descend a good deal from here, to be sure, and after this free-fall of several miles you start up again and not for just a little bit. You don’t stop climbing until you’re at Dawson Saddle, 7901'.

Again you descend, this time an even longer downhill than any of the others. But you're not done. Prepare to climb again, this time another thousand or so feet to Lightning Ridge, which sits at 7400’.

Now the descent is for real, and shortly you reach Big Pines Hwy on the left. If you were to miss this road you'd only have to go two or three miles to attain Wrightwood, a charming mountain village that would not be a bad place as a staging area for this ride, especially for those coming from San Diego or Riverside.

The descent on Big Pines Hwy will take you from 6600' to about 3600' and includes some A+ hairpins and S-turns for the downhillo-philes among you. In the 15 miles between here and Valyermo you'll add 20 degrees F at least, and while down here I was hot in a short-sleeved jersey, above 7000' I was wearing a vest and a head warmer during the "heat of the day," even on the uphills.

The Angeles Crest Hwy clearly isn't designed to get you from A to B. It's reason for existence is to allow Angelenos to see their forest, and to gaze down on their city from high up. Very high up.

Greenhorn Century South

I'll give you a nickle if, at some point during this ride, you don't say to the person you're with, or if you're alone just to yourself, "This is the best ride I've ever done." Further, I'll tell you almost precisely where on the ride you'll say it. But I'll get to that.

Porterville is the closest town to both the Northern and Southern "Greenhorn" centuries described here, but you don't have to go through Porterville to get there. Coming from L.A. I drive north on the #5, and then take the #99 when the road splits. After passing through Bakersfield you'll take the #65 to a little pimple of a town called Ducor, and then turn right and head to the mountains.

I find that a good place from which to do both these centuries is California Hot Springs, and there are one or two small motels that'll accommodate you. There is also the strategic value in starting each ride with the descent from this town to Fountain Springs, and then doing the flatter valley section of the ride and the large ascent in the morning hours. You'll want to get away from that valley before say, 11AM if you're climbing during the summer.

If you look at the blue line on the map provided you'll be tempted to think that this is not nearly as far as the ride scribed by the red line. But it is. It's at least 90-something miles, but it's very twisty-turny and that accounts for what looks like a short loop on the map.

Both of these centuries climb a lot, and in each case the big climb will take you up 7000' in elevation, bottom to top. But they both take their time in getting there, and so a reasonably well trained athlete will not find himself overly stressed by the climbing.

One thing about this particular ride—there's very few places to get water, save from the garden hose of a resident along the route (and there are precious few of them). So take a bottle everywhere you can, or better yet take a Camelback. (The northern route—the red-line route—has more water available.

The climb from Fountain Springs starts gradually enough, and you'll gain and lose elevation as you roll through the oak grasslands of the Southern Sierra Nevada foothills. This southwest corner of the Sierras are termed the Greenhorn Mountains.

After you amble through a hamlet called Posey you'll start your climb in earnest, and after several switchbacks and quite a bit of climbing you'll pass through Sugarloaf. There is really nothing here except houses, many of which are not occupied except during vacations. This is where the valley's woodland vegetation gives way to conifers, and it's also where the road narrows to one lane plus a little. No matter, there are pretty much no cars from here on in. In fact, few maps even show the road as paved all the way through, but it is.

The grade is gentle, perhaps 6% as I remember it, and if you're climbing this in the spring you'll find a lot of flowing water (rivulets, etc., but not for drinking), vegetation, ferns, stuff like that. You'd vaguely think you were in the Muir Woods judging by the density and richness of the flora.

The road pops out at Porteguese Pass, and when over the top you're now on the backside of the Greenhorn range and descending down into the Kern River gorge (the river is 4000 vertical feet below the road). You'll descend abruptly and for a good distance, and you'll need to be careful. The pavement is very good, but it's narrow, and since no one ever drives on this road the rocks that fall from above and onto the road just stay there.

If you didn't admit while riding up toward Portuguese Pass from Sugarloaf that this was the best road you've ever ridden period, you'll be forced to utter it now. When I rode this piece of pavement—maybe 25 or 30 miles from Sugarloaf to the road's terminus—I saw precisely one vehicle. If it weren't for the hunters, you'd never see a soul.

This single paved lane ascends and descends as it hugs the western edge of the gorge, and you'll eventually run into a road that, to the best of my knowledge, is simply called Sierra Way. It is the road that travels up the Kern River gorge from Kernville, and dead ends into the Western Divide Highway. The road from Portuguese Pass, on which you've been happily riding, hits Sierra Way about four miles west of Johnsondale, and four miles east of the Western Divide Highway. If you want to make this a full century, and maybe add a mile or two, turn right and go to Johnsondale to fill up with water (there's a store there). But then you'll have to retrace your tracks, and you'll be doing so up an ascent.

The ascent continues to the Western Divide Highway, and you'll take it southbound (left). You'll pedal over Parker Pass (a very short climb) and then descend 3000' in elevation to California Hot Springs, where you started.

Greenhorn Century North

From California Hot Springs you'd descend to the valley floor, just as explained above. But at Fountain Springs you'll turn north (yesterday you turned south). The road meanders through the more or less flat valley and if you don't deviate from this road it'll eventually name itself Plano Road. This will take you to Porterville, and the #190. This is the road (turn right here) that'll take you up the mountain. Porterville might have all of 350' of elevation above sea level, and you're climbing to 7400'. Better know that going in. But it's a glorious ride.

Ten or so miles into the very gentle climb (you'll only ascend 800' in this ten mile stretch) you'll hit Springville, and if you want to do this climb the other way 'round (counterclockwise) I'd consider starting the ride here (as you'll again want to get rid of the hot valley riding first thing). There's a comfortable motel in Springville, or you can camp at Lake Success, which is about halfway between Porterville and Springville.

In fact, Springville is not a bad spot to have as a home base for riding, as there is also a fine loop through Mountain Home Forest (big Sequoias), and this town is the best jumping-off point for that ride.

The road you're on (#190) gets gradually steeper as you continue east from Springville, but it's never onerous climbing. It takes 25 miles to achieve the final 6300' of vertical, and it'll do so without ever showing you what you've got left to ascend—the road is always buried in the trees.

After you hit the 4000' mark, at around Camp Nelson, it gets twistier and stays that way all the way to the top. This makes the #190 an awful road for driving (especially if you're a passenger) yet a perfect road for cycling. You'll figure out after awhile—if you're a fiendish descender—that you're doing the ride the wrong way 'round. That's why I actually prefer going up Parker Pass Road, from California Hot Springs, and descending #190. It's the best descent I've ever done on a bike. Yet it's one of the best ascents as well, so you can't go wrong either way.

When you finally do get to the top, at 7400' and without, to my recollection, a summit sign, you'll descend just a bit to Ponderosa. There is a store and restaurant there, and if you want to break for lunch this is a good spot (it's the only spot, which is what makes it a good spot). You'll also want to make sure and refill your water bottles here.

You're on what's called the Western Divide Highway now (the #190 just sort of turns into it), and it'll go up and down for the next eight or ten miles. Nothing horrendous. You'll notice, though, that partway through this stretch the trees will get awfully large. Your riding through a grove of Giant Sequoias.

You'll eventually gain the end of this road, as it dead-ends and you're forced to make a choice. If you did the Southern Century yesterday this intersection will be familiar. Turn left and you'll go to Johnsondale (and in so doing make this a much longer ride than you intend). Turn right and you'll pop over Parker Pass and descend to California Hot Springs and the finish of the ride. I've measured it once at 100 miles exactly, and another time at 102. Either way, you'll have gotten your money's worth.

Sunrise Century

Can't very well have a series of SoCal centuries and omit at least one in San Diego. Here 'tis. I don't suppose there are very many San Diegans (who aren't tied to the coast) who aren't aware of most of these roads. But I might know one or two that're new to you.

More and more San Diegans are venturing inland, and those who do soon realize that—doh!—they've not necessarily done themselves any favors by spending a bundle for the privilage of living on the coast. Unless you work there, the coast holds less promise for endurance athletes than does the foothills and mountains of San Diego's backcountry.

This ride, for example, starts in Ramona, which is a good piece of driving away from San Diego's beaches, and sits at 1600' above them. I always park in the Sizzler restaurant's parking lot, and this is at the far end of town, just as you start driving up the #78 toward Julian. You don't want to ride on the #78 more than you have to, though. This restaurant sits at the corner of the #78 and 3rd Street. You'll take the latter. It'll turn into Old Julian Hwy without you having to do anything.

This is a much better road on which to climb the next 1500' vertical, and it's seven or eight miles less of mountain traffic you'd otherwise face on #78. But there is a point where you'll have to dump out onto that fairly busy road, and that'll happen right at the Maybee Ranch, where many of San Diego's fastest thoroughbred horses have been bred and trained. After several miles of RVs and Harley Davidsons (it might be too trafficky for you, but I find the road's wide enough to accommodate all) you'll dump down into a fine valley in which sits Santa Isabel. This is the site of the famous Dudley's Bakery, and really, as bakeries go, it's just okay. Nothing to make a fuss over. If you were Jurgen Zack and you were in the middle of your Lake Henshaw loop, you'd stop here for a pee and then turn left and exit the Valley north-northwest. We, however, shall continue eastward and upward.

You're now just seven miles from Julian and its even more famous apple pies, over which it is entirely appropriate to make a fuss. But we'll climb just half that distance, and then take a little side trip which is less familiar to San Diego's cycling community. Exactly halfway between Santa Isabel and Julian is the apple-growing district of Wynola, and the one and only road to the left in that tiny community is Wynola Road. You don't have to take this extra spur, but I would, because the road is tight, windy, piney, hilly, scenic, and vacant of cars. Other than that, there's nothing to recommend it.

Three miles worth of Wynola Road will haul you up to the one and only cross street on this road, which is Farmer's Road, and you'll take a right, and climb a bit more before descending gently into downtown Julian. Stop here and fill up your water bottles, because this is the last time you'll see a store until you're up and over the biggest climb of the day.

As an aside, if you were not to turn on Farmer's Road, or if you were not to take #79 southbound from Julian, you'd descend Banner Grade, and we'd talk about some equally stunning rides on the lee side of these San Diego Mountains. But that's for another time.

After idling through Julian's three or so blocks, you'll turn right as you leave town and climb due south on #79. You're now above 4000' and you'll climb to 4600' just to achieve another high valley, in which sits Lake Cuyamaca. But before you make it to the lake you'll turn left on what is the consensus most scenic (non-coastal) route in all of San Diego County, which is State Route 1, aka the Sunrise Highway. The climbing is so gentle your legs will not much complain, but by the time you reach the apex you've climbed to 6000'. You will certainly have noticed that while it's gentle and green to the west of you, much of your eastern view from is almost straight down to the Anza Borrego Desert and the Salton Sea.
The descent from the top of Mt. Laguna, which is what you've just climbed, is more brisk than the way up, and if it's an earnest mountain ascent you want, do the ride backward. If you keep on this road you'll hit #8, and you don't want to do this. There's a very visible right turn at the bottom of the hill, and it's old Highway 80. Don't ask me how it's the old 80, since the new 80 is 500 miles north. Whatever.

Pine Valley is the town you'll ride through, and you'll want to fill a bottle or two because you've got to re-ascend much of what you just dropped down from. You'll climb a mile out of this town and then just amble along (through a depressing looking place called Guatay) until arriving at the junction with #79. You'll turn right here to start your backtrack in the direction of Julian. The climb northward up to Lake Cuyamaca is deceiving. You only climb to 4600' in elevation, and that's not that much. Why this climb seems harder than the one you just did—which went to 6100'—I don't know. But danged if it isn't a son of a gun, probably because of the cumulative vertical and the fact that there are some steeper pitches on this one than you faced on S1.

You'll find yourself finally at Lake Cuyamaca, and yes, I've thought long and hard about a triathlon here, and yes it would be perfect, and no I haven't investigated it yet, except to say that this is a non-swimming lake and is some flatland city's drinking water. Not necessarily a deal-breaker. Maybe someday.

Keep your eyes peeled, because you're going to make a left at Engineer's Road, which is no big intersection. Few know of this road, and those who do may not know that the two or so miles that were gravel for most of this road's existence were paved a few years ago, and so it's rideable (well, heck, we used to ride it when it was gravel, but now it's rideable for the ladies, too). Engineer's Road features a rather nice descent, and to tell you the truth I've never ascended the descent (as of this writing). One of these days I will, because it seems like an important climb.

Engineer's Rd. will dead end into Boulder Peak Rd, at which point you turn right, which is the only way it is paved unless things have recently changed. This will wind around through rural oaks and low-elevation pines, and without your realizing it the road'll change names a time or two, eventually to Eagle Peak Rd. To my recollection, the only decision you've got to make on this road is, perhaps, when it hits or becomes Pine Hills Rd., and if you do have a decision to make, turn left (I don't frankly remember whether it just turns into Pine Hills Rd or you've got to turn). When on Pine Hills Road you're now a mile or two away from #78, and when you hit that main Highway you'll turn left.

Three miles of gentle descent and you'll find yourself in Wynola. The last 16 or 18 miles of this ride will therefore be a backtrack of the first. You've completed a loop which is somewhere in the neighborhood of 70 miles, and your out and back from Ramona will complete your century (and maybe even give you an extra 5 miles no-charge).

Total climbing on this ride? Hmm. Hard to gauge. If someone told me it was 8000' I wouldn't be surprized. You won't remember having climbed that much, but your legs will bear witness to the gravity they've overcome.