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hrjSo the directions to the Bear Valley resort suggested that you start from the Bay Area by heading south (well, officially "east", but you know how these things go around here) on 580, cross the valley over to Stockton, head north on 99, and only then pick up highway 4 towards the mountains. Having a spirit of adventure, I figured why not pick up highway 4 closer to its origins and simply head east? Now, if I'd been in a hurry, this would have been a mistake, but I've always been fascinated by seeing all the different things a particular road does from start to end. (I've taken a couple of cross-country drives of the format "leave home, go six blocks and turn right onto I-80; head east for several thousand miles until you get to Pennsylvania.")
Hwy 4 starts out with some pleasant what-passes-for-back-country-in-the-Bay-Area with a commuter corridor through green wooded valleys. After you cross 680 and the whole other-side-of-the-hills suburban thing, you soon end up in strip mall hell working your way through the western urban/rural interface of the delta. It is hot -- so hot you think about rolling up the windows and turning on the air conditioner, but this seems just a trifle too absurd when on the way to a ski weekend. Strip-mall hell peters out into the odd maze of the delta proper, where you realize that the reason the road is so straight and narrow is that you're driving along the top of the levee: to the left is water, just a few feet down from the road; to the right is farmland, 10-20 feet down from the road. Then suddenly the road turns at right angles to cross a drawbridge that's only wide enough for large farm equipment to cross in one direction at a time.
Eventually, with very little warning, you're smack dab in the middle of bustling downtown Stockton, crossing I-5 and dodging briefly south on 99 before Hwy 4 turns east for real. The place is flat with the settled silt of eons of stuff fetching up in a low spot. It's hard to believe there are mountains anywhere. (This is largely because there's enough haze in the distance to hide them.) After quite a while, the land starts rolling gently, and at some point you come over what seemed like a very slight rise to find you're among serious hills and the brain switches from "central valley agriculture" to "gold country". After quite a bit of climbing you get to Angel's Camp (of jumping frog fame). A digital temperature display on a local business reads 80F. You start consoling yourself that the real purpose of the trip is a nice relaxing get-away from the daily routine. Skiing isn't absolutely essential to the trip's success.
Hwy 4 is now a seriously windy mountain road (but extremely well maintained) and continues climbing steadily with the live oaks having given way to pines. The road signs note that Bear Valley is about 40 miles distant, and that the pass is closed to further traffic about 5 miles after that. Pass closures renew one's hope in snow. About 15 miles out from Bear Valley, a few dirty patches of congealed ice can be seen along the roadside. About 10 miles out, the air is finally cold enough it makes sense to close the car windows. About 5 miles out, you can see large enough extents of surviving snow off through the trees that it looks like skiing is back on the menu after all.
The resort is pretty close to a ghost town this weekend -- anybody really serious about skiing was here last weekend when there was still some fresh stuff, but I don't have any particular expectations so I figure I won't be disappointed. The lodge seems to have a firm belief that guests Must Not Be Allowed To Be Cold. They also have a firm belief that guests are not to be trusted with thermostat controls. Last night I slept on top of the covers and was still too warm -- tonight I plan to leave the windows open, if I can't get someone to tell me how to turn the heat down. (I think it's just an on-off system, not actually thermostat controlled.)
The food is excellent. Last night I had rack of lamb in the Creekside Restaurant (no actual creek in view, alas). Tonight I have reservations (recommended) at the Headwaters Cafe with my eye on the duck breast with rhubarb compote. I have yet to see about making my massage appointment. Have I mentioned that this weekend isn't just about trying cross-country skiing -- it's my promised "me weekend" that I've been trying to fit into my schedule since January. In half an hour I'll go down to the cross-country center to rent my equipment and sign up for a lesson and in the mean time I'll try to find some spot where the wireless network is consistent enough to get this posted.
Hwy 4 starts out with some pleasant what-passes-for-back-country-in-the-Bay-Area with a commuter corridor through green wooded valleys. After you cross 680 and the whole other-side-of-the-hills suburban thing, you soon end up in strip mall hell working your way through the western urban/rural interface of the delta. It is hot -- so hot you think about rolling up the windows and turning on the air conditioner, but this seems just a trifle too absurd when on the way to a ski weekend. Strip-mall hell peters out into the odd maze of the delta proper, where you realize that the reason the road is so straight and narrow is that you're driving along the top of the levee: to the left is water, just a few feet down from the road; to the right is farmland, 10-20 feet down from the road. Then suddenly the road turns at right angles to cross a drawbridge that's only wide enough for large farm equipment to cross in one direction at a time.
Eventually, with very little warning, you're smack dab in the middle of bustling downtown Stockton, crossing I-5 and dodging briefly south on 99 before Hwy 4 turns east for real. The place is flat with the settled silt of eons of stuff fetching up in a low spot. It's hard to believe there are mountains anywhere. (This is largely because there's enough haze in the distance to hide them.) After quite a while, the land starts rolling gently, and at some point you come over what seemed like a very slight rise to find you're among serious hills and the brain switches from "central valley agriculture" to "gold country". After quite a bit of climbing you get to Angel's Camp (of jumping frog fame). A digital temperature display on a local business reads 80F. You start consoling yourself that the real purpose of the trip is a nice relaxing get-away from the daily routine. Skiing isn't absolutely essential to the trip's success.
Hwy 4 is now a seriously windy mountain road (but extremely well maintained) and continues climbing steadily with the live oaks having given way to pines. The road signs note that Bear Valley is about 40 miles distant, and that the pass is closed to further traffic about 5 miles after that. Pass closures renew one's hope in snow. About 15 miles out from Bear Valley, a few dirty patches of congealed ice can be seen along the roadside. About 10 miles out, the air is finally cold enough it makes sense to close the car windows. About 5 miles out, you can see large enough extents of surviving snow off through the trees that it looks like skiing is back on the menu after all.
The resort is pretty close to a ghost town this weekend -- anybody really serious about skiing was here last weekend when there was still some fresh stuff, but I don't have any particular expectations so I figure I won't be disappointed. The lodge seems to have a firm belief that guests Must Not Be Allowed To Be Cold. They also have a firm belief that guests are not to be trusted with thermostat controls. Last night I slept on top of the covers and was still too warm -- tonight I plan to leave the windows open, if I can't get someone to tell me how to turn the heat down. (I think it's just an on-off system, not actually thermostat controlled.)
The food is excellent. Last night I had rack of lamb in the Creekside Restaurant (no actual creek in view, alas). Tonight I have reservations (recommended) at the Headwaters Cafe with my eye on the duck breast with rhubarb compote. I have yet to see about making my massage appointment. Have I mentioned that this weekend isn't just about trying cross-country skiing -- it's my promised "me weekend" that I've been trying to fit into my schedule since January. In half an hour I'll go down to the cross-country center to rent my equipment and sign up for a lesson and in the mean time I'll try to find some spot where the wireless network is consistent enough to get this posted.
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Date: 2007-04-07 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-07 10:55 pm (UTC)It is fun to see how these highways change - lots more interesting than the interstates. And there are some very cool places in the high Sierras on (and off) those highways.
The lodge must be run by a European. There seems to be some rule in Europe that the colder it is outside, the warmer it must be indoors. The shops in Scotland were stifling in January.
Spoil yourself and enjoy every minute of it!