Date: June 9, 2021
29.97 Miles (+10 RT to a bike shop)
2,073 Feet of Gain
Idyllwild, CA to Banning, CA

Janna and I started our morning in Idyllwild late and leisurely. We only had 30 miles planned out today and only a couple of thousand feet of gain. The Sierra Cascades would take us up and over, then down the San Jacinto range to Banning, CA right along the I-10 as it crosses a vein of the low Mohave Desert. We had originally planned on camping at Bogart County Park just west and north of town, outside of Beaumont. However, the campground and park had closed to tent campers due to COVID, and all reservations were cancelled. All other camping in the area was either closed (due to COVID) or restricted to RV park usage. I had searched fruitlessly and settled on the fact that we were going to need to book a hotel room in the area; this was also encouraged by the major vein of urban desert that was due to be over 100 degrees.

But first, we took a long morning in Idyllwild. We walked from our cabin over to the Red Kettle for breakfast. After a long time eating and talking, we walked over to Nomad Adventures once again for an item Janna forgot at home. We then walked over to the small grocery in the middle of town to pick up some resupplies. By the time we got back to cabin and packed our bikes, it was nearly noon. But this was summer; the season demands all-day dives into existence with the gift on long-light.

The Sierra Cascades ascended to over 6,000 feet at Pine Cove. Large southwestern pines stood massive in the mountain woodlands around us. The road climbed and climbed as heat battered up the elevation. I was dripping sweat and knew more was to come way down in Banning below at 2000 feet. Large expanses of the mountain range began to frame the road as pine fell away in dramatic views of San Jacinto Peak. Large white granite chunks of the mountain smoothly graced the highway sides and traffic was relatively light. From this high point, a long descent began down to the desert in earnest. The road spun through groves of pines that fell away to reveal dramatic peaks of chapparal and scrub in the cooking desert below.

We pulled off several times to jump into the woods for a quick pee break. Signs beckoned the Pacific Crest Trail near, indicative of our bike route's aspirations. Indian Vista with a shaded kiosk provided respite from the Sun. Both Janna and I had dressed in light/white shirts (and Janna in tights) for this trip in an effort to keep ourselves cool for the section we were riding currently. The heat was strong even now, promising more to come. At this moment, I had no idea that a record summer of "heat domes" lay before us on the route. For now, all seemed good for riding in the day.

A curve in the bend brought us by Indian Creek and Indian Vista. Nearby, dammed Lake Fulmor sat back among the crevices of the mountain complete with greenery. We pulled our bikes off the road, parked them in the shade, and hiked back along wooden ramadas and dirt trails for a circumference of the lake. We found a boardwalk/pier jutting smally into the lake's center where we sat on the wooden planks and soaked in the cool provided by water tempering the atmosphere of the summer. After about an hour we knew we needed to descend to get to our hotel for an early sleep before a massive climb the next day. We walked back to our bikes and pushed out onto Highway 243 once more.

The highway took a sudden, and dramatically steep plunge down to the desert. This was nearly a 4000 foot descent happening in only like 13 miles. It was dizzyingly fast, and even spooked me a bit for the speeds. All semblance of a shoulder disappeared as heat came on like a blow dryer to the face. A curve in the bend brought us expansive views of San Gorgonio and the San Bernadino Range rising even higher and more dramatically in the distance across the valley of heat. We stopped at one last pullout to look out on it all as a slew of vehicles sped past us. Janna and I agreed the next stop would be at the bottom. We started descending, and suddenly my brakes began to feel spongy…too spongy. Like, I kept clutching my right brake paddle and felt nothing was responding. I pulled off into a pullout and realized that my hydraulic brake had overheated from the intensity of heat from the descent, causing it to burst and drain the entirety of brake fluid. I now had no rear brake on nearly 3000 more feet of descent. I gasped at the situation, but knew there was nothing to do but keep on descending and pray that my front brake didn't rupture either. The goal was to keep my speed down but also feather the front brake lest it overheat.

I jumped back on the highway and the road got even steeper as an insane number of intense switchbacks curled back and forth down the mountainside. There was no shoulder and large trucks, motorcycles, and even semis were hauling speed on the descent whipping back and forth along the curves of the highway, the white line of which we hugged as best as possible with our tires. I was running on pure adrenaline between no front brake and large vehicles mere feet (or foot) to my left.

And suddenly we were down into suburban neighborhoods in 100 degree heat. I caught up to Janna and told her I had completely lost a brake. She gaped that I did that descent given the situation. We both turned and peered up the curving highway climbing into rock and agreed to never, ever ride that insane stretch of road again. But now the problem was I had to find a bike shop ASAP to see if I could purchase a new rear brake. We pushed off down suburban streets baking in the sun and smoldering heat. Dried grass fields sat in lots and vacant areas between neighborhoods where every house seemed to have a guard dog that raced out to the fence and roaringly rage-barked at us. I keep waiting for one to jump the fence or make it through. A chihuahua did come at us and snapped at my ankles in a full sprint for five minutes. We wound through neighborhoods before reaching the I-10 - a massive artery carrying drivers to LA. The Sierra Cascades took us under the highway on a network of urban roads choked with vehicles before we left the route to make our way down a frontage road to our lodging at a Hampton Inn we got a ridiculous deal.

The hotel was gloriously cool from the triple-digit heat outside. We took our bikes to our room where Janna immediately showered while I feverishly searched on Google for a bike shop even remotely nearby that had sufficient parts. I found one called Ridgeline Service in Beaumont, about a 20 minute bike-ride away. But it was closing in less than hour. I strapped on my helmet, ran outside with my bikes, and pedaled with all ferocity through the later-afternoon hundred degree heat at full speed to where this bike shop was. I cannot stress enough how absolutely fantastic the owner was. I had called ahead with my predicament and he was ready for me when I arrived. My first impression was how empty of supplies the shop was. This was the reality of the pandemic still-raging: supply chain shortages, especially in bike gear everywhere. Literally, due to COVID and its disruptions, there was massive demand for all-things bike-related, but there was not enough inventory. As a result, almost every bike shop across the county was empty of gear and low on offerings.

The owner took my bike into the stand and confirmed that my rear brakes had leaked all hydraulic fluid out, and straight onto my brake rotor which was now somewhat compromised. He also let me know he only had one set of brakes in the shop - an entry level Shimano mechanical brake caliper that was almost entirely plastic. Everything else was out of stock due to COVID. It would have to do. He took my bike back and installed the caliper while he also did his best (an amazing job) to clean the brake rotor as best as possible (there were no rotors to be sold). The rotor was caked in industrial brake fluid that had dried in the heat into a smooth and un-grip-worthy sheet. But cleaned as best as possible, I had to make it work. The owner brought my bike back out and told me this would get me on my way, but to replace it at my earliest convenience because it wasn't designed to take such repeated heat/weight on a touring rig. He also told me he was absolutely mind-blown that I rode that descent on San Jacinto with no brake. I thanked him, stepped back out into the 100 degree heat, and biked as fast as possible back to the Hampton Inn to get out of the heat and get relaxing in the cool.

Once I made it back to the Hampton Inn and settled in, Janna and I identified a bike shop up in Big Bear (the next big town on-route) where I might grab a better brake caliper a couple of days down the road. We left the hotel to walk to the grocery store, we restocked, grabbed some Chipotle where we sat outside in the shade of the building as evening and a break in the heat finally came. After, we walked back to the hotel where I finally grabbed an ice-cold shower and prepared for the major day of riding tomorrow.