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Snowmobiles: Ticket to the back-country by Josette Belarmino
January 15, 2008
Union Democrat
Most area residents recognize how lucky they are to live in such a beautiful area as the Mother Lode......
Grin and Bear It by Janet Fullwood
February 18, 2007
Sacramento Bee
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Alpine Fantasy On Ice by Mike Taylor
February 01, 2008
Calaveras Enterprise
Mother Nature has provided ample amounts of snow to the higher elevations this year and the Enterprise has all the action covered. Inside today’s edition you will find “Warm up to Winter,” a guide to wintertime recreation, relaxation and rejuvenation.
As part of the “research” I was asked to do for the section, I took a trip to Bear Valley Snowmobile and jumped onto a machine to explore the whitewashed wilderness. Here is what I learned.
It was a mix of butterflies in the stomach, like kids feel before a trip to an amusement park, and a little trepidation as I swung my leg over the seat and turned the key. As the engine purred to life, I immediately felt as though I was about to have the time of my life.
I’ve driven Jet Skis and QuadRunners, but this was my first-ever trip over Mother Nature’s winter carpet aboard a snowmobile. Feeling the relative ease with which the machine traveled over the crusty snow, I wondered how long it might be before I made the return trip to Bear Valley Snowmobile, where everyone goes before they hit the remarkable trail system available to adventurers.
Greg Price, who owns the company with his wife, Sandy, served as my guide on what would be a roughly three-hour tour of the upper reaches of the Ebbetts Pass Corridor. We hopped aboard our sleds at the company office right in the heart of Bear Valley Village.
Leaving the village, we wound around a section of the Bear Valley subdivision, until we reached the spot where Greg usually welcomes his renters. There are portable toilets at the makeshift parking lot where several of the Bear Valley Snowmobile fleet of Ski-Doo machines await anxious riders, so there’s one last chance to assure a comfortable ride. Renters are given passes so they may legally park alongside Highway 4, or purchase a Sno-Park permit on the way up the pass so you can park any time during the winter months.
From the parking area we headed up a completely snow-covered Highway 4 to Lake Alpine. I must admit that the frozen lake captured none of my attention as we drove by; I was having too much fun driving.
My appreciation for Mother Nature’s handiwork was not blocked by blinders the whole morning, however, for when we reached the Cape Horn vista point, the view was stunning. Snowmobilers swerve off the roadway a bit at the cape and there is a small space where you can park and snap a few thousand photographs.
From there, Greg led me to Highland Lakes, which, he said, is a pretty long trip on a snow machine.
The beauty of traveling aboard a snowmobile is that you’re enjoying all that the conditions have to offer. Since our jaunt took place on a Tuesday, the trails – basically, Highway 4 and a couple of other roadways – hadn’t been groomed since the previous week, but I felt that made the riding all the more exciting.
As you careen around corners, the skis of the machine maintain a fairly sure-footed grip on terra firma, which helped me feel even more confident as we ventured higher into the forest. Riders determined to carve their rut into the snow can morph even the slightest of curves on the highway into exciting switchbacks, but navigating all these ridges and ruts was hardly a concern.**
Farther up the road – past Mosquito Lakes and Hermit Valley – Greg turned onto Highland Lakes Road. While it’s still groomed, this roadway proves that at this higher elevation, snowmobiles rule the roost, as the turns seem to be purposefully sharper and the ruts between lanes are deeper. Greg always made sure I was keeping to the right, as he advises all riders in the area, because you never know when you’ll encounter another wintertime adventurer in the opposing lane, and many corners don’t offer much advance warning of approaching sleds.
It’s here that I must note that Greg and I were the only people for miles in any direction. If that wasn’t the case, the other backcountry hikers, skiers or snowmobilers in the forest that day were being awfully quiet. Once we got to Highland Lakes, the pleasures of the sport greeted me, as evidence of the machines racing across the frozen lakes can be seen in every direction. The “bowls” that are the two lakes in the winter are transformed by snowmobile enthusiasts into a kind of extreme terrain park, where zipping hither and yon is the rule of the day, and hikers – because of the distance from civilization – rarely make it up that high.
Pausing to take in the view, silence greeted us; the kind of silence that’s relaxing on a guttural level. If it weren’t for the machines, I’d have thought we’d climbed to that remote peak to view the end of the world.
On the way back, Greg let me lead the way, so that I could pause for pictures anywhere I felt the need. At about the third time I stopped, Greg surprised me by asking a simple question: “You don’t just take photos, do you?”
Well, inside my swirling head I wondered where he might be going with his query, but I said, “No, we write and take our photos.”
“I didn’t think you were a photographer,” he responded.
Almost insulted, I asked what he meant.
“You weren’t driving at 15 mph on the way down. There were a couple times I had to jump on (his machine) to keep up with you.” He described a previous trip with a news photographer who feared she might damage her expensive camera.
Re-energized by the fact that I was keeping pace with the likes of Hemingway, I returned to the highway with newfound vigor, rumbling down the mountain like a flash.
Riding a snowmobile is a lot like hopping aboard an all-terrain vehicle, except you’re closer to the ground. The machine I drove handled nicely, but I’d advise a week or so of muscular preparation to fine-tune your body for the ride of your life.
You see, whenever you encounter large moguls or a bumpy path, you’ll stand up as your sled handles the terrain and your legs act as shock absorbers. Also, when you stand, and because your right thumb controls the throttle, your hands will be gripping hard as you navigate the winter wonderland.
To prepare for this hearty workout, I’d suggest marching around the house for a week as though you were going to audition for the U.S.C. Trojans Marching Band, lifting those knees high and pointing those toes sharply. You might want to roll your hands with your forearms outstretched, too, just so your upper body is ready to take to the snow.
I wasn’t a weakened wreck immediately after my three-hour tour but, just like the S.S. Minnow on that TV show, I was a little worn out, physically anyway. A four-hour ride just might have sent my legs to the locker room tied up in knots, but that’s probably because the most strenuous thing I do in a day is climb a few stairs.
I’d suggest this as a great Saturday morning getaway that’s right here in our backyard. Head up the mountain – after having already made reservations with the folks at Bear Valley Snowmobile – and plan for a couple of hours exploring the world as you never have before. Take several moments to revel in the beauty surrounding you, and enjoy zipping about the snowcapped roadways.
The handgrips are heated, but wear gloves. Greg and his crew supply helmets, but I’d suggest a facemask; I didn’t get chilled too badly, but a cloudy day might spell freeze on the face. Layers of clothing should be worn to prepare for any kind of weather. I had on some sturdy, water-repellent boots, but they weren’t anything too fancy and my feet stayed nice and toasty. Bring your sunglasses and dab some sunscreen on those areas of skin that are left exposed. (My post-tour face had a definite reddish glow.)
I have to thank Greg for his hospitality and for sharing his enthusiasm for a sport that’s a ton of winter fun. Rest assured, I’ll be back upcountry sooner – rather than later – to wind my way along winter’s thrilling highway.
Contact Mike Taylor at mtaylor@calaverasenterprise.com