This was supposed to be our light day. Breakfast at seven, rolling by eight, then up past Shaver Lake to Lakeshore before working our way over to Oakhurst. The real purpose was to put us in position for an early start into Yosemite.
As we gathered outside, Dale was fitting the phone holder from his own Harley to the rental. The holder replaced the back half of the front brake lever perch, but it didn’t fit the newer rental. While working on it, he lost one of the original perch bolts.
We searched the pavement and every crevice of the motorcycle we could see. The bolt had vanished into the ether, as small fasteners apparently know how to do. A trip across Fresno to the Harley dealer got us a replacement.
Cycle Gear supplied a phone mount and case that fit. By the time everything was assembled, we were moving toward the mountains a little before eleven, well behind our planned eight o’clock departure.
At a fuel stop near Herndon Avenue, Jeremy mentioned that we would be coming back through the same intersection later. I pointed out that at Prather we would leave the road to Clovis and turn north toward Oakhurst. It turned out we hadn’t all heard the same part of that conversation.
The climb toward Shaver Lake was an unexpected gem. Good pavement, flowing curves and manageable temperatures made it feel far more comfortable than the previous days. I could relax a little and take in more of the scenery. This was the kind of riding we make these trips for.
We took a short break at Shaver Lake, then continued higher into the mountains to Lakeshore, beside Huntington Lake. The lake seemed to be humming with activity. Even in shoulder season, people were clearly still enjoying the place. Riding through, I wondered what it would be like to stay a few days and spend some time on the lake.
At Lakeshore, the camp store, tavern and restaurant felt as though they’d been there forever. We considered stopping for lunch there, but decided to keep riding and eat farther along.
The road around the lake narrowed, sometimes barely more than a lane wide for traffic going both ways, although we saw very little. It wound past cabins that I imagined might have been in the same families for generations. The riding was tight, technical and slow, and I was thoroughly enjoying it. Eventually we rejoined the main road and descended toward Prather.
On the descent, Peter mentioned a mild headache but said he was okay. What I didn’t know was that he expected us to continue back toward Clovis, with its restaurants and services. He’d heard Jeremy’s comment at the fuel stop but missed my correction about turning north at Prather. We made the planned turn toward Oakhurst, and only later did he tell us it had surprised him.
That route took us through country with fewer places to stop. Near Kerckhoff Lake, we were back down in the heat, working through a narrow road with rough pavement and one corner after another. On a motorcycle, there’s no closing the windows and turning up the air conditioning. You’re wearing riding gear, exposed to the heat, and still having to concentrate on every bend and broken patch of pavement. It wears on you.
Dale and I were ahead, with Jeremy and Peter behind. Our intercom range shrinks considerably in winding mountain terrain. I heard Jeremy say something about the bridge behind us. Something in his voice told me everything wasn’t okay. I stopped to wait while Dale continued toward our next turn. When enough time had gone by that Jeremy and Peter should have caught up, I turned around.
I found them in the shade at the power station. Peter needed time to cool down, and Jeremy had stayed with him. A worker had brought them ice-cold water and was already gone by the time I arrived. It was a thoughtful gesture, and much appreciated. Dale returned soon afterward when he realized we weren’t catching up. The break would do all of us some good. There was no need to rush. The hotel could wait.
Before we left, Peter and I soaked his shirt with water so he could get some cooling through the jacket vents once we were moving. A minute or two down the road, he came over the intercom saying he felt great. It was reassuring to hear him sounding like himself again.
As we continued toward Oakhurst, the road took us past Bass Lake. It was gorgeous, even from the saddle. I joked that I was offended on behalf of real lakes everywhere. This was a reservoir, after all.
We reached Oakhurst without further trouble. Peter looked and sounded well, and Dale was looking stronger than ever despite his difficult first day. Getting four riders through a day can be a little like herding cats. Jeremy often took the lead, and between the route planning and keeping us headed in the right direction, he had plenty on his plate. I appreciated it, even if I didn’t always say so.
After showers, we went to the Oakhurst Grill and Whiskey 41 Lounge. It was busy and loud, but the food and conversation were good. We were looking forward to Yosemite and agreed to leave around 6:15, at first light. We fueled the motorcycles after dinner so we could get straight on the road in the morning.
