After San Francisco, we thought we’d had enough of the coast for a bit, and we’d both been a little frazzled by the extra population compared to our recent months in the mid-west. So we headed back inland, aiming south for Yosemite, the Mojave desert, and Mexico.

We set off cutting south below San Francisco across rolling hills, all golden brown with occasional trees sticking up.  The route was fine until we got snarled up in endless smallish towns.  All with endless traffic lights where we were stuck in the sun.  Stop start boil all the way.  We got out of that by cutting further east and heading along much smaller roads, ending camping at Don Pedro Lake – a huge but deserted site, shared only with numerous woodpeckers.  We both stripped off and jumped straight in.

From there is was easy enough to get onto the 108 for the Sonora Pass dropping down into the Yosemite National Park and then on down the Hwy 395.  Brian had recommended the 395 and it was coloured on the map as a scenic route. The first of the two highways was beautiful with a number of winding roads and high passes.  The Sonora Pass, the highest of them all, being quite spectacular with beautiful views spreading out before us.  From there we swept down towards Yosemite. 

We couldn’t actually stay in Yosemite, having, again, arrived in a National Park on a Friday. But it’s a fairly small park, and Saddlebag just outside (chilly at 10,000ft!), then Tuttle Creek were hospitable. The latter gave us a day trip to view Mount Whitney, the lower 48’s highest peak (it’s the distant dit-dit-DAH peak in above the cornering motorcycle below).

Death Valley was only a day’s ride away, but that turned into a bit of a saga, with its own posting.

At this point we were feeling the looming pressure of a long overdue blog update and the need to prepare for Mexico, so we hunkered down a few days in underused ski lodges in Big Bear Lake. But – would the town still be there, on the other side of the hill?

And at the time of writing, that’s where we are.