The Three Bikepacking Gems of Southern California
Words and Photos by Matteo Pistono
Soon after California’s stay-at-home order was first announced, the bikepacking community began debating its consequences on planned adventures. Is bike packing irresponsible in the time of coronavirus, even if it is totally self-supported? The debate was short-lived. Soon (most) everyone understood how staying put meant there would be less chance of contagion, especially by asymptomatic carriers. And, those more astute noted that should there be an injury on the bike, the time of vital health care professionals and a hospital bed might be taken at a time needed for those critically ill from COVID-19.
Perhaps like many of you reading this, I’ve come to deeply appreciate a time just weeks ago when we could roll out of our front door, or drive to a trailhead, and meet a couple of buddies to ride to a campsite. Or we’d load our bike onto Amtrak train for a few hours and then spend the weekend riding back home down the Pacific Coast. Perhaps, we now realize how much we take for granted.
I feel fortunate to have had an early winter full of bikepacking in Southern California where I was riding my Salsa Cutthroat equipped with Apidura’s Expedition line of bikepacking bags. I’m looking back to those trips with more fondness than usual. And now, in this liminal space, where we inhabit at socially acceptable distances from each other, I wanted to offer my thoughts on the three bike packing gems of Southern California - Santa Catalina Island, Cuyamaca Rancho State Park, and the formidable Stagecoach 400.
Santa Catalina Island
In mid-February, my best friend joined me to circumnavigate Santa Catalina Island, one of the eight California Channel Islands due west of Los Angeles. We rolled our loaded bikes onto the ferry, secured them at the back of the vessel as choppy waters were forecasted, and found a bench on the upper deck for the 90-minute ferry from Dana Point ($75 round-trip + $8 for the bike). Pulling into the harbor at Avalon felt like arriving in a Mediterranean village though most of the people walking off the boat with us were humming Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville.
We visited Catalina Conservancy to pick up our Freewheeler Bike permit ($10 plus a $35 membership to the Conservancy) and talk with the ecologists about their successful programs for protecting the island fox and bald eagles as well as bison contraception—yes, bison—in 1924 fourteen buffalo were left on the island after the cinema shooting for The Vanishing Americans. The herd grew to over 4000 in the subsequent decades and decimated the island’s vegetation. Now with oral contraception, the buff herd is around 150 and is one of the main tourist attractions.
After waffles and coffee at The Pancake Cottage, we pedaled out of town on Stage Road. The switchback road ascends for three miles through eucalyptus forests with gradients reaching 14%. The road plateaus and the pavement ends under the East Summit and the rest of the island is dirt roads or singletrack. There is minimal traffic—only safari vehicles for sightseers and a few locals driving between the only two towns of Avalon and Two Harbors.
We cycled through Catalina’s varying biomes with verdant hills reminiscent of Ireland, sage and Indian paintbrush covered arroyos as in Wyoming, and even Baja desert-like trails weaving between Velvet Cactus and Peppergrass. Instead of taking the main jeep road to the village of Two Harbors, we navigated singletrack and some hike-a-bike sectors along the Eastern side of the island. We had a late lunch at the only café in Two Harbors grabbed a bottle of Chianti and frozen burritos at the General Store, and skirted the coast to Parsons Landing where we camped on the beach. Parsons Landing is the farthest north-eastern point on the island where bicycles are allowed—26 miles from Avalon with 3,400 feet of climbing.
The next day we rode the smooth gravel on Isthmus Road to our campsite at Little Harbor. My buddy was riding a fully loaded Surly Crosscheck with 35 mm tires and was challenged on the singletrack but on all other roads it worked well. We passed bison, deer and fox along the way. The mellow 16-mile ride left us time for cold plunges in the Pacific Ocean and hiking along the cliffs above Shark Harbor. We watched dolphins surfacing in the harbor before cooking dinner over a campfire as the sunset. All overnighting cyclists and backpackers, most of whom are traversing the Trans-Catalina Trail, require campsite reservations, which comes with the option of firewood bundles and water delivery. While cycling on Catalina is steep in all directions, the amenities available make it very comfortable, even decadent by bike packing standards..
On the morning of our third day we road 17 miles from the West side of the island ascending 2,400 feet on fire roads through the central valley eventually connecting to the coast and the steep descent into Avalon. We arrived just in time to catch Catalina Express back to Dana Point.
Catalina 3-Day Bikepacking Route:
Catalina Day 1 - 24mi / 3,000ft
Catalina Day 2 - 13mi / 1,200ft
Catalina Day 3 - 20mi / 2,300ft
Cuyamaca Rancho State Park
Some of the best mountain biking trails close to my home are found in Cuyamaca Rancho State Park (40 miles east of San Diego). With over a hundred miles of single track, it is perfect for weekend bikepacking. The small town of Julian on State Highway 79, just north of Cuyamaca, offers an excellent starting and ending point to a day ride or multiple day bikepacking excursion.
The riding in Cuyamaca and the nearby wilderness areas weaves through oak and pine forests, across alpine meadows, sage-brush covered canyons, and frequent stream crossings. For 2-3 days of bike packing, look into linking the trails from Cuyamaca the Cleveland National Forest to Noble Canyon, and the Mount Laguna Recreation Area. Noble Canyon is one of my favorite areas with serious climbing in Indian Creek and Deer Park and the payoff with flowing single track and technical rock gardens. For bike packing resupply, the shops in Pine Valley are centrally located in the Cuyamaca area. All the maintained campsites in Cuyamaca and Mount Laguna require reservations, but you can also find camping along the streams and meadows—bring your water filtration devices.
The Julian Bikepack Challenge (JBC) is worth noting because Cuyamaca is at the heart of the mountain bike sectors of the challenge. Three years ago, Johan Cronje, a local bike packer, created the 300-mile JBC that takes in the mountains of Cuyamaca (and beyond), the trails to and from the Pacific Coast, and the sands of the Anza-Borrego Desert. The mountain loop of the JBC is serious mountain bike terrain over 158 miles with nearly 22,000 feet of climbing. It not only takes in the best of Cuyamaca terrain but the single track and gravel roads in the adjacent Pine Creek and Hauser Wilderness areas.
Cuyamaca Bikepacking Route:
Julian Bikepack Challenge - Mountain Route - 160mi / 21,000ft
The Stagecoach 400
The Stagecoach 400 is an all-together different undertaking than the chill pace that I road Catalina Island or the bike camping in Cuyamaca. The Stagecoach is serious. Four hundred miles of lung-busting alpine climbs, desolate desert terrain where you need to carry many liters of water, wind-swept highways and peanut butter mud, and frequent hike-a-bikes in unrideable canyons and soul-sucking sand.
The Stagecoach route begins in the mountain town of Idyllwild, heads over a few alpine sections and down to the desert and dogs of Anza, passes Lake Henshaw and the glorious gravel and singletrack descents along San Dieguito River Park towards the salty air of the Pacific Ocean. Combining urban trails and tarmac, the route turns due south through metropolitan San Diego area and then veers east, climbs steadily for a day along the Sweetwater River up to Alpine before derailleur destroying descents through Oriflamme Canyon and there the riders meet the desert sands. From Aqua Caliente the route follows the old stagecoach route to Ocotillo Wells passing parched cattle skulls and wind-carved sand dunes, eventually arriving for the requisite burritos in Borrego Springs. Between Borrego and Idyllwild, there is the hike-a-bike through two miles of densely packed willows (think canyoneering but through branches), desert pedaling past abandoned bandit hideouts, ascending Coyote Canyon to cross the Pacific Crest Trail and then the long climb back to the where the route started.
I completed the 2019 edition of the Stagecoach, and wrote about it here, in just over 4 days. I was keen to shave a day off my time this year. I had prepared my legs, and perhaps more importantly, I felt like my head was in the right space. As any endurance athlete will attest, the biggest challenge in long distance events is often voices of doubt that have the space and time to ferment in the mind, pedal stroke after pedal stroke.
The 2020 Stagecoach 400 almost did not happen, not because of the coronavirus (we were a week before the stay at home order) but because of the biblical levels of rain, flooding, and landslides on the course. Brendan Collier, the founder of the Stagecoach 400, and Meg Knobel, who has taken over the reins as Master of Stoke, decided to move ahead with the race, though with a warning. In emails to the riders, Brendan essentially said, “We don’t really recommend you ride the Stagecoach this year with epic rains and hypothermic friendly weather. But if you do choose to ride, you’ll be completely on your own.”
Thirty riders showed up in the morning for breakfast fuel at Higher Grounds as snow and sleet fell outside. Because the weather forecast included more rain and snow for the entire route, Brendan and Meg rerouted us around all of the dirt riding coming into San Diego North County and the trails going east from San Diego towards Alpine. We all gave double thumbs up for trail etiquette.
The descent from Idyllwild was frozen, the ascent over Thompson Mountain was steep, and the hero-dirt descent towards Anza gave us all ear-to-ear smiles. After a brief highway section, I joined a Laguna Beach duo in Anza to pedal and push our rigs the next 3-hours through a mud-slog. The cold rain did not stop all day and by the time we pulled in Warner Springs at mile 60, we could not have been more drenched. Microwave Pizza Pockets, dill pickles, and hot chocolate were on the Chevron Station menu. On the next highway stretch before the steep Mesa Grade, an oncoming pickup truck passed on a double line and came within a foot of our handlebars. The whoosh of truck knocked us into the gravel shoulder. As a cyclist, I know the feeling—but on this occasion, when the truck was just inches away from us, it spooked me more than usual.
Descending Black Canyon in the darkness and waves of orange blossoms scents was glorious. And the ride to Pamo Road was some of the best night riding ever. Brian and Dave continued to the coast—on highway. My legs were feeling good, but I didn’t want to return to the highway at night, still rattled from the previous close call with the truck. I bivyed in tall brush along the Coast to Crest trail and broke camp early the next morning. Having been re-directed around Sandy Bandy and Rapture Ridge dirt, I road on Highland Valley road. As I was thinking about how much pavement lay ahead of me—nearly 100 detour miles on highway—a large truck passed by me and its rear-view mirror almost clipped my head. I was done—my legs said yes, but my head was saying no. I decided not to continue the Stagecoach because I felt unsafe on the highway. The Stagecoach organizers didn’t want to send us to the highways but this year it was inevitable given the flooded and unrideable trails. We all know that to connect all the amazing mountain, desert, and coastal dirt, there needs to be some highway connectors. But this year, because of the extreme precipitation, it meant even more road riding than I was willing to ride and still feel safe. I wished all the other riders safe pedaling in and out of San Diego, texted the organizers of the Stagecoach 400 to thank them, and turned off my Spot Tracker near Escondido.
Stagecoach 400 Bikepacking Route:
2020 Stagecoach 400 - 375mi / 27,000ft
Also check out my review of the Apidura bikepacking gear I road on Santa Catalina, Cuyamaca, and the Stagecoach 400 HERE.
