Chews Ridge, Monterey County, CA

One of the best things I’ve found so far in my college experience has been the multitude of people I’ve met from different places around the country and state. One such person is my friend, JP Purdom. He’s my teammate on the Cal Poly Cycling collegiate team. JP’s from Carmel Valley, a small town on the northern edge of California’s Central Coast region.

As far as I know, JP is something of a legend in the “831”, known for starting the tradition of junker-car jumping at the Sea Otter Classic race, for his signature Toyota Tacoma (the aptly named MTNYOTE), and his skills as a downhill rider.

But, this story really begins when I received a snapchat from him sometime last year. To my recollection, it was just a clip of a snowball fight. At that moment, I figured he was somewhere in the Sierra Nevada, but I didn’t quite recognize the place. I was curious how he found the time to not only drive home to Carmel Valley but then on to the Sierra in one weekend. So, mildly confused, I inquired further. I asked JP if he was up in the Sierra, but to my surprise he replied he was actually still near Carmel Valley at a place called Chews Ridge.

Interest piqued, I located Chews Ridge on a map, saw that it was an easily accessible place and had an elevation of over 5,000 feet.  So I planned a route up the mountain from the town of Carmel Valley. Time passed, and between school, race, and social obligations I nearly forgot about the place. Then in February of 2017, my mom told me that she was planning a short family vacation in Carmel-By-The-Sea. I figured it’d be a wonderful opportunity to not only see my family, but knock another ride off of my bucket list. Despite my lack of a car, getting Carmel-By-The-Sea from San Luis Obispo was not logistically that difficult, as many people have to pass through Salinas on Highway 101 to get the San Francisco Bay Area, and hitching a ride is easy using social media.

Going up through the Salinas Valley was mostly uneventful, with the exception of two things: the iridescent green-ness of the hills, and the fact that recent heavy rains had the Salinas River nearly jumping its banks. After getting dropped off in Salinas, I got picked up by my dad and made it to Carmel-By-The-Sea in one piece.

In anticipation of the ride up Chews Ridge, I tried to be as prepared as I possibly could. I was only staying in Carmel for one night, but my backpack was still stuffed with gear I’d brought for the ride in anticipation of temperatures under 20 degrees (which is not something I’m used to). JP told me there could be upwards of one foot of snow at the summit, and the abundance of moisture I’d seen had me concerned I wouldn’t make it to the top. To ensure my ride would be successful, I brought an insulated long sleeve jersey, an insulated vest, leg warmers, toe covers, gloves, and two pairs of socks.

Crisis struck when I realized I forgot all basic repair equipment at home. My heart further dropped when I left the spare pump I’d brought in case of emergency in the rideshare I took to Salinas. As if things couldn’t get worse, my rear tire was slowly leaking air. Since I didn’t have a valve converter I was unable to inflate my tire at a gas station. So, I knew I’d have to make it to a bike store in the morning to inflate my tire . I planned to meet my ride from Salinas back to SLO at 3:30pm the next day, so this blunder nearly ended up costing me dearly.

Because of my ineptitude, my departure time was pushed forward significantly. Luckily, upon recommendation from JP, I headed to Bay Bikes, a store just outside of Carmel-By-The-Sea. Mercifully, the shop was open at that point, and I inflated my tire to ~27 PSI, taking the gamble it’d hold for at least 5 hours and 50 more miles. Frankly, it’s quite a testament that the light racing tire (A WTB Nine Line 2.25) still had integrity after 1,211 miles of use on incredibly rough trails and dirt roads. Even better, it still held pressure for the entire 56 mile ride without issue.

After scrambling back into the car, I managed to get to my designated starting point at 10 am. Excited by the prospect of something new, but stressed by being pressed for time, I knew I’d have to keep a brisk pace for the large ride in front of me.  For the first paved part on Carmel Valley Road, (roughly 9 miles), I was going around 15-17 mph, which was enough to keep me warm but not enough to get too sweaty.

Finally, after almost 40 minutes of cruising along the bucolic but somewhat unremarkable central coast pavement, I took a right turn onto Tassajara Road. Oddly enough, this was the only time I had to make a turn onto a different road for the whole ride until I got back to Carmel-By-The-Sea, discounting the the left turn back onto Carmel Valley Road on my return trip.

As I travelled further toward my destination, I entered a canyon and forest started to close in on the road. Passing cars went from occasional to nearly nonexistent. The quiet closeness within the of the oak forest was only interrupted by the beautiful bubbling streams next to the road and the gentle humming sound of my knobby tires on the road.

After crushing pavement for 12 miles, the dirt abruptly appeared. And, no sooner than the moment I made contact with it, the grade of the road began to increase into the double digits. Within a few minutes of starting my ascent, I began unzipping my jersey despite the cold weather to avoid overheating.  The road was incredibly steep  and I spent more time in my low gears than I’d like to admit. While my vertical speed was not lacking, the seemingly unending steepness made the ride seem quite slow-going. Glancing at my GPS unit, I watched the temperature dip into the low 40’s, and every minute or so I’d gain another 50 or so feet of elevation.

And then, at 3,100 feet above sea level, it happened.

At a glance it looked much like a pile of discarded sandbags, but then I began to see it in the trees. That it was nothing other than snow. Despite my initial shock, I was pressed for time, and I soldiered onward toward the summit another 2,000 feet above me.

20 minutes later, as I passed 4,000 feet, the snow began to gently cover the ground, finely coating the surrounding forest floor in a delicate white powder. Another 500 feet and ten minutes later, I found myself on a snow-covered road still another mile from the summit.

Thankfully, the last mile was not anything severely difficult or uncomfortable. I watched the temperature dip into the low 30’s, and shortly thereafter my tires were starting to lose traction in icy spots. The snow accumulation was approaching six inches in some places, but thankfully a combination of its freshness and low temperatures meant that I was able to maintain traction by engaging the knobs on my tires with the crisp snow.

After hopping over a Forest Service gate and onto a sunny, snow-free road the last quarter mile to the summit, I found myself at the top of a 5,050 foot peak. Interestingly, a grove of somewhat uncommon Coulter pines (Pinus coulterii) was growing along the road, littering it with massive, spiked cones (Fun fact: Coulter pine cones are the heaviest cones produced by any kind of pine tree, and the second longest after the sugar pine, Pinus lambertiana). After some rather creative slaloming, I finally made it through the pine cone gauntlet to the top.

For 15 minutes I was able to take in a view which was completely astounding to me. From the lookout tower on Chews Ridge, there was very little in the region which wasn’t visible. To the Southeast, Sycamore Flat and the Salinas Valley expanded into the haze of the horizon. To the south, I could easily make out Junipero Serra Peak, the highest point in Monterey, towering above its surroundings at over 5,800 feet. I could also see Cone Peak, the highest coastal mountain in the lower 48 at 5,155 feet, sticking out at the periphery of the southern view, dramatically protruding into the sky like some kind of massive thumb.

But really, the most amazing thing to me was looking northeast and seeing the blue sky, a dusting of snow on the northern Santa Lucia Mountains and the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean from one spot. In all my 19 years and over the thousands of hours I’ve spent on my bike, I’ve never seen anything like it.

Glancing at the time, I saw that it was 12:15pm, and I had to catch a ride out of Salinas at 3:30pm. From the summit of Chews Ridge, Carmel-By-The-Sea was still 35 miles away. So, after taking some pictures, I turned around and started heading back.

Going down the road up to the summit was absolutely nuts. Even with the snow, I descended the entire 3,750 vertical dirt portion in 22 minutes, including a 3 minute stop to warm up my hands. I set a personal speed record for dirt roads, clocking 36.5 mph on the dirt portion of Tassajara Road.

I flew back onto the pavement, and before I knew it I was on Carmel Valley Road heading back to the coast. I’m pretty sure I also set a general speed record for my mountain bike on that road, hitting almost 47 mph on a descent there.

Motivated by the fear of missing a ride back to school, I ended up averaging 20 mph all 22 miles back into Carmel Valley. When I arrived, I searched for a water fountain for six minutes, to no avail. I gave up and put the hammer down, averaging 17 mph on flat pavement with significant offshore headwinds. At the end of the day, that’s not too bad for a mountain bike.

At just before 2:15pm, I rolled into Carmel-By-The-Sea after riding for four hours. Saying I was pretty tired by the time I got to town was a bit of an understatement, considering I’d just done 54 miles on my mountain bike fuelled by two clif bars and a single bottle of water. Despite that marginal discomfort, I was immensely thankful for weather in the low 60’s instead of the high 20s, and I was totally awed by the immense environmental change I’d just been through on my bicycle.

I got a little lost trying to take a shortcut at the end, but frankly it was not a decision I regretted when I ended up taking a little bit of singletrack through a neighborhood.

My ride back ended up being postponed to about 5pm, and I made it back in time to take shower and have lunch with my family in town.  I was even 10 minutes early meeting the rideshare in Salinas.

At the end of the day, Chews Ridge ended up being worth every pedalstroke I took and every bit of stress it took getting there. And the experience is all thanks to an 831 ‘loc’, snapchat, and a lot of luck.