On an unusually warm morning on June 25th 2003 my friend Sean Harnden and I rode our mountain bikes away from the Berkeley hills. We were embarking on a bicycle ride like one we had never done before. Sean and I were attempting to ride all the way to Yosemite National Park from Berkeley. We both took the whole week off from work in hopes of riding 40 to 50 miles every day for four days straight. We agreed to switch off pulling a new high tech one wheel cargo trailer with its own suspension shock to smooth out the brutal 50 to 60 pound load of camera gear, camping equipment and of course our most important item—water! By the time we made it over the hills to Walnut Creek the temperature in the bay area was almost unbearable, Sean and I joked that, of all the days to start the hardest ride of our lives we couldn't have picked a hotter one. After many difficult hillclimbs we made it over the Altamonte Pass near Livermore and we were rewarded with the sights and sounds of a pair of howling coyotes. As the twilight turned to darkness, we rode with dual halogen lights only inches away from semis, motorhomes, and trucks pulling boats, leaving us with little or no shoulder room on the remote backroads. After reaching Tracy, California 12 hours later we opted to get some much needed rest at a lodge in town.

Day two: I got up with only four hours sleep like the night before, partly due to both my anxiety and to the heat. We made good time to Oakdale where we found a dirt and partially paved road that would take us to Chinese Camp on our way to Yosemite. Ten hours later there was no place to camp so the adventure continued. It was one of the most remote backroads we had ever been on, with our only source of light coming from our bike lights and the occasional farm house. It was so dark that we could see the stars and gases of the milky way. A old van was the first vehicle we saw in two hours, and when it stopped ahead of us, it got our imaginations running wild that we were out in the middle of what felt like nowhere alone on bicycles almost 90 miles from home. After an 18-hour push our bodies and minds had given up, I had fallen asleep while riding a mountain bike pulling a cargo trailer. It was obviously time to camp. We had no choice but to sleep just five feet from the road with our bikes in front of us with their flashing red tail lights on all night so that we were not run over!

Day three: I opened my eyes that morning to see a crescent moonset compliment the sunrise, but I did not have the energy to pull out my camera gear to photograph it. A couple of hours later after maybe four or five hours of broken sleep on rocks and broken glass without pads, we forged ahead on our bikes up a six mile hillclimb, only to reach highway 120 which was uphill for twenty-five miles to New Priest Grade a grueling hill that was to be the hardest of the trip. I pulled the cargo trailer all the way to the top hoping the restaurant was still open, unfortunately it was closed, and we were out of food and out of luck. After drinking some well water and a swim under the stars at the motel on top of the grade, I felt rejuvenated and continued climbing the hills in the heat well after 10:00pm. But as my father said in his book High and Wild, "my adrenaline-stimulated strength was to be short-lived" as there were no stores open and our reserved campsite in Yosemite Pines was still another two hours away.

Day four: Once again we had little sleep, and started out in June's record breaking temperatures. After a couple hours of riding we saw the oasis ahead (a small cafe) where we made up for our lost meal and rehydraded in the shade trying to reload our adrenaline for our next ascent of grueling hills in the sweltering heat, with each man pulling the 50 pound trailer for several miles at a time. Then disaster stuck. We were out of water and heavily fatigued. I resorted to holding an empty water bottle upside-down with four one dollar bills spread out like a poker hand, yelling, "water, water, water!" with a look on my face that would should have any good citizen to pullover and assist us. After several cars ignored us, we were helped out by a rock climber on his way to Camp 4 who sold us a gallon of warm water for two dollars. It was enough to inspire us to reach our goal of riding to one of the most beautiful places in the world—Yosemite National Park—from the Berkeley hills.