St. Charles Place is the local watering hole where tall tales are told.

St. Charles Place is the local watering hole where tall tales are told (click to enlarge).​

"There was a guy prospecting on a claim up on Downie River with a metal detector about ten years ago. He got shot in the back six times."

The lady working the bar at St. Charles Place - the local Downieville watering hole - shared this piece of information as matter-of-fact as she was talking about the weather. Earlier in the day while riding past dozens of claims along the Downie River, I pondered what would happen if I got caught on someone's claim. I got my answer.

"You don't prospect on other peoples' claims up here, that is unless you want to see the receiving end of a gun barrel."

Originally my Yuba Expeditions co-workers and I were going into St. Charles for a quick drink in celebration of Big Jon's birthday, but nearly four hours later, I found myself several whiskeys deep and fascinated by the stories of the bartender. Having been born and raised in Downieville, she knew of everything and everyone, and when I shared a picture of an abandoned prospecting cabin encountered while riding Downie River Trail, she told me she had grown up in that cabin. It was nearly an hour upstream from town by bike, at least two hours on foot.

"No running water and no electricity," she said. "My parents were hippies. Eventually we moved back to town because us kids were missing too much school."

An old prospecting cabin along the banks of Downie River, a two hour hike from town.

An old prospecting cabin along the banks of Downie River, a two hour hike from town (click to enlarge).​

I asked her if I would have gotten a gun pulled on me if somebody saw me taking a picture in front of the cabin.

"No, but if my brother saw you leaving trash or stealing something, he'd probably pull a gun on you. You don't want to get on his bad side. He hates it when mountain bikers leave their food wrappers and crap there."

The cabin literally looked like it had been abandoned for decades. It was a lesson to me that even the most primitive, dilapidated shack in the mountains is still someone's pride and joy. The stories continued.

"I used to drive between Alleghany and Downieville a lot, but when my friend died driving her truck down Mountain House Road, I moved back to town. The road is so treacherous it freaked me out."

I asked her how the accident happened. "Oh, she was drunk."

Then she shared a really interesting piece of information. "Two months ago there were these folks from Texas who drove their Toyota Tundra down the power line off Galloway Road. It's still there. I have no idea how they're going to get it out. The pole line is straight down, practically a cliff."

At that moment I discovered my mission for the weekend: Find the Toyota and figure out a way to extract it. At 1:30 in the morning, I stumbled back to the RV and passed out in a drunken stupor with an ear-to-ear grin, dreaming of ways to recover a $15,000 truck abandoned in the woods. There's more than gold treasure lurking in the lofty peaks above Downieville.

James Adamson descends the infamous Butcher Ranch Trail waterfall.

James Adamson descends the infamous Butcher Ranch Trail waterfall (click to enlarge).​

For most normal people, Downieville treasure comes in the form of legendary singletrack. The trails were all originally cut by prospectors during the Gold Rush of the 1850s. Some have been riding the trails of Downieville for nearly 25 years, back when the Manitou I elastomer fork was cutting edge technology. Others have never even heard of Downieville in their lives, randomly stumbling through town on a road trip and discovering its greatness. This past weekend, I got to meet folks on both ends of the spectrum.

These two fat bikers got fresh tracks on Sunrise Trail.

These two fat bikers got fresh tracks on Sunrise Trail (click to enlarge).​

After a mid-week storm that dumped as much as two feet of snow on the Sierra Buttes, the weekend started out snowy and wet, but that didn't stop a couple of fat bikers (their bikes, not them) from attempting to tackle Sunrise Trail, the first bit of singletrack starting right from the shuttle drop. With warm temperatures and the high April sun angle, the snow melted off fast. Although the first couple miles of Butcher Ranch OHV trail was under six inches of snow, once past the infamous waterfall (which was flowing quite nicely), conditions were absolutely stellar. It was hero dirt like I've never experienced in Downieville.

Continue to page 2 for more from Downieville and a photo gallery »

The weather in town was so nice even locals were getting out in the sun.

The weather in town was so nice even locals were getting out in the sun (click to enlarge).​

The sun and warm weather even brought out the locals, with a scrawny little bear roaming the banks of North Yuba River only a couple miles up from town. The bear has been spotted in the same place right next to Highway 49 numerous times over the past week, a terrific novelty for out-of-towners. But for locals, bears are a fuzzy menace that ransacks cars, houses, and restaurants in the quest for calories.

On the topic of restaurants, there are only three choices in town: pizza, steak or Mexican. Since the pizza place isn't what it used to be and the Grubstake Saloon isn't open for the season yet, the only choice is La Cucina de Oro, a surprisingly good Mexican restaurant. Cucina de Oro also happens to be run by the St. Charles Place bartender's mother, the former hippie mom who raised her family in the abandoned cabin a two-hour walk up Downie River.

After stuffing myself at La Cucina, I strolled past St. Charles Place and briefly considered stopping in until a couple drunk locals sitting outside the bar started acting…well…local.

"That guy?! I'll piss on him. I'll f*cking piss on that guy right now. C'mere," one of them blurted out.

I wasn't sure if the thoughtful gesture of micturition was directed at me, but considering there was nobody else on the street , I didn't inquire further and instead marched right past the bar back to the safety of the RV.

Sunday brought even warmer weather, with temperatures at the 7,200-foot high Packer Saddle shuttle drop point in the high 60s. After driving a couple shuttles, I jumped on my bike and rode off in search of the abandoned Toyota.

Gallows used in the last legal execution in Sierra County sit at the base of the brutally steep and unrelenting Galloway Ridge Road.

Gallows used in the last legal execution in Sierra County sit at the base of the brutally steep and unrelenting Galloway Ridge Road (click to enlarge).​

I've ridden up some steep roads in my lifetime, but there is absolutely none as steep and unrelenting as Galloway Ridge Road. Pitching straight up from town at sustained gradients of 30 degrees, Galloway starts right next to an old gallows used for the last legal execution in Sierra County. The gallows are perfectly positioned, because for some people being hung by the gallows would be far more agreeable than suffering a heart attack trying to climb Galloway Ridge by bike.

Roads like Galloway are absolutely no place for a singlespeed. Climbing 2,500 vertical feet in less than three miles, Galloway was just barely rideable on my Ibis Ripley with a 2x10 and a 36-tooth bailout gear. As I rounded a brutally steep switchback, a Nissan pickup was coming downhill. The driver pulled over and got out with a shovel in hand and started picking away at the hillside.

For a moment I thought I was hallucinating from oxygen deprivation because the old-timer literally looked like he just stepped out of a portal from 1850. Wearing overalls, an old hat and a huge gray beard that hid a mouth with almost no teeth, he turned to see me riding and proclaimed, "Good God boy, you got some steam! Give'er hell!" Although most locals don't give mountain bikers respect, even the hardest of locals will tip their cap to those deranged enough to climb Galloway.

Tundra Rear

An abandoned Toyota Tundra (left) sits on a fatally steep power line a mile above town. Recovering this truck (right) will be a Herculean effort. Photos don't do justice to how steep the terrain is (click to enlarge).

After reaching the power line where the Toyota was allegedly located, I hit a precipice that was simply breathtaking. Roughly 1,200 vertical feet above town but only about a mile from it, there the Toyota sat. I couldn't believe my eyes. I have no idea how or why the driver would have driven down the power line, as there was no path whatsoever; just a bunch of downed trees and detritus. The only explanation was that the driver was high or drunk - or both. The gradient had to be more than 40 percent. Photos don't do it justice. It was a miracle that the truck didn't roll over, as it came to a stop on an angle leaning against a tree.

Contrary to what the bartender told me, the Tundra had not been stripped at all. With the exception of a ripped off front bumper, the truck was fully intact with doors locked. Perhaps the owner has plans of recovering it, but I don't see how. You'd need either a massive truck with an industrial-grade winch line at least 250 feet long or an excavator to cut in a quarter-mile trail from Galloway Road across fatally steep terrain. After giving up on prospects of recovering the truck, I descended Galloway to town and witnessed my disc brakes literally smoking. To think that Galloway was the main road in and out of Downieville before Highway 49 was built blew my mind.

Yuba co-worker Jake and a newfound fan of Downieville who goes by the nickname Osama Bin Ridin'.

Yuba co-worker Jake and a newfound fan of Downieville who goes by the nickname Osama Bin Ridin' (click to enlarge).​

Next weekend I'll be at Sea Otter, but the whole time I'll be dreaming of getting back to Downieville. I haven't even scratched the surface yet, and am already finding remarkable treasures to write about.

Editor's Note: The Angry Singlespeeder is a collection of mercurial musings from contributing editor Kurt Gensheimer. In no way do his maniacal diatribes about all things bike oriented represent the opinions of Mtbr, RoadBikeReview, or any of their employees, contractors, janitorial staff, family members, household pets, or any other creature, living or dead. You can submit questions or comments to Kurt at singlespeeder@consumerreview.com. And make sure to check out Kurt's previous columns.