The boys pedaled across the Kaweah River Delta, amid the remnants of its tangled web of vines, water channels, and old oaks. East of the delta, orchards took the place of the dairies and fields of the Sink. Sam’s rear derailleur failed as they pedaled over their last flatland overpass. He detached the derailleur in frustration and tossed it into a roadside orchard. He’d have to change gears hand-to-chain from then on.
Yokohl Valley at sunset, during the 2011 Lion Fire — David Prasad
The two young fishermen reeled their drive chains around the big bend at the mouth of Yokohl Valley, and they grew hungry as they rolled into the roadside community of Lemoncove. They stopped at a biker saloon run by someone named Grandma, and, under a canopy of beer mugs, ordered pizza for dinner.
When the time came to pedal on, the boys took what remained out in a box and pedaled up the highway. Dusk was settling on the smokey air, and by the time they’d got to the top of the hill by the dam, night had fallen completely. They looked out from the highway into bottomless darkness, hoping to see some slight reflection of light off the lake, but there was no such glimmer. They should have made it to the lake by now, but they couldn’t find it. They’d camped at that lake only two months earlier, but suddenly it was nowhere to be found. They finally found a sign that said “campground”, which was more than good enough for them under the circumstances. They found a campsite, unrolled their bedding, and passed out.