An Abbreviated Caldera 500 Story

Words and photos by Dr. Tracy Berman

While heading home after completing an individual time trial (ITT) of the New Colo route, I heard that Tuff Ventures was taking over the Caldera routes. Caldera 500 seemed like a natural progression for me, as I’d already set my sights on the Colorado Trail Race (CTR) for 2025. Both Caldera and CTR share similar traits: challenging hike-a-bike sections, climbs at high altitudes, and plenty of rugged terrain—qualities I, as a singlespeeder living in the flatlands of southeast Michigan, find oddly appealing.

The Caldera 500 is one of those routes that’s been attempted by few and successfully completed by even fewer. I was inspired by Amanda “Panda” Nauman’s attempts to be the first woman to finish it in 2020 and 2021, which were thwarted by wildfires and storms. In 2023, Alia Salim became the first woman to complete the route, and she shared some helpful and entertaining insights in the Caldera Facebook group. I hoped to be able to set a new FKT.

Unfortunately, adversity struck early in my preparation. A slip-up in a cyclocross race tore two of my hamstring tendons, which I had surgically reattached on Halloween in 2023. With a lot of diligent physical therapy, I was able to gradually return to cycling, even completing a short sub-24-hour trip before the new year. By the time I set off for Caldera, I felt pretty confident with my strength and fitness.

I kept my bike setup similar to what I’d used for New Colo, once again utilizing my singlespeed Niner Sir 9. My gear ratio of 34:23 was informed by the singlespeed setups featured in the “Rigs of” roundups for the Colorado Trail Race. My essential gear included a Fly Creek HV UL1 tent, a Marmot Hydrogen sleeping bag, and my Kindle. Caldera would be the first bikepacking trip where I was too exhausted to read at night.

The first few days were rough. The route began with immediate climbing on the paved Lakes Basin Path, followed by playful singletrack before a descent. Things got tougher after the Horton Creek crossing, where I regretted skipping a detour to a campground for water. From there, the route became a maze of overgrown brush and sandy, loose trails. My singlespeed setup had me off the bike more often than I’d like. The first three days offered many abuses, and I didn’t have a lot of kind words to say about the route when I made it to Bishop and touched in with family and friends.

Leaving Bishop, I carried entirely too much water up the Diablo Climb, and I had no need to check out the small spring at the top, which reportedly had a large animal rotting in it. Some colder, wetter weather had been in the forecast, but the ominous clouds stayed in the distance until I got toward the top of Glass Mountain. I quickly donned my extra layers and rain gear as tiny pieces of hail transitioned to fluffy globs of snowflakes. Near the end of my day, an unfortunate bobble in the Sawmill Creek drenched my feet. As I camped in Taylor Creek Canyon that evening, both my shoes and water filter froze, which eroded my confidence.

My goal for the day was to get to Bridgeport, grab a baked potato at the Rhino Bar, and camp near the Travertine Hot Springs. I’d planned to wake up at 2 a.m. the following day to tackle the Patterson climb (over 11,000 feet) so I could summit before possible afternoon storms. However, after a poor night’s sleep and some lingering fatigue, I tried to rationalize sleeping in. At Bridgeport, I checked the weather and saw a winter storm advisory in effect above 8,500 feet.

I’d previously weathered the Red Meadows Pass storm in the 2022 Tour Divide, which initially gave me some confidence. But the differences between the two situations became apparent. On the Tour Divide, I had fellow riders and trail angels offering support. Here, I was alone, and I wasn’t sure where I’d find shelter after the summit. I opted for a hotel room in Bridgeport, hoping sleep would make the decision to press on or wait out the storm clearer.

At 3 a.m., I found myself sitting in the hotel room, eating cold pizza and texting my best friend. I was still unsure about tackling the winter storm but decided to at least check off one goal for the trip and rode out for a sunrise soak at the Travertine Hot Springs. Afterward, I checked in with my coach and Amanda Nauman, still struggling to decide whether to push on. At the outdoor store in Bridgeport, I couldn’t find the heavier rain gear I hoped to pick up, but I did learn some important information about a construction closure on Highway 395. It turned out repaving was delayed, and waiting to be able to ride through would have prevented me from getting back to work on time. That was the final push I needed: I abandoned the Caldera 500 and shifted my focus to enjoying the rest of the trip.

With that decision made, the pressure lifted, and I found myself enjoying the trip much more. I used a modification that Amanda suggested and lopped off the top lobe of the 500 mile route, which made a 350-mile loop. I visited the Buckeye Hot Springs, had leisure time to enjoy meals, and read placards about the region’s wildlife and geology. The storm was still hanging over the higher elevations, but I managed to avoid the worst of it. Snow didn’t begin to fall until I zipped up my tent for the night at Upper Virginia Creek Campground.

Aside from a terrifying stretch on Highway 395 along Mono Lake, the rest of the riding was quite pleasant. I especially enjoyed the ORV trails between June Lake and Mammoth Lakes. The final section of Downtown singletrack would have been an ideal way to finish, but I ended up hitting the trail just in time to slowly follow (at a respectful distance) the lead woman in the 50k Trail Fest race. Afterward, I spent a few hours sitting with dirty, smelly trail-loving peers in the Trail Fest celebration area, waiting to check into a hotel.

One of the benefits of my abbreviated trip was that it gave me time to reconnect with my friend Nicole Ver Kuilen, who was in town for Trail Fest. Nicole, an adaptive athlete, completed her first trail race, and we shared some bittersweet memories of our late triathlon coach, Michael Parker. Michael’s encouragement and wisdom had been instrumental in my athletic journey. As I rode the Caldera 500 route, I often reflected on his legacy and his wish for our local endurance community to #KeepItGoing. I used words he’d written about trail running as a mantra, “So it was with every hill and every time my mind told me to slow down, that I gave thanks for the challenge.” Though I didn’t finish the route, I believe I stayed true to that spirit and honored his tenacity. The Pamidu Toiyabe has many challenges to offer, and I’m thankful I was able to take on many of them.

Further Reading

Make sure to dig into these related articles for more info...

55

ROUTE

Caldera 500

86

Bike Photography

A Guide to Taking Better Photos while Bikepacking

40

Bikepacking Videos

Terroir (film) and The Desplabado Tour

Please keep the conversation civil, constructive, and inclusive, or your comment will be removed.