Clutch

About midway back to Yosemite Valley, we came to the turnoff for the road to Glacier Point which towers directly above our campsite. This 17 mile side trip across a forest plateau pays off at the very end twice -- first with views of the Little Yosemite Valley to the south then with a "holy crap!" overlook of half dome, Nevada Falls, and a full panoramic sweep of the Yosemite Valley. 

Time was getting short, we faced a noon deadline to be out of our campsite. We joked about excuses we could give to the ranger such as a mechanical problem with the bikes. Soon after the turn onto the main road, we weingressing down toward the tunnel when I heard Marty shout "What the heck?" as he swerved and slowed rapidly. He had been coasting with the clutch lever pulled in and the bike in a low gear so he could slip the clutch to slow down. The clutch had suddenly engaged on its own. We pulled over. Our first thought was that the clutch cable had snapped, an easy fix. Unfortunately, this was to be. Something inside the clutch case was broken.

A car (or bike) with a manual transmission can be shifted from gear to gear without a clutch. The trick is to find the right throttle setting that takes the pressure off the gears, neither accelerating nor engine braking. The shift may be a bit clunky, but you can still move on. The bigger challenge is how to get moving from a dead stop. Marty's bike is light and low enough that a rider can push with his feet to a few mph, just fast enough to jam the bike into first gear and ride onward. With the clutch locked, stopping is also a problem. The solution is simple: don't stop. I would ride ahead of him, come to a full stop at stop signs, then slide into the intersection blocking cross traffic momentarily while he slid by at a slow speed. 

We managed the six miles to our campsite arriving about 1:15, well after the noon checkout time. The next campers, two young men, were already set up on the site. We apologized for the inconvenience and broke camp. As we loaded our bikes, a second van pulled into the same site with two more guys. I found myself listening in on their fascinating conversation. They are a group of rock climbers who were about to climb the shear rock face of El Capitan! I didn't understand half of their jargon or slang, but I got the gist of the discussion. Especially when their voices went low as they spoke of reaching places where they are sure they cannot move in any direction, but do it anyway.

I gave Marty a push to get his fully loaded bike rolling and he kicked it into first and puttered away. I ran back to my bike and soon caught up. As we left the campground, I told the ranger (the same fellow from Minnesota) about our misadventure with the clutch and we hit the road.