245, A Killer Route for a Motorcycle to Tame
Give a read to one of the best day-trip rides for those who love the curves
A Nearby Tourist magnet leaves HWY 245 empty, for locals in the know
I live in Visalia California, a medium-sized city near Sequoia National Forest. Being so close to the mountains means miles and miles of ripping and dipping at my leather-gloved fingertips. My proximity to this world-renowned park also brings a sad potential four-wheeled congestion that’s not conducive to fun aboard my pony. And then…HWY 245 comes into play, with nary a tourist in sight. Even the number sounds cool, like a new IPA that goes down smooth with a steak. “Drink Sequoia 245, and watch the sunset pause, just for you.”
The Elephant Standing on Zoom
Although I want to expound upon the attributes of HWY 245, part of my riding soul is screaming, “Shut Up! If you tell them, they will come!”
Like one’s favorite fishing hole, teaming with trophy bass, riders have a tendency to horde the location of good roads for fear their prized haunt will become overpopulated. I too fight this phobia, but one thing overpowers it. When I see another rider enjoying a great ride, I can’t help but grin. So, hoping that no idiots read this article, allow me to generate some enthusiasm in your throttle hand.
What Comprises a Good Ride?
The sweet spots in California have a few things in common. They aren’t a direct route to a prized tourist location, the tarmac is good and, for whatever reasons, few have taken up residence alongside that particular stretch of blacktop. With a bit of good weather, such spots are transformed from sleepy hollows, crisscrossed by squirrels, to rollercoaster rides that warm the insides!
Why the 245?
North and south of this road are the major arteries of HWY 198, that leads to the Sequoias, and HWY 180 (north), that leads to the other Giant Forest entrance from Fresno. Like a Lookyloo sponge, these two freeways suck up all of the four-wheeled traffic, wrendering the 245 mostly bare, save for some farmers, locals and the occasional rider.
A Maintained California Road?
I don’t know why the 245 is so well kept up, but it is. Of course, there are some patches of asphalt with grooves and bumps, but nothing bad enough to slow an experienced rider down.
The most treacherous thing is the sand and gravel kicked onto the road by dorks who can’t seem to turn their cars through a corner without dragging a wheel off-road.
Said crushed rock caused a guy I know to slide off, about three years ago, sending him into a barbed-wire infested tumble that ended up breaking his leg. Granted, he was a very new rider (not that I knew that at the time) who was upon a chopper-style bike with a front tire as narrow as a golf ball.
I’ll never understand the allure of such machines, for turning seems to be the point of owning a bike. With so much depending on front-wheel-traction, why would a contact-patch the size of a quarter be attractive?
Seeing the hazard of crushed-rock strewn over the curve, as obvious as rock salt on black velvet, I slowed down and pointed at it. In true noob fashion, somehow, he missed the signal. Bad day.
Canyon Climbing
In the summers in the San Joaquin Valley, temperatures often exceed 100. This makes the 245 all the more enjoyable, since the end of the ride rewards you with 5000+ feet of cooling elevation. Coupling that with a rapidly greening landscape and pine needles means Heaven.
Starting off at near sea-level, the corners begin inside pastureland, sweeping and rolling the rider like the perfect warmup lap. Once the curves become tighter and more frequent, with the legs and arms being primed for battle, the wheels soon find themselves gloriously bending into every chicane like a dry water slide.
With most of the curves nicely banked, your skills will be tested to whatever limit you deem reachable. Just don’t do too much, pilgrim, thus avoiding leaving this world smeared against one of our immovable water oaks. Be it trees or rock faces, exceeding your skills is not recommended on this route. Save that for roads lined with open spaces and grassy glens.
Sand
Long about June is when the sand laid down to melt the snow finally leaves the road. Until then, don’t think you’ll be blazing the 245 without dodging those creamy clumps of death in every corner.
The last time my dad and I rode up there, it was a patch of sand that ended his riding for good. Granted, he was about 72, and had ridden for many a mile on various bikes. He didn’t go down, thank God, just caught a patch stolen from some beach with his back tire, bringing the knee-jerk reaction of stabbing down a boot to steady the bike. He was moving slow, but he still hurt his foot. Not a bad God-signal, if you ask me.
“You had a good run, son. Time to hang it up.”
The T will set you free
At the end of the 245, it T’s off into the 180. There, depending on how tired you are, you can turn right toward Giant Forest or left toward the 99 freeway. Since I get a little speedy in the corners, I’m usually spent enough to turn left. Going left, and as a reward for enduring miles of tight corners, sweepers a plenty will greet the welcoming jockey O steel.
I especially love the 180 for its descending breathy views, like my bike has morphed into a F-22 jet fighter, terrain-masking to avoid enemy radar. Banking left and right, to the imagined hiss of missiles missing my wings, I can almost see the crosshairs of my Heads Up Display locked on a Mig.
Manicured
Being the main route to Giant Forest, the road has had some serious money spent on it. If you decide to experience it, be ready for baby-butt silky tarmac, long-leaning bends and pristine views of the where the Sierra Nevada range steps into the Valley. Just pick your time to ride with care, or you’ll be bumper-to-tire limited by travelers headed for General Sherman and his redwood men.
Potential Pit Stop
About halfway up the 245, where Dry Creek Road intersects, is Mountain House bar and grill. The new owner is John, who’s really put some love into the place, being a career contractor, retired. It’s a great hitching post to slide off the saddle for a burger and fries, with walls lined with great photos of local history.
Stay tuned for my next ride article, good reader, and thanks for reliving this one with me.
No matter where you ride or what pony is in your stable, remember this. Bikes that stop and turn are your friend. I am the Falcon. Peace in. That is all.
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