Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride Is Wilder In Freak Summer Snow Storm

I had no idea—just like Churchill said about D-Day—that Saturday, June 21st, would be a day that would live in infamy. One that sticks with you forever. Now, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride? That trail’s a beast on a good day. Blue skies, sunshine, perfect dirt—you’re still clenching your teeth the whole way down. But toss in a freak summer snowstorm? Yeah… a straight-up storm like from Back to the Future. A storm that doesn’t just ruin your ride—it wrecked boats, sends them crashing onto the shore, and took eight souls with it. It was raw. It was real. It makes you question what the hell you’re doing out there. So how’d I end up in the middle of it all?

The Caldor Scab on my Heart

I’d been avoiding Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride for a long time. The Caldor Fire left a deep scar—not just on the land, but in my heart. It tore through so many places I hold dear. From Sierra-at-Tahoe’s legendary gladed terrain to Corral’s wide-open, tree-less singletrack… all of it felt different.

Every time I’ve come back, it’s taken someone—someone who knows what these places mean—to nudge me. And every time, I’m reminded: yeah, things have changed… but they’re still the places I love.

Why Now?

With Jaime diving into ultra running, to show support and a little nudge from my fitness coach, Jason Owings over at Mountain Strength Lab—I decided to set a MASSIVE goal. At least, it feels massive to me: Rose to Toad’s.

For those who don’t know, Rose to Toad’s is no joke. It’s a 62-mile mountain bike grind with 8,000 feet of climbing and more than 10,000 feet of descending. Taking that on means one thing—serious training.

Since April, we’ve been slowly ramping up the rides. And Saturday, June 21st? That was the day I set my sights on tackling Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

Perfect Weather For Cycling

My buddy Richard and I checked the weather before heading out—nothing looked out of the ordinary. The forecast called for cool temps, sunshine, and barely a breeze. In other words, a perfect day for riding. The forecast didn’t change until the afternoon.

At the trailhead, we did what’s become second nature: a quick backcountry-style gear check. Tools? Check. First aid kit? Check. The essentials were all there.

Then Richard asked, “Should I bring my shell?”

I told him it was his call, and at first, he decided to leave it behind. But as we rolled down the road toward the trail entrance, he changed his mind and asked if we could swing back so he could grab it.

Little did we know just how important that choice would turn out to be.

Sunny Skies and Gum Drops

As we pedaled our way up, everything felt hunky-dory. The sun was out, a few clouds drifted lazily overhead, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

We kept climbing—first up to Armstrong Pass, then onto the Tahoe Rim Trail, making our way toward the top of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

By the time we reached the summit, we were more than 3,000 feet above where we started, sitting at over 9,300 feet in elevation.

Mountain Weather Becomes Mountain-y

From the ridgeline, we took in the view—Hope Valley on one side, bathed in sunshine. But as our eyes drifted north over Lake Tahoe, the scene changed. Towering cumulonimbus clouds were building fast, dark and ominous on the horizon.

We’d been out of cell service most of the day, but suddenly Richard’s phone pinged. It was a message from his wife: “It’s snowing in Truckee.” Truckee—more than 30 miles away.

I squinted at the clouds and said, a bit too confidently, “Those aren’t heading our way. We’re fine.”

Richard winced and cut in, “We need to get off this ridgeline in a quick manner.”

From Sun to Snowing in 5 Minutes

What was the fastest way out? From where we were, it didn’t matter which direction we picked—we were at least five miles, probably more, from the nearest road.

We made the call to keep moving forward and pick up the pace. With cell service, we also let the ladies know our plans just in case.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes later when things started to shift. As we wound our way down from the ridgeline, the wind kicked up, and the sunshine vanished—replaced by fast-moving, low-hanging clouds.

The temperature dropped fast. Those shells we almost didn’t bring? Suddenly, they were essential.

We threw them on in a hurry and kept descending.

Stormy Weather Makes For Focus on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride

I don’t know if it was the looming storm or just being in the zone, but as we dropped into Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, my form and technique were dialed. I stayed focused on every obstacle and ended up riding features I’d never even dreamed of trying before.

When we reached the infamous “waterfall” section—the gnarliest part of the trail—we decided to walk it. That’s when the snow really started coming down.

Huge chunks of graupel pelted us from above, quickly building up around the rocks and bushes. Our hands started to go numb, and even with our shells, the cold crept in to the edge of unbearable.

Shivering, caked in mud, and grinning, we finally rolled up to the truck—cold but unscathed. We had made it out safely!

A Mountain Lesson

When we got home, our phones lit up with messages from friends and family—everyone was talking about how freakish the storm had been.

It didn’t meet the National Weather Service’s criteria for a “severe” thunderstorm—winds never topped 60 mph—but it still whipped Lake Tahoe into a frenzy, with 8 to 10-foot waves (equivalent to 30 foot swells in the ocean) crashing along the shoreline.

Nineteen people had to be rescued. Tragically, more than eight lives were lost when a boat capsized.

Up at Palisades Tahoe, so much snow fell it looked like the middle of winter. They even had to cancel the 46K event of the Broken Arrow Skyrace.

Tahoe’s famously stable summer weather can lull you into a false sense of security—but as June 21, 2025, reminded us… this is still the mountains. While that shell and first aid kit may normally seem overkill, it’s when you don’t have these things you wish you did.