More Yosemite

Camp Connell -- I finally went through the photographs we took on our two day Yosemite trip and decided to share a few.

The first photo is of the Housekeeping cabin where we spent the night. It was perfectly adequate, and many families have enjoyed these rustic concrete-sided cabins located alongside the Merced River for generations. I do not understand exactly why a shelter like this costs $80 or so a night, but we had a good night's sleep and great views all around. It was the last place available in the park.
Location. Location. Location.




The second image is of the view downstream from the site of the cabins during an early morning walk. The quality of light in Yosemite Valley is astounding and different all times of the day. Once school is out, and the tourist season is in full swing, the river will fill up with rafts and the beaches and banks with sunbathers.




The third image is what you see when you take time to look up from the Valley floor. Yosemite Falls, the tallest in the United States, tumbling down the northern cliff face on a late May morning. The park was crowded, as it almost always is, but a short walk brings you to quiet places.




The fourth image is what you see when you turn and look to the East. Half Dome, looming over everything. Thousands of people climb to the top every year. Once in a while, as happened last week, someone slips and falls and dies. But the rock does not change except as a result of wind, rain, snow and ice. And the pace of that is slow.




The fifth image was taken after a one-hour drive from the floor of the Valley to the tip of Glacier Point, location of the best views you will ever hope to see. The weather was cloudy and grey, with rain blowing in from the East. You are looking across the canyon that holds Nevada and Vernal Falls,on the lower right, with Half Dome in the bottom center. The high Sierra Nevada looms on the horizon, still coated with snow. I believe the peak is Cathedral Peak, with Mount Dana to the left. Hidden among the granite canyons is Tenaya Lake.




The sixth image looks down, through the rain and mist, on the most popular hiking trail in Yosemite, and perhaps in any national park in America, the Mist Trail. It gets so much traffic it is paved part of the way, and steps are cut into the granite between the waterfalls. Despite warning signs along the way, people often swim in the pools at the top of the waterfalls. It's better just to look. This also is the starting section of the grueling day hike that takes climbers around the back side and to the very top of Half Dome, seen on the left.




And finally, an action shot of a bear doing what bears do and a ranger doing what park rangers do. This was taken as we left the park and drove through Crane Flat. The orphaned yearling bear was prowling around near some downed logs just off the road, probably snacking on carpenter ants, and a traffic jam resulted. Bears have very bad eyesight, and he probably did not notice the crowd he attracted which was downwind. Cars were everywhere along the road, and people gathered in groups to watch from the roadside. The ranger is running to head off a tourist with camera who decided to walk up close to the bear and snap a souvenir photo, a dangerous thing to do with a large wild animal. The ranger protected the tourist from himself. This bear was orphaned last year, according to the ranger, when a tourist killed the mother bear on the road.




I never regret visiting Yosemite but I always leave with mixed feelings. It is one of the most beautiful places on the planet, and three million visitors a year sometimes make it so crowded it can be a grueling experience to get around and look at the sights.
Accommodations are few, and grow more expensive every year.
The Park Service has an impossible job trying to protect the place, and make it available to all of the public. The only answer in my opinion, which I do not like, is to severely limit the number of automobiles allowed into the park. That idea was floated, more than once, and shot down immediately. Politically impossible.
But when you are there, and walk ten minutes away from the crowded sidewalks and trails and look around, you get to see an earthly version of Heaven.

We'll be back.

Just before the snow

Camp Connell, CA -- Friday, Dec. 12, 2008 -- We returned tonight from a quick trip across the Sierra Nevada mountains to take a look at the high country mountains before the first big series of winter storms brings snow.
We started east across California's Highway 4, aka Ebbetts Pass Highway, on Thursday on a bright and sunny morning, cold and clear and beautiful. Fall color is gone, and the trees at high elevation are bare, sparkling, and ready for winter. The brush is ripe with buds and the stems are a red color, indicating they are dormant and just waiting for the Spring to come.
The streams and lakes we passed along the route are all partially frozen, particularly in the shady spots. The route we followed is also known as the old Immigrant Trail, or the Big Trees-to-Carson Pass route once followed by beaver trappers, families moving West, and gold miners in search of fortunes.
Our route took us through Markleeville, seat of California's least populated county, and by a wonderful state park. Grover Hot Springs Park has just what the name implies, steaming hot springs where you can soak at any time of year for a mere $5 fee to the state.
As soon as we had a quick lunch (the cook was sick at the hotel, but they served great soups left over from the night before) we took the plunge.


The springs are at 5,600 feet, and hoar frost was snuggled into the weeds alongside the trail, and small patches of snow in the trees on the north-facing slopes, but the air was comfortable and the springs terrific.
We drove on into Nevada to visit the home of one of our favorite historical characters, Snowshoe Thompson, a mailman who carried mail and packages across these mountains between 1950s and 1870s, on skis in winter.
He is considered the father of skiing, and local resorts pay him homage. It took him three days to ski across a route that took us about four hours of tough mountain driving. Mostly we admire his skill and strength. You can find out more about him at this website:

http://snowshoethompson.org/story_of_Snowshoe_Thompson.html

Then we went on to Carson City, the capitol of Nevada, with a quick drive through Virginia City, the heart of the Comstock Lode silver strike in the late 1800s.
Here's a look.
Of the two, Virginia City is more interesting, though little was open and we opted to spend the night at a casino hotel in Carson City. The Gold Dust West Casino, Hotel, Bowling Alley and RV Park, looked good but the food was bad and the casino pretty sad. (I was too, as I dropped $40 in the Wheel of Fortune Slot machines.)

Friday we drove west toward home by way of Carson Pass, a beautiful two-lane route that goes near Lake Tahoe (though you can't see it from Carson Pass). It is named for Kit Carson, who came this way 150 years ago.
We went by Kirkwood Ski Resort, and then through the gold rush towns of Jackson, San Andreas and Angels Camp before arriving home just at dark.
The rain started about 9 p.m., turned to sleet by 10.

P.S. We woke up to a light covering of snow this morning.
Much more is expected Sunday.

Another beautiful day in paradise

Patricia's World

Look but do not enter

The Aspen were aglow

The weather has been too beautiful to stay inside lately, so today after church, we returned home to change clothes and pack a lunch, then drove up the mountain to explore. We parked the Subaru at the Silver Lake trailhead just above Lake Alpine.

It took about an hour of steady walking to go down to our destination, Duck Lake. It was/is truly a lovely trail... beauty all around us.
The trees and ground smelled sweet from the recent rain and snow. Sky so blue, sunshine glowing through the trees.

We passed two couples each with little children in tow, so I thought that probably I could make it in and out again. The last part was all down hill (so you know what that means, it was uphill to get back to the car! ).

This beautiful little lake is in a small meadow surrounded by Lodgepole Pine and bright yellow Aspen. In the meadow also were three abandoned log cabins, all decrepit, ancient, falling down (don't go inside). One even had an old white enamel woodburning kitchen stove and kitchen sink. I guess they packed those in years ago. Lots of recent cow paddies all over the meadow from summer mountain grazing....and assorted other scat....coyote, deer, jackrabbit, and maybe a bear (hope so anyway, or it was one HUGE dog...or maybe it was a horse...)

We stayed there long enough to look around and take some pix and take a little rest. The hike out wasn't so bad. though it was pretty hard for me, being so out of shape and all, but I did make it, and Sanders didn't need to break out the M&Ms this time. Well, he didn't have any, but I think we may need them for another time...

Dinner later at the Lube Room around 5 p.m..gourmet hot dog and cheeseburger.

--PTL

Just another day in the mountains

Today was a "found" day as we expected to be tied up with contractors, and then on the road to San Francisco Bay to deal with hauling out our sailboat s/v Good News so we can get the bottom painted, a routine and expensive maintenance chore.

We took care of the first business early.

The contractor who is going to build us a garage came by with the county building permits in hand; actually almost, nearly, possibly ready to start the project. We began this process in Spring, signed a contract in June, and have been messing around with ideas, the county permit folk and an engineer ever since.
So far, we are only about $800 over budget, thanks to surprises from the county permit people regarding the required engineering (about $600 worth) and me paying a totally unfair penalty for the fact the wood shed, 20 years old and built by someone else, apparently did not have a permit. I decided not to argue about it, or tear down the shed, which were options that took too much energy and emotion.
We need the garage as the cars take a real beating when the snow and ice come to stay.
Our plan was to have the garage built before the snow flies.
Well, the snow flew a week ago, though it did not last long.
We remain hopeful, based on today's discussions, that within a week a neighbor will show up with a backhoe and start shoving dirt and gravel around. It is a fairly simple design, so if we get reasonable weather for the next 30 days, we may see a garage before the serious snow begins. Last year we had the first snow in late November. This year it has snowed here once, and just up the road, three times, already.

So, just in case, we will make sure the buiding supplies can be stashed out of the weather in our woodshed if needed.
The second contractor, this one a person who install kitchen counters, showed up before the first one left. That discussion required much looking at colorful tiles of various materials, all horrifically expensive, and suggesting multiple options. We will get a bid in a few days, and probably get one or two more.
This became necessary whe our kitchen counter tile cracked one especially cold winter. I have repaired the damage with duct tape for several years, but we agree it is time for a fix.
But then we were done, as the boatyard where I want to get the haulout done is not available this week.
So we went to the park.
Calaveras Big Trees State Park is our near neighbor, two miles down the road, and we almost never go there unless we have house guests.
But today we took off, found a bottle of water under the car seat, and went exploring and hiking.
We have visited the South Grove of Sequoiah (Sequoiadendron giganteum) trees many times, but today we drove all the way down the river canyon to the other side, in the middle of a beautiful forest, and hiked into the seldom-visited North Grove.
It is a beautiful time of year to be outside. The weather was post card perfect; sunny skies and temperatures in the mid-60s. Recent rains have dampened down the forest floor, and created a perfumed scent as a few eager plants have sprung back to hold their heads high.
Only four or five other vehicles were at the trailhead, and it was as if we had a magic place all to ourselves.
The drive down into the park and up the next ridge covered about ten miles of mixed conifer and oak forests, and elevation ranging from 5,000 feet down to 3,000 feet and back up again.
This part of the forest is full of small dogwoods under the larger cedars and pines and oaks, and they have all turned pink and yellow and gold and orange. Quite a sight. And we discovered a tree called a big leaf maple, plendid in yellows down alongside the creeks.
The squirrels are busy everywhere, getting ready for winter, and we even saw a few wooly worms getting ready for cold weather.
The big trees are stunning. They dominate everything nearby, and seem to lurk behind the merely magnificent Sugar Pines and White Cedars which reach upward over a hundred feet. The Stanislaus River and bear and Big Trees creeks were flowing happily.
The guide book says there are more than 1,000 living big trees (Sequoiadendron giganteum) in the groves in our park. These are not Coastal redwoods, which actually grow taller, but the prehistoric giant trees that are the largest living things in our world today -- the few that are left.
We plan to vsit them all, and not worry about meeting contractors.
We're retired. We have time to do it all.

We're okay, really

Camp Connell, CA- Part of learning to live in the mountains of
California is explaining to friends from other parts of the world that
every time they hear on TV that California is going up in flames, or
experiencing a destructive earthquake, it isn't necessarily happening
right here.
Jimmy Buffett sings about fires and earthquakes, and
non-Californians tend to think of this rather large state as one big
shake-n-bake zone. But this is a BIG state, and we rarely even know
there is a problem until our friends back east call and ask if we are
okay.
That doesn't mean that we are blase' about fires and quakes. A
few weeks ago I was at the computer late at night when a giant thump
shook the house. That was a small earthquake over on the east side of
the mountains, just a reminder that the earth has not settled down yet.

When you live in the middle of the forest and it doesn't rain for
months, you understand it's only a matter of time before something
will catch fire somewhere. A few days ago the temperature was in the
high 90s even way up here at 5,000 feet, and the humidity was 12%.
Folks in the South Lake Tahoe region learned about the vulnerability of mountain living a week
ago, and more than 200 families are homeless today as a result.
We could smell the smoke from those fires on the evening breeze, even though
it was almost 100 miles north of us. It was a reminder of the
risks of living here in the woods. Now, another really big forest
fire is burning a hundred miles or so to the south.
But we tend not to think about it till something happens close enough to home to get our attention,
even though we are isolated and the only people who live on our
dead-end dirt road.
Helicopters got our attention quickly last night, about the time we were sitting down to dinner.
We had just enjoyed our very first rainfall since March. We could hear the thunder booming higher
in the mountains, like the stories of ghost bowlers, and it reminded us
of Florida's great daily summer thunderstorms.
But the louder sounds
of helicopters and airplanes interfered with our quiet enjoyment of
nature's show and dinner, and pretty soon we were standing on the deck
watching helicopters carry buckets of water directly over our heads.
Not once, but time after time after time. We started sniffing for
smoke, but detected none.
Television or radio were useless, as
neither provide any local news coverage here. Even the local web site
for residents had nothing posted when I first checked.
So I jumped in the car and went to the source of all news in our area -- the Camp Connell Store. It was closed and no one was about.
Next stop, a quarter mile away, the Lube Room Bar & Grill. It stays open
late. Sure enough, a couple of neighbors were standing on the edge of
the meadow back of the bar watching a helicopter attach its big water
bucket before taking off over the ridge. But no one knew what was
happening, or where.
I saw a fire crew in fighting gear in a truck heading up the road.
Next stop was the ranger station up the road in the other direction. A young
couple was sitting on the steps of their home watching the air traffic.
Nothing special, he said, probably just crews knocking down spot fires
from the lightning. He didn't even have his official radio turned on to
eavesdrop.
So I drove back to the house, reasonably assured things
were fine, and we started talking about what if the danger had been
real. What would we do? What would we take? Where would we go?
Pat made a list.
What's important enough to grab and run out the door? Family photos and
papers, checkbooks, keys and of course the computers. Oh yes, and my
good guitar and her hammered dulcimer.
Everything else can, and probably will, burn if a big forest fire comes our way.
That's just the way it is when you enjoy the pleasures of living in the forest.
Later in the evening a neighbor posted an update on the local website after talking to the local firefighters: lightning strikes triggered two small fires on the ridge above our house, a mile or so away, and crews were on the scene and would stay there till morning. Everything, we were told, was under control.
Irony Footnote:
Sierra Pacific Lumber,the Great Satan of tree cutters in the western U.S., may have made us a bit safer by clear-cutting swaths all around our community, whacking down thousands of trees within miles of our home. I doubt it actually helps,
but you can see what they have done to the once beautiful forest on
Google Earth by plugging in "Fly to 129 Campbell Lane, CampConnell California, 95223."

Spring at last! Spring at last! Maybe!

Camp Connell, CA -- When you think Spring has arrived around here, it snows.
Maybe not a lot, but enough to remind you that when the long-time local folks suggest you not plant a garden until after Memorial Day (or the Calaveras Frog Jump/ County fair), they know what they are talking about.

The first picture is from about ten days ago, and shows the bulbs trying to survive an early May snowfall.














But then you wait a few days, the sun comes out, and the daffodils bloom.











And then the tulips follow.
















And then, the mountain dogwood starts. (A thousand feet below us, in the vicinity of Calaveras Big Trees State Park, the woods are filled with dogwood snuggled under the giant trees.)





I asked the local snowplow operator when he could be certain we were done with snow, and he gave me the usual "you never know" answer, but then shared the widely-held belief that winter ends after the dogwood blossoms have been snowed upon.

That didn't help much because at some elevations that has happened already, and at others, including ours, we just missed that event.

One way or the other, Spring will get here.
The birds are coming back in larger numbers. The first hummingbirds are buzzing around the feeder. Flies and other bugs are starting to hatch. Robins are cruising the woods searching for the worms and critters they feed upon.
And the seasonal creek is bubbling happily, for now. It stopped once before when we had a dry spell of a week or two.
I think when it stops this time we will know summer has arrived.

One footnote for those who read about this being the "driest year ever" in California. That may be true down south, near L.A. and at Santa Catalina Island, but up here in Northern California we had an almost normal snowpack, and at this point it doesn't look a lot drier than normal, which is pretty dry every summer.
Of course that can change in a hurry and we are still clearing the leaves and pine needles away from the house, trimming dead branches off the trees, and observing the rules about burning outdoor fires only at night, and only on designated "burn days."
That's life in the mountains.