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During the next few days, our Site #1 continued
to come up empty, and we stayed on top of the
waiting list. We took several hikes into the
beautiful pastures, and to the top of the
mountain.
On Easter day we climbed to the top of the
mountain and made several phone calls to our
children on the east coast. We picnicked beside
a 400 year old Incense Cedar, and looked out
above a sea of fluffy clouds.
We expected to see to the Pacific Ocean, but
clouds had rolled in. We were on an island just
above them. We would later see a remarkable
inversion, where fog like clouds would fill the
Grand Canyon.
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Our hikes around the forests and through the
pastures never encountered any raccoons or
mountain lions. One hike along the French
Creek led us around the valley and through two
pastures of long tan grasses. Following the
poorly marked trail was difficult. There had been
a fire a couple of years before.
There were always lots of birds flying around ,
Robber Jays squawking. In one pasture was a
large burnt out tree, possibly 25 feet in diameter.
It was riddled with holes and around it flew
hundreds of Red Headed Woodpeckers. The
forests in this environment, seemed primeval.
For the last few weeks Arlene has been
researching her family tree. She’s uncovered
some interesting dirt on the Milton’s. They could
have arrived in America in the 1600’s in Virginia
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with those wild and fun loving colonists. If so
that would have been half a century before the
Zimmerman’s arrived in Pennsylvania.
The most infamous Milton was governor of
Florida in 1861. He signed the secession of
Florida from the Union. Later, he brought the
State back. In disgrace he took his own life.
We’ve never had much interest in our heritage,
and I suppose she will let it go at that.
Palomar Observatory
Beyond the hikes, and our research, up the road
from the campground was the observatory. It’s a
busy place. Astronomers sign up months in
advance for a few hours on the Hale Telescopes.
If they are here for months they must live down
below, off the mountain, as there are no homes
or dorms, only the smallest Post Office in
America a 12 foot long wooden building.
This was different than the McDonald
Observatory. It was really cold when we entered.
Their museum has been closed for over a year,
meaning there were few tourists. But, we visited
with the Chief Engineer’s wife who ran the gift
shop, and had been there since 1986. She should
have frozen long before we arrived, as the
observatory is kept at night time temperatures, or
more accurately it’s not heated.
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The parking lot still had snow piled along it’s
edges. I scooped several hand full’s, and packed
them tightly. We took them back to the camper
and put them in the fridge, hopefully, keeping
our fresh food cold.
Each Observatory causes us to think about the
sky, and our beginning. We clearly don’t spend
enough time looking into the sky. Actually
looking into our past as that’s what we see when
there’s light. We wait until it arrives, and say we
see the beginning. How long do you suppose it
will be before we see beyond the beginning? Will
we, like so often, figure it out mathematically
‘before the beginning’, before hand?.
This place was really cool.
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Californios
It wasn’t far off the Mountain back to Julian, and
another fruit pie. A couple of slices, with ice
cream and we were headed out along the western
side of the Vallecito Mountains, Norrh on their
weather side toward Palm Desert, and Palm
Springs on our way to the high desert of Joshua
Tree National Park.
Mostly we remember the long hills that we
climbed. Thanks to truck lanes we were not run
off the road as traffic moves along at a real clip,
80 mph, up and down these 10 to 15 miles
inclines. After getting started on one of these
hills we would pull over into the far lane and
continue to climb at 35 maybe 40 mph. It’s easy
to see that without those truck lanes we would
have been toast.
As we approached Palm Desert and headed for
Palm Springs we began seeing the blossoming of
the desert once again. All of this area is irrigated
by the Colorado River. Actually tunnels were
dug for the river to reduce the evaporation. The
pipe line follows the California fault line south
into the Imperial Valley.
We passed lots of Date Palm orchards, and fields
filled with peppers, red, orange, yellow, and
green. The tree tops of the Palms were covered
with bunches of dates. They were planted in
rows and columns, so as we drove past we could
see down the rows and diagonally across them. It
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was pretty neat, and after a while we stopped to
buy some.
We continued up the road stopping at Wal-Mart,
and Costco, filling our larder which had dwindled
since arriving in California. Clientele was
different than usual. The parking lots were filled
with polished and shining Lexus, Mercedes, and
Bavarian Motor Works autos. Not the usual dusty
Ford and GM pick-ups. These were Californios.
As we drove into Palm Springs we were amazed
how green everything was. There were parks
with tennis players. Homes with grass lawns,
hotels, gaudy with flowering plants; and golf
courses spraying rainbows over the fairways.
Years ago we remembered being in Temecula,
California for a ‘Hot Rod’ show. Main street was
filled with beautiful slick colored hot rods. Signs
admonished visitors not to touch, unless naked.
The men stood by their cars talking and
answering questions. They were all pot bellied
and overweight. Their ladies were, as Richard
remembers, slim and large breasted.
Here in Palm Springs the streets were filled with
a different kind of Californians. They were thin,
classy, svelte people. Californios.
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Joshua Tree
East of Palm Springs is Twenty Palms, a small
village and the entrance to Joshua Tree National
Park. The park is named after the tree which is
named after Joshua the Mormon.
Joshua Tree is split on two levels, a high, and low
desert. The lower is quite flat, lying on part of
the Mojave, Anza-Borrego, and Sonoran deserts.
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We’re up here where the Joshua Tree grows at
the higher altitude.
Cowboy Boulders
At this altitude there are lots of jumbo sized
rocks, and it’s a little cooler. It gets a little more
rain and the plants are different than below. The
namesake tree is related to a Yucca plant. It
flowers with greenish bubbles, which become
whiteish-yellow flowers. Look at the end of the
branches in the photo. They’re covered with
blossoms.
There were several camping areas around the
upper level. These like the plants were different.
Just look how we seem to be parked on the side
of the road. We are, and anyone traveling around
the park can drive by. Usually, camp sites are
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separated from normal traveling visitors. Not
here, we had a picnic bench and a fire ring, but,
running water and toilet facilities didn’t exist.
All of those differences could be an annoyance,
but a larger issue was the isolation we felt.
Although in a designated site there were no other
campers. Under these circumstances, and with
other wise lax Park security we would sleep with
one eye open. We did notice that the sandy soil
was crusty, maybe because of the rain. That could
be good news.
Richard, growing up near pine forests always
judged his ability to walk quietly across the
ground. If you thought it was important to move
stealthily this desert soil would be impossible to
cross without making a crunching noise. We
were wary, yet thought any sound might alert us
to an intruder.
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The boulders were everywhere reminding us of
the 1940 and ’50 cowboy movie sets. Hopalong
Cassidy, and the Durango Kid come to mind.
We were enticed by rocks, and our memories to
go exploring beside the RV.
There were so many rocks, seemingly larger and
larger. In a moment we were out of site of the
RV. The boulders lay in many directions also
making it difficult to keep track of where we were
or where we had come from. The thin narrow
paths were hard to follow, from time to time
they’d disappear among the rocks. We kept
going, thinking how lost could we get in 15
minutes.
We began focusing on other things. Climbing
from one rock to another. Jumping between
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them, squeezing between several, down a long
path. It was a thrilling experience.
We noticed that Arlene prefers little steps and
short rises. Its difficult for her to lift her body
weight. I lift more weight, and am much more
adventurous. Even though a far cry from
yesterday. I too felt much weaker. Yet my own
steps were blended with my memories of years
ago. I took multiple steps, several at a time,
knowing where each foot would land. What I
might do if I slipped, or if a reptile appeared.
We found ways around rocks, down small ravines
that let us move along without any great exertion
yet we continued in an upward direction toward a
summit to a large flat rock maybe 50 yards long
and slightly raised. We had come to the end of
our choices. We were stuck. Beyond us on one
side was a 150 foot drop into another ravine. Off
another, we could see our RV. We’d climbed
over an hour, and had gone in a semi-circle.
Across the ravine was another set of rocks with
paths leading into, and around this maze.
It was surprising how easily we found our way
out. Keeping to the ravines, and always
downward, we soon came out onto the road,
with our RV in sight. Going back we took more
time. Less interested in conquering the
unknown, leaping from boulder to boulder, and
reliving our childhood adventures. In between
the boulders were shrubs, Creosote, and others.
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The ravines which catch water were filled with
small flowers, white, yellow, orange, red and pink.
Some were that pretty blue-green pale plant that
has such a fine scent, Sage.
We’ve seen several small animals near the RV. A
couple of long eared rabbits, kangaroo rats and
squirrels. But, on our way to Hidden Valley
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where all the rock climbers are we passed three
coyotes. In broad day light they ambled along,
stepping off the road long enough for us to go
by. One stopped under a Joshua tree and lay
down. They all looked mangy, and walked with
their head and tails down. There were more
campers, mostly tents at Hidden Valley, and the
boulders we’d been climbing on had grown by
four to 300 feet or more.
There were five or more climbers at different
levels on the rocks. All were clinging to their
ropes as they scaled their way up the sides.
About 250 feet off the floor was a slit in the
sandstone. There were two climbers taking a
break sitting on the ledge. We watched for an
hour before heading a little further west to look
down on the desert.
Key’s Summit was about 5,000 feet above sea
level. Palm Springs was in the distance, and just
below us we could make out this mole like rise,
the slight hump of the Colorado River under a
tunnel. Between the two must be where the San
Andreas Fault lies. Far off down the valley was
the shining Salton Sea.
When we returned to camp another RV had
taken our place. It only reminded us that we
needed a sign ‘THIS SITE IS TAKEN’ to post.
We drove a little further along and pulled into
another site.
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We hiked into the boulders again today. This
time it was a trail called ‘Skull Rock Trail’. One
of the rocks did look like it had deep set sockets
and high cheek bones. It was a fun hike, we
crunched along getting use to the sand.
Teddy Bears
On our way toward Nevada we stopped at The
Cactus Garden. The Ranger at the entrance told
us about a cactus that was very fluffy and
attractive. But, it was also dangerous. A poor
fellow had fallen into one earlier in the year, and
because of the many thorns they had to air lift
him to the Palm Springs hospital. We walked
around the paths, but few of the cactus were
blooming, like in Mexico several hundred miles
to the south.
The Teddy Bear however was full and inviting.
Some say their spires can jump out at you as you
pass. We didn’t believe that so we took turns
posing for photos, first Arlene stood behind as I
snapped; then me.
OOOps! I brushed against it and caught a few
thorns in my shirt. Worst of all, one jumped out
and gripped the arch of my left shoe. I took my
shirt off and gingerly started back to the truck.
When I took a step my right shoe, and sock
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brushed against the Teddy Bear and I was hand
cuffed, ankle to ankle. There was no way to
extract these spines on the trail unless I pulled
st
them out with my fingers. I’d left all our 1 aid
equipment in the RV. No thank you, particularly
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when I couldn’t tell if they were straight or
hooked on me like velcro. I unhooked my feet,
and moving like a drunken sailor I headed for the
RV.
At the RV Arlene got out another pair of shoes, a
pair of needle nose pliers and alcohol swabs.
Fortunately, there were only 3 thorns in my skin
which came out straight away.
Arlene took my shirt, and began removing them
from it, while I sat back to rescue my shoes.
I took off each shoe and started plucking the
spines out, one at a time. Several were imbedded
a quarter of inch or more and unless they were
removed in the same direction that they went in
they tended to break off.
It took about 20 minutes to remove them all and
I swabbed my ankle with alcohol then put my
trusty Merrill’s back on. It was a good thing we
had pliers, as tweezers never would have pulled
them out.
A little further along we came across a couple of
Ironwood trees. They are another marker
between the upper and lower desert. They thrive
in the lower desert. We had wondered down
further than expected.
They were on the side of the road, soaking up as
much water runoff as possible. In full bloom the
blossoms are just a little larger than their leaves,
and that’s small. They look like tiny orchids, pale
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gray, wine red, blue and purplish. They cluster 5
or 6 to a small stem an inch long, and grow out
of a pod which is another color of dusty blue
green-gray.
If you could keep them watered and stay away
from the thorns they would make an attractive
landscaping tree. So many of these desert plants
have thorns to protect themselves.
We pulled over and I selected a new straight
walking stick. In minutes I was all scratched up
by the thorns, but my small 4 inch Swiss Army
knife, saw blade made short work of the branch.
Thanks to my brother Joe we now had several
sticks; all at different levels of completion.
Stripped of bark, sanded but only the Cedar he
helped Arlene and I make was oiled and finished.
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We had a crooked Mesquite, and a Palo Verde.
The latter hopefully will turn out to be green,
while the Ironwood could be black.
We’re headed across the Mojave Desert into
Mojave City, and up the western side of the
Sierra Nevada’s to Sequoia National Park. This
desert is a perfect place for Air Force flight
Testing. There’s nothing but sand as far as you
can see. The wind blows constantly, at 30-40
mph.
We stopped in Mojave City to get some propane.
Was it a bargain? $4.00 a pound, minimum of 5
pounds. Yipes!!. Our next stop was on the
entrance road at Lemon Cove, a small town with
the last gas before Sequoia.
We were both tired from the long day, but only
had 20 more miles to the campground. It
however took us forever to get there. 2 hours up
the mountain roads, switching back and forth.
What a road.
Sequoia National Park
Up and up, around and around each turn a
complete switchback from one valley to another.
At one pull off we could see the granite peaks
way above us.
We continued climbing without seeing any
Sequoia’s. Further and further up, back and
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forth. I’d say it was a pleasant drive, circling
around the curves. And then, we came across a
single tree, It was a monster. Then more and
more trees appeared.
We finally arrived at the Lodgepole Campground.
Worn out we searched for our campsite, #168.
It was among the 200 in camp, tucked between
granite boulders and on the side of a hill. A lousy
spot. But, with Arlene’s help we were able to
back in and get the trailer level. With no
electricity we could feel the sun setting over the
pacific, and the cool temperature lowering.
Arlene had collected our sleeping bags out of the
van. We’d need them as it was going to freeze
before morning.
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Now this was quite a place, and before we took
in the trees and the mountains we went to the
Visitors Center to get acquainted.
Years ago the park supervisors were encouraged
to go a-la-natural because of a few incidents.
These trees have very shallow roots, and have
been known to fall over. One disaster occurred
when a tree fell over crushing several families
having a picnic and enjoying a leisurely day.
Another occurred at a lecture in an amphitheater
when a sewage pipe burst and flooded the
theater. They stopped most of the tourist
attractions, removing the bear shows, cabins and
gas stations.
In their place they built several small, packed
campgrounds (200 each) with water and toilets
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the only facilities. Now there are several camps,
a museum, a small picnic area, two visitor
centers, and one market place without gas.
Giants
We had given up on the trees as we climbed up
the western side of the Sierra Nevada mountains..
But after that they appeared. Huge, with red
bark, fuzzy like mohair, and tops so high they hid
the light. The average tree lives a couple of
thousand years. They think some are over 3,000.
The higher you go the steeper the mountain, until
it goes above the tree line and then it’s all granite.
We’re just below the granite, in the forest of
giants; tall Pines, Cedars and Sequoias. Their
thick canopy doesn’t let much light through yet
with so little vegetation we could see a long way
across the ground until the trees closed in on us.
The forest is covered with 5 or 6 feet of rich
decayed matter, needles that make a bed that we
can walk across without making a sound. I’ve
always wanted pine forests for the canopy, the
openness of the forest floor and the quiet, soft
footing of the fallen needles.
This fellow might have been a seedling during the
Golden Age of Greece in 800 B.C. Imagine that.
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.
Their root systems are so shallow that they
should fall over years before they grow to a
mature height. But, it’s believed their branches
grow in a balanced manner allowing them to
stand for centuries. They are also believed to
grow to a certain height, and maturity before
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filling out. This last growth period is called their
‘Monarch’ stage. A period where they bulk up.
We saw some 12 year old trees that were about
10 feet tall and 3 inches in diameter. Clearly in
no hurry to reach their Monarch stage. Although
they seem to respond to heat and especially fire,
when in their growing period.
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This little one is supposed to be 5 years old. It
came from a seed the size of an oat grain and a
cone the size of a baby 2 year olds fist.
We started early in the morning on the park
shuttle. It dropped us off near the General
Sherman Tree. Yes it’s named after the infamous
Union solider who pillaged the South during the
Civil War. We walked down the mountain slope
½ a mile toward General Sherman , switching
back and forth.
It’s the largest and oldest that’s been discovered
in the park. So large that it’s impossible to take a
picture of it. We could either snap a shot toward
the top or we could take one of the bottom, but
never the entire 2,200 year old tree. General
Sherman in it’s Monarch stage.
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We stayed around General Sherman talking,
marveling at it, and watching others as they came
and went. Mostly they walked around the huge
base in awe, and took family pictures. We
wondered how many times they had come to see
the General.
th
In the early years of the 20 century they carved
out the center of one of these trees and made a
tunnel that cars and trucks could drive through.
It makes a spectacular picture, but you can see by
the size of this tree and Arlene that the cars
weren’t like they are today. They were much
smaller and narrower.
Inside the tree we could see two major layers. A
yellowish layer several inches thick on the outside
and the rest a rich mahogany red, possibly all
heart wood.
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It’s rings of life were so worn by travelers that we
couldn’t count them. How they learn the age of
these trees is a mystery to us as they don’t always
grow a ring each year.
We suspect they grew according to the weather.
The dryer the climate the slower and closer the
rings; wet years wider rings.
But, let us wonder a bit about these living giants.
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Imagine if we had a life span 300 years, 1/10 of
their lives. How would we spend it? Would we
wait like them for an opportune time to grow?
They like fire and grow quickly after one. Yet we
saw some trees that after a several decades were
still less than 10 feet tall. So like them would we
take our time into adolescence? Adult hood? and
senior years? How might we change our lives?
In our travels we’ve heard stories about many of
the wonders of our lands. Pioneers and hunters
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often were forgiven for their ridiculous, wild fibs
about the boiling caldrons and geysers of
Yellowstone, or the valley where nothing lives.
There are also stories about these trees. How big
and where they were. Even if you knew, could
you describe them? Would anyone believe you?
One story about a low lander who shot a grizzly,
but didn’t kill it. He tracked it high into the
Sierra’s and came across these giants trees. He
was amazed and told everyone about the giant
trees, as well as the huge bear. Some story, just
like us finally driving up high enough too the
trees.
Some local Indians told a farmer where there
were summer meadows high in the mountains
where he could graze his cattle.
Neither of these stories are very believable,
especially the grizzly. We know that there were
no large wild animals in the western mountains
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before 20 century folks chased them up here.
(A major problem for Lewis and Clarke who’s
diet was mostly protein, almost starved crossing
the Bitterroot Mountains in Idaho.) Even today
there are no known Grizzlies in the Sierra
Nevada Mountains.
Between these stories and tall trees we made it
back to the shuttle and camp. It was another
long day. As we said good-by to the trees and
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arrived back at camp a deer stood behind our
trailer. It didn’t run it just stared at us.
Tokopah Valley Falls
Through the meadows around us, above the giant
trees lay these granite mountains. There was a
stream rushing down, and above was the
Tokopah Valley Falls. We only needed to follow
the trail beside the stream near camp to them.
We started out dressed for the chilly morning,
but before long realized we should change.
Upon returning and dressing in shorts and solar
shield shirts, a friendly camper told us that the
sign at the trail head had lost a digit. It wasn’t 1.7
miles. It was 11.7 miles to the falls. Really,
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probably a bit more than we could handle. But,
lets see.
Usually when I look at streams or rivers I think
about how to run them with a kayak. Not that
I’d really do it anymore. I just see where the
route might be or if it could be done. I’d made
several observations. The water was ice cold and
cloudy. It’s not glacial, but snow melt, so there
must be a source near the top, above the falls.
There’s lots of water. I mean lots; torrents. It
might slow down as the summer progresses, but
for now it would sweep anyone away.
We‘ve realized that there was only a thin layer of
dirt over the granite. Therefore there was no
sand, no shore line, only boulders. Because of
the severe drop from the canyon walls it’s almost
entirely rapids.
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No craft of any kind could traverse this river.
That’s how fast, how rough and how rugged the
downhill force of this stream moved.
After seeing several bear in Yosemite, we should
have redoubled our reminders for carrying our
backpack with survival gear, and bear spray. But,
because there were so many hikers on the trail we
left them behind only taking a couple of bottles
of water. Relying on others is a bad way to start
a hike.
Bears: Black and Brown
After a short while the fisherman code came into
play, fewer and fewer hikers. It was then that we
came upon this bear, a large, 250 maybe 300
pounder. It was a black bear, one that climbs
trees and terrorizes everyone; up and down the
east coast. Now we don’t suggest that anyone
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get close enough to these bears to tell the
difference between them and grizzles.
But, look at this picture, not for the beautiful
brown coat, but the flat back. (Bears can be any
color, from gray to brown to black, and be
Grizzlies or not.) Grizzlies have a prominent
hump on their back.
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It was foraging in one of the small meadows just
above the trail, about 30 – 40 yards away. Like
idiots we stood and watched. Because the trail
passed him we could choose to turn around or go
past; further up the mountain. We chose to go
past.
I’d say this bear had very good manners as it
didn’t once pay any attention to us. Even when
we were making ourselves as large as the Sequoia
Trees, nor when we continued by making lots of
noise. We wondered if like the Indian tales the
bear said to itself….’It’s just another of human
tourist making fun with me. Ho! Hum!’
Hopefully it wouldn’t be there on our way back.
The trail was in good shape. It had been rebuilt
by the Park Service with gifts from some wealthy
philanthropic folks, at a cost of $300,000. It was
a fine trail, until they neared the granite walls
where they ran out of money.
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That’s near the top and the trail turns completely
to granite. Climbing over boulders, even if it’s a
path isn’t easy. When they skirt around 40 foot
rocks, under overhangs and along 50 foot drops.
That’s sudden death if you slip as below are more
granite boulders which have slid down the shear
mountain side at one time or another.
We introduced our new hiking style on these
cliffs. Hike a while stop, rest. Have a drink,
watch the Marmots, draw a picture, have a drink
then hike a little more.
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On our way back there was another bear. This
one was smaller yet closer. We came upon it
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after fording a couple of many streams that ran
into our river. This stream was the most difficult
to cross as it was 10 feet wide but had a log
which tempted us to try balancing upon it to stay
dry. I made it across, and took a long branch to
extend it to Arlene. She used it like a hand rail
and we both crossed safely and dry.
Both the bear and us were now on the same side
of the creek, and only 30 feet away from each
other. Thankfully it was showing the same good
manners of the other with no interest in us. It’s
protein must have been from the insects and
decayed logs which fell apart under it’s strength.
We didn’t hike 11 miles, but far enough the we
were really tired when we got back to camp.
After dinner we examined a couple of our health
issues. Since Mexico, a couple of weeks ago
Arlene had a sore neck. We don’t know what it
was, but had been rubbing it and using Ben-Gay.
It seems that our ailments take much longer to
heal. Hopefully it’s a sore muscle and will clear
up before we get over to Death Valley.
On the other hand I have had dizzy spells. When
I roll from side to side, or focus the camera into
the sky and then down to the ground. My doctor
thought it might be debris in my ear effecting my
equilibrium. Earlier this year I was doing
crunches, in our strength training class, when I
was struck by vertigo that kept me from getting
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up. Like all of those spells they haven’t lasted
long but, they are continuing.
Our first stop on the way off the Mountain, was
again at Lemon Cove for gas. We then moved
back south to Bakersfield and across the Mojave
to Las Vegas.
But stay with us as our story will go further north
along California route 95 to Litchfield and
Yosemite.
Litchfield
Miles north of Joshua Tree, and Sequoia National
Parks, just outside of nowhere, is one of the
Federal Governments Wild Horse Corrals. We
stopped to see what it was about. Wild horses
have been around the Southwest since the
Spaniards. After each war the U.S. freed Calvary
horses, and whenever we’ve had tough times
feeding and keeping them ranchers let the horses
go also.
A federal law in 1971 was passed trying to
manage these herds. They have been a big
problem, often rounded-up and either sold for
glue, or to countries like Europe where horses are
eaten like we do beef.
In California there are over 20 wild horse areas,
all East of Interstate 5, which is mostly arid and
poor land. Palm Canyon, where we hiked was
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one area. We only saw birds, never one horse.
Litchfield was the first Corral opened in 1976. It
encompasses 80 acres.
Round-up’s are held when there seems to be too
many animals or they may be either endangering
themselves, or the environment.
For us it’s a really interesting place. For others it
may be ‘good riddance to a pain in the neck’.
These animals over populate, chase live stock and
ruin pastures, during good years. During bad
ones they suffer from malnutrition.
Wild horses are known as Mustangs. They have
great stamina, and are prized by ranchers. From
the time they are rounded-up to adoption takes
about 35 to 50 days.
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When first brought in they are called ‘un-gentled’.
If, and when broken, they become ‘Gentled’.
We suppose Lynn Izack the Lieutenant from
Aztec, New Mexico would relish the opportunity
to ‘Gentle’ some of these horses.
The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) sells
them for as little as $4.00 each. However, it was
explained to us that we had to know how to care
for them, be able to feed and house them until
they are officially titled by the BLM. Transferring
Title may take over a year. During that time the
BLM may come and inspect them. Once you’ve
paid your $4 bucks you’ve paid your $4 bucks
you have to take them away in a normal horse
trailer. A trailer with a roof, non-skid floor, and a
swing gate, not a drop down gate. Had we
qualified, we could choose any horse we wanted.
We both wanted a Pinto.
These horses kept their eyes on us as we walked
around the corral. They didn’t look too happy,
but while in the corral they are introduced to
domestically grown hay and fed, and given a
series of shots and wormed. There were horses
in several corrals.
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We looked them all over, as they did us. Our
choice was this Pinto. Had we qualified we
would have had to talk Russell Beckwith into
keeping it, and of course ‘gentleing’ it. He would
love to hear us ask him to ‘Gentle’ the horse
instead of break it.
He has several horses that looked pretty wild to
us. He may not ride them much until hunting
season. Then he must ‘re-gentle’ them so he can
ride and pack them into the mountains instead of
walking.
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Mono Lake
It’s probably apparent that we’ve stayed on the
eastern side of California. Like the Wild Horse
areas it’s arid and mostly desert. We’ve now
moved north toward Yosemite National Park.
The Big Basin Desert runs further north into
Oregon and western Washington. It’s beautiful
country, but for now this is our limit, as far as
we’ll go.
Yosemite is a large park. The Valley, is on the
west, where every tourist visits. Then there’s the
eastern side, 95% of the park. Like fishermen and
hunters, a couple miles beyond Yosemite Valley,
there are very few tourists or campers. We drove
up along the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada, to
Lee Vinning, camping outside the park.
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It’s a private campground on a grassy hill, not too
flat, but our fridge worked. Across from us was
this rolly-polly character in a broken down rig.
He greeted us as we settled in, asking. ‘Have we
ever been to Alaska?’ We greeted him back .
‘Sure.’ With a wave of our hand. ‘ Well then you
know where ‘Chicken’ is. But do you know how
it got it’s name.’ It’s the Alaskan state bird, but
no one could spell …’PTARMIGAN’…. So they
called it Chicken.’
My! Oh! My! this is going to be a good visit.
At the Park’s Eastern Visitors Center, we talked
to a Ranger who gave us a lot of information
about the park, and the lake across the road.
That was Mono Lake, another of those strange
watering holes that had no natural outlet. It’s fed
from the mountain streams, then sits until it
evaporates. These towers are salt deposits
formed from the evaporation. Mark Twain, who
lived, and began writing near here, described the
hard water lake as. ‘One bar of soap would clean
the whole cavalry.’ That’s enough said about
the lake.
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Yosemite National Park
We started early in the morning. The climb to
almost 10,000 feet to the Tioga Pass. It’s a 8-10
mile terrifying climb. On the outside this narrow
park road drops into the canyon, into oblivion,
and on the inside; our side on the way up, was a
shear cliff.
It’s hard to describe this scenery as awesome,
but, it was. The road’s not traveled much and
during the winter they don’t bother to plow. At
the pass we were above the tree line, and it’s a
granite wonderland. It was so pleasant we took
our time driving across the 50 miles to The
Valley, stopping often. We’ve never been in a
granite world like this, even Ansel Adams’
photographs didn’t prepare us.
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Imagine black speckled gray Granite hills, rolling
over the valleys with bowls of ice cold green blue
lakes, surrounded by Ponderosa Pines. Meadows
with high brilliant green grasses, with deer, and
bear feeding and drinking from the winter
streams.
The Valley
Entering The Valley was a little different. All of
California was visiting. We waited in line for 20
minutes, 30 minutes, an hour. Arlene’s patience
are so handy in these situations. I was ready to
go back to a lake and put the kayaks in the water.
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Of course we were glad we didn’t turn back. The
Valley is sensational. Everything we described
coming across the top, was here in a miniature
model. The 2,000 foot Yosemite Falls cradles the
valley on one side and El Capitan on the other.
Meadows and tall pines filled the floor.
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The stream’s current flows strongly around large
boulders on the way out of the valley.
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We hiked around, visited the gift shops and
prepared to leave by mid afternoon. Another
wait of an hour in all the traffic, and we were
back on top headed for the pass.
Tanaya Lake
We’d seen Tanaya Lake on the way. It was a no-
brainer to stop. The blue-green waters were icy
cold, with a grove of pines and a sandy beach
near the road. A short lift of the kayaks and we
were ready to push off.
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We paddled from one end of the lake to the
other, into the wind, then relaxing on our way
back, enjoying the beautiful scenery. There was a
brood of ducks, 7,or 8 little ones that we harassed
for a while before they paddled out of the way.
We were pretty tired after loading the boats and
starting again toward the pass. Neither of us
were excited about the 10 mile drive down the
canyon on the outside lane. In fact, I tried our
emergency brakes and found it to be as soft as
the foot pedal.
We proceeded, slowly under 30 mph with the
terrible thought that if we couldn’t stop, we’d
steer into the wall.
Brake problems cause night mares, and we both
had them. Early the next morning I had the
Nova at Les Schaub’s garage in Reno. They
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replaced the brake shoes and drums and adjusted
the emergency brake.
We always have the vehicles examined before
leaving on a trip. Probably the breaks were worn
down, because we’d driven with them partially on
while pulling the Nova. In any case they showed
me brake shoes that were wafer thin. Really
scary!
We had driven to Reno to have the breaks fixed.
From there we would stay a few days, go to Lake
Tahoe and then cross Nevada, The Great Basin
Desert, along U.S. Route 50 to Utah and the
Great Salt Lake.
But, our story continues into Las Vegas, and
onward to Death Valley.
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