Mammoth morning

I woke early and headed up to the Lake Mary area. It was quiet and quite lovely.

Well boiled

This morning I met up with a friend for a soak/bath at one of the many hot springs in the area. It wasn’t my favorite, but it was roomy enough for sufficient social distancing.

Photo from a different visit

Much better

Inyo National Forest near Mammoth Lakes, California

 I fled the triple digit heat of the desert and found refuge up in the mountains. It’s so nice I might stay a week or two.

Which way did I end up going?

Hint: I’m writing this in a rest stop outside Reno.

So I chose south instead of north. I spent last night in a patch of National Forest near Alturas, California. Then, as the sun was rising, I headed south and a little east, into Nevada.

Since the highway I was on is so lightly traveled, neither California or Nevada bothered to denote the state line, so I don’t which state I was in (other than a state of contentment) when I encountered this cattle drive. Moments before I shot this video, about half the herd had slipped into the pasture in the background, but a pair of dogs rounded them up.

There were two reason for taking this route. One was to avoid some wild fires, one of which was right next to US 395. The other was to go to the Burning Man site—even though there’s no gathering this year. Hell, I went because there’s no gathering. I had the whole place to myself. No traffic, no need to be hip. I could pretend I was the Burning Man, but without the unpleasantness of actually being on fire. Or the incessant pounding of EDM.

Made it out, but now where?

Decision to be made

Tomorrow is another day

This afternoon I was in no mood to tackle the wretched road out of Crack In the Ground. So I’m staying the night. It’s BLM land. Of course, I might never be in the mood to drive thirteen miles of nasty washboard. I’ll have to do it eventually. How many days’ food do I have?

What’s it worth?

An Oregon slot canyon named Crack in the Ground (imaginative name, no?) is thirteen miles down probably the worst washboard I’ve ever driven. Driving slowly didn’t help. Driving quickly didn’t help. But the canyon was nice, even if it was kind of short.

Dream life

Last night I dreamed I was at some kind of weeks-long outdoor retreat/workshop/conference/adventure with several dozen people. Among the instructions: we will be moving camp every day or two. When the first order to move came, some people started complaining that they had just gotten settled in. I said to the person next to me, “So, the settlers among us are revealing themselves.”

This dream is about me, of course. I’m in this game to travel, to move, to do it easily, with as few complications as I can. For me, “setting up camp” means parking and putting out the step. Maybe a chair if I’m going to be staying a while, and if the weather is good. 

I think I understand those who put out rugs and tables and awnings and loungers and grills and lights and flags and tiki torches and hummingbird feeders and… It’s what they like. It makes them happy. It’s just not me.

I have almost no need anymore to feel “settled in.” Not to get too philosophical here, but maybe it’s because these days I feel more settled within myself. Wherever I go, there I am, and I’m home. Maybe? Anyway, it’s working for me.

Enough of a good thing

The Coast was wonderful. Ocean and redwood forests. A good urban boondocking spot, with free wifi. And fresh bagels nearby. But like they say, leave the party while it’s still going strong. And like they also say, push away from the table before you’re stuffed.

So I’m back inland, at the quarry between Medford and Klamath Falls. Then I’ll travel northeast through Oregon to Idaho, follow the Salmon River north to the panhandle, then east into Montana again. Or something like that.

Walking high and low

For a lot of people (including me), Trees of Mystery is nothing more than a quick stop to take a photo with Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. But after years of passing by, I was there this morning waiting for the doors to open so I could hike their trails—particularly the Redwood Canopy “trail” suspended up in the trees.

Then I rode the Skytrail aerial tram (the operator said I was the first passenger of the day) to the top of the Wilderness Trail. I was alone for that hike. Most people ride the tram back down.

The parking lot was full and the joint was jumpin’ by the time I got to the bottom. And bought a sticker for my collection.

Saturated and desaturated

It’s one of those typical days along the coast. Overcast with fog and occasional drizzle. Fog is 100% humidity. The air can’t hold any more water without it turning to rain. And, of course, decreased sunlight means desaturated colors. So much gray.

Mask up, everyone

Even Paul and Babe wear masks at Trees of Mystery, Klamath CA. Paul’s does no good, though, since he doesn’t cover his nose. But Babe has a special mask. It’s cow-moo-flage.

One morning, two shops

 It’s Monday and the automotive folks are back at work. So I was off bright and early to get some minor stuff done.

First up, tire rotation

Then down the street for a change of automatic transmission fluid

I could’ve had these things done while the power steering was being repaired, but I was suffering too much from sticker shock and had them do just the immediate and essential things.

Let me make this clear

 I spent the night and most of the day in the parking lot of the closed-for-pandemic community center in Arcata, California. There are a handful of other vehicle dwellers here, too. Some, like me, are passing through, but most are making it their home. It must be cool, because the police stopped by to calmly chat with a few of them and left without rousting anyone.

Then, a little while ago, a charitable young woman carrying a large box asked if I needed any food. 

“I’m fine, thank you. In fact, I’m in the middle of making clarified butter.”

“Oh, wow, that sounds good. Well, have a nice night.”

“That depends on how this butter turns out."

Not bad, I think.

The early bird gets the parking space

 I was up and on the road before the sun cleared the eastern horizon. Two reasons: I wanted the morning light, and I wanted to beat the Saturday crowds.

An online recommendation sent me to the Stout Grove trail in Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park, at the north end of a cluster of redwood forest parks between Crescent City and Klamath (not to be confused with the village of False Klamath, or Klamath Falls OR). There was only one other vehicle there. Yes! 

Stout Grove is a short loop, with a bunch of small unofficial trails wandering among the trees, but it takes a while to walk. Proper gawking and photography requires time, man.