Stars, clouds, mountains

The past couple of nights it was too cold to be out shooting sky photos. It was a little warmer tonight, partly because of some clouds. Others also thought it was a good night to shoot, and from pretty much the same spot. We exchanged photography tips.

"What're you shooting at?"

"Twenty seconds at f4 and ISO6400."

"Yup."

I never know what I'm going to get until I start making exposures. How would the clouds interact with the stars? This time it was kind of cool. A large cloud cut through the Milky Way. It was almost like the stars were sparks shooting out a volcano (which the mountain used to be) and the cloud was smoke.

Great Basin National Park, Wheeler Peak Campground

Ten miles of twisting, 8% grade is absolutely worth it

I found a sunny campsite amongst the aspens and firs. The sites are nicely separated. Vault toilets and water spigots scattered about. Very quiet and the air is delicious, which is good, since the elevation has me gasping for breath with the slightest exertion. Must acclimate. Even though I'm at 9,657 feet, I was sufficiently warm during the night.

The fix needs fixing

If you've been following the blog for a few months, you know one of the aluminum roof rack uprights broke and I repaired it with a couple steel L-brackets. Oooo, steel!

Well, now they've broken.

It's not like I've been driving a lot of rough roads. But I guess expansion joints and the occasional pothole can do their damage. Oh well, I'll have to come up with something stronger. In the meantime...

Living ghost town

Yesterday I drove east a few hours through Nevada on US50, known as the Loneliest Road in America. Things don't get lonely, though, until the other side of Fallon where civilization and traffic eventually thin out. However, there's usually another vehicle or two in sight at any time.

Some parts of Nevada look like this

Nevada has the most mountain ranges of any state. In between are large flat basins. Driving across the state means flats, mountains, flats, mountains, flats, mountains...

About halfway across, in one of the passes, is the former mining town of Austin. Elevation: 6,605 feet. Population: 192. Number of churches: 3. Number of bars: 5.

The library is between two bars, unless Austin Library is the sarcastic name of another bar

The place seemed semi-deserted when I was there. It could be everyone was at work. If so, I pity their commutes.

All because of Yogi and Boo-Boo

Even though Lake Tahoe is encircled by civilization, bears occasionally wander in from the mountains looking for dinner. So there are bear boxes in the campground.

Bear boxes (which should really be called anti-bear boxes) are no big deal if you're an occasional camper. Everything that should go in the bear box is probably already gathered in a container or two. That's how you loaded it into your vehicle along with your gear. And you can just put your cooler and the refrigerated items it contains right into the box.

But it's such a bother (Pooh bear allusion) for us long-term/full-time campers. All our stuff is put away in cupboards and refrigerators. I had to gather everything up into trash bags and take it in the bear box.  (I understand stowing things that give off enticing aromas, but bears can smell through cans?) There was no way I was going to empty my fridge, though. I would take that risk.

There were no bear tracks in my campsite this morning, unless Yogi has started wearing shoes or riding a bicycle.

The up side of this exercise, though, is that I was able to discard some old canned foods. If I hadn't eaten that chili in all this time, I probably never would. And I was able to redistribute some items and make more room in the cupboard. It was like spring cleaning. Good for me.

One last beach, but not an ocean

Nevada Beach, Lake Tahoe

Woo, that's brisk

I had checked the forecasts, so I knew what to expect. And I knew the temperature decreases about five degrees for every thousand foot gain in elevation. And, you know, summer is winding down and all that. So I was prepared for a 30-something overnight temperature last night near Truckee.

It's just that it was more of a mental adjustment. Okay, this is where I am now, and this is what it's like here. Put the shorts away. Get the fleece handy.

The good thing, though, is that I don't need to struggle with sleeping in a too-warm van. Gotta keep the head warm, though.

So, here are some photos from around the campsite. What happens when the reservoir is very low for several years? The former lake bed starts to return to its pre-dam state.

Looks like some beavers have learned masonry

Going against the flow

I pulled out of San Francisco at about 8:30 this morning and headed up I-80 toward Reno. The roads were almost empty. Most folks were sleeping in, having a leisurely breakfast. Y-a-a-a-a-a-a-w-n.

Little by little, the traffic heading the opposite direction started to build. People were beginning to head home from their three-day weekend in the mountains. And in the casinos. And at Burning Man. By the time I got to Auburn, traffic was at a crawl. Donner Pass was stop-and-go. Truckee was a parking lot. I pitied them, but I was glad for myself. I was going where they had just left.

By the time I arrived at Boca Rest campground, all but three campsites were empty. Now, a few hours later, I'm the only one here other than the camp host.

Summer is over for those with jobs and school. Now we retirees and vagabonds get to enjoy things out here in the sticks. At least until we overrun the warm[er] places in the winter.

So long, California and the ocean. For now.

Rollin' rollin' rollin'

I might try riding a Segway someday, but not in a group of tourists

It's "hostel," not "hostile"

Where can one stay in San Francisco for $44/night that doesn't involve crashing with friends or sleeping under a bush? Where can one park for that little? If you don't mind sharing a room with strangers, then the hostel at Fort Mason. They call the location "San Francisco Fisherman's Wharf" because that's better known than Fort Mason. San Franciscans would roll their eyes.

Mine's the lower bunk by the window

I've met two of my roommates. One's from Ireland and the other from Australia. If there's too much snoring, farting or other unpleasantness (from them or me) I can retreat to the Rolling Steel Tent, then come in to use the showers and wifi.

I used to live a few streets from here

Visit from the neighbors

Early evening, a mess of quail would come out of the hillside brush to forage in the campground. I counted 37 of them as the scurried across the road. Last evening they were right outside the Rolling Steel Tent.

Montaña de Oro State Park

This is my next-to-last stop by the ocean before I head inland for, oh, several months. Or maybe not. A few weeks, anyway. We'll see.

Montaña de Oro State Park is on a rugged section of coast west of San Luis Obispo and south of Morro Bay. The road in is narrow and winding, and the campsite pads are short, discouraging larger rigs. It's mostly tent campers, small trailers and some weird old guy in a van. There are trails along the bluffs and up into the hills. The weather was perfect.

No Winnebago Braves?

Zooming past Zuma