Idaho! - Summer Trip 2011 Part 1

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We had some definite set plans but we also built a little time in for days with no set destinations. Some things worked out, others didn’t, but we sure got our feet wet and discovered new places we will return to. This trip approached epic adventure status.

Our two fixed plans were a backpacking trip into the Frank Church Wilderness followed by another into the Sawtooth Wilderness of central Idaho. We enjoy the travel to and back almost as much as the main destinations. We hate the Interstate so we devised an interesting route to get us to McCall, Idaho and our rendezvous with our companions on our trip into the “Frank,” brother “Fastshot” from Colorado and my cousin from Washington, “The Big Guy”.

We headed out early and did our first breakfast on the road at the Roadrunner in Dayton, Nevada. From there we headed through Fernley, Nixon, past Pyramid Lake, made a stop in Gerlach, and on to lunch in the central park in Cedarville, California. From there we headed through Vya, Nevada and across the Sheldon Wildlife Refuge. If you’re thinking about visiting Sheldon, I’d hold off until the pipeline project is done. Driving down a graded dirt road with a posted speed limit of 40 mph and being caught and passed by many construction vehicles, including 18 wheelers, going 60 to 65 mph was a bit of a distraction. We stopped at Virgin Springs and decided to go a bit farther. Topping the gas tank off at Denio Junction with expensive fuel was worth it to visit with the folks having their evening beverages outside and listening to them swapping stories with one another. The Lady talked with the women folk inside the bar (a bathroom break) and came back with the information that the county road we wanted was not marked with the number but was called “White Horse Ranch Road”. We were looking for a spot for the night high up in the Trout Creek Mountains of southern Oregon. We hit the top and spotted a two track dirt road that headed down a line fence. The gates were posted as BLM land. We drove about 3 miles and came to a plateau that offered a view to the northwest of the eastern escarpment of Steens Mountain. This would do!

We set up and enjoyed dinner. On our evening walk we watched a large thunderstorm moving to the north. Overnight we were hit hard with an impressive storm that was still lingering at sunup the next morning.

First light on Steens Mountain.

As much as we enjoy our customary first breakfast on the road in small town café, nothing beats a breakfast spot like this watching a sunrise all alone.

From here we headed down past the White Horse Ranch

and continued to find historic spots to stop at along the way.

We filled up the gas tank in Jordon Valley and headed north on the dirt road to Succor Creek, one of Dirty Dog’s recommended spots.

It is an interesting geological area so we settled in and spent the night. We were up early enough before sunup that a photo of the setting full moon was in order over our campsite.

It was now Sunday and time to head to McCall and rendezvous with the boys. There must be a brew pub in McCall. We figured that’s where we’d find them.

Ospreys are about our favorite birds. They fish with reckless abandon. Getting the fish is their main focus. They plunge into the water. Getting back out and getting airborne again looks secondary. They are so successful, bald eagles, our national symbol; get most of their fish by stealing from osprey. That just seems fitting on so many levels…………..

Our most memorable osprey experience was in Cooks Lake Basin in the Wind Rivers several years ago. A pair of osprey were teaching their offspring to fish. When the young ones would hesitate to dive a parent would knock them out of the sky into the water. We roared with laughter as it happened over and over and delighted in witnessing this event.

McCall sits on the south end of Payette Lake. It is beautiful country and an incredible location for this small city. Late afternoon after meeting up with our companions, we were sitting in Rotary Park right on the lakeshore. Motorboats running across the lake, families enjoying the water at the beach, people disregarding the “no dogs on beach” signs, and ospreys picking off trout all caught our eye. The ospreys would rotate their catch in their talons until the trout was head first and aerodynamic as they headed toward us and flew overhead. As we sat we could hear the distinctive osprey “chirp”. Investigating, we saw the nest was in the highest fir, right in the park. You got to like a town with an osprey nest right in the middle of the park where, without concern, the adults rip fish apart and feed their young.

The next morning we had a long drive to the trailhead at Big Creek. The estimate I had heard for taking the 65 mile drive was 2 hours. It took us 3.5 hours to go the 75 miles.

Do this drive. It is spectacular. We took Lick Creek Road east out of McCall. Soon it turns to dirt and then gets narrower and narrower as it climbs. It crosses the divide between the Payette River drainage and the Salmon River. We were stopped at this pass as a grader opened the road. The long hard winter snows we had here at home was also felt here in the Idaho high country. From the top the road makes a long descent until hitting the South Fork of the Salmon River. We were heading to the small hamlet of Yellow Pine so we took the road up the East Fork of the South Fork of the Salmon. All rivers were high and roaring. There is much opportunity for dispersed camping in this area of the Payette National Forest. This would make a great place just to wander in, explore, and enjoy.

More on Yellow Pine later.

Just past Yellow Pine we turned northeast on Big Creek Road. This road climbs out of the South Fork drainage and crosses a high pass and then down into the Middle Fork Salmon River drainage. It is a steeply climbing dirt road. We were stopped by a road crew with an excavator repairing damage caused by two huge landsides. This road was just opening up also.

Go to Big Creek. The road drops into Big Creek Valley (a major tributary to the Middle Fork of the Salmon). It is really pretty country far away from anywhere. There is opportunity for dispersed camping.

You come to the settlement of Big Creek itself and at the end of the road is the airstrip. This is a different world, a backcountry grass airstrip in the bottom of a remote canyon, and incredible mountain homes that people who pay tax attorneys rather than taxes access with their private planes. It is a hell of a long ways out there.

Our destination was the Big Creek Trailhead just past the airstrip.

Big Creek is special water for wild native cutthroat trout, catch and release only, all 34 miles of it below the trailhead before it joins the Middle Fork. This is why we were here.

Unfortunately, we picked the wrong year. Big Creek was not a big creek; it was a huge roaring torrent of a river. It was dangerous as others had apparently found out.

Wade into this river to fish, if you got knocked off your feet, you could die. It was six miles down before we found the first fishable water.

And, it was here we met the two characters, one from Spokane with his buddy from Tennessee. They had their backpacking camp set up above this spot. As the Big Guy and I approached, they were in a loud, friendly conversation with each other. They each were enjoying a can of beer.

“Oh, were sorry!” one of them said when they saw us. He said it in such a way that I was more than a little curious about the subject matter of their conversation we had missed.

The Big Guy has a nice way about him and soon had them chatting. We learned they had been here two years ago. One of the fellows gave a long and impressive list of places he had fly fished in the west and he concluded with the statement, “On our last trip this was the best fishing of my life, but, not this year! The river is more than twice as high. The brush along the river is three times as high and awful to get through and then you don’t dare go in the water, you could die. Did you see that kayak trapped in that log jam?”

“This spot below you is the first fishable spot we’ve seen. Can you get down to the water here?” I asked as I looked at an apparent steep trail over a huge downed log.

“Oh, it’s awful dangerous but you might be a bit spryer than me.”

“Big Guy, we can make it. Let’s give it a try down here.” I said after I dropped over the top of the log.

At the water’s edge we found a corral of sorts made out of rocks that held four floating cans of beer, cooling in the cold river. After we passed and moved out to the main river, one of the fellows easily climbed down, grabbed the beers, and headed back up.

The Lady and Fastshot joined us. The Big Guy hooked a stout feeling trout that he got a fleeting look at. It easily broke off in the heavy current.

As we climbed back up, we saw that, indeed, the cooling beers had been saved from possible theft, but we also saw hidden back in the brush three 18 can cases of Coors Light.

Big Creek looks like it could be an incredible wilderness fly fishing Mecca, unfortunately, not this year. The Lady and I will return.

I kept being reminded of one of my favorite lines from the movie, Tremors, “We picked the wrong damn day to leave Perfection!”

At least below our campsite was an osprey nest.

These two parents were not as accustomed to people as the McCall osprey. We all got strong warnings not to come too close.

The Lady was our navigator with the 7.5 quad on our Big Creek adventure. Showing on the map about a half mile below our camp was a small “x” and the word “Grave”. On our last evening we went searching.

Not bad for a final resting place.

Fastshot noted the small flintlock pistol impression adorning the concrete headstone.

One word of warning about this area, several fires had burned through in the past and trees are falling everywhere, even green ones are falling over or breaking off. Even with little wind we heard and saw trees just come down. On our final night in the canyon a small thunderstorm went through. The sound of falling trees was as loud as the thunder. This is a dangerous and scary place. We decided to go out a couple of days early.

This brings us to Yellow Pine. As we left the beer camp, the Big Guy chatted more with the two characters. They told us about Yellow Pine and hearing that we had just driven by on our way in, said we really needed to stop and to be sure and check out the nine hole golf course.

“You have to ask at the general store where it is and you have to check at the Silver Dollar to find out when the general store will be open,” they told the Big Guy.

Main Street Yellow Pine, Idaho

The General Store……………..

……..wasn’t open but there was a fellow and his border collie sitting outside at a table.

“How you doing today?” I asked.

“I love border collies!” the Lady added.

“Thanks, she’s a good dog,” the man replied.

“Full of energy? I bet she can jump! She’s pretty!” the Lady continued.

“Yup, you got that right,” he answered.

“What you working on?” The man had his laptop open.

“Oh, checking my emails.”

“What?” I was surprised.

“Yeah, who’d have thought? It was just a few years ago Yellow Pine got phone and electricity out here. Now they have Wi-Fi.”

“Know when the General Store will open?” I asked

“Gotta check up the street at the Silver Dollar. I’m just down here using the Wi-Fi.”

“Where’s the golf course around here?” I asked.

“I don’t know but I do know they got a bunch of clubs there you can use if you didn’t bring yours.”

The Lady and I had already stopped and talked with two women in front of the Silver Dollar Bar & Grill. They had asked where we were from, what we were up to, and if those other two fellows were with us. We filled them in and then walked down Main Street. We noticed right away that after we left other locals walked over to the women to find out about us. They were filling in one gentleman about us when we returned from the General Store.

Yellow Pine is just a fun town.

“Your two buddies are inside having a beer and Joyce is making them a burger. Joyce might know if the General Store might be open sometime today if you need something,” one of the women filled us in as the other finished up telling the gentleman we were from California.

We joined the boys inside the Silver Dollar.

After lunch we said good bye to the two nice women outside as we left. They hadn't moved.

“You coming back for the harmonica festival? It’s the first weekend in August,” one woman asked.

As we continued our Idaho adventure we were occasionally asked, “You going to the Harmonica Festival in Yellow Pine?”

http://www.harmonicacontest.com/

We really liked Yellow Pine.

Well, what to do? We had come out of Big Creek early and we still had a couple of days to spend with Fastshot and The Big Guy. We spent one day on the East Fork of the South Fork of the Salmon down from Yellow Pine. It was high but somewhat fishable. Small steelhead smolts would hammer our flies, but none of us brought up any big fish.

We headed back to McCall via the South Fork of the Salmon River and the road to Cascade. It’s a longer drive but not as rough as the Lick Creek Road. In McCall the boys hit the brew pub and the Lady and I hit the grocery store for fresh grub and bag of briquettes. The fellow at the fly shop suggested we fish the North Fork of the Payette River just south of McCall.

There is a piece of public land, BLM, and dispersed camping is allowed. We found a nice campsite, the water was warm, the fishing not so good, but we roasted fresh sweet corn on the coals, had a crunchy salad, and we provided the boys with Bitch Creek beer brewed in Driggs as the osprey kept watch.

The next morning we said good bye to the boys. Fastshot was heading home and then to his father-in-laws’ ninetieth birthday party in southern California. The Big Guy headed to central Oregon in search of serious trout where an eight pound, 23 inch wild rainbow counted as the high point.

The Lady & I hit the Laundromat to freshen up our backpacking clothes, repacked our packs, and got ready for the second phase of our trip. We headed out from McCall about midmorning with a full tank of gas. Our route was the Warm Lake Road east from Cascade, past Warm Lake and over the divide to Johnson Creek where we would hit the Landmark Stanley Road. This is mostly dirt and about 100 miles to Stanley. It was an enjoyable drive through beautiful country. It was also busy with people camped in almost every dispersed site along the way. The country was particularly nice over on the Stanley side, especially Elk Creek and Bear Valley Creek. These are creeks that flow into the Middle Fork of the Salmon and are all a wild trout and salmon fishery. Elk Creek and Bear Valley Creek are meadow creeks with good spawning habitat for Chinook salmon that are able to make it up over 700 miles from the Pacific.

We found a great campsite along Bear Valley Creek.

Tribal fishing is allowed for salmon. I’ll let these pictures speak for themselves.

I asked for and was given permission to take these photos. The Lady was brewing us a cup of coffee when I noticed the Indians arrive to fish. She heard the yelling but did not know what was going on. They moved on and I showed the Lady the photo of the two young men with the Chinook.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I have never seen a fish that big! I want to see a fish that big alive in this beautiful water!”

After dinner we quietly wandered the meadows and along the creeks. It was a beautiful night in beautiful country.

Although we searched a lot of water, we were unable to find a salmon for the Lady to see.

The next morning’s sunrise over Bear Valley Creek.

I don’t know if the structure is a frame works for a sweat lodge or if it is a rack for drying salmon. There is a rock fire pit in the center.

Continued in Part 2 - Click Here

The Great Great Basin - July 2011

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“Do you know how to get to Spencers Hot Springs?”

“Yes I do.” I answered.

“Tell her.”

The fellow questioning me was behind the counter at the gas station in Austin, Nevada. It was around six thirty in the evening. His manners were rough as I came in to pay for our fill up and his priority was obviously getting my money and not helping this young woman with directions. I figured he was the owner.

She looked up from a rudimentary map on the counter as I stepped closer. I gave her directions which she followed with ease. The attendant handed my card back as I finished, “We’re headed out that way now also.” I added.

“Ah, you can just follow him!” The attendant finished the conversation.

We had left home about mid afternoon getting a quick getaway for our adventures over the Fourth of July. We had first seen the two young women in the older white Toyota pickup pulled over in the middle of the Reese River Valley. They were fussing with something at the back of the truck and had caught our eye because it was the first vehicle on Highway 50 in over an hour. The Lady was driving. We were following the storm and had caught its edge in this valley. The windows were down and a few big splats had hit the windshield.

“I love the smell of summer rain from a thunderstorm and big drops on the windshield.” Simple things in life make the Lady smile.

“I figure they’re battening down the hatches in the event we get some real rain,” I said was we drove past.

They pulled in behind us in Austin as we filled up with gas. They both hopped out, one with a roll of duct tape, and went to work on the camper shell’s hatch. Afterward the smaller of the two went inside. That’s where the conversation took place. Her brown corduroy pants were dirty, I figured from several days on the road, living out of the truck. She was quiet but not shy. She looked me right in the eye. She had been on the road before.

These two were on an adventure. So were the Lady and me.

“What’s up?” the Lady asked as I climbed in to take over the driving duties.

“They’re on their way to Spencers and I gave them directions. When I said we were heading that way the gas station guy said they could follow us. Let’s see if they follow.” They did.

Our interest in the Great Basin is almost becoming an addiction. When we tell friends at home that we are headed, once again, for the middle of Nevada we can see a look of pity enter their eyes. I suspect the churchgoers among them actually pray for us.

We slowly drove around the Spencers area. It was fairly busy with one vehicle at our favorite soaking spot. Two young men were in the main pool. Too busy for us so we moved on down the road.

We spent our first night in Toquima Campground.

The sunset from this ridge top setting was nice.

After dinner we walked in the dark up to the pictograph site, Toquima Cave. The Milky Way was brilliant above in the freshly storm washed sky. We sat for awhile outside the cave entrance and listened for ancient spirits. It was a quiet, peaceful night, we felt at home.

This was just the start for another great adventure for us.

We traditionally do a backpack trip over the Fourth. This year was no different and our trip was into the Alta Toquima Wilderness accessed at the Pine Creek Campground Trailhead. We pulled into the campground at 9 am, did last minute jockeying of equipment, added the ice axes to the packs, secured the vehicle, and set out by 10 am. The trail follows the Pine Creek Canyon and moves back and forth to opposite sides of the canyon necessitating fording the creek several times. We figured with the high runoff this year, these crossings would be the crux of the trip. We were correct and there are a total of 15 fords on this route. We carry wading scandals and after several stops to change footwear decided to secure the boots to our packs and just go with the wading gear. The deepest crossing was up to the crotch with most about knee deep with the water fast and cold and commanding care and respect.

Now if you’re thinking traditional wasteland images of a parched, desiccated Nevada, shelve those thoughts. We’re talking wonderful high mountain terrain here with lush groves of aspen.

The thirteenth crossing. The wild onions here were fantastic.

Among the older carvings on the aspens were the additions of more current thoughts.

In the high basin were wonderful wet areas including shooting stars.

We set up a nice camp on the edge of the upper basin and explored in the evening. The next day was set aside for climbing and exploring the broad summit plateau of Mount Jefferson.

And yes, we were alone up here. We got an early start, wanting to spend all day above timberline.

The summer trail does a steep climbing traverse across a steep slope. There were still two steep snowfields covering it, that with the softening snow it would be hard to get purchase with an ice axe in case of the need to self arrest a fall. We elected to just climb straight up to the summit from the head of the basin.

Taking advantage of a less steep spot, I shot a photo back down the Pine Creek drainage with Monitor Valley beyond.

This was a day for outstanding vistas from the South Summit of Mount Jefferson, 11,941 feet. This is a view south along the spine of the Toquima Range. The far mountain is Shoshone Peak. The saddle between is known as Jefferson Summit with a primitive road crossing from Meadow Canyon on the east over to and out the canyon on the west leading to Round Mountain and Carvers.

With the Lady’s small binoculars (“see mores”, she calls them) we could see a pickup with camper parked far below on the ridge and a lone figure starting up to the summit from that direction. We both thought, “Now that would be a great place to camp with the truck.”

The Jefferson Summit plateau is a spectacular broad rolling expanse of alpine tundra. There are three summits, South, Middle (11,686), and North (11,814). During the last glacial period four small glaciers carved cirques into the eastern edge. This is also a special archeological area of ancient Native American significance where it was found that the area was not only used for seasonal hunting of sheep, but was used as a village site. We had all day to ramble, explore up high, and hit all three summits.

One of the points on the north ridge of the south summit. The view is across the Smokey Valley with the Toiyabe Range beyond to the west.

It is a good drop down from the South Summit.

Looking down into the South Fork Pine Creek cirque. We had explored up this cirque the evening before from our campsite.

Here’s the view from the North Summit back to the south. You can pick out three of the glacial cirques cut into the east side.

Coming back down from the North Summit, we passed the remains of a hunting blind.

As we hiked along this high, broad open tundra, the Lady asked, “What made you think of suggesting we come here and do a backpack trip up here?”

“Well years ago our friends Jim & Nancy pointed out Pine Creek Campground to us. They had mentioned the summit being protected as Wilderness. The most recent info on the area I read on the Wander the West website. I believe the fellow Dirty Dog had posted in a trip report about his stay at Pine Creek Campground and, I believe, he said he had climbed Mount Jefferson also.”

“Really?”

“Yup, and I think that was just in July of last year.”

The Lady responded, “Well, we should have looked in the summit register to see if he had signed in and taken a picture of it.”

“Damn, we should have thought of that when we were on the top!”

It had been a remarkable day with perfect weather to be high. Here the Lady is working toward our point to drop back into a cirque and our route back to camp.

We took a long break when we hit tree line, filtered water for drinking, had a snack, and lay back and enjoyed being in this incredible place. The only sounds were the wind, the birds, and the rushing creek, all refreshing tonics for our souls. This was a 12.5 mile ramble with a total elevation gain and loss of 4000 feet. This had been a good day, a good day indeed.

Our initial plan was to spend 3 nights in the Wilderness, backpacking. As we ate dinner I suggested that we pack up and hike out in the morning, load up the truck, drive around and find the Meadow Canyon Road, and see if we could reach the spot we had seen the truck and camper parked on the ridge.

“We’ll do that, I love it when we explore new places!” was the Lady’s answer.

The Meadow Canyon Road turnoff from the Monitor Valley Road is around 5 miles north of Belmont. That proximity may have played a role in the reminder we got that this was a holiday weekend. The road climbs the alluvium and then enters the narrows of the canyon. It is beautiful with a narrow meadow filling the canyon most of the way up. In long sections the road is single vehicle width with the encroachment of willows and wild rose on the meadow side with the canyon wall on the other. Not much view ahead and gave concern about meeting another vehicle. We did. An ATV came fast around a corner, shocked to see another vehicle on the road the driver reacted fast enough to apply the brakes, throwing the vehicle into a sideways slide down the road at us. He stopped in time, all without a helmet and without spilling a drop of the beer in his right hand.

“There are two more behind me” he called out, gesturing with his right hand.

“I’ve got ten behind me and they like to drink and drive!”   No, I did not say that; this suggested response came from a friend when I told him the story. I gave the guy a polite wave. There were three behind him.

After a few miles the road leaves the canyon and does a steep narrow climb to the ridge top. Here we turned up the ridge and found the spot we had seen from the Mount Jefferson summit.

It was a great spot with the on top of the world feeling we were expecting. We got the truck parked. It was two in the afternoon. The Lady gave a mischievous little smile. “Do you think we could run up to the top again early tomorrow morning?”

“What do we have to do the rest of the afternoon?” I countered.

“Let’s go! Grab the camera. We have to get a picture of this guy Dirty Dog’s signature!”

The rest of our day had been quickly planned in only a moment.

This turned out to be a nine mile round trip. We spent about an hour on top. The late afternoon light was worth it. Each of us went through the summit log book, the Lady twice. We did not find an entry by Dirty Dog. He must be a stealth peak bagger.

We were back at the truck at seven and heated up some water for a primitive shower for each of us. Dinner was made. We relaxed in our chairs. The International Space Station went over, an incredibly bright light with the reflection of the setting sun. We watched and listened to the world go dark, perched on our ridge top in the middle of Nevada. Those churchgoers’ prayers must have been kicking in.

A safety note - besides just the fun of mutual grooming when we pour water over each other for a shower, we are in the habit of checking each other for ticks, “Pesky hitch hikers,” the Lady calls them. We each had one. Each was successfully removed.

We woke early the next morning in anticipation of a wonderful dawn and sunrise. If you are in the area, this is the place you want to camp.

It started with a pre dawn glow to the east…………..

The Lady with her coffee, our camp, and first light on the Toiyabe Range.

First light hit our ridge top…………

……..and the sun was up.

From Jefferson’s summit we had also seen that Meadow Canyon, after the narrows, opened into a broad mountain valley, set below Mount Jefferson. A spur road took us there.

The wild irises were in their glory in the meadow.

Set along the edge of the valley was the old USFS Meadow Canyon Guard Station. It is in a spectacular setting.

We spent the morning relaxing, walking, poking about, just being in this surprisingly beautiful place.

Again, this was turning out to be a great trip with exploration, adventure, and something new to see around almost every corner. And, most were far exceeding our expectations. Could this continue and even get better? Yes it could!

This was a day of magic. We headed out from Meadow Canyon, topped off with gas in Austin, and headed down the Reese River Valley. We didn’t pass by Spencers again so you will all have to make up your own ending for the young gals in the white Toyota story. The Lady saw lots of speed goats (pronghorn) out the truck window. Today’s objective was Columbine Campground.

It is small (only five sites) and is in a nice setting along Stewart Creek, flowing northwest out of the Toiyabe Range. It is a trailhead for the Arc Dome Wilderness which encompasses the high crest of the Toiyabes.

We pulled in early afternoon on Sunday and found two sites empty and available. We made ourselves at home, popped the top and set up.

Although it is easily accessible from the campground, we walked up the Stewart Creek Trail about a third of a mile and checked out  Stewart Creek………..

……where there was an abundance of columbines.

As we were setting up camp the Lady keep saying, “There’s a bird calling in that tree but I do not see it anywhere in the branches.”

Yes, there was a repeated single call. When we returned from Stewart Creek we noticed the calls were continuing. In the aspen right at the front of the truck was a nest cavity with hungry young ones inside, Flicker chicks.

They looked only a day or two from taking flight and both the mom and dad were running themselves ragged foraging for these two.

What a relaxing afternoon! We made dinner and ate as a small thunderstorm skirted us just to the south. We got just enough drops to don the raingear. We took a short walk as the sun set and were treated to some of the most varied and magical evening light.

We will be returning to this small campground. As Stew says, we’ve got to get on top the Arc Dome and there is access to reasonable day hikes into the Wilderness here. All these evening photos were taken within a quarter mile of our campsite. You could easily spend a couple or a few days here and be happy.

Looking back at what I’ve written thus far, we had crammed a lot into only a few days, but there was still more. In the morning, the Fourth of July was the start of a very special day we were so excited about and looking forward to. We were meeting Ted!

We had exchanged emails and phone numbers and the plan was to camp Monday evening at a dispersed site on the south side of Mono Lake. Coming into Lee Vining from opposite directions we decided to take the high ground to see if we could make contact.

The phone rang almost immediately. It was Ted.

“Look down at 395; you will see us right about…..NOW!”

And there they were - the FWC Hawk enshrouded glorious new Tundra shining in the afternoon light with Mono Lake and a distant thunderstorm behind. We are convinced nobody can make an entrance like Ted.

We made introductions and from the experiences they had had with heat on their journey, Ted suggested the cool of higher elevation was in order. We decided to find a dispersed camping site in the Green Creek area.

With a campsite quickly found and camper set up chores completed, we busied ourselves with getting acquainted. It was a delight to share a camp with the Ted Unit. To honor this special occasion, Ted presented us with some great coffee as he had promised. After taking a whiff of the aroma from the bag, we could not wait and a couple of cups were soon brewed. Thank you Ted!

How could we not be happy in this wonderful Eastern Sierra Setting? There could hardly be a better place to celebrate Independence Day our way. We took an evening walk and watched the light change. Well, at least until we had taken about as much blood loss from mosquitoes as we could stand.

Back at camp, we found our area mysteriously mosquito free. We all stayed up well past our bedtimes sitting and talking. We swapped stories about adventures. This was a great ending to our trip.

The Lady and I, as is our habit, woke early the next morning and walked and enjoyed the coming of a new day……

…….of course each of us with a steaming mug of “Ted Coffee.”