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"Where
can we go next weekend?" the Lady asked. Our trip out to Project Shoal was
coming to a close as we climbed the steep eastern slope of the Sierra Nevada on
our way home Sunday afternoon.
"Let's
call Benton Hot Springs and see, if by chance, they have any campsites
available," I suggested.
"Call
them as soon as we get home!"
It was a
long shot. We had struck out the last couple of times we tried on short notice.
Sabrina answered the phone.
"We
just now had a cancellation," she said. "You can have tub 8 for Friday
and Saturday nights."
"We can
go to Benton next weekend!" I relayed to the Lady.
It was kind
of hard getting through the work week, dreams of warm mineral water caressing
us, soothing our bodies, filling our thoughts. A ghost of a gentle cold breeze
carrying the scent of sage haunted our cheeks and noses. Everything was falling
into place except the weather. Winter was going to put up another fight against
spring with a cold storm, strong winds and snow. Late Friday afternoon we'd be
its full fury.
When out on
the main highways in winter storm conditions, it is easy to spot the drivers
who do not live in the mountains and do not frequently drive in snow and ice.
Aggressive and fearless and without a clue how over the edge they are, it is
only pure luck that saves them. Have I missed it? Is it now required to have
half your brains sucked out before you can buy a new 4x4 vehicle? Most of the early
part of our drive is best forgotten. Traffic on 395 south of Gardnerville was,
thankfully, very light. We were almost alone on the highway in the storm. Chain
controls were up from Walker to Bridgeport. Conway Summit had snow blowing
across the highway pushed by the hard wind out of the west. We drove past Lee
Vining and turned east on highway 120. The sign announcing chain controls was
not turned. It was now dark. The storm was here.
Highway 120
was covered with blowing snow. There were no vehicle tracks. It was a quiet
night with us alone in the storm. Across the flats on the west side of Sagehen
Summit, in the distance, we were surprised to see flashing lights. Was it a
snowplow? As we neared, we could see it was a car's emergency flashers and the
car was perpendicular to the road. This was not good. There were still no
tracks in the snow. We pulled to a stop behind the sports sedan. It was off the
road and straddling the ditch.
"I bet
the maneuver to put it there really surprised the driver," I said aloud.
"Is
anybody in it?" the Lady asked while squinting through the snow.
Right then
the driver's door opened and a young man climbed out and approached the Lady's
window. He was well dressed for the weather.
"Thanks
for stopping," he said. "I'm okay. There's a tow coming from Lee
Vining."
The Lady
made him answer all her questions twice.
"You
are sure you are okay and we can continue on our way?"
"You
are staying warm and will be warm until whenever the tow truck gets here?"
He assured
us he was okay and from all appearances, except for the placement of his
vehicle of course, he was okay. We continued on into the night and the storm.
The snow that
blew in waves at ground level across the trackless road, illuminated by our headlights,
was beautiful. Our solitude in the storm was calming and peaceful. Time did not
matter. We had a hot springs tub waiting for us whenever we arrived.
On the east
side of Sagehen Summit, again in the distance, we saw a vehicle's headlights. It
was heading east, the same direction we were.
"How
can that be?" the Lady asked, puzzled. "There are no tracks in the
snow." She was observant.
"My
guess," I answered, "Is that they were west bound, became concerned
about worse conditions ahead, and so turned around."
We soon came
upon the tracks that confirmed my guess.
As we
continued on, the Lady leaned forward, her face close to the windshield,
watching.
"Stars!"
she exclaimed.
"What?"
I asked. Snow still fell against the windshield.
"Stars!"
she confirmed. "There's a black wall of clouds to the south but a big
break in the clouds over head. I'm going to open my window!" Her face was
soon outside and looking up. "It is beautiful!" she cried.
"Smell the wet sage! I love it!"
The storm
added around a hour and a half to our trip. It was nine pm when we quietly
pulled into our campsite at Benton Hot Springs. We were out of the storm. The
last of the clouds were heading south. The camper was quickly set up and guess
what we did next. Damn right. It was utterly glorious.
We slept
like death and awoke to a sunny morning. It took until mid day to rid the truck
of ice and snow.
We climbed back into our own private hot tub.
We watched
the north winds scour and blow plumes of snow to the south off of Montgomery
Peak.
It was
spring time at Benton Hot Springs.
We would not drive anywhere on Saturday but leave the camper set up. We'd walk
and explore wherever our wanderings would take us and return again and again and again to
soak in the healing warm waters. Sounds like the best plan for a beautiful
spring day, doesn't it?
Our first
wander around the Historic Benton Hot Springs was at dawn.
We returned
to camp, pulled off our clothes, and raced each other to the tub. The Lady
always won.
There is an intriguing
granite canyon to the west, a deep cut in the Benton Hills. The source of the
hot springs is at its mouth. We climbed past the cemetery.
The Lady
remarked that Benton Hot Springs was established in 1852 but they did not
need a cemetery until 1868. The Lady is observant.
There is an
outcrop of volcanic tuff near the source of the springs and we found a dwelling
or storage cellar carved into the rock.
It was the
granite ahead that drew us onward.
We noted at
least one bolted climbing route. The canyon opened up and then closed in again.
The wash was impenetrable, choked with riparian vegetation. We climbed to
the north, up and out of the canyon.
The view was
worth it as we neared the top of the ridge.
Wildflowers filled the area between the sage.
We descended
back down to camp to celebrate with another soak.
We lingered
over a snack lunch. Campers are not allowed to play music of any kind. This is
a quiet place.
We walked in
the early afternoon...................
........................and
returned to our little piece of paradise. The Lady won again.
We wandered
in the late afternoon light.
The Lady
loved the kestrel pair. We saw them repeatedly along with pairs of quail and
mourning doves. It was springtime at Benton.
Did a
foreign auto repair shop really fit in? Hint - if you stop by, look in the window.
An old
Plymouth sits out back.
Jimmy
stopped beside us in his pickup. "You can walk through there if you
like," he nodded toward the no trespassing signs, "And take
pictures of the buffalo but don't try to pet them. Don't pet the buffalo."
The winds on
the White Mountains had died down. Last light fell on Montgomery Peak as we
made supper.
This was a
wonderful way to spend a weekend. We walked hand in hand in the
night. I tried a few long exposures around the bed & breakfast.
We again
slept like death. Sabrina was also out walking at dawn. She smiled. "Every
day I get to wake up in paradise," she told us and we agreed.
It was cloudy
and dreary Sunday morning. Storm was returning. One more soak before we started
the drive home.
The drive
was quiet and relaxing. Snow occasionally fell against the windshield.
"Where can we go next weekend?" the Lady asked as we climbed the
eastern flank of the Sierra toward home.
