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Taking the
fly rod for a walk.
Our love
affair with the outdoors defines us. The deserts, the snowy high peaks, the
ocean of sage, all call to us but nothing feels more like "going
home" then when the mountains open up in the late spring. Skis are
replaced with boots. Wildflowers' delicate colors replace the wonder of a
snowflake. The boisterous song of cascading streams replace the silence of
winter. It is new all over again. It is home.
Thursday
evening was filled with chores, errands, loose ends. It felt like we were getting
caught up, breathing a bit easier.
"Let's
go away for the weekend," I said to the Lady. That's all it took. She took
inventory of food in the cupboards and refrigerator. She even ferried a load
out to the camper before she asked, "Where are we going?"
"Let's
camp up Green Creek and hike into the Hoover Wilderness on Saturday," I
answered. "Let's take the fly rod for a walk. I want to catch a stout
rainbow up in West Lake again."
"Wonderful!"
the Lady hollered over her shoulder as she hauled our sleeping bag and pillows
to the camper. "I love that trail!" Her voice faded away as she went
out the door to the garage. "Get your fishing license!" she
instructed as the door closed.
That was all
it took. In minutes the camper and gear was ready. Poor girl, now out on summer
break from school, she had to wait until late Friday afternoon for our departure.
After
dropping down the east side of Monitor Pass, we topped off with gas at the
Walker gas station, just north of Ted's Auto Repair. Gas is only ten cents more
a gallon than here at home. Avery from Walker Burger was going in as we were
coming out after paying. "How are you two doing tonight?" he asked.
"We're great and will be doing better after a burger for dinner," we answered.
Green Creek
Road was quiet, only a few camps were tucked back into the many dispersed sites
on the California Fish & Wildlife land. We crossed the boundary onto
National Forest land and found our favorite spot occupied and so moved back down
the road to another favorite.
We walked in
the quiet as the daylight faded.
We could not
have wished for a more beautiful morning or a more beautiful place.
Mule Ears in the dry areas were radiant as they caught the morning sun.
We passed
the trailhead and campground and enjoyed the view up the classic glacially
carved valley of Green Creek. We were going home.
It was around
three and a half miles up to the trail intersection at Green Lake and time for
a quick break.
We turned
north and began the climb to West Lake on the trail the Lady loves.
The
cascading creek flowing down from West Lake indicated the climb ahead for us.
The view up
Glines Canyon and to Green Lake below was marvelous.
Up another
couple hundred vertical feet of elevation and we were now in snow.
You can see
why the Lady says, "I love this trail!" You should also see that the
weather is rapidly changing. We climbed to the top of the ridge where there is
an expansive view down Green Creek. The Lady put her see mores to work.
West Lake
was below us.
We turned
into the biting wind, covered a hundred yards, and took shelter behind a stand
of Mountain Hemlocks. We pulled clothes from our packs. The Lady added two
layers, her fleece hat, and mittens and headed down.
With the
wind chill from the down slope wind, it was frigid. But what a beautiful place
to have all to ourselves!
We returned
to the outlet lobe of the lake to find refuge from the wind.
We love how
the Mountain Heather flowers as soon as it is free of snow in the alpine zone.
Weather was
coming in.
Huddled
close together, I said to the Lady, "Let's head back down to Green Lake
and I'll try for rainbows there."
The cold
wind was funneled right down Glines Canyon. Green Lake was directly in its path.
The rain
started as I shot this video.
The storm
line followed us as we hiked back to camp. The young man who was in our
favorite spot overnight had left early in the morning. We were surprised to see
no one else had set up camp there during the day. Checking for clearance from
overhead branches, with the camper popped up we drove the truck up the road and
moved to the spot by the rock.
The sun
broke through as we showered, snacked on chips and guacamole, brewed some Peets coffee, enjoyed the meadow iris, and climbed up on the rock.
The views
are to live for.
We wanted to
walk after washing dinner dishes. Ready to exit the camper in warm clothes, a
spatter of rain hit the roof and thunder rumbled down the valley. A game of Scrabble suddenly sounded like a
better choice.
It rained
all night. It was so comforting, the drumming of rain on the roof. The windows
were open in our bunk area just enough to let the cool air spill in with its
clean scent of rain. We slept like babies.
The rain
stopped just long enough for us to enjoy morning coffee. The slick granite did
not stop us from climbing up for the morning view.
A steady
downpour moved us back into the camper. We wouldn't be heading back up to Green
Lake to fly fish in sunny weather. We came up with an alternate plan to get a
store bought Sunday breakfast at the Virginia Creek Settlement and then
drive up into Yosemite to see, if by chance, the storm was breaking over on the
west side of the Sierra and allow for some dramatic photography.
Breakfast
was excellent. We enjoyed chatting with the young woman working as hostess. She
had grown up there and graduated from Coleville High School in a class of nine.
The high school has only five teachers on staff. She played on the varsity
basketball team in a league that encompassed most of rural Nevada. She said
playing basketball games in Carlin, Nevada was quite a school bus ride.
We
mistakenly thought the storm would put down the travel through Yosemite. It was
bumper to bumper 30 mile per hour tops up Tioga Pass. We took a break and drove
into Saddlebag Reservoir. It was snowing at 10,000 feet.
Although the
Tioga Pass area received an 84% of normal snowpack, the water level of this
Southern California Edison impoundment is a stark reminder of the lingering
effects of California's drought.
We entered
the park and drove down to Tuolumne Meadows. We saw rain drops on the Tuolumne
River as we walked in the continuing storm.
We returned
to 395 and headed home. We stopped at Heenan Reservoir for a late lunch during
a lull in the rain.
We did not
see any little bald eagles above the rim of the large nest, but the adults are
close and tending to the nest.
Well, I
didn't do any fly fishing but we did take the fly rod for a very nice walk.
