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A weekend with
P³
Our friend
Ted walks a fabled path in a world foreign to the Lady and me. The two of us
know nothing about alcoholic beverages - we do not drink - other than the observed effects of the
downing of bud or coors by other campers we avoid at all costs. Ted is world
class. A connoisseur of exquisite
brews. He knows his stuff. He should be known as Mr. Pliny as he
always seems to have a cherished bottle or two of the truly legendary double
pale ale, Pliny the Elder brewed by Russian River Brewing. I have considered
calling Ted the Pliny Pied Piper (or P³ ) because when Ted's magic flute
like voice moves across the landscape..................Pliny appears.
And Ted is far from alone in his opinion. The reviews are incredible, replete with rapturous language -
"From
the very first time I had this beer, I knew it was something special, yet so
austere and seemingly 'simple' that it really does exceed the sum of its parts.
Here is potentially the single best double IPA in the world. A consistent,
sublime experience captured in a pint glass to be savored and enjoyed."
A desire to "just get away" brought us together with the Teds. A stormy forecast for the weekend, moved over, late in the week, to maybe "not so bad." "Not so bad" could work, especially when pushed by that desire "to just get away."
We met early Friday evening on the very edge of the Mono Basin where plowing ended on the Virginia Lakes Road just up from 395's Conway Summit. The Sierra Wave confirmed the passing weather front.
Ted started
in on building dinner for his bride as we took her for a walk to take in the
snowpack and evening light.
This plowed
area is used mostly by snowmobilers, many with cabins in the Virginia Lakes
area. Although we were surprised by the number of parked vehicles, it was a
quiet restful night.
The Lady and
I walked on the hard snow before dawn the next morning. It was the kind of morning we live for.
The Teds
spent the day snowshoeing up the Virginia Lakes Road. The Lady and I spent the
day checking out winter (now that after several years we have a real snowpack!)
access in several nearby areas. We ventured down into the Mono Lake Basin. Among our
discoveries was a historic cemetery.
We explored
the west side of the Mono Craters and enjoyed a quiet lunch.
Included in
our assignment for the day was to find a lonely, secluded camp spot for
Saturday night. We returned to Virginia Lakes Road and found the Teds back
from their snowshoe adventure. They agreed to try out the spot we had found for
the night.
We were back
in the Mono Diggings area, one of the first gold strikes on the east side of
the Sierra Nevada. If you can find a copy of this local book - Mono Diggings -what it
may lack in writing style is more than made up by wonderful tidbits of local
history and stories.
We were
settled in by mid afternoon and the Teds were up for an exploratory walk uphill
from camp.
We came upon
sections of the water ditch system built in 1861 to supply water for placer
mining.
We watched
the storm move over the Sierra crest toward us.
We were
amazed by the ability of the pinyons to take root and survive in cracks in the
granite outcrops.
This was
beautiful terrain complete with signs of ancient habitation.
We relaxed
back at camp as the storm clouds moved over us from the west. The Teds always
provide fun food treats!
The Lady
loves beets and soon had red fingertips, red lips, and a red face to prove it. Rocks were
added to the table immediately after I took the above photo to keep the
goodies and plates from blowing away.
I shouldn't
have been surprised, but as soon as we were settled out of the wind against the
leeward side of Ted's truck a Pliny appeared out of the brushy backdrop. P³ had
again worked his magic.
We camped near
an abandoned homestead. The wind out of the west brought scattered spurts of
rain. The Sierra crest was shrouded in storm.
Strong winds
stirred up billowing dust on the distant lake shore.
The wind
direction changed as we ate dinner and the clouds moved off of the crest. Our
hopes grew for a clearing evening.
The main
house had a concrete pad on the west side. I suggested we all move our chairs
to this sheltered spot. The winds calmed, the stars broke through above,
coyotes erupted in song around us. The air was so clear we could see the lights
of a groomer operating on the ski slopes of June Mountain. It was an incredible
evening in a wondrous place with special friends.
The Lady
stirred, as she always does, before first light. She snuggled close, as she
always does, and asked the questions that are so familiar - "Decadence?"
Translation: let's turn on the furnace
to warm up the interior of the camper - and "Coffee time?" No
translation necessary.
We walked
hand in hand in the midst of this spectacular dawn.
We found Ted
enjoying the view from the porch.
It was time
to head our separate ways and say goodbye to this special place.
A special thank you to the Teds for their company this weekend.
