Pages

Thursday, June 6, 2019

The Forks of the Walker River - June 2019


please remember you can click on a photo to see a larger version & highlighted text are links to further information



Shall We Gather At The River? & Hanging With The Teds


"Do we have any idea where we are going?" Ted asked. Our only plan thus far was to meet Saturday morning at the small county park in Walker, California. Ted is dealing with chemotherapy for lung cancer and I am recovering from surgery to repair a detached retina in my left eye. "Why stay home?" Ted had asked. "Why not sit by a river somewhere? I can read to you while you sit with your eyes closed. The women can do all the driving. Why stay home?"

Why stay home? That was pretty much the extent of our planning, except for where to meet. We bantered a few ideas around but Ted suggested we head for the East Walker River in Nevada where they had stayed on their last trip.

Our wonderful girls again took the steering wheels in hand and piloted our humble camping rigs to Nevada's new Walker River State Recreation Area.

We have visited the area many times and not much has been done since Nevada gained access to these large historic ranch holdings. We did see that they are making a start. We saw dispersed campsites now with numbers and new signs with fee schedules are erected. Fee envelopes and "iron ranger" fee tubes are not yet in place. We look forward to the coming future amenities for visitors and greater access opportunities.


The Teds led us to the secluded spot along the river where they had camped. It was wonderful, just what the doctors ordered.














We got settled and sat by the river for a few moments until the first thunderstorm drove us into our respective campers for refuge. I slept. Ted slept. Donna read. The Lady read and also left the camper for two walks in her rain gear. In sound slumber, I never was aware of her coming and going. Dead to the world, or healing as the Lady likes to say.


The rain dropped off allowing dinner outside as we enjoyed the flowing river.








Rain drove us back into our campers by eight. Sleep came so easy.


In the morning the river was just where we had left it the night before.














The morning was overcast and we sat in our chairs waiting for the sun to burn through and warm us.








I knew that the Lady had already scampered to the top of the hill behind our camp. I asked if she'd help get me to the top. We were delighted that both the Teds also wanted to go.


The views were incredible with the storm washed air.




















The Teds did well with the steep climb.








Our little tour guide - the Lady - pointed all the sights out to us.








Ted noted that on their last visit out here they found a steep 4x4 road that led down to the river. He was curious if there were any good dispersed camp spots down there. We packed up, found the road, and drove out tp where the road started its steep descent to the river. We parked, packed some snacks and water, and walked down. The road led to an old abandoned ranching complex but not to any usable camping spots by the river. We hiked back up to the trucks, ate a leisurely lunch, and watched impressive dark clouds build into a towering mass and race toward us. It was time to go but to where?


The storm unleashed its fury before we hit pavement. Hail and driving rain pounded down on us. Wherever we went we knew we would deal with more afternoon storms so sticking to improved roads, maybe even a campground - it was Sunday evening. It wouldn't be busy. Right? - would be best. We ventured up to the Twin Lakes area west of Bridgeport. The campgrounds looked like busy RV dealer's sale lots. What a mistake. We retreated north to Leavitt Meadows on highway 108. The campground was marvelous, empty except for the campground hosts. Perfect. We set up camp above the snow melt swollen West Walker River.


























Rain came and we took refuge under Ted's awning, cozy but dry. We said our goodnights but the Lady and I took an evening walk up 108 to the pack station on the edge of the meadows. The road was empty of traffic. It was quiet and peaceful. It was only when we turned around that we saw the sinister dark wall of towering clouds sneaking up behind us. Yes, we got wet. Ah, but that's why we have a cozy warm camper.


It was clear the next morning. The lingering smell of damp earth was intoxicating.


























We were in no hurry to pack up and head for home. We'd enjoy this place as long as we could.








Shall we gather at the river? You bet!