Three Nights at Benton Hot Springs - November 2019

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Happy Birthday and Soaking the Years Away

It was my birthday holiday - one more candle on the cake, completion of another orbit around the sun, deep contemplation on what it means to now be sixty-seven years old. Note - I'm pulling your leg with one of the three above.

Our friends, the Barking Spiders, had been lobbying for a trip to Benton. The Lady and I usually celebrate my birthday at Benton. We invited them along.

We left home Sunday morning, traveled south on highway 395, and found a piece of solitude in the Volcanic Tablelands to call home for the night.

Monday was my birthday (I was born on Armistice Day but celebrate my birthday on Veterans Day). And, the Lady woke up with an 67 year old man for the first time. She was very pleased. So was I. The four of us spent the day in Bishop, wandering and checking out the goods in the Mammoth Gear Exchange. 

I chose lunch - it was my birthday. A mule kick roast beef sandwich from Schats hit the spot. We spent the afternoon visiting the wonderful Laws Museum. Barking Spider got to meet BobbyTanner as Bobby and his wife and son unloaded the new borax wagons, back from the Death Valley '49er Encampment.

As soon as I slid into the hot spring water I felt the years melt away. I checked my biorhythms and took careful measurements. By my calculations, one day of soaking took off two years. After three nights spent here, I'd be back to sixty-one, a pretty darn good birthday present.

My second morning of age sixty-seven was stress free. I opened the camper door and slid into our private tub, our fountain of youth. The Lady joined me with our mugs of coffee.

Even in a hot tub, we cannot stay still for long. It was time for a little walk. The Lady suggested exploring up the drainage above the hot spring source, a favorite activity of ours when we stay at Benton.

We followed the hot creek...............

..........................and entered the granite canyon.

We felt we were being watched.

The soaring rock and the peacefulness of the canyon made it a good day.

The wash was choked with vegetation and impassable in the upper canyon. Our exit was up the north side of the canyon. The Lady led the way.

We found a nice bench about half way up that made a nice spot for lunch.

A small natural shelter was eroded into the granite.

We continued the climb in this excellent terrain.

We walked east down the smooth ridge. We found numerous flakes of obsidian, signs of ancient tool making. We left everything where we found it.

It was a warm, beautiful day, far too warm for November. We returned to our hot spring camp at Benton.

November's full moon is called the Beaver Moon, so named because beavers become very active in November, busy preparing for the winter. We all walked up the hill in the evening light to await its arrival.

We worked hard melting the years away and then crawled from the hot tub to our respective campers. We slept so very well.

Wednesday was unplanned. During breakfast we discussed our many options. Mom Spider suggested visiting Manzanar.

What a great idea!

Walking the vast grounds and touring the exhibits at Manzanar should be a sobering experience. It calls out for an examination of our values - past and present, and illuminates the resiliency of the internees.

Here was our view of Manzanar.

We looked through the large books - Roster of Manzanar Residents - for the grandparents of a mutual friend.

The overcast sky and dreary daylight seemed to add a proper somber mood to our visit.

Barracks

Mess Hall

Women's Latrine

School

Outdoor Grounds

If you have driven by Manzanar and thought, "I should stop here." Yes you should.

We ended our visit at the cemetery.

We stopped for store bought and brought to our table Mexican food for dinner at Las Palmas in Bishop. The Lady and I have been getting dinners at Las Palmas for over 30 years.

We justified such decadence by saying it would allow us to get right in our tub at Benton with no interruptions and soak more years off.

After three nights at Benton, we returned home on Thursday. Our age erasing calculations, we found, were way off. I returned home feeling I had rolled the odometer back to 47 and took away twenty years. The Lady confirmed she was back to 43, maybe even 39.

I am reminded of this favorite quote from Abraham Lincoln -

"And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years."