A Gathering of
Friends
It was a perfect
Saturday morning as the Lady and I walked away from camp before dawn.
We climbed
the moraine. The eastern escarpment of the Sierra Nevada rose before us, not
yet lit up by the first rays of a rising sun.
It was cold,
24°. Cold enough that our fleece hats were pulled down over our ears. The Lady
had on her mittens. She loves mittens. The cold felt good on our faces, a
promise of a coming winter. A beautiful expanse was all around us. This was
enough for us. This was good enough; as I said, perfect. This was a moment we
could spend the rest of our lives in.
The crunch
of the season's first snow beneath our feet was icing on the cake. We were in a familiar
place. It was a handy place, a good place. A place all the others knew, an easy place to
gather.
Mono Lake
was where it should be down below us. We could see it; the skies now clear of
smoke from the season's wild land fires.
One of
the best things in the world is feeling the sun’s first warmth on your face on a
cold morning. This is something to live for.
We walked
slowly and just let the day get on with its beginnings, the sun rising higher in the sky.
In the distance, below us, we could hear the voices of our friends – MarkBC, the Teds,
the Barking Spiders, and the Lighthawks. We had gathered again in what seems to
have become an annual event. We walked down and joined most of them on the
view point below camp. Some had arrived late in the night. This was our first greeting in this
perfect place on a perfect morning.
Well maybe
not quite that perfect. MarkBC answered when I asked about the Spiders, I had noticed
their absence on the point. “They are having trouble with propane. Everything
lit this morning then went off. Then propane flowed from the unlit stove into
the camper.”
“That
explains the open door when its 24° outside,” I said.
Mark
continued, “I lent them extra tools. If they can’t get it fixed, they may have to
return home.”
After draining a bit of propane from a
possibly overfilled tank – young kid filling it at our local gas station –
everything was fine, disaster was averted, the early morning bird songs were again
heard……………
I’m
stretching it here and you know it. This was a cold fall morning, not
springtime. At least there were the grating calls of recently gassed Clark’s
Nutcrackers. Nutcrackers are abundant at Ted’s Dunderberg camp.
After a
relaxing breakfast, lots of stories and getting reacquainted conversation, we
decided to head over to Upper Summer Meadows for the day. We would also
relocate to a new camp spot.
“How long do
you think the idling engine will run on a full tank of gas?” I don’t know if I
was asking anyone in particular. The
group was gathering around our truck.
“Maybe as
long as a couple days!” Tone, inflection, nice upbeat voice, I knew it was
Barking Spider that answered. Everyone could tell from my body language when I
lifted, actually attempted to lift, my door latch that the door was locked. This
was met to be only a quick stop along Dunderberg Meadows Road to regroup. The
Lady had dashed out her side for a quick pee break and had somehow pushed the
lock rocker switch without either of us realizing it. This had never happened
before. She returned. “Do you have your set of keys?” I asked.
“Sure, they’re
in my coat pocket.”
“Your coat
that’s on the front seat?”
We were
traveling with a great group. MarkBC pulled out his tool box. Everybody put
their minds to work. No one, even in jest, suggested a large rock. It was found
that the Lady hadn’t completely closed the door. There was that little gap.
That tiny space. Would it be enough?
Lighthawk retrieved
the thin long stick he uses as a simple lock to keep his cabinets closed.
Barking Spider fed it in as I pried the top of the door to widen the gap. We
could not see the switch from our angle. From the driver’s side, others
directed the stick toward its anxiously awaiting target. Too shallow of an
angle. The point slipped off. “Duct tape! We need to make the tip sticky with
duct tape.” I heard feet moving toward a supply cache. “Or maybe a longer
stick! They put in fiber optics along this road last year. We should be able to
find a survey stake left behind!” Mrs. Ted came back with a longer stick.
“It clicked!”
“Yes, I
heard it click!”
“Will the
door open?”
“Try the
door!”
The door
opened.
It had been
only 15 minutes. “This was a great team building exercise!” someone said. “Yes,
we have bonded as a group. We can solve problems!” The Lady and I felt so much
better. We were traveling with a great group, a group that sees solving a problem
as fun. I suspect that the ones photo documenting the event were a notch or two
higher up on the fun meter.
We stopped
along Dunderberg Meadows.
We developed
the habit of an immediate key check.
This is what
we had come together to enjoy.
We worked
our way up to the end of the road into Upper Summer Meadow. After lunch we
wandered.
A primitive road leads a short ways further up to a small piece of private property. It is a nice
setting. We only looked about and were respectful that this is a private
inholding.
The vistas
were inspiring. The Lady watched deer below us.
Lighthawk
worked the golden light.
Little Miss
Callie enjoyed herself with exploration and play.
The remains
of an old stamp mill lie below the compound.
The steam
engine that powered it is partially buried in the collapsing rubble.
It had been
a delightful and relaxing afternoon. The weather was perfect, cool and definitely fall like.
We walked back down to our vehicles and we met Patrick and Carol, pvstoy
on Wander the West. They had driven up to join us for the evening and
overnight. Camp was back along Green Creek. Ted had already headed down.
Was he up to something? Was Ted going to be Ted? He had mentioned “props” again
and that he would be providing late afternoon hors d’oeuvres.
The Teds' truck
was decorated.
There was evidence that Ted was around.
Italian
music filled the evening air and the chef appeared.
The array of
food was incredible. This was real style.
We ate our
fill and thoroughly enjoyed Ted’s fun.
Dinner was capped off with one of MarkBC's famous walnut pies.
Dinner was capped off with one of MarkBC's famous walnut pies.
Patrick and
Carol had a special treat for us when darkness came. First, the Lady and I got away
together and walked up to Summer Meadow to watch the day’s ending.
When we
returned a screen and projector were ready along with a laptop. Patrick and
Carol are excellent nature photographers and have traveled worldwide. They shared
their photography and adventures with us. It was a great evening and a real
treat. This had turned out to be a very special gathering of friends.
MarkBC, the
weatherman, told us the forecast was a chance of showers in the morning. Stars were
out when I made a quick trip outside at 5:30. When I exited the camper a little
later, bundled up and with the camera, snow was lightly falling.
With our
mugs of hot coffee the Lady and I walked back up to Summer Meadow. The rising sun
tried to break under the clouds and light up a small piece of Bridgeport Valley
to the north.
Clouds
engulfed the high peaks and the snowfall enhanced the desire for fall to turn
to winter.
The rest of
the group had another day and night to share. The Lady and I had to head back
home. Hugs and handshakes and goodbyes and waves and we were on our way. We
thank our friends for another very special fall gathering.
A post script
– After diligently having a hide a key on all our prior vehicles and never
using it, it was too easy to “never getting around to it.” Monday at noon I
stopped by our small town hardware store. Dave and his wife run the place. We
use to complain about the somewhat higher prices – “I’ve got to run over to ‘Holdup
Hardware’” or “I’m making a trip over to ‘Costalot’” that is until gas prices
climbed and time became more valuable to run down the hill. And, every real
project takes a minimum of three trips to the hardware store, right? The
business has grown and we’re seeing local folks employed.
I walked in
and announced I needed a key made. The girl at the register was quick onto her
radio, “Need a key made!” They love those radios. Dave was within sight doing
inventory in an aisle. On the radio he announced he’ll take care of the key.
“Hey, Ski.
What do you need?” he asked from across the room.
“You got ‘em
trained on radio use, don’t ya Dave?”
“Yeah. We
love these radios.”
“I need a
key for my truck.”
He squinted
his eyes and looked at me.
“Just for
getting in the door,” I added.
“We can do
that!”
He made the
key. “Do you have the truck here?”
“I had to go
to the post office so I got the truck.” In a small town it is required you add
information about your day and events so it can be spread throughout the community.
“Try it.”
Dave said as he handed me the key, still warm from its birthing.
I was right
back in after trying it in my driver’s door. “Don’t open.”
“Really? Let
me work on adjusting this cutter.”
After the
adjustment and some recutting and a new second key, just to be sure, I returned
from the second test. “Nope, neither of these keys opens the door.”
“What?” Dave’s
brow was furrowed. His mind was working. He pointed at my key still in the
cutting machine. “Does that key open the door?”
“Good
question! I’ve never once opened the truck with a key. Always just push that
little magic button.” I pointed toward my keys.
With all the
keys, Dave and I were out in the parking lot. The driver’s door would not
unlock with any of the keys. “Well, I’m feeling better!” Dave announced.
“I’m not.” It
was my turn to think. “Let’s try ‘em in the passenger door.”
They worked.
“Have you had the driver’s door lock changed?” Dave asked.
“Nope. We
use the magic button……………………….but seems like when I was checking the carfax
report prior to buying this truck, seems I remember it had been reprocessed
once. Maybe the lock was punched out and just quickly replaced.”
“Could be
it.” Dave nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“Open the
passenger door with the spare key.”
I know it is
only a matter of time before the Lady returns from Safeway and announces she
was asked about our truck getting reprocessed.
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