White Mountains & Sierra Nevada Range - June 2019

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A Little R&R

The Lady wiggled as she woke. The sky outside was brightening with the coming day. The cool morning air blew through the open windows in our camper with the intoxicating scent of sage. Her arms went up and over her head in a satisfying big stretch. "What day is it?" she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Saturday," I answered, and then quickly asked, "Does it matter?"

"No, no it doesn't," she nodded as she wiggled up into a sitting position. "Time to get up! Coffee time!" she announced.

We had left home late afternoon Thursday. It was a quick drive to Walker Burger where we had dinner in their outdoor garden setting along highway 395. Fed, happy, and letting down after a long day, we happily found a favorite campsite along The Little Walker River empty and waiting for us.

We walked until dark with deer moving around us through the sage. We were the only people about. We thought of ourselves as respectful guests of these wild creatures.

Morning was perfect, the surroundings fantastic. The river sang carrying its load of melting snow.

We drove east over into the northern White Mountains. We were continuing a search for an ancient rock art site. Several previous searches had uncovered numerous clues. We knew we were in the right area. Why weren't we finding it? What were we missing?

We could not miss the flowering Hairspine Cactus or the subalpine fleabane.

And we found more solid clues we were in the right place.

The main prize we did not find once again. But what beautiful country! We could not ask for a nicer place to wander about.

We drove out to a remote camp spot we had used before, another on the list of favorites. The Lady loves the spot - as do I - because of the Apache tears, horned lizards, and expansive views.

Heavy clouds moved overhead. We readied ourselves for storm that never came.

We woke to a beautiful morning. It was Saturday but that did not matter.

We walked with our mugs of coffee and took everything in.

Flowering evening primroses hugged the ground.

We packed up and, still determined, we stopped on our way out and searched the lower section of this long canyon.

We were surprised how far down canyon flowing surface water could be found after the previous very wet winter.

Although we again did not find the rock art we were searching for, we'll be back. If it is not hard to find, it's not worth the effort.

We dropped into Fish Lake Valley and drove south. Where to head next? We'd just see where the road and day led. As the day warmed we decided to move to higher terrain. Early afternoon we were again high in the White Mountains and we stopped at Grandview Campground as a possible place to spend the night.

It was the dark of the moon. Grandview is very popular with amateur astronomers. The campground was near full with many telescopes already set up but covered. Solar panels were charging batteries for drive motors. We pulled into the only open campsite, walked around and got a feel for the neighbors, surroundings and such. A Toyota Prius slowly drove by with two women inside.

"Let's give them this last campsite," I said to the Lady. "It's early, let's look for a dispersed site."

The Lady flagged the women down and said the last campsite was theirs for the asking. They eagerly took it. The high road was closed by snow just past the intersection with Silver Canyon Road. We returned south and with a bit of exploration found just what we were looking for.

It was tucked away, out of sight, offered a nice evening walk, and offered expansive views. We made ourselves at home.

We walked back over to and around Grandview. The women from Pasadena offered to share their dessert. We climbed the hill above our camp and took in evening colors.

It was an incredible Saturday night in the White Mountains.

We were back up on the highpoint for sunrise among the junipers and Penstemon.

As we drove west down from Westgard Pass. I suggested driving into the Sierra above Big Pine to look at trailheads and high country access. The Lady suggested we drive the Onion Valley Road above Independence. We both have read Carol & Joan Dedecker's book about growing up in Independence and all their hikes up in the Kearsarge Pass area.

The trailhead was busy up not quite full. We parked and walked through the busy campground and returned to the trailhead.

A group of three young people, backpacking, were returning and asked if I could take celebratory photos of the three of them. Of course. The Lady was soon busy with conversation and asked if they thought we could hike to the pass for a day hike. "Of course," they answered, "It's only five miles up or so."

"Can we?" the Lady quickly turned to me.

"Of course," I answered. "It would be a good way to spend the day."

The group of three were pleased with our spontaneity and I think a bit surprised with the clothing, boots, and equipment we quickly assembled and donned.

After a quick snack and a long drink at the truck, we started up. It was bit after 10:30 am.

"It's been fifty years," the Lady told the young people and pointed at me, "Since he's been here and up this trail!"

As we continued to climb a thought occurred to me.

I had not done much activities in the last two and a half months. Near of end of April I had surgery - the old man rotor rooter of the prostate so I can pee again - along with a night in the hospital.

The urologist stressed "do nothing strenuous for three or four weeks. Don't lift anything heavy." I asked him to define what he thought was strenuous and heavy. "Nothing more than an easy walk and ten pounds."

Two weeks after the TURP I had emergency surgery to repair the detached retina in my left eye. "I think laying on your back with your eyes closed would be best for the next two weeks," the surgeon advised. I asked what I could do physically after the second post op visit. "Can I cut up the big cedar that fell across our backyard this winter? I've wanted to get that cleaned up."

"No." he answered.

All these memories came back as we started up Kearsarge Pass. My vision had improved enough that I felt confident and safe to drive again mid June. I felt good so I brushed all these thoughts aside and hiked.

How could we not be enthralled with this thrilling terrain? All worries disappeared.

The top third of the ascent to Kearsarge Pass was snow covered and steep. The careful snow work slowed our pace.

We stopped so the Lady could determine our location on our map. We continued up.

Here's our view to the west of the Sierra Crest.

Big Pothole Lake is just to the east of Kearsarge Pass.

At the pass we chatted with several Pacific Crest Trail through hikers on their way to Canada. Several were headed out to Independence and Bishop to resupply before returning over Kearsarge to continue north. One was a lovely young woman from England with the most delightful accent. Two young men from Israel hiked down with us for a while. One young male through hiker topped out on Kearsarge, pulled out his cell phone and announced, "I have four bars!"

"Turn it off!" the group gathered at the pass countered.

It was time for us to turn around and head back to the trailhead. It had taken us three hours to make the top. It would take us the same to make the descent.

It was a beautiful day and both of us felt as strong as ever. It is a well laid out trail and an easy day hike.

We were back at the trailhead at 4:30 pm and felt bad we did not have room to help any of the dozen or so through hikers trying to get a ride to Bishop.

We treated ourselves to a Mexican dinner at Las Palmas in Bishop and then headed north on highway 6. Our favorite overnight spot in the Granite Mountains was perfect as we arrived around eight. We walked in the night and then turned in. Sleep came easy.

Our dawn walk the next morning with our mugs of Peet's coffee rounded out a great trip and adventure.