395 & Yosemite Road Trip - Day 1 - Friday, April 16, 2010
Playa del Rey to Lancaster to Fossil Falls to Stove Pipe Wells in Death Valley National Park to Lone Pine to Bishop
Scratching the itch to honor our gypsy blood. Up I-395 ditching work, we leave Friday morning. We travel up through Lancaster on interstate 14. We backtrack a couple exits to make a Flip buy at a Walmart.
Back on the road we are surrounded by joshua trees lining the highway, one with a crow purveying from his perch. Past Lancaster is an old plane graveyard. I want to stop for pictures but we don't. Next time?
I catch a glimpse of the white desert sand of Red Rock State Park, and I'm desperate to get out there. We miss the turn off, the first of many for this trip, so we move on with the promise to return next week for the poppy festival. But I know we won't. We'll have to save it for another road trip, some other time.
Interstate 14 stretches straight, without topographic ripples, narrowing toward the vanishing point, disappearing, finally, at the horizon line. It cuts through the flat, muted, desert landscape that lives forever. Yellow flowers hug the desert floor, grouped like schools of tropical fish, while a spattering of orange flowers in spring bloom accessorize the muted color tones of the high desert.
On closer look, there are other man made developments marring the desert landscape. There are dirt road offshoots, one with the a sign that says "Dust control 15 mph". The road goes east forever dropping further into the flat valley bellow. I wonder where it goes.
Just past Pearsonville, at the entrance of I-395, we pull into a gas station and devour a home made fritata lunch. While April braves the truck stop bathroom, the dogs and I explore the desert and human debris littering the ground a few yards past the station boundaries. I take a couple of pictures. I wonder if there is any place on this earth that doesn't have a human hand print.
Our lunch stop is short. No use spending too much time in a gas station parking lot when we have so many more miles to go. The road starts to climb in elevation. The colors transition from muted tans to black volcano rock accented by dark green trees and shrubs. We've made it to the Sierra byway. We come across a beautiful scene sitting between a mountain hill and the highway. Water! Not a mirage! Actually, it is two small bodies of water, one small and saphire blue, one larger and emerald green, both sitting side by side, playing host to little ducks and ducklings swimming between the two, while the mountain plays background music and checks out his reflection in the undisturbed waters below. We have to stop and take in the unique beauty of the environment. We do our first FLIP spot.
We see a sign for Fossil Falls. What could this be? A Waterfall in the desert-mountain environ would surely be a treat! We turn off on a dirt road following signs to what we imagine to be a desert oasis. We take the dogs on the .2 mile easy hike, sure we'll find water at the end our our little soujourn. No water but cool volcanic rock formations carved by water that once lived there. A fall of rock fossils fall into the cavern below - hence the very literal name of the place. We didn't take water on our little hike - not great in April. Worse in summer I'm sure. The Bean was panting for a long while after wards the heat and walk took it out of her.
Back on the 395, running between two ecosystem environments. It's warm enough outside the surface of road ahead of us becomes a reflective surface and disapears into sky lines. April calls the environment schizophrenic. It's a good description. We stop for water and jerky before we turn off the 395 to the 190, and head east towards Death Valley. The white desert sands welcome us. There is water in capture basins, dark blue reflecting the sky, lined with a salty bright white crust.
On the road to Stove Pipe, the heart of Death Valley, we go from 4000 ft above sea level down to below sea level, traveling through all the mountain layers of time. Deep red rock is a punch of color among the pastel desert hues. Layers of time are etched on the mountainside. Each mountain we travel by or through has its own distinct personality, that only becomes noticeable as we travel through. One mountain, my favorite, changes from purple to red to orange to black.
There is a tall snow covered peak standing guard in the background with the intimidation factor varying in degrees, sometimes hovering like big brother and at other times standing back like a parent with a lot of kids to watch, depending on the curve side we happen to be traveling on.
From a distance the entire landscape appears to be one single unit - a desert. At closer look, everything is seperate, individual, acting in unison to create a picture of oneness. I notice this more and more on my road trip journeys through crazy landscapes. My brain process the environment as a single unit. It is only as we drive, with time on my side, am I able to pick out individual parts that make up the whole. A shrub, a mountain, a rock...all a single unit in their own right. Or are they? My mind ends up traveling through the parts of the single unit making up the whole of the landscape. The tree I notice gets disected like the environment it calls home. First the leaf among many leaves, the bark and knots making up the trunk, the root structure peaking above the blades of grass at her foot. All single, individual parts making up a whole. And further down the rabbit hole I go. But I digress.
We make it 61 miles to Stove Pipe Wells and the 95 degree searing temperatures great us weary travellers. Not surprisingly, we don't feel refreshed. Death Valley lives up to his name. We make our way to the sand dunes a couple of miles away, but it is too hot to stay for long. April and the dogs have no interest in getting out of the air conditioned car. I brave the heat, and get sand in my shoes to get a closer peak at the white dunes rippling below the sharp peaks of the surrounding mountains. The sun reflects off the sand. There is just no escaping it. We are in Stove Pipe Wells less than an hour and then it's the 61 miles back the way we came. Like most of our trips, it took us twice as long to get to our destination then spent there. For us, at least, we most often enjoy the journey just as much, if not more than, the final destination. We don't ordinarly believe in backtracking, turning around or getting lost. But we had no choice but to turn around in order to get out of the heat. We aren't often afforded the luxury of seeing all the things we missed on our way in. It was interesting to see what we missed on our first time through. We decided to highlight all the ways we can die in Death Valley. The BEST recent FLIP clip was shot on our way out, discussing just that topic.
Before meeting back up with I-395 we came back across the capture basins. Its actually a dry lake - Owens Lake, but not so dry. Yet. We stop to take a closer look. The salt sand crusts the ground in heavy layers, covering everything, from road, to unfortunate broken down fences, like coral taking over a shipwrek. The sun starts to dip behind the high Sierra mountains and the birds start hunting the shallows of the water.
Back on the 395, we stop in Lone Pine, a quaint, country town with picturesque scenery in every direction. We take the dogs on a walk through the chain store free town, experiencing pre-walmart main street charm. A town like this has become harder and harder to find in our travels. This town is thriving, even with the chain motels and inns. The Mountain town charm of Lone Pine, is shaped (favorably) by dog loving locals and the tourists coming down from Mammoth. We decide to dine at the premiere restaurant on the 395 - Seasons - promising some of the best steak in the state - a promise we can't pass up. We do have a fabulous, no frills, just great food, steak dinner.
The town is booked up for the night, so in darkness we continue up the 395 with a thunbnail moon and a sky filled with stars as company. The peaks of the Sierra mountains are only dark giant silouhettes, negative space against the starry night sky. So much missed. About 45 miles missed. Hoping to return soon to see exactly what was missed.
395 & Yosemite Road Trip - Day 2 - Saturday, April 17, 2010
Bishop to Manzanar National Historic Park to Mammoth Lakes to Mono Lake to Mariposa to Oakhurst
We spent the night in Bishop at the foothills of snow covered Sierra peaks. In the morning we take a run/walk through another chainstore free town. A lot of shops. At breakfast, at a greasy spoon cafe, we check maps and determine the days rough route. We decide to head back to Manzanar, which means I don't have to wait until our next trip to see that stretch we drove through at night. Again, we find ourselves backtracking. Last night we missed beautiful rural landscapes. The white mountains stand tall against the deep blue sky, outlining their sharp alligator teeth peaks. The valley our road travels is flat with a mix of grasses and brush and trees. The wild flowers are in full bloom. Yellow carpets the valleys and hills. Mt Whitney is sharp, standing proudly above her sisters, reaching past the sky and right into the heavens. The only thing that occasionally mars the perfect scenery are a mess of power lines.
Manzanar National Historic Park, once a Japanese Internment camp sits directly below Mt Whitney. Signs stand where buildings once stood to give the internment camp some context. Old watch towers stand empty. A roadrunner sits on a fallen tree stump, posing patiently for a picture, while her friend watches warily on the ground some feet away. Old junipers, weathered by the elements stand crooked and worn white, natural sculptures among the sage brush. And then there is the carpet of yellow wild flowers. Hearty and hugging the ground, in sporadic but close knit design. It's funny how quickly nature takes over where humans once stayed. Some old cement slabs with weeds growing in the cracks are all that remain.
The Manzanar Memorial Stone lines up with the peak of the tallest mountain in the lower 48. Flowers and plastc lays have been laid along the foundation. Coins have been dropped at the entrance. I wonder why. There are a few tombstones in a small cemetery by the side. I don't want to read those stones and see who lies beneath.
And then its back on the same stretch of road for a third time in less than 24 hours, along the flat valley floor with mountains lining both sides. Those yellow flowers are everywhere. At some point black lava rock appears for a short way, adding to the rugged landscape. But no volcano mount is visible.
Just past Bishop we see signs that show road closures that directly change our plans. We could turn back the way we just came but one of our rules, seldom broken, is no backtracking - even though we've already back tracked three times this trip - the most ever. I don't think we want to see the road we just traveled yet again. We decide to continue north, go further and go up and around Yosemite to get to the other side of the Sierras. There are at least three passes to get to the other side. Not all of them will be closed, will they? If not we are relegated to Reno and Tahoe routes. But we'll cross that bridge if we get there.
Its funny. When looking at a map everything is two dimensional. There is no topography, elevation and no scale. Its only once you get on the road do you understand distance, height of mountains, elevations, climbing, descending. We see 150 miles to final destination and think two hours, straight shot. We drive it and it takes 3 hours because we didn't account for elevation climbs, two lane highways, Scenery to beautiful to not stop for. This is the best part about a new road trip. We start out, looking at a map, doing a little bit of research online and we think we know. We have expectations based on that knowledge. It is only once we start traveling those roads to we understand space and time and the four dimensional world the map failed to capture.
The climb in elevation begins as we head into Mammoth Lakes. The mountains are craggy with exposed rocks from large rock slides, the fallen earth resting in mounds at the base. Snow lives in the cracks, impossible for the spring sun to dig out and melt. Maybe in a few weeks. The desert floor is behind us and pines and trees take up residence in the new high elevation landscape. Late spring snow cover large boulders on the west side, the Sierra side, but the east side is snow free. The schizophrenia continues. Back into a valley we find a deep blue lake with snow lining her shores.
We take the quick trip into Mammoth Lakes for lunch. We see signs that it is the last ski day of the season. But we still find big piles of dirty black crusted snow lining the streets and parking lots. Some brave sledders take an icy hill, the fools. We find a California restaurant and have an organic lunch and tea. And then we hit the road again with classic roadtrip music playing.
We come to the first pass to get through the Sierra Mountains - the120 which would have taken us directly through Yosemite. Its closed as promised by the sign in Bishop. We move on. And we're so glad it is. Five minutes north is Mono Lake. Its a bit surreal, like a lake on another planet. The water is smooth, reflecting the snow mountain peaks and clay formations. We take the dogs out for the path walk down to water. The lone cotton cloud is reflected in the blue lake surface. If we had more time it would be a perfect place to meditate. Like always, I find myself saying "Next time".
Heading north we find ourselves deep in canyon country with hills of sage surrounding grazing lands. Rural towns pop up every few miles with their trailer homes or pre-fab homes, and if they're lucky, a single gas station. But there are all sorts of lakes and little bodies of water and beautiful views.
We come to the Sonora Pass with fingers crossed. Again our journey west is thwarted. We must continue North. Shortly thereafter a little rocky river pops up beside our road, as we start into the sharp mountain curves. The little river appears to be our guide. Pines, orange branched bush, rock and old tree debris litters the ground. It is a truly scenic byway.
We finally come to the CA-89 running South of Tahoe and North of Yosemite. The trees have been decimated by fire and landslide. The trunks are bleached white stained at the edges with black burn marks. The mountain is barren until we reach the next mountain in the chain.
The CA-4 is closed so we have to continue north on the CA-89. We grab the CA-88 and start heading west straight through ski country. It is still winter here. Cold with the ground covered in snow. A lot of pines, heavy with cones, shade the roadway from any winter sun. Pine cones have spilled to the ground congregating down hill and by the side of the road, where water from snow melt runs. Small water falls run over boulders. A dried resevoir basin forms a snow white landscape scene. We cross into the next mountain range and bright green moss grace the north east sides of large pine trunks. The road winds, hugging close to either cliffside or mountainside. Exposed tree roots create caves and critter homes. By six the sun is low in the sky and the golden hour illuminates and makes color bright, so they can live up to their full color potential.
We start moving down in elevation on CA 49 which I ended up totally in love with. Say goodbye to winter wonderlands, evergreens and winding mountain roads, and hello to California rolling hills, green with new blooms. Rural and farm scenes grace the countryside everywhere. It's the California we recognize. Trees blossom above a tapestry of white wild flowers. It's rural California and I want to jump right in with an optomistic John Steinbeck style walk, but instead we continue moving further towards our destination.
Night falls and we're still on the road. We find ourselves frustrated from garbled directions. We're tired and hungry. The promise of a place to stop for dinner is just around every bend. But twisty mountain roads is what we get instead. They are fun to drive in the day but are scary in the dark. The thumbnail moon escorts our progress, bolder than last night. All road trip scenery is gobbled up in night blackness. Now we're driving instead of cruising. Slow progress and detours are no longer appreciated. Reaching our destination is the priority second only to finding a place to eat dinner before everything closes. The race is on.
We stop for dinner in Mariposa. It's late so the pizza joint has to suffice. The many stuffed dear heads and birds and bearskin rugs covering every possible space on the wall, make for a PETA nightmare. They also have an arcade game called extreme hunter inviting players to kill bears and elk and other various big game. We just want to shoot at cans but the game doesn't offer that option. The people working at the restaurant are friendly though. That helps. I decide to order a veggie pizza so as not to offend our decor companions.
With full bellies we hit the road again, traveling in the dark to Oakhurst, where we've already prepaid for our dog friendly room. So we have no choice but to press on through the night and the next 30 odd miles.
395 & Yosemite Road Trip - Day 3 - Sunday, April 18, 2010
Oakhurst to Yosemite National Park to Fresno to Playa del Rey
We stayed in an ok travelers inn in Oakhurst. We got all packed up and started back the way we came, for Yosemite. Or so we thought. We went in the exact opposite direction and 25 miles later, after moving from mountains to rolling hills, we realized our mistake and turned around heading back the way we came. This trip unlike so many others, has had a lot of turn arounds and detours. Oh well, that's what we get for being spontaneous. Most of the time it works out beautifully and other times we get a lot more than we bargained for.
We finally make it to Yosemite a day and hour later than planned. The drive on the 41 is a beautiful climb into the mountains. The further up in elevation we go, the more we find the spring snow clinging to nooks and northern grounds. But there are signs of spring. New grass shoots take up occupation in preparation for summer. The ground is wet from snow melt water traveling the route of least resistance, over boulders, down crevices, under tree roots, creating creeks and small water falls. Coming into Yosemite we are greeted by massive rocks surrounding a green valley with a river running through it. Tourists clammer to take pictures and jockey for parking spots. Two large majestic falls - Bridal Falls and Yosemite - demand and get all the immediate attention. The water mist rises creating clouds of spray. The lush valleys, waterscapes and trees make this park Ansell Adams worthy wherever you look.
We are into drive through scenery because dogs are not allowed on paths in National Parks. State Parks have a more dog friendly policy. We miss a lot in Yosemite but we see enough from the car we rode in on. We decide to continue south towards Sequoia and Kings National Park. We head back on the road we came, 41, backtracking again (do you see a theme here) heading toward Fresno.
We move back to California rolling hills. Orange poppies and sprays of purple and yellow flowers cover the ground in thick layers. The ground is bright with nature's colors. Another wrong turn brings us to a crossroads. After much debate we decide to head home. We are just too far off track. Kings Canyon is closed anyway so we'll have to save Kings and Sequoia for next time.
Anytime I start heading for home I get sad and act out. Today was no exception. If I could I'd stay out here and explore this world. We get lost in Fresno - the scary part of Fresno. It is old and run down with that wrong side of the tracks feeling. We find an In and Out for a quick lunch. And then we head down route 99 for what promises to be a dull four hour drive.
But surprisingly Hwy 99 is way better than the I-5. More interesting visually by far, with turns and elevation changes amongst the flat farm lands. Cows graze and others are kept in large dairy farms. Grapes for raisins, hay, plum trees and other fruit trees, beehives and a lot of other unlabeled garden rows line the highway. I love passing those garden rows of trees or plant, while passing quickly by. It creates an optical illusion. Everything looks very geometric, managed and uniform. There is a comfort in that.
Traveling all these roads we've traveled over the last three days, it becomes clear how impressive the roadway infrastructure creation and maintenance actually is. If we lined up all the roads in California, end to end, I wonder how far we'd get driving toward the moon. Again, I digress.
We're in the last stretches. The CA-99 meets up with the I-5 at the base of the north side of rolling green mountains that border Los Angeles. Bob Ross tap tap tapped a bunch of flowers along the green hills. Layers of hills fade into the horizon, back lit by a setting sun. A lake sits between two canyons in peace. Not a watercraft or person in site.
And the road becomes more congested as we head into the San Fernando valley. Welcome back home to the urban congestion, smells, construction, manufactured environment of LA. Its nice to be back home. We drive straight to our little corner of the city, right to the beach and walk the break wall where the LA River meets the Pacific Ocean. Sun setting and I'm left wondering why I ever leave.
1 comments:
Sandy - I love these posts of yours. I had Google Maps open as I followed your path and envied your little trip. I enjoy joining with you vicariously on your journey.
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