My regular posts are postponed while I tell you of our weekend of uncertainty in Mineral King.
I went up the hill with a friend/cabin neighbor on Friday morning. She picked me up at 10:30, and we did not arrive at our cabins until 1 p.m. I used the word “harrowing” to describe the drive, and while Trail Guy wasn’t there, he said the word was too strong. So, I pulled it back to “intense”.
For the first 6.5 miles, we encountered many large trucks heading down, since we timed our drive poorly and coincided with the shift change. There was a great deal of backing up and waiting in turnouts and vaguely wide spots.
We had to give our names and cabin #s at Lookout Point to be checked off a list of folks going to close their cabins. We were told that the Mineral King trails were closed to recreating, and sent a few hundred yards ahead to wait for the signal to proceed.
When we were released, we encountered crew after crew brushing along the road and over the bank. There were big pick-ups, trucks, and really big trucks along the road and in the road, so we crept along in between and around. I didn’t take many photos of people as we passed because it felt rude. I missed one great shot of a crew all lying on the road and the bank during a break, but it is seared in my memory.
Since a picture is worth a thousand words, here are several thousand words worth of the drive up.
looking back downThis is looking back down the road behind us.
It was smoky in Mineral King, but we were greatly relieved to have arrived in a place of peace.
Tomorrow I will tell you more about our weekend of uncertainty.
I am now down the hill from a long weekend in Mineral King and since a great number of my blog readers want Mineral King information, I will tell you about it this week.
The road is now closed. We were not evacuated, but were escorted out this morning. Everyone wanting to leave had to meet at the Conifer Gate at 10 a.m. Those who didn’t leave are “sheltering in place” for 48-72 hours. We were under an Evacuation Warning.
Saturday evening a pair of men from the Tulare County Sheriff’s Office came around, warning us of impending road closure and tacking notices on the doors of all the cabins (whether or not they were occupied or had been closed for the season).
What to do? Begin packing up? Nope. Take a walk and enjoy what time remained.
Nope, we were NOT recreating, an activity that was forbidden when we were admitted entrance for the purpose of closing our cabins.
We spent Sunday in uncertainty—close for the season? Simply drain and anticipate a return? Take down as much as possible? Leave things up in case of a return later this fall?
Fortunately, we did a lot of paring down of our belongings, packing, and loading the pickups. (The Botmobile is a bit smallish, so we rely heavily on the generosity of The Farmer with his Massive Pick-em-up Truck, HUGE!)
“Fortunately”?
Yeppers. A Park official showed up around 8 on Monday morning to tell us to be at the Conifer Gate by 10 a.m. We got a move on, and made it.
We stopped at the Silver City Store so I could rescue my unsold paintings and cards, and headed down to Conifer.
Tomorrow I’ll show and tell you more about the Weekend of Uncertainty.
With all those posts about Mineral King, did you wonder if I am still working?
Thank you for your concern. It may look as if I am just loafing in Mineral King, taking bad photos, and wishing it wasn’t smoky.
HOWEVER, I spent some valuable time with a very savvy artist friend (Krista Fulbright, who has her work at CACHE right now—don’t walk, RUN to see the show). I showed her all my paintings for my upcoming show at CACHE (opening date Saturday, October 19) and she gave me excellent honest input as to how to improve the body of work.
Every piece I have is a landscape with a single exception.
I asked Krista if I should just leave this one out, and she said yes, or choose 2 more subjects to go with this. WHAT? PAINT MORE? Maybe.
I took a box of photos to the cabin, and sorted through to find possible companion pieces. A former drawing student/good friend/cabin neighbor and Trail Guy shared their opinions as I tried several combinations. (Didn’t have the painting with me —just one of the reference photos).
All the photos (and a little saucer of pistachio shells)
This collection is based on color.
This collection is based on round blue containers of round objects.
This collection is based on citrus.
I haven’t decided yet. First, I need to polish, refurbish, and refine about 4 or 5 other paintings.
So, you can see that I sometimes even work in Mineral King.
ABOUT THE FIRE: The Park has closed Mineral King to recreational activity, including trailheads, trails, and campgrounds. There is also a possibility that the road may close before the end of the weekend due to “fire front slowing backing down closest to the road in the general Lookout Point area.
The Coffeepot Fire started on August 3, from lightning about 15 miles down the road from Mineral King. Each evening, the down-canyon breezes start clearing smoke out of the valley. The next morning we get clear air until 9 or 10. I went for a walk on one of those mornings.
It was a difficult time for good photos with a PHD* camera, but I want you to appreciate the clarity.
It was kind of chilly out (high 40s?) so I headed to the steep and sunny Timber Gap trail. Those giraffe steps are always good exercise.
About 20 years ago or so, the private pack station in Mineral King closed. The Park built a corral and their own tack shed. They usually bring up stock so they can resupply the trail crews in the backcountry, but this year we hadn’t seen any evidence of Park stock.
Last year the Park brought their stock up in spite of the Mineral King closure, just to get the creatures out of the heat. It gave me an opportunity to find a couple of great subjects to draw.
This year we saw stock at the pack station that was definitely not Park animals. (Yep, we knew it wasn’t Park stock even in low light at this distance.)
The next morning we were delayed leaving on a walk for various reasons, and then were glad because we encountered the packers, Che (from Montana) and Dylan (from Wisconsin), two best friends who work for a private pack station on the East side. (That’s how we refer to the other side of the Sierra.)
Trail Guy explained a few things to the men.
Che rode this horse; Dylan rode a striking paint called Emmy. I didn’t get a good photo of her.
We walked ahead, and then saw them coming in the distance.
We stopped in the shade, waiting for the perfect photo when they emerged from the trees.
I thought that would be more impressive than it actually was.
So, I went crazy snapping pictures.
We followed them to Crystal Creek. That’s the best shot I got of the beautiful paint horse, Emmy.
Each packer led a string of five mules. They even look picturesque from the back (but I won’t be drawing or painting any mule heinies.)
You can lead mules to water but you can’t keep them from drinking.
A week or so ago, I told you about areas of neglect in Mineral King. Our cabin is not one of them, because it is our responsibility, not the Park’s*. It takes continual maintenance to keep a 100+ year old rustic structure together, and although we enjoy plenty of leisure time up the hill, there is persistent work to be done.
Our cabin is not painted, except for the window trim, which could use refreshing. (Next year. I’m busy with other things this year.) Instead of paint, the wood gets oiled every few years. Every ten years? I’m not keeping track; that’s men’s work at our address. I’m just there to stand on the bottom rung of the ladder to keep it from teeter-tottering or sliding away, along with fetching and carrying requested tools.
“We” did prep work, loosening the dirt, blowing it off, and then picking dirt out of the cracks on the decks using a tool that a friend made for us. (Sorry Dr. Baltimore, no photo, but much gratitude).
Then we discovered that some critter was able to access a cupboard in the kitchen that we had previously thought to be critter-proof. I’ll spare you the details, but show you how “we” stuff steel wool in the access points. (Or maybe I’ll just show you a scratched-up water bottle and a DeWalt flashlight.)
My favorite type of work is ongoing, rather than maintenance. I love to swing an axe and am responsible for splitting all the firewood needed for the cook stove. Trail Guy makes it easy for me by cutting it to the right lengths and selecting wood that is fairly knot-free.
Our stack was maxed out, so I took my best axe to a neighbor’s cabin to try my hand (my arms?) at white fir. The pieces were longer than I am used to, there were lots of knots, and the bark needed to be peeled. I worked my way through about 1/2 dozen chunks, and went away satisfied that I can split wood even if Trail Guy hasn’t paved the way for me.
Another neighbor has a brand new door, one that will stay closed without being propped by a rock. I won’t be painting this door but wanted you to admire it with me. I always think it is a shame to cover bare wood with paint, although the results are usually impressive.
We concluded our work day with a brief evening walk in the smoke.
*I recently heard that Sequoia National Park is operating with about 60% of the number of employees needed to keep things running well. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE??
A friend with property in the line of the current fire (Coffeepot Fire) called on Tuesday to say that fixed wing aircraft were dipping water out of Lake Kaweah. Trail Guy said, “Do you mean helicopters?”
Friend said, “No, fixed wings”.
Trail Guy told me, and I said, “Do you mean helicopters?”
He said, “No, fixed wings”.
I said, “Let’s go see!”
So, we did.
We weren’t sure where to stop around the lake and tried a few turnouts, eventually picking a road down to the water. Trail Guy felt certain they’d be dipping from closer to the inlet than the dam, and since he was driving, that’s the viewpoint we chose. (He is usually right about those types of things.)
We sat on the tailgate waiting and watching.
Almost immediately, 2 planes arrived. I circled one in red so you can pick it out here.
Almost exactly ten minutes later, they returned.
We sure do know how to have a good time around here.
P.S. This is how the fire looked from LookOut Point yesterday afternoon: 3123 acres with 915 personnel. They could have stopped it at 1 acre!!!
Sierra Gentian just don’t photograph worth a hoot, but they are truly striking, and always appear at a spring between the pack station and Crystal Creek in August.
Trail Guy pointed out the marmot sunning on the rock. I asked him how he knew that it was alive, so he tossed a rock, and the marmot raised his head.
Almost 3 weeks ago, there was a thunder and lightning storm in Mineral King. A lightning strike started a fire, and it looked as if it would be quick to suppress the thing.
Looking out from Look Out point, 2 days after the lightning strike.
Being somewhat cynical, perhaps because we’ve lived through the “easy to suppress” lightning strikes in 2020 and 2021, I had my doubts that the various agencies would be in agreement and just squash that thing.
While driving home from Salem one week later, I received texts from friends in both Visalia and Exeter, inquiring about my safety because they could see flames from their towns. WHAT??
Trail Guy took this photo on the day I received those texts. That single column had babies.
One friend sent me a photo her Facebook feed (“feed”? “stream”? “account”?) showing 2 areas of flame at night as seen from either Exeter or Visalia. (There is something about a photo from that platform that forbids my saving and showing it to you.)
On our next trip up the hill a few days later, it looked like this:
Each day in Mineral King began with clear air, and then somewhere around 9 or 10 a.m., the smoke would drift up the canyon and obscure all our views. Where is Farewell Gap?
On the way down the hill on Monday, this is what we saw:
We also saw BLM equipment, a Forest Service car, 2 Yosemite fire people, and a helicopter dipping water out of the East Fork.
The latest report at the time of this viewing is that the fire has grown to 850-900 acres, is not contained (well, duh, because what does “containment” mean when it was “contained” before it erupted into this conflagration?) and is heading toward the South Fork drainage in Three Rivers.
Here we go again. . . sigh.
P.S. For current info on the Coffeepot Fire, go to WatchDuty.org.
My sister and brother-in-law hold a big yard sale once every year or two. We work well together “playing store”, and many other people bring their items. It is a tremendous amount of work to make sure all items are in top shape, priced with the seller’s initials, setting up tables (which often get brought from other participants), and working the displays to look the best possible. We create “departments” in our “store”, and work them all day long to keep them orderly and appealing. Talking to people, helping them find what they are seeking, keeping track of the sales so the money goes to the right person, finding a box or bag as needed. . . these were 3 long days of prep and selling.
This is Day 2 with 1/2 as much merchandise.Toys were the biggest seller; Christmas decor the least desired category.
We tried to fit a walk in around the neighborhood each day I was there, and the yards were so beautiful. It is fascinating to see what people can grow when there aren’t deer or 100+ degree days (although they had a few before I arrived).
My favorite house on our regular walks.
Attending a church with more members than the population of Three Rivers is always a thrill. The staff has more folks than attend my church on any regular Sunday. They actually played a game in the minutes before the service started—Will wonders ever cease for me in the land of Giant Churches?
We picked blueberries one morning. Blueberries are a perfect you-pick crop—no thorns, no bugs, no heat. I only brought home 16 pounds this year since we didn’t bring any husbands or reluctant child laborers with us. I could have picked much longer, but our list of errands that day was extensive.
Everything in Oregon was beautiful, including the areas across the street from the U-Pick Farm (Fordyce).
Leaving was both difficult (I love my Oregon family and friends and only see them once a year) and urgent (I love home). On the previous 2 Oregon driving trips, I stopped at a friend’s place north of Sacramento because it is a chance to be together. However, this year I just felt compelled to get home. It could have been the 2 texts from different friends (in Visalia and Exeter) asking if we were okay because they could see flames up our way. (Turned out to be fine). Or it could have been a delusion that driving 13 hours in one day is no big thing. (It IS a Big Thing.)
If I’d been a passenger, there’d be more scenery photos. So much to paint, but there’s not a lot of market for these images among my tens of followers.
When someone drives the same long route multiple times, there are highlights along the way, specific places and sites to watch for. In Oregon, I used to see a covered bridge on the east side of 5, but it hasn’t shown up for several years and I have forgotten the name in order to look it up on the web.
I saw an enormous number of hubcaps each time the highway made a strong curve, the kind that warns you of your speed and tells you to drop to 50 mph. (No photos of hubcaps because I had both hands firmly placed on the wheel.) In Northern California, Mt. Shasta is a big landmark, nay, A HUGE landmark. Truck Village, south of Weed is fun to see.
South of Red Bluff, it goes flat, so there isn’t much that compels me to take pictures. The shadows on these hills somewhere north of Coalinga/Harris Ranch caught my attention. By then I stopped caring exactly where I was as long as I was heading home.
There were only 2 traffic situations: one was a wreck south of Sacramento that left debris in the road, causing people to crawl along to dodge it. The other was roadwork at dusk, where we got squeezed into one lane and eventually were driving on the paved shoulder. It was interesting to see three CHPs with their flashing lights, present to support CalTrans, I guess. I was completely surrounded by big rigs
Thirteen hours and 10 minutes after leaving Salem, Oregon, I staggered into my own house, stupid tired and happy and relieved.
Trail Guy was happy too, not just to have me home, but also to have our good pick-’em-up truck back.
