Plein Air Painting in Monterey, Day 4 (AM)

Every moment is filled. There are too many places to see, too many people to meet, too many places to paint. So, today’s blog will only show the morning painting session on Day 4.

Roomie and I skipped the morning announcements and found our way to the Carmel Mission. I love those 21 missions and give the credit to my 4th grade teacher at Ivanhoe Elementary School. I drew the Carmel Mission a long time ago.

The mission seems to be more of a museum than a church now , not opening until 10 a.m., and charging admission, so Roomie and I set up behind an elevated cross where we could look over the wall into the courtyard.

I propped my borrowed easel minus a tripod on the wall, and started with a horizontal format.

Nope, the tower was too tall so I flipped the canvas around. Looks square in this photo, but it is vertical, 8×10″.

This is the view, and that tree blocked the rose window. Nothing to be done except to try and paint the tree.

Roomie and I painted together, and I quit before she did. She is accustomed to plein air painting and knows how to push through to a completed painting whereas I reach a point where I just give up, figuring on fixing all the messed up places later.

So, while I waited for her, I walked to the gate and held the camera on the other side of the slats for this photo.

There were so many flowers in bloom in the garden, both inside the gate and outside. This is Lady Banks rose, which blooms in about April in Three Rivers.

Check out the matiliha (matilija? matilijah?) poppies!

Good enough. I want to finish this at home, get all the architectural details right and fix that dominant tree. I don’t know why it was so hard. I texted my friend JC this observation: plein air is desperately difficult.

But I KNOW I can make this painting look better (when I can reclaim my life and have some uninterrupted studio time!)

One last photo, and then we headed to our next destination for afternoon painting. I think I could fill two weeks of just painting at the Carmel Mission (and then taking them all home to fix).

Plein Air Painting in Monterey, Day 3

Day three was a test of my gear: could I fit what I needed into my trusty red daypack and carry my 3-legged stool under one arm and the loaner pochade box in my other hand along a trail?

Yeppers.

We started at Garrapata State Park, along the bluffs on Highway One.

We painted all morning, then headed to Point Lobos. (I wonder if there were ever wolves there??) We were hot and tired after several hours of painting in the sun, but my roommate said that I HAD to see China Cove (she had done reconnaissance the previous day).

Well holy guacamole, it was spectacular! Several people, including my roomie, stopped at a particular spot, but I wanted to explore a bit farther. Look at these options!

A
B
C

A blew me away with the color, and it was where my little group set up. B was my first choice, but there was no place to set up without blocking the trail. (We were warned that we’d get a ticket if we blocked the trail or set up off the trail.) C was also quite intriguing, but again, there was a lack of set-up space. I also considered another place because it had a bench, but the view was meh compared to those first three.

So, I ventured back to my little group and just got in line because there was space and there was shade.

This photo doesn’t do justice to the green-blue of the water.

I was contending with the cable at the edge of the trail.

I didn’t take a good final photo. I’ll have to finish and scan it when I get home so you can see it.

It was a good painting day, almost finishing 2 paintings, with only detail left to really polish them off. Thursday is a day in and around Carmel.

P.S. There are so many other things about this adventure to share besides my painting progression and locations. I might continue the series next week after I am back home.

Plein Air Painting in Monterey, Day 1

On Day 1, we stayed at Asilomar. People needed to get accustomed to their equipment, the schedule, the weather, the whole situation, so it made sense to stay on the premises, which are walking distance to the ocean.

Our room is so tiny that I am keeping my supplies in the trunk of the car. After assembling what I thought would be useful for the morning painting session, I headed to the beach. My easel is heavy and cumbersome, so when I saw this, I thought it might be a good place to paint.

But the ocean was calling me, so I soldiered onward.

Is that PEBBLE BEACH, the fancy golf course over there??

After walking around a bit, taking a few photos, and thinking about the options, I did one quick sketch to confirm my choice.

Next, I wrestled with my heavy, rebellious excuse of an easel, finally getting it situated.

Here is a series of progression photos.

The painting was interspersed by conversation with passersby and other painters. We were told that it is best to not look at other people’s work while painting because it causes discontent and do-overs. As a result, there was much joking about wiping off canvas and starting again after seeing other’s efforts.

Painters were set up all along the beach.

The painting session was also interrupted by occasional walks into the water.

The kelp was very thick, and although I didn’t see a single shell, I did encounter this jellyfish.

I took one final useless photo, thinking it would show me the scene in order to finish the painting later. Alas, it was too bright out to see the screen of the camera, hence the “useless” description.

I didn’t really like my painting, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it better and it was hot. Didn’t matter, because this is all about practicing and learning. So, I headed to the other spot that I had chosen in the morning. It was in the shade, rather chilly, which was a nice change. An employee of Asilomar stopped by where several of us were setting up to remind us of the “excessive heat warning”. I almost fell down laughing but managed to restrain myself.

I’m liking this one and will definitely finish it later. I even got one final useful photo because I was able to see the screen of the camera. (Okay, not so useful. You can see how the light changes over the course of 2 hours.)

However, I am wondering where to buy a new easel and if I can find a trash can large enough to accommodate this sorry excuse of a plein air easel.

More will be revealed. . .

Final Thoughts on a Trip to Oregon

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.

More Thoughts on an Oregon Road Trip

People think that Oregon is green, and you may have heard it said that in Oregon, people don’t tan—they rust. In August, Oregon is golden. There are barns, lots of trees, and golden fields, hills, countryside. There are many rolling hills, some steep grades and curves with lots of warning signs about excessive speeds, and signs that warn you of your current speed and say to slow down. It is beautiful to me, and maybe it is more beautiful because it isn’t hot like at home.

It didn’t take long to get from Weed to the Oregon border, a wimpy little 300 mile morning drive in contrast to the boring 468 miles on the previous day.

I got to Salem in time to go with my sister to a hair salon, and then the beautician (is that the right title?) fit me in for a haircut. Isn’t that funny? I went 3 years without a haircut, then got one in Texas and next another in Oregon. Where shall I get my hair cut next time??

Oregon seems ideal in the summer. Enough sun, not hot, and incredible gardening! Of course they have many wet cold days in the winter, which is much longer than what passes for winter in Central California, but in summer it is fabulous.

To top off all the gloriousness, I was able to help a special girl learn a few things about colored pencils.

Hey! That makes this a business trip.

Never mind. We only acknowledge Fernando in tax prep as the vehicle for business. Oh well.

Thoughts on an Oregon Road Trip

Once a year I visit my mom, my sister and her family in Oregon. Flying is an expensive and hasslesome way to travel, so I choose to drive the 750 miles. I can haul stuff in my our pick-’em-up truck, not stand in lines, have transportation when I arrive, AND set my own schedule. (We aren’t going to address the price of gas, which runs $1.50-$2.00 less per gallon in Oregon AND someone else will actually put the gas in for you!)

For some reason, this year I found the drive to be quite boring until I was well north of Sacramento. In previous years, I have enjoyed the scenery of the Central Valley, all the agriculture, and open spaces. This year I just wanted to get into the rolling hills with oaks, the way things look as you approach Red Bluff and then beyond.

Five audio books from the library (on CD, because my our pick-’em-up truck is a 2003—you got a problem with that??) were on the passenger seat. I tried to listen to As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner because I’ve never read his work. Nope. Repetitive mindless conversations by unexplained characters caused me to quit after the first CD. I switched to Rise and Shine by Anna Quindlen, which held my attention far better.

Last year I drove the entire distance in one day on the longest day of the year. This year I have been feeling less robust, so I stopped in the quaint but sad little town of Weed, named after Abner Weed, a lumber man. The Hi-Lo Motel is charming and has a great cafe. The room was very basic, lacking a microwave, a fridge, and most shocking of all, it lacked a coffee maker. (The sign on the mirror warns against monetary penalties for smoking in the room including marij. in its forbidden substances, because after all, this is the town of Weed.)

The cafe had good food and bad spelling.

Before settling in for the evening, I took a walk around their downtown. I have done that in the past, and once again was struck by the beautiful sidewalks, newly planted trees, hanging flower baskets, and empty buildings. I noticed thrift shops, real estate offices, dispensaries, liquor stores, 2 very small banks, and most buildings with broken or open windows in an upper story.

There were some newer homes on a hill, and some very well-kept older homes in a few downtown blocks. Mt. Shasta was visible from many places on my walk.

Everyone I talked to who lived and worked in Weed was kind, helpful, unhurried, and genuinely friendly. I asked one person what kept people in town, thinking about employment. She said a lumber mill, the Crystal Geyser bottling plant, travelers, a community college, and of course, those dispensaries.

The next morning at 6 (I was eager to reach Salem), I walked to the Valero gas station and “food mart” (meaning processed convenience fake food) for coffee, and the very kind clerk didn’t charge me! (I had my own mug—did that matter?)

Then, I hit the road for the last 300-miles, a picturesque quick trip compared to the first part of the road trip to Oregon. My destination was Salem, the capital city.

Quick Trip

In my ongoing attempts to understand why my feet are numb, I went to see a Big Deal neurologist. She was informative, thorough, and honest about the fact that 50% of people with peripheral neuropathy never learn the cause or make it go away. Lots of blood was drawn for many tests; more will be revealed in the fullness of time.

The weather was perfect. Everything was beautiful. Everything was expensive.

I mitigated the medical nature of the trip with a little sightseeing to something that I have enjoyed since fourth grade. It took the edge off of the assault of freeways, a city, and all the accompanying stressors.

In fourth grade I built a version of the Santa Barbara mission using milk cartons covered in inside-out paper grocery bags, complete with little bells borrowed from my mom’s Christmas decorations. It was totally boss.

Some of these photos might be fun for my drawing students to work from. They are often on my mind, particularly during our 2 month summer break. And some of these might make nice paintings, but I tend to focus on local subjects, since my customers are primarily local.

I don’t mind. Freeways and cities are for other people. They can stay there, and I will occasionally visit, and probably stop at Trader Joe’s, because we will never get one in Tulare County.

Cabin Time at Hume Lake

This is a cabin. It’s a real cabin, not a fancy house in the mountains.

This is a pair of socks on the needles. Instead of spending hours walking around the lake, I got in some knitting.
My friend has a quirky sense of humor. This is in her front yard.

We didn’t just sit around the cabin. We had to figure out why the BBQ wouldn’t light and why it smelled so strongly of propane that the Hume Lake Fire Department showed up at 11:30 one night, sniffing around to find the problem. The next day, two of us spent a couple of hours cleaning the BBQ, then refilled the tank, which solved all the problems.

And we did walk down to the lake a few times. The grass was newly planted, just irresistible.

Summer camps for kids hadn’t yet begun, so the whole place was very calm and quiet.

Even the office has tremendous curb appeal. The entire place is well-maintained, landscaped, and ultra-friendly. (And it has electricity, working telephones, wifi at some of the private cabins, paved roads, and a fire department.) It isn’t Mineral King, but it has its own appeal, and still retains common cabin community characteristics.

The route home went back through Sequoia National Forest and Sequoia National Park. I left early enough to not have to deal with a ton of traffic, except for hoards heading up the hill once I was past Giant Forest. These are two attempts to get photos for painting.

OF COURSE I won’t paint in the speed limit sign. But I think the light on this tree was worth a quick stop.

Tomorrow we will return to watching paint land on canvases.

Short Tour of Hume Lake

Compared to Mineral King, Hume Lake is a city. It is a city with some subdivisions I didn’t know about, in spite of having spent 1-1/2 summers living and working there, along with a handful of days each year for the past 7 summers. It is a growing city.

Let’s ease into our Hume Lake photos with a wild blue flax photo.

Instead of small rustic cabins that house 12 girls, with a little outdoor trek to a bathroom, THIS GIANT BUILDING holds 8 “cabins”, each housing 12 girls, each “cabin” with its own fancy bathroom. THIS IS NOT CAMPING, PEOPLE! Well, staying in rustic cabins wasn’t exactly camping either, but holy guacamole! I counted 6 of these buildings, and that was just for the girls. I didn’t see where the boys stay. Maybe they have all those rustic little cabins that used to be for the girls. I had no idea this section was at Hume.

There is even a skate park, which wasn’t quite set up yet. Skateboarding at summer camp in the mountains wasn’t even an inkling of an idea when I used to love summer camp (not at Hume—there was another camp in my life.)

This is all too much for my simple old-fashioned self to take in. Let’s just take a walk around the lake, shall we?

Hume’s geography always confuses me because the dam
drains to the east instead of to the west.

Do I show you the same photos every year? I am always amazed by the abundance of the wild iris, love to walk around the lake, love to see the other wildflowers, and see the dam.

This year my feet have betrayed me, so I am thankful to have gotten in one walk. The rest of the time was spent hanging out at the cabin. I’ll show you some of that Monday.

I Could Paint This

A friend from childhood inherited a cabin at Hume Lake. In 2018, she invited me to join her and another friend for several days. We had such a wonderful time together that she has invited me back each summer since.

Every time I go, I choose a different route to get there. My favorite is to go through Sequoia, then take Ten-Mile Road to Hume. Some years the road has been closed, so I take my second favorite route, which is Dry Creek Road to Hogback to 245. This year 245 is closed.

So, this year I went through the Park both directions, in spite of road construction below Giant Forest and some logging activities in the Forest Service stretch.

There were beautiful wildflowers and flowing water. Even the dogwood was still in bloom, but the flowers were never near a turnout. My destination was Hume Lake, so I didn’t pursue the flowers.

Let’s take a tour.

This is the middle fork of the Kaweah River with Moro Rock appearing to tower higher than Alta Peak. It’s an illusion. Might make a nice painting, doncha think?
When I was a kid, the road went beneath Tunnel Rock. No mas. I could paint this, but not sure anyone would care.
Through the windshield is never an ideal way to take photos. But, this is another triumph of hope over experience. I could paint from this inferior photo.
If I was still using a film camera, I would declare this shot of the Sentinel Tree a waste of film. However, I could paint from this.
I photographed the Marble Fork bridge last fall when the water was almost nil. This would make a nicer painting.
Not painting this. Since 2015, there have been 3 devastating wildfires in Sequoia and Kings Canyon. I’ve lost track of which fire wrecked which areas.

Ten-Mile Road was a mess last year. This year it is a dream—a skateboarder would have loved the beautiful asphalt. Asphalt isn’t a subject that interests me for painting. Prolly doesn’t interest you either.

We have reached our destination! I could paint this, but it isn’t in Tulare County, and I’m unsure of my market having an interest.

Hume Lake

Monday I’ll show you some photos of my time at Hume.