I’m in a bit of a holding pattern, waiting for several things: the Mineral King road to open, a week-long plein air painting trip to Monterey, the indexer to finish repairing the index on the TB book, and my show, Simply Home, to open.
Tucker loves the unmowed lawn, which is part of one of my gardening experiments.
What’s a person to do while waiting? Stuff, both personal and professional. (What word did people use before “stuff” became a ubiquitous filler?)
Oh-oh! Where will Tucker hide now?
Personal stuff: enjoy being home, work in the yard, do some work on the landscaping at church, read, organize some messes, hang out with the cats, you know, just stuff.
Such a sorry excuse for a pomegranate. The tree has not produced a single edible normal sized piece of fruit in over 15 years.
Professional stuff: my art has been retrieved from the Silver City Store and also from the Mural Gallery. This means that I have to change information on my inventory lists, and put card packages away.
Finally, some time to think about and design a calendar for 2025. This will be based on the upcoming show, Simply Home. Yeah, yeah, I KNOW that people care more about Mineral King than my art, but I am trying to earn a living here. (My farmer dad used to say that he “scratched his living out of the dust of the earth”. Maybe I just scratch mine out with pencils, or smear it out with paint. . .) So, because I am an active citizen of Realville, I have ordered fewer calendars than in previous years. This means if you snooze, you lose, unless the demand warrants a second order.
Why is my vitex tree blooming in September? Why is it called “vitex”, which sounds like some sort of nutritional supplement?
Oh that’s right—it is time to design a new Christmas card. Yeah, yeah, I KNOW that fewer people send cards every year, except for those flat ones full of tiny photos of themselves doing glorious things throughout the year. Not me. Each year I design a new card and send them to my drawing students (and a small handful of distant friends), using the United States Postal Service.
And while putting away the paintings that did not have a chance to sell at Silver City, I studied them and decided that they each deserved more attention.
With the Coffeepot Fire about 10-15 miles down the road from the Mineral King valley, the smoke blows up each day, anywhere from 9:30 until noon. Sometimes it clears up a bit in the afternoon or early evening, then it blows back down the canyon at night.
Trail Guy took these clear morning photos for us so that we won’t completely despair of ever seeing the beauty of Mineral King again.
(The occasional weird spots in the sky are due to some malfunction in his camera.)
Compare this to Timber Gap belowCompare this to Empire below
Then, the smoke arrived.
Timber is starting to fade.Empire is fading fast.Timber Gap is there somewhere.Empire is there somewhere
This happened almost daily the week before Labor Day and during the weekend of uncertainty.
Tomorrow we will return to our regular broadcasting topics.
After wondering all weekend if we would be evacuated from Mineral King, a Park employee came by our cabins on Monday morning around 8, telling us to be at the Conifer gate (7.5 miles below our cabins) to be escorted out. If we didn’t want to go, that was fine, but then we’d be unable to leave for 48 to 72 hours. (They couldn’t make us go but they would be able to make us stay. . .?)
There were about 10 cars, including Park personnel, with someone at the front of the line and someone at the rear.
There was a meeting of the Silver City Mayor and the Mineral King Mayor, as they discussed and examined the locks on the Conifer Gate.
We headed down into thickening smoke. . .
. . . and were stopped at Wolverton Point. Another caravan was heading up the hill.
Lookout Point is a gathering place for vehicles. Initially it was built to look out for fires; now it is a place to look out at fires.
The mayors convened at the lower gate for another session of locks, while a Park person oversaw their negotiations.
It was a long weird smoky drive down. The good part is that we never had to wonder if we would encounter any vehicles coming up the road.
Tomorrow (yes, Sunday, I know. . .) I will share some photos of Mineral King, taken by Trail Guy to contrast the smoke with the clarity of the mornings.
What does one do in Mineral King when it is too smoky out for any real exertion or appreciation of the scenery?
Sometimes one sits inside with a friend and draws.
Sometimes one does chores, anticipating an early closing due to uncertainty.
That uncertainty chased us all weekend along. We contacted cabin neighbors who were not present to ask if they’d like their cabins drained so at least the pipes wouldn’t freeze. We had no way of knowing if the road would be closed or when we might be suddenly evacuated due to the Coffeepot Fire.
This isn’t too bad, smoke-wise. The intensity of it changed throughout the day and from day to day.
The fire isn’t threatening Mineral King, but if it crossed the East Fork of the Kaweah and started climbing toward the road, there would be too much equipment to allow civilian traffic.
I did some noticing of details, while just hanging around.
There was a short walk to inspect a footbridge that got replaced. Seems that the Park has been attending to some of its neglected maintenance chores.
Ooh, a hint of fall
The little cowgirl insisted on visiting the mules again. This was not recreational, of course.
She was a little braver this time.
Thus, we ended another day on a weekend of uncertainty in Mineral King.
After a harrowing intense drive, an hour longer than normal, we made it to Mineral King. It was smoky when we arrived, not worth any photos.
We gathered with neighbors in the early evening to share snacks, stories, and speculations on what the uncertain weekend might hold for us.
One member of our little group was more tickled by her sparkly cowgirl boots than interested in adult conversation.
The next morning, she requested that someone accompany her to the pack station so she could greet the mules, and perhaps even feed them a few carrots, pilfered from the previous evening’s snack trays. We were all early risers, because that is when the air was cleared out from the night’s down-canyon breezes.
Trail Guy willingly postponed breakfast to accompany our little friend.
There was a brief stop to admire the grouse.
Trail Guy ended up doing the carrot-feeding, since the little cowgirl was a bit intimidated by the eagerness of the stock.
They returned to the cabins so that Trail Guy could have his postponed breakfast, but Hiking Buddy and I headed toward Franklin Falls. We were NOT recreating—it was strictly for health purposes. I was testing my numb feet to see if they could carry me 4 miles on a trail. And it was ENTIRELY NECESSARY to scrub out our lungs with some clean air.
Made it 2 miles; could I make it back? Let’s not worry about that just yet.
Wait! What is this?? It’s Dylan on Emmy, leading his string out of the backcountry after resupplying a trail crew.
In case you didn’t know, if you encounter stock while on a trail, move BELOW them off the trail.
We crossed Crystal Creek on the way back to the cabins, and this time I just walked straight through. We knew time was of the essence, because the smoke was working its way back up into the Mineral King valley.
One last look at the beautiful Emmy at the pack station, with the faithful plainer-looking but still handsome Chuck behind.
We had a smoky afternoon and evening to get through. I’ll tell and show you more tomorrow as we continue our tale of an uncertain weekend in Mineral King.
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.
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!!!
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.
