Friday: Three Rivers, Not Mineral King

Normally you get to read about Mineral King on Fridays, but I have nothing to show or tell you. Maybe you only look at the pictures anyway. Maybe I am just talking to myself. . .

We went for a bikeride, curious about the firecamp at the Lions’ Roping Arena and the former Three Rivers Airport (more of a strip than a port, and closed for decades now.)

Even the most beautiful yard in Three Rivers looks a bit tired in September. August used to be my worst favorite month, but it has now become September (fires, can’t get to the cabin to get away from the heat, the deer really start chomping down my yard, everything is dusty and smoky, sick of heat, wanting to be home but so tired of heat—waa waa, someone call the wambulance.)

The number of vehicles and equipment and personnel has diminished. They are certainly keeping the gravel road watered and packed, but it is still washboardy on a bicycle.

We stood in the shade of this tree and visited with our friend, who is working security at the second gate.

I was happy to see these little guys are still in residence.

Those trucks are lined up, waiting their turn to get washed. Maybe it is a crew that is leaving.

I wonder what those sleeping trailers are like inside: probably very dark and cool. I think many of the workers choose to stay in local motels.

I don’t know what all the trucks and equipment are busy with or why, but I bet that whoever owns the former airstrip is making bank.

Enough of this fire stuff; off to the airport bridge to check out the river before the uphill ride home. (As a bonus, you now know why it is call the “airport bridge”. When we were kids and drove over it, we were instructed to, “roll up your windows—there are hippies!” I wonder if any of them was my future husband. . .)