Tag: Mineral King

Breaking the Silence—Mineral King in Early October

It is normal for us to close our cabin in mid-October. We closed a little earlier this year due to impending road construction.

We stopped at a lower spot so that Trail Guy could move a tarantula off the road.

There was a weird phenomena along the road: white stuff that looked like thick spider web material was stuck in grasses and shrubs almost all the way to Conifer, the upper gate. It felt sticky to Trail Guy; it felt like unnatural fiber such as acrylic or nylon to me, the way it stuck to my hangnails. My camera stopped working on the close-up setting, so it is a little hard to see what this stuff looked like.

There were definite signs of fall, finally.

We walked up to Crystal Creek, and the normally Yellow Tunnel was still green.

We walked down the road to Cold Springs Campground.

A little bit of work has been done on the Nature Trail, which was blocked by fallen trees and snow patches earlier in the summer. The water is still flowing strong, the aspens are still green, and there is some fall color showing in a few leaves.

We saw some interesting things.

This giant red fir was felled in Cold Springs Campground a year or two ago.

The berries were abundant this year.

Snowberry (white, hard to see in this photo)

Closing has lots of tasks, not all of which I photographed, because why would you want to see all that?? But here is one, peculiar to our cabin. Not every cabin requires a climb onto the roof.

Closing is bittersweet. It is hard to say goodbye to one’s second home, even if it is a seasonal farewell. There is also the relief of knowing everything is securely buttoned up, putting away one’s duffel-bags, being home, catching up on yardwork, spending time with the cats, going to church again, staying current with emails and various internet activities, getting work done. (Knitting is portable, so I didn’t list this.)

Trail Guy is nostalgic; I just knit, unravel, reknit, and enjoy the final moments.

The drive down took awhile because we stopped several times to share information about sites and road construction, to discuss the locks on the gates, to wish friends a good winter, and to just take in the sights.

The water is still flowing along the road, and scarlet monkeyflowers were abundant this year. We also saw Farewell-to-Spring, yes, in October!

Farewell, Farewell.

Mineral King

Breaking the Silence—Mineral King

This will be one of just two posts about Mineral King because I don’t want to gloat about enjoying it this summer while the public was barred from visiting. However, I know you are curious, so here is a brief look.

This year everything was delayed in Mineral King, due to a heavy winter. Normally, in August we begin to see signs of impending fall. Not so in 2023!

Here is a look at August and September this year. Water was flowing, berry bushes were still in bloom, grasses were green, snow patches hadn’t melted. By late September, some of the ferns had taken a hit in colder temperatures and turned bronze.

Tomorrow I will show you pictures from closing weekend, October 5-8, 2023.

Mineral King

Breaking the Silence–the Mineral King Road

Because Mineral King was closed to the public all summer, I chose to not post about it. There is nothing polite about rubbing people’s noses in the harsh reality of being forbidden to visit the most beautiful place in Tulare County, and in spite of my natural bluntness, I do my best to be polite.

We closed our cabin on a beautiful fall weekend, shut off the water to our little road, and said goodbye to Mineral King for the year.

Road repairs still had not begun, although the contractor was gathering equipment at the bottom of the road on Highway 198/Sierra Drive. There was also a bit of additional flagging where a few wires cross the Mineral King road.

In June, after Tulare County had their lower piece of the road repaired, Trail Guy and the Farmer volunteered many hours, marking the hazards and making the road passable. The Park gave permission for these two hardworking, capable, generous men to do the Park’s work, for free. They were instructed to not clean up anything, because the Park wanted Federal Highways to see the damage and messes.

This repair project should have been started as soon as the road was passable. In the opinions of those of us who drove the road regularly, at the very least, the Park should have sent up a backhoe operator with a shovel-wielding ground crew person to clean out the culverts and clear the gutters. However, they are extremely short-staffed, and Mineral King is not a priority.

The road to Cedar Grove in Kings Canyon has been closed all summer.

The Park hired a contractor, and all summer we kept hearing warnings to not drive the road because we would be interfering with road work. In reality, there was no road work by either the Park nor any contractors.

We were also warned against driving the road because if there was a problem, there would be no way for emergency vehicles to assist or rescue.

An off-duty Park employee thought it was just fine to drive on the wrong side of the road, even on blind curves. Silver City was able to limp their truck to the lower gate for towing; the park employee’s vehicle was still drivable.

We were warned against using our cabins because if there was a problem, no one would come help us. No propane trucks could deliver, and there was no garbage service. Somehow, the resilient and resourceful cabin community made it through these inconveniences.

Eventually, the phone company made it up the hill, but Trail Guy and I opted to not have a phone at the cabin. Several neighbors have phones, which they made available to us. This was an excellent arrangement, and since Trail Guy helps them out regularly, almost as if he is everyone’s (unpaid) resident houseman, he needed their phones in order to stay in touch. In return, we didn’t have to pay $54/month to keep our phone throughout the entire year for 4-5 months of use. Even more importantly, we didn’t have to hear it ring, interrupting our peace and causing us to wonder if yet another Fireman’s Fund was desperate for our help.

The latest missive from the Park:

A quick update on the Mineral King Road construction project. We’ve just been notified by the contractor that they won’t need to begin full road closures until October 17th. They will begin moving equipment and performing some work along the road beginning on Monday, October 9th. They will have traffic control personnel on site during this first phase of work.

Road work impacts will be from the park boundary up to the top of the construction zone at the Conifer Gate. The closure could be reduced over time but shouldn’t extend beyond that.
Work will take place Monday through Saturday, no work on Sundays.

7am-Noon????Road Closed
Noon to 1pm? Road Open
1-5pm ???????Road Closed
5pm to 7am ??Road Open

Access will continue to be limited to cabin owners and administrative traffic only. No public access.

In the opinion of the highly knowledgeable Trail Guy, formerly known as Road Guy, the construction zone needs to be extended above the Conifer Gate. You may recall that there was a rather alarming sinkhole in July, which was just 2 miles below the end of the road. We didn’t mention that there were also numerous “tree failures”, and the logs were just moved and trimmed to be one-lane passable.

Although it was mighty peaceful in the summer of 2023, we are not snobs nor are we elitists: we certainly hope that Mineral King is open to the public in 2024.

Three Rivers Museum Wall Painting, Completed!

The painted designs on the wall for a new exhibit called Native Voices at the Three Rivers Historical Museum are finished!

The last day began with little green men, called “The Gathering”. The lighter green was ready for a second coat, and the rest of the shadows had to be drawn in. That should have been very simple, but I struggled a bit on some of the placement. (There was plenty of touch-up base coat paint for erasures.)

This is how the whole wall looked.

Next, I had to figure out how to put the shadows on the far right diamonds, called “Rattlesnake”. Instead of transferring the pattern a bit to the right of the existing diamonds or drawing it in pencil, I used masking tape to “draw” it. This took a lot of thought and measurement. I would think that it was ready to paint, stand back, and see yet another missing strip. Sometimes I was protecting the diamond edge, and sometimes I was shaping the shadows.

Everything took two coats of paint. I wasn’t sure the tape would peel cleanly, but it did fine. While looking here on my computer screen, it appears that some of my spacing is off. Some of those lines got eyeballed, so the entire thing is bound to look hand-painted rather than like applied vinyl. My customer, the Mineral King Preservation Society, looked into vinyl but chose paint instead, a choice which suits me very well.

While the paint was drying, I started touching up the drips and wobbles, along with covering the visible pencil lines and smudges from the graphite transfer paper. The smaller red diamonds called “Quail” had no shadows. Thank goodness, because these were small and detailed. Maybe I should have taped them, but every job is a completely new challenge, and I just bumble through, wishing that sometimes I could have a couple of jobs the same so that the new knowlege wouldn’t be wasted.

Finally, I decided to peel off the tape, risking disaster. (That’s an exaggeration, because as long as there was paint remaining in the necessary colors, anything could be fixed.)

I peeled and only saw a few parts that needed retouching. Acrylic paint (or latex or whatever non-oil paint is) dries so fast, which is a real bonus on a job like this.

Finally, here is a look at the whole wall.

The display will have cabinets in matching colors placed strategically beneath the colorful wall designs.

A few more facts:

The colors were chosen to not clash with the other 2/3 of the room. (The red is magical—sometimes it looks red, sometimes it looks rust, and sometimes it looks pink, and get this: the name is pumpkin spice!)
The other 2/3 of the room is for the Mineral King exhibit, a thorough look at geology, mining, the Disney era, and cabin life in, of course, where else, Mineral King.
The Native Voices exhibit is put together by the MKPS for the Three Rivers Historical Museum. That 1/3 of the room isn’t the responsibility of the MKPS, but the MKPS has paid employees who are real go-getters. They know how to find money, and they wanted the entire room to look cohesive.

This is going to be a great display, and I encourage you to visit the museum!

custom art Mineral King mural Three Rivers Three Rivers Historical Museum

Cabin Life, Chapter Twenty-two (Finale)

Cabin Life: Final Thoughts

Someone’s Colorado cabin –definitely not small, rustic or rude

This is a backcountry cabin somewhere in Montana.

This rest of this post features drawings of Wilsonia cabins, where I spent 4 summers learning about that cabin community and discovering many common themes to the Mineral King community.

There are three distinct parts to cabin-ness:

The building itself – small, rustic, basic, simple, often without electronic amenities. (But wait! What about the cabin pictured above?)
The setting – rural, semi-secluded, in the mountains, taking an effort to get to (But wait! Have you ever been up Highway 180 to Wilsonia? And do these cabins look semi-secluded to you?)

A Wilsonia road

A Wilsonia neighborhood

The culture—slower, focused on people instead of technology; a place to play, recreate and relax, mostly outside; a place where meals and fireplaces become events in and of themselves; returning to nostalgic pastimes either of our youth or of some idealized youth of our parents and grandparents.

Outdoor dining is a big part of cabin life.

Napping is a regular method of relaxing at a cabin.

See? Outdoor dining area

Even outdoor cooking!

Fireplaces are a huge part of cabin culture.

Eat and run??

It seems that the culture part is the strongest determining factor of cabin life. Some of our cabin neighbors gathered in another location for several summers, due to illness of one of their group. One of them told me, “We do Mineral King things in Seattle, and Mineral King is present with us there.” (I probably paraphrased it beyond all recognition – Forgive me, Sawtooth Six!)

Thus, we conclude our 2023 series on Cabin Life. (unless I think of something else)

P.S. Most of the drawings in this post are part of the book The Cabins of Wilsonia, available here.

P.P.S. I can draw your cabin because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

cabin drawings cabin life cabin pencil drawings Mineral King pencil drawings Wilsonia

Cabin Life, Chapter Twenty-one

Thoughts on Cabins from a friend

A dear friend of many years, Natalie, sent these thoughts, titled “What a Cabin Means to Me”. (Nat, I did a tiny bit of editing – hope it clarifies rather than changes your intent.)

Secluded from the general public and hard to get to

In the mountains

Small and rustic, having only basic amenities, and no room for isolation.

Not a second home, but more of a make-do-and-relax kind of place where there is no television or phone service. A place where you interact with family and friends by sharing meals, playing cards and other games, sitting by a fire, hiking, and just cherishing the quietness of the outdoors.

Once again, mountains, small, rustic, games, firesides, food, outdoors, friends and family appear. I think Natalie’s ideal cabin would separate her family from outside influences, causing togetherness among themselves. This is a theme I found multiple times. . . a desire to unplug and simplify in order to focus on the ones who are most precious.

Our Mineral King cabin is definitely a cabin but varies from Natalie’s thorough and excellent definition in several ways.

It is a second home to us, but not in the sense of a home with all the luxuries you may be accustomed to (our first home is purposely lacking a dishwasher, microwave, “smart” gadgets, garbage disposal or heated towel racks; we’re just fine, but thanks for your concern).
The cabin no longer has a telephone, but we borrow the neighbors’ to check our messages on the home answering machine.
Neither one of us likes to play games; in the evenings we listen to the radio, Trail Guy reads out-of-date newspapers that friends bring up to him, I read library books and knit.

There is no single definition of “cabin”, but there is a feel to a place that makes it a cabin. I will share a few more ideas about it tomorrow. Then, maybe I will be finished with this topic. (No promises, because after all, my business is called Cabin Art.)

So, according to Natalie, a cabin is a small, poorly-constructed, primitive, one-story hut in the woods where everyday life is distant, and we gather to laugh with family and play board games while a fire keeps us warm. (If you have a giant log mansion on a lake somewhere, then you will have to edit this description to fit your idea of what constitutes “cabin”.)

P.S. I can draw your cabin because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

Mineral King

Cabin Life, Chapter Twenty

Mineral King Cabin Community

Mineral King cabin folks come from cities, suburbs, small towns and out in the country; we live in mansions, estates, apartments, and even a few normal houses. We are (or were) artists, bankers, equipment operators, janitors, teachers, farmers, administrative assistants, engineers, retirees, dental hygienists, sheriffs, lawyers, doctors, cowboys, builders, day care workers, musicians, optometrists, veterinary assistants, physical therapists, moms, Park employees, physician’s assistants, and those are just the first ones that come to mind. We come from Arizona, California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Virginia, New York, Hawaii, Florida, South Dakota, and Egypt. (And more places that I can’t remember. . .)

Our Mineral King cabins, AKA “small, poorly constructed huts in the woods”, are great equalizers.

Every one of us, regardless of our backgrounds, livelihoods, economic, educational or political status, is thrilled to have a small, poorly constructed hut in the woods without electricity. Every cabin has a barely adequate kitchen, a laughably tiny (or no) bathroom, maybe two, one, even no bedrooms.

Every single cabin user has to figure out how to deal with unreliable water, peculiar propane appliances, old stuff that may or may not work, and the definite lack of a maintenance department, hardware or grocery store. There is a terrible road to get there, rodents, spiders and other wildlife that may or may not be appreciated, and all sorts of unexpected situations. (Who left this chair and what happened to my flashlight?? Does anyone have any birthday candles? What’s wrong with this place that has no outlets? Are you serious that I cannot blow-dry my hair?)

Every single cabin that is owned by multiple families has its conflicts, whether decorating, cleaning, maintaining, or scheduling. The cabins without partnerships have to bear all the expenses, decisions, maintenance and cleaning without benefit of sharing the load.

Whether folks have complicated lives in fancy places or plainer lives in simpler places, all view a cabin as a mixed blessing: a family tradition, a repository of memories, and a bit of an inconvenience, but still a huge treat, their own treasured shabby shack in the mountains.

We have fought together against bureaucracy, helped one another, hiked together, learned one another’s family trees, and through it all we have built multi-generational friendships weekend upon weekend, year after year after decade after decade. And I am just a newcomer. . .

P.S. I can draw your cabin (or house or barn or garage or shed or hut or cottage or mansion) because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

cabin life Mineral King

Cabin Life, Chapter Eighteen

Old Work

A number of years ago (feels like five, so it is probably ten), the head law enforcement ranger in Mineral King decided that the Spring Creek footbridge shouldn’t be installed when the water was splashing onto it because it might be slippery. Never mind that the bridge has a hand rail; never mind that people were building weird little crossings all over the place; never mind that people found where the bridge was stored and dragged it into a precarious position without properly installing it; never mind that crossing became more treacherous with all these make-do solutions.

When Trail Guy worked Maintenance in Mineral King, he was one of the bridge installers each year. In The Year of No Bridge, he, along with some neighbors, decided to bypass the bureaucratic baloney.

This year, the very accommodating and capable trail crew installed the bridge as a thank you to Trail Guy for volunteering so much time to opening the road and repairing the sinkhole.

They rightly assumed that we would be capable of using the handrail if we needed a bit more help while crossing.

More Work

I love to do what I have deemed “waterology”. This means that I direct water off roads and trails whenever I can. I don’t mind standing in icy water, flinging rocks, yanking branches, digging more rocks and mud, and redirecting the water in order to prevent further erosion.

First, we worked on Chihuahua in mid-June. This is usually a nothing-burger of a little trickle. Not this year! Trail Guy and friends built a bridge.

Hiking Buddy and I returned later with a rake and got much of the flow off the trail and road. Chihuahua is just above the pack station, so there is a road almost all the way to it. Shortly after we finished, the very capable and hard-working trail crew filled in the deep crevices on the road made by the raging water.

The next week, Trail Guy and I tackled the problem of Crystal Creek, which was raging down the trail and even creating a pond in the middle of one section of trail.

You will still get your feet wet crossing the very very wide Crystal Creek. Oops: you would if you were allowed to go to Mineral King. I’m sorry for mentioning this.

I just walk through in my trusty All Terrain Crocs.

Yeppers, just standard issue Waterologist footwear.

P.S. I can draw your cabin because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

cabin life Mineral King

Cabin Life, Chapter Seventeen

More Work

Sequoia National Park is overwhelmed and understaffed. The employees have too much to do in the main section of the park, and Mineral King isn’t high on their list, particularly while closed this summer. They are doing the best they can, but much is overlooked.

That’s okay, Trail Guy and your Central California Artist are on the job!

The four signs directing people to not drive off the bridge fell, due to the heavy snow load. One would think that people would know to stay on the bridge, but there are many safety regulations that must be obeyed by road departments, at least when a bridge is constructed. After that, apparently we are on our own in terms of using some Cowboy Logic.

The wallpaper was peeling.

I got to trim it.

Mr. and Mrs. Gravy Moto, Caretakers of Wilderness.

P.S. I can draw your cabin because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

cabin life Mineral King mineral king bridge

Cabin Life, Chapter Sixteen

Work

Because Trail Guy lives at our cabin almost fulltime in the summer, he is the go-to person when cabin neighbors need help. It is tricky and expensive to get plumbers and carpenters up the hill, so when Trail Guy is able, he comes to the aid of our friends. If I am around, I often serve as his assistant.

Earlier this summer, we opened a neighbor’s cabin. When we turned on the water, we discovered a leak in the pipe on the left.

The pipe leads to the cold water in the kitchen sink.

It was a hot day, and I knew we’d be working in the sun. Nope, not this little gray duck. I carried an umbrella stand from our cabin and borrowed another neighbor’s umbrella to our site. (That’s correct—our umbrella was harder to transport.)

Trail Guy got out his super-duper tool box, a gift from yet another cabin neighbor (MANY THANK YOUS, LOUISE!)

We removed the window screen in order to undo the faucet, or something. (I just work here. . .)

All this means something to Trail Guy. His explanations haven’t stuck with me.

Finally, the dresser coupling was in place, and the screen was replaced on the window.(“Dresser coupling?” We addressed this in a post last year, which I don’t expect you to remember, so here is the link—see item #2— in case you would like a refresher.)

As I thought over this repair job, something occurred to me: this was a group project. Trail Guy repaired the pipe with: A. My mom supplied the umbrella stand; B. Next door neighbor supplied the umbrella; C. Neighbor next to the leaky pipe supplied the dresser coupling when he cleaned out his attic a few years ago; D. Dear neighbor across the way supplied the tool box.

And I helped!

P.S. Trail Guy is NOT a plumber nor a carpenter. If you try to hire him, he will say no.

P.P.S. (that means P.S. #2) I can draw your cabin because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

cabin life cabins Mineral King