Cabin Life, Chapter Six

Utilities: Water

There is no water company in Mineral King. Trail Guy and the Farmer keep water flowing to our neighborhood, with occasional help from other neighbors. I will skip the details, but let these photos tell you how scary it is this year.

We listen to hear it humming in our pipes, and when it gets quiet, we take a hike. “We”? Trail Guy takes a hike, and I stay at the cabin with a walkie-talkie to follow instructions about opening and closing various valves.

Hot water

Propane water heaters are the most normal part of cabin life’s necessities. Some people have tried to use the on-demand style, and after one winter, those things are toast. 

Sometimes the regular ones are also toast.

Trail Guy helps many neighbors with their water heaters when he can, and sometimes I go along, because sometimes other people’s bathrooms are kind of interesting.

I have no idea.

Cabin Life, Chapter Five

Utilities: electricity

Since there is no electricity in Mineral King (unless one uses a generator or is some sort of a solar genius), you might be wondering about some basics of life.

Let’s start with cooking. Lots of cabins have propane stoves, a few have propane/wood stoves, and we have a wood stove without a propane section. We also have small propane burner for quicker cooking when we don’t want to wait for the fire or heat the place.

Good thing I like to split wood. (Trail Guy makes it easy by providing smaller chunks for me.)

What about refrigerators? They come in propane. Ours isn’t top-notch (does that surprise you??) and in warmer temperatures it becomes more of an icebox with a good freezer on top.  So, we supplement with ice made in our freezer (or a neighbor’s) and sometimes we supplement with snow.

(HEY, SHUT THE REFRIGERATOR DOOR!!)

Those propane refrigerators have lots of troubles, beginning with the fact that the easy strike start-up device ALWAYS breaks first, and then it takes a gymnast to reach around the back with a match while someone else holds in the button, usually with a tool because it is really hard to push the button.

But that’s okay, because life is slower at the cabin.

Wait! What about light??

Again, propane.

Almost everything requires matches, and “Strike Anywhere” matches have become rare. (We call them “1 in 3s” because it takes 3 matches to get one that will actually light.) Lots of people use those plastic things that resemble curling irons with hard-to-press switches; I think they are called “lighters”, but the handle is longer than smokers’ types. And I bet they have a tiny internal propane canister. But plastic, ugh. So cheap, so unreliable, and so disposable, probably made in China. Sigh.

Cabin Life, Chapter Four

Gardening

What do we do at the cabin?

Sometimes I garden.

Gardening at a mountain cabin? What are you talking about??

When I first married into the cabin, I admired some bearded iris across the creek at another cabin.

Then, I transplanted some from our real house to the cabin.

We have had one bloom; it was in July, 2017. (Only took me 15 minutes to find that date. . . the photo was so unremarkable that it got deleted awhile ago.)

A neighbor has a lush front yard, and she graciously allows me to transplant things, which sometimes survive.

A trick is to keep the transplants watered, and to mark them so that people don’t just assume it is basic forest floor, free for unstructured trampling.

We have lots of currant bushes in the area, and they get full of dead branches. My theory about this is that the bushes will thrive and grow if the old stuff is cleared away. Sometimes I wonder if, when I pull out the dead stuff, the shrub is thinking, “HEY! I was eating that!”

It is possible that I have too much thinking time.

When the fire crews were clearing brush in an arbitrary manner during the fall of 2021, they made these very neat rows of their prunings. Random hacking, organized stacking. They won’t be returning to haul these piles away, so I am now using them when I do my own clearing.

Sometimes I rake, sometimes I use the large magnet on a pole to gather nails in a nearby driveway. (That’s another story, a long one.) 

And sometimes I wander around, wishing that I knew when and how to transplant things from God’s garden.

 

 

Cabin Life, Chapter Two

Slower Pace

What in the world do people do at a rustic cabin up a difficult road in a place without electricity?

We slow down. We sleep more—go to bed earlier, sleep later (the sun doesn’t hit the cabin until around 8:30 a.m.), and some of us take naps. Could be the elevation, could be that it is cooler and there isn’t a great need to get up early to beat the heat.

We linger over coffee, usually while listening to the radio. (Remember those?)

The old wood stove provides heat until the sunshine hits; then the cabin doors get opened to the outside.

This stove is now history, because the oven didn’t work, and one time it tried to kill us. But that’s a digression, one I might share with you later.

In summary, at the cabin, we slow down. Or, as Trail Guy has often said, “We contemplate matters of consequence.”

Cabin Life, Chapter One

 

How I Got a Cabin

Welcome to Cabin Life, my way of staying in touch during this odd summer of Mineral King being closed to the public and my accidental stepping into a sabbatical (or something akin to it.)

Thirty-eight years ago I met Trail Guy. In a rash moment of bald honesty, I said, “I’d kill for a cabin in Mineral King”.

He replied, “There is another way”. (Maybe he said “better” or even “easier”.)

We got married the following year (in Mineral King, of course), and nobody has gotten killed.

This was all pre internet, pre personal computers, pre continual connectivity. (The first summer of marriage, we got a landline at the cabin, since we were living in two different places. Fancy.)

Nowadays (isn’t that a classic Old People word?) we live in an era of total convenience, instant gratification, continual connectedness, and complete comfort. 

So why do people go to a rustic shack up a terrible road to spend time without conveniences, ultra-comfort, electricity, cell phones, or the internet? What in the world do people do??

This series, called “Cabin Life”, will give you a glimpse, maybe a few answers to those questions, or maybe just more questions.

 

Just Thinking… and Getting a New Idea

 

 

(Not my front porch)

While at the cabin for a short week I did some thinking about the blog. After fifteen years of continual posting, it is hard to shut down the ideas. It is hard to think about just stopping. It is hard to have ideas that would be rude to share, since Mineral King isn’t open to the public this summer.

Many ideas were flying around my overactive mind: nope, not that; nope, not that one either; nope, better not write that. (“Nope” is the opposite of “yeppers” in my peculiar vernacular.)

Then it came to me that I could write a series about cabin life. I have a lot of experience and thoughts about cabin communities and living simply in a cabin in the mountains. Maybe you, O Gentle Reader (doesn’t that sound quaint?), would be interested in an inside look?

I wouldn’t be talking about the trails, the water, the flowers, the quiet, the beauty, although that would slip in simply due to the location. The goal would be to show you what in the world we do with our time “up the hill”, as almost all people in almost all mountain communities refer to their cabin places.

The posts won’t be five days a week, because there is no internet, electricity, cell service, or even a reliable landline available where I will be spending a great deal of time. If you comment, it might be a few days before I “approve” the comment so that it shows. But at least you’d know I haven’t quit blogging, and you might enjoy a new topic.

Sinkhole on the Mineral King Road

 

Yeah, yeah, I know I said it was rude to talk about Mineral King when it is closed to the public. HOWEVER, something happened that added to the reasons for the closure, and it is so interesting that I decided to break radio silence to show you.

The night before we headed up the hill, we got a call from a cabin neighbor about a giant sinkhole on the road. He said it was very narrow to get past, and quite deep.

We left the house around 7 a.m., and stopped by the maintenance barn to talk to the trail crew (who are all in the front country waiting for a some young peregrine falcons to vacate their nest so the crew can blow up the giant boulder above Lookout Point). The crew was available, so we headed up to the sinkhole.

First stop was at the backhoe, conveniently parked less than a mile below the sinkhole. Road Guy (formerly known as Trail Guy) changed into working clothes, and I followed him in the Botmobile to a wide spot in the road below the hole.

Holy guacamole, (Hole-y guacamole?) that is deep, and as reported, very very narrow to pass by.

The trail crew guys are very strong, and knowledgeable about moving rocks around in a non-random manner.

See the tiny pile of smaller rocks in the bottom of the photo? I schlepped any rock I could find to the guys, because it was fun to “help”. Masonry is a fabulous skill, one I might try in my next life.

It became a community event. People drove up from Silver City and walked down from West Mineral King (also known as Faculty Flat, a mile below the end of the road). One of the guys helped me gather rocks; I pointed out the ones that were too big for me and he obliged.

See that skinny little dude? Very, very strong.

This is Hengst Peak, just to give you an idea of where this road failure was located. We call the area “the Bluffs”, which is above High Bridge.

These guys were very specific about their rock placements. Biggest ones first, and they actually slammed some of them with a sledge hammer to shape them to fit. The idea is as few gaps as possible. Eventually when I brought rocks my instructions were simply to toss them here or there. Finally, the dirt that Road Guy kept bringing went in to bring the hole back up to the level of the road.

See? All fixed. The culvert is plugged, which may be the reason the hole appeared. It is the reason that water is still going over the road.

And those yellow barriers read “CLOSED FOR CLEANING”. Sometimes a crew just has to make do with whatever is available.

Road Guy returned the backhoe, I picked him up, and then he went back and forth over the site with the Botmobile to pack the dirt. 

Fantastic teamwork, incredible timing of available men with excellent skills.

Pressing Pause

 

This photo is from May of 2022.

Mineral King is closed to the public this year. The Silver City Resort will not be accessible. Cabin folks are strongly discouraged from going up the hill.

NOTHING can stop Trail Guy and I from going up the hill to our cabin.

This poses a question: is it wrong to post photos of and chit-chat about a place that people aren’t allowed to go?

I don’t know how to handle this.

In addition, I seem to have accidentally retired. Actually, I don’t want to be retired, so let’s say I am on a sabbatical. I think this means a paid break for the purposes of learning new skills or doing research. However, I don’t earn if I am not working, and I am not researching anything, so “sabbatical” might also be the wrong description. I simply don’t have work right now, an odd situation that I have never encountered in all my years of self-employment as a Central California artist.

I need time to think, and I welcome your thoughts on this odd situation. Meanwhile, I will be pressing pause on my blog for an undetermined amount of time as I examine what might and might not be the appropriate method of blogging about this current phase of life as your Central California artist (and Mineral King reporter).

 

A Trip to Oregon

 

There is a little bit of important Mineral King news at the bottom of this post.

People say that Oregon is green for a reason, but most of my visits have been sunny. This trip was no exception.

It almost causes me physical pain to leave home, but somehow I was able to pull it off. This is about 15 miles from home, looking through the windshield, remembering Lot’s wife and facing forward, looking ahead to the future, trying to be brave about all I was leaving behind. (A trip is a temporary situation, Central California Artist.)

The great Central Valley of California is so beautiful when the air is clear.

This is heading to Reading. Or perhaps, hedding to Redding.

Once past Redding, Mt. Shasta is visible. Anyone out there remember Shasta soda? The logo on the cans looked just like Mt. Shasta. (Duh.)

Truck Village is always something to look forward to. It is near Weed. (Don’t get your knickers in a twist–ABNER WEED was a man’s name!)

There was a long traffic jam before Weed, and I just didn’t want to stop, so I pushed through to Yreka, stopped for gas, and still felt alert. (Ice cream for dinner helped.) I called my sister to ask how long it would take to get to her place from there. The answer was 4-1/2 hours. Remembering that it was the day with the most daylight of the entire year, and I was heading north, I decided to push on. So, a day of 13 hours of driving, almost two books on CDs, some tunes, a little talk radio, some thinking, some praying, 3 or 4 stops for gas (it is expensive everywhere), some snacking (but I refused to pay $4.49 for a “sharing” size of M&Ms—ARE YOU KIDDING ME??), and no night of poor sleep in some motel with the sounds of traffic, car doors, and strangers banging around with suitcases.

Sister and I did lots of walking. It is a thrill to see the beautiful yards (NO DEER! NO DROUGHT!) with many plants I’ve never seen in bloom.

We also went to a couple of estate sales. This one took the cake.

We visited an arboretum and had fun with a plant identification app on the phone (Picture This, free if you can see the almost invisible “CANCEL” in the upper right corner of the screen each time you open it.)

I attended a celebration of life service for a friend who used to live in Three Rivers. This photo was taken through the window of the pick-’em-up truck (Fernando stayed home) while crossing the Columbia River on the border of Oregon and Washington. That’s Mt. Hood. It looks like Shasta, because that’s just how it is with those volcanoes. 

We also took an afternoon excursion to McMinnville to a store that specializes in olive oil and balsamic vinegars. I lost control. Phenomenal stuff. (I don’t need no stinkin’ Trader Joe’s!)

To be continued tomorrow. . . 

About Mineral King: (CABIN FOLKS, PAY ATTENTION!), the gate code has been changed. CALL AN MKDA BOARD DIRECTOR FOR THE NEW COMBINATION. IT CANNOT BE GIVEN OUT VIA EMAIL, VOICEMAIL OR TEXT.

A Day Trip to Mineral King

In the olden days (last year), it took about 1-1/2 hour to drive to Mineral King from our house in Three Rivers. This was going slow, stopping to talk to friends encountered on the road, maybe stopping to photograph something.

On Thursday, it took almost 3 hours* to get to Mineral King. This involved a stop to visit with the crew working on the lower section of the road.

I was prepared for a long drive with knitting.

There is a lot of greenery on the way up. Lots of wildflowers too, but I didn’t want to add to the time by asking for photo stops.

This was on the county section. 

Although there wasn’t any active road work after going through the lower gate, Road Guy wants to keep this sign in place so that people who drive the road will be alert. Besides, there could be some road work. There certainly needs to be.

We stopped to talk to a couple of walkers, to rake out a few drainages, and to pick up many traffic cones. Why were so many knocked over? We don’t know. And we stopped at the maintenance barn to visit with the two guys working in MK this summer.

The knitting grew.

This is the background that is overexposed in the knitting photo. It is just above High Bridge, where we stopped for more raking.

There are lots of narrow spaces along the road, but not so much in the upper sections. There is a lot of water running along, under, and across the road, just seeping from the hillsides, running down drainages that aren’t normally running at this time of year. The water is mostly on the paved sections.

Standard photo of the Crowley cabin and Farewell Gap.

The weird piles left from the 2021 fires remain. Road Guy thought the fire crews would return to remove them last summer because they appear to be piles of kindling. Of course they didn’t return.

The juniper tree escaped. It appears in many old photos and was marked to be removed, but better sense prevailed, and this piece of living history remains in the last parking lot.

The daffodils I planted last fall are struggling upward.

Looking alongside the back of the cabin.

I meandered down to a neighboring cabin and was so happy to see all the green growies and flowing water.(Almost said “water flowies” to rhyme.)

The knitting grew.

We walked up to the pack station. Clearly there had been an avalanche, with trees snapped off and bent over, along with a lot of debris on the road.

Chihuahua was running, so I did a little waterology to get it off the road.

Finally, on the way back down, we stopped just above Sky Hook to see the gabion baskets begin to rebuild a major road failure. The construction crew is doing a fabulous job with temporary repairs on the county’s section of the road.

A final thought: if the Mineral King Road normally makes you nervous or jittery, this would not be the year to drive it. (And we still don’t know if/when the Park will open it to the public).

*This wasn’t actual driving time. We stopped to unlock/open/close/relock the two gates, to visit with people, to pick up knocked over traffic cones, to take a few photos, to rake a few culverts . . .

Tomorrow I will return to posting about my artwork. If more Mineral King news occurs, I’ll do my best to post the information. You can also look on the Mineral King website, although the writers there are not as chatty, opinionated, or actually taking photos (but I let them use mine whenever they ask).