Day Six, Three Rivers - Dining With Ducks

After retracing our tracks from the Hospital Rock parking area, we left Sequoia and took dinner at the Gateway Restaurant and Lodge - again on their deck overlooking the Kaweah River. It's no surprise, I suppose, that dining on such a deck with a fast-moving river and its denizens makes for happy customers and is a boon for digestion.

Dining with ducks

The Kaweah River

Dining with ducks

Dining with ducks

Dining with ducks

Dining with. . . a goose?

The Kaweah River

The Kaweah River

The Kaweah River

Shortly before we took our leave, the ducks apparently decided they weren't getting enough attention and came up on the deck with us. I'm sure they scored a few french fries (which were excellent, by the way) before the wait-staff dispersed the entertainment, averring with great conviction that, "They never come up here!"

After visiting Three Rivers and Sequoia it seems only right to give a shout-out to John Muir (1838-1914), and another for Alan who tracked down these and a few other carvings on our way out of town. The whole day was a wonderful finale to my stay with great friends Alan and Angela.

Day Three, Alabama Hills / Mt Whitney Bonus

This set of shots were all shot in the Alabama Hills and most of them have Mt Whitney - or at least the Sierras - in the background. A few brief comments for some of these to highlight something that caught my attention. . .

Note the sneering disembodied head  at the left edge of the picture. Then the horizontal rock that starts 1/4 of the way in from the left edge and ends at the middle of the shot. It looks like it's been carved. That may have angered the disembodied head. The carved rock is zoomed in below.

This made me think of a bunch of granite surfboards for rent, on display sticking out of the sand on a beach that misplaced its ocean.

This just made me glad I hadn't parked all the way down there - or even worse, behind that hill.

I just like the rocks in the near right corner, leading the eye to the center of the composition, the elements of which are so disparate.

Like the previous one - the same mountain in the background of both and a foreground completely different from the preceding one.

And once more, but even Mt Whitney's been replaced in this one as well as the foreground  elements.

I'm just pleased so much of the picture is in focus. That's not always the case. A little closer attention to detail with the sage brush in the foreground would have nailed it.

The end of the shoot, but still a fair amount of driving to do to get to Hanford. As Uncle Kirksey used to say, "On to bigger and better things!"

Day Three, The Alabama Hills and The Mobius Arch

First of all, The Alabama Hills in California? No, they weren't transplanted here. They were named by southern prospectors in the area during the Civil War after the CSS Alabama scored a long series of victories as a commerce raider and ran the US Navy ragged for awhile. Eventually, Alabama was sunk by the USS Kearsarge off the coast of Normandy in 1864. Then northern prospectors named a mining district, a mountain pass, a mountain peak, and a town after the Kearsarge.

The Navy must have gotten some better camouflage paint since I left Lemoore in 1978. I heard the Hornets or Super Hornets all morning long, but I only caught sight of a couple (as I was composing this shot). It was impressive when he (or she) broke right directly overhead at about 200 ft. I was sure they were busting the floor restrictions for the MOA (when I almost dropped my camera), but I checked and the airspace is theirs from 200 ft to Angels 18 (18,000 ft or Flight Level 180).

I tried to catch a shot or two of them, but I'd set up my camera to use a back focus button instead of the shutter release so my attempts went for nought. This little oasis in the two pictures above is the result of the Owens River which crosses CA-136 here, just SE of Lone Pine. It occurred to me later that such a crossing point might be a VFR fix for whatever sandblower (low level) route they were flying. Maybe they hadn't been trying scare the. . . well, you know.

Here are a couple shots of Mt Whitney with the Alabama Hills in the middle ground. Remember the Lone Ranger, Hopalong Cassidy, and Gene Autrey? An awful lot of the movies and TV shows shot from the '30s  on were filmed here. The road west out of Lone Pine is Whitney Portal Rd and the cutoff north into the Alabama Hills is Movie Rd or Movie Flat Rd (Google Maps uses both).

Besides those referred to above The Alabama Hills were locations for Bonanza, Tom Mix and Tim Holt films, Gunga Din, Springfield Rifle, Bad Day at Black Rock (1955), and the Budd Boetticher-Randolph Scott westerns. If you don't remember those, how about How the West Was Won, Joe Kidd and Gladiator. Still too far back? How about Star Trek Generations, Disney's Dinosaur, Iron Man, or Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. Thank you Wikipedia, I rest my case.

I'm not really obsessed with the Mobius Arch, it's just that I'd never heard of it till two nights before I left on this trip when I came across pictures of it. When it noted that the arch was just outside Lone Pine, I checked it out. Great pics! Much better than these, but I didn't have the benefit of an infinitely flexible schedule to shoot sunrises, sunsets, star fields, etc. So, bear with me. The shot above is from the edge of the trailhead parking area (which is very flat). Satellite photos show no appreciable difference between the parking area and the trail to the arch. But why I assumed that the quarter mile hike would be flat baffles me. As you can see, there's a lot of up and down involved here (mostly up), including steep sections here and there where stone steps were introduced.

Once I started down the trail, the arch disappeared and this is the next glimpse I caught of it - definitely uphill, and this after having to climb high enough just to see it again!

A third view, and I'm still looking UP. What are those little "huts"? Never mind.

And yet another view of the arch. Like the pics of Mt Whitney, the angle and the background seem to stay the same but the foreground and middle ground. . . never mind. . . just keep walking. . .

Okay, there it is. Mobius Arch my Aunt Fanny. It looks like ET playing kissy-face with an octopus or something. Still, I did make it. That looks like a bench over there made just for me.

Alright! How long can I sit here before starting back. I can see my charcoal Santa Fe in the parking area in the middle distance. Water, air conditioning, a snack. Too soon yet. I'll just rest here awhile longer. . . or call EMS. . . Who am I kidding? You expect cell phone coverage out here? I guess I could be at Furnace Creek. . .  a hundred and how many degrees? I'd better stop whining and be thankful just to be still kickin'.

I did make it back to the parking lot. After climbing up to it I thought I was going to have to crawl the last 150 ft to the car. I thought of the scene in Apocalypse Now where Frederick Forrest was scared by the tiger while out in the jungle hunting mangoes, made it back to the PBR and was hanging onto the chief's leg screaming "You were right, Chief. I'll never get out of the ______ boat again!" The water I had in the car sure was good.

Day Three, Between Barstow and Lone Pine

I left Barstow about 5 AM, thinking that would give me time to get clear of traffic and get out in the desert to catch the sunrise. But, I was on vacation so being tardy isn't an actionable offense. It was just a bit farther than I expected, that's all.

This "near sunrise" was shot on the Trona - Wild Rose Rd and captured what I was looking for, the golden hour, a little lens flare, and a descriptive foreground.

As the sun got higher the lighting conditions got harder. This view of the Panamint Valley was taken coming out of the hills and looking towards Ballarat. Now, I didn't actually see it, but I read the historical marker. Founded as a supply base for local mines in 1896 or '97 because of a reliable nearby water source in use since the 1850's it was named by an Aussie immigrant for Ballarat, Victoria. In the eight years between then and 1905 the town had a population approaching 500, seven saloons, three hotels, a Wells Fargo station, a Post Office, a school, a jail, and a morgue - but no churches.

 I think of that pyramid-looking hill center stage as California's answer to Zeto Point, a peninsula 3 mi off the approach end of runway 23 on Adak. That was my first impression when I saw it 10 years ago. Now, a feature of the Mojave Desert reminding me of anything in Adak, Alaska strikes me as preposterous. Anyhow, this Zeto Point is about three mi north of Nadeau Trail (CA-190) where Panamint Valley Rd comes to an end.

Speaking of which, this is that very intersection looking east, where the road disappears into the mountains separating Death Valley from Panamint Valley. Up there (down there) the town of Furnace Creek, Headquarters and Visitors Center for Death Valley NP, has an elevation of 190 ft below sea level and the 2010 population was 24. The town has the record for the highest recorded temperature in the world,  134° on July 10, 1913, but of course, some meteorologists don't buy the accuracy of the 1913 measurement. Also, a ground temperature of 201° was recorded in Furnace Creek on July 15, 1972 and may be the highest natural ground surface temperature ever recorded. It can get hot.

These two shots both just happen to feature the same Joshua tree from the same angle, but there were plenty to choose from. I just wanted to get some shots without getting too far from my car (and water). Joshua Tree NP probably has better examples, but it's twice as far south of here as yesterday's Mojave National Preserve. These will have to do.

My first view this trip of Mt Whitney, topping out at 14,505 ft, the highest point in the contiguous United States. I spent the day fascinated  by it - all the views looked the same except for the foreground and middle ground. The surface elevation of nearby Owens Lake is 3,556 ft almost 11,000 ft lower than the peak.

I was so glad for the clear skies. Normally I'm hoping for interesting clouds for the pictures, but I would have been distraught had Mt Whitney been obscured even by interesting clouds. I like how, in this shot, the rust color of the hill intruding from the left matches the telephone pole perfectly. But then, I'm not very hard to please.

It was about here I became aware of the roar of Navy F/A-18 fighters that provided the continuing sound track for my visit to the Lone Pine area. I had forgotten from my time at NAS Lemoore that the footprint of the Military Operating Area (MOA) east of Mt Whitney was essentially the same as the footprint of the northern Mojave Desert itself.

Tomorrow's post will cover my possibly rash decision to shrug off my tether to the car and wander off on the trail to the Mobius Arch.

Yosemite and the Sierra Nevada

I was stationed at NAS Lemoore, California from June 1974 till I left the Navy for good in February 1978. It was a great tour. There always seemed to be something to do on your days off - like a road trip to San Francisco or San Diego or a drive to Sequoia or Kings Canyon National Parks - a day playing in the river, swimming and sliding down the granite chute at Hospital Rock, is probably as much fun as anyone could rightfully expect to have so close to home. The longer we stayed at Lemoore, the more entertainment options seemed to open up for us. I took flying lessons and we'd fly up to Oroville in the Sierra foothills and wander around in the old gold camps. Then we'd fly west, intercepting the coast just above the Redwood National Park, turn south and fly down the coast, a mile or so offshore, past the Golden Gate and San Francisco and land for lunch at the airport at Monterey. After lunch we'd hop back in the plane and continue down the coast to Pismo Beach or even Santa Barbara before turning away from the Pacific, back across the coastal range to the San Joaquin Valley and Lemoore.

For a little bit longer drive than the short trip to Sequoia, we'd take Hwy 41 up past Fresno and Merced and head for Yosemite National Park. As soon as we left the valley floor, the character of the road changed from straight arrow to exceptionally circuitous as the maze threaded its way farther into the Sierra Nevada. The changes alongside the road as we gained altitude were subtle. After the orange and lemon groves the low hills were studded with oak and, before long, you found yourself marveling at the size of the sugar pines to the right and left. The pictures above and below were taken on the west side of the Sierras approaching Yosemite from the south. As beautiful as the views were, nothing quite prepared you for the panorama that awaits at the east end of the Wawona Tunnel. Indeed, the first time we drove up, the tunnel itself was a surprise. No one back at the base had ever mentioned entering the valley through a tunnel.






Okay, get ready. . .






I have to believe that some farsighted soul with the National Park Service found this view of the Yosemite Valley - which is absolutely perfect, in case you hadn't noticed - and said to himself, then his boss, then his boss's boss, "We can't blindfold people, lead them into the valley and spring this view on them. We need to put them on an approach road that keeps them entertained - and distracted - then lead them into the valley through a tunnel, and knock them out with the VIEW." El Capitan dominates the left side of the valley, Cathedral Rocks and Bridal Veil Falls are to the right, leaving Half Dome perfectly framed.


Lucky for us, the Park Service salesman had his way and the Wawona Tunnel became an alternate entrance to the Yosemite Valley. I'm sure the shock and awe of this entrance caused its share of trouble. You simply don't want to take your eyes off the view to watch the road. So, now we come out of the tunnel and immediately encounter a large overlook with parking sufficient to allow us to recoup our composure. Both of these pictures of the valley were taken from the overlook while I recovered.


This last photograph, which appears to have nothing in common with the previous ones, is a view looking east from the Tioga Pass Road, Yosemite's back door. I believe that the large lake just below the horizon is Mono Lake. On my last trip to California, in the spring of 2008, I had intended to drive north through Death Valley and cross the Sierra Nevada through Tioga Pass. My friend Scotty, who I would visit in Hanford, warned me that he didn't think the Tioga Pass Road was open and clear of snow till sometime in June. Checking the California DOT website confirmed that the road had not yet opened for the year. That was all right - I wandered about Death Valley for a few more hours and crossed the Sierras around Lake Isabel.