12 to 24 August 2004

The sunrise view from Trail Camp at 12,000-ft.

Mount Whitney - An Assemblage of Words 17 to 20 August 2004

To Sterling by car, a taxi to Dulles,

Then American West to Reno and a rental car.

Into Sierra Trading Post with wallets full and arms empty,

Out we came the very same way.

We were so good,

Remarkable ain’t it ?

A stop at Wal*Mart for food,

Another Wal*Mart for fuel for the stove.

And, oh yes, a third for matches to light that stove.

To Topaz Country Park to camp that night,

A beautiful spot with a lake so scenic.

The casino drew us nigh for dinner with a view,

Breakfast also we found right there.

Then south to Mammoth Lakes,

To the Visitor Center for camping info.

A campsite we found on an outer loop,

Tents were pitched back in the woods.

A bear visited next door,

Then batted around a cooler chest on our other side.

After breakfast oatmeal so fine we parked for the tram,

A free ride we had with the Golden Age Passport.

The Devils Post Pile , a remarkable site,

We hiked up and around, then down and around.

We continued on in the warm, warm sun,

To Rainbow Falls, to see the cascade.

Then back to the Post Pile for the afternoon sun,

And a stroll to Minaret Falls.

This a bridal veil falls, so dainty and pretty,

Gushing and splashing, gurgling too.

Feet were soaked in the water so cool,

A snack went down to fuel the hike.

Back in town a ground squirrel was spied,

And tickets were bought.

A gondola ride up Mammoth Mountain

Found us with a view so grand at 11,053-feet.

Dinner that night was just OK,

Hawaiian dancing in the square was fine.

Then south to Lone Pine we drove,

To find and use a Laundromat hot.

Final food was bought,

Then we drove uphill on a twisty-turny mountain road.

To the Portal we went,

And a beautiful campsite with a bearbox so strong.

We stayed two nights at 8,400-ft,

Pretty days and cool, cool nights.

In between we hiked to Lone Pine Lake,

9,850-ft, an alpine jewel.

We saw some trout,

And kids a-swimming.

This altitude acclimatization a necessary thing,

For the hike ahead.

At the Portal bear canisters were rented,

And souvenirs viewed.

Twelve-inch pancakes on that Tuesday morn,

Fueled the furnace for backpacking ahead.

We climbed and climbed,

And huffed and puffed.

The air was thin,

The weather warm.

To Outpost Camp we wended our way,

Upwards and onwards to10,365-ft.

We camped under evergreens,

Sheltered from a soft, short shower.

Wednesday we again hefted our loads as

We climbed and climbed,

And huffed and puffed.

The air was thin,

The weather warm.

To Trail Camp we sauntered over rocks and steps,

Straining up steps on steeper slopes to 12,000-ft.

Flowers were pretty here and there,

Chipmunks there were, just everywhere.

Timberline we passed,

Shade disappeared.

A bright sun shone down,

And we glowed and glowed .

We found two spots,

And pitched our tents.

The view uphill was awesome,

Mountains above grand and challenging.

Later that afternoon, under the sun so bright,

Ice pellets pinged and bounced on our pots and pans.

Thursday was the day,

The goal of the trip.

At breakfast there’s ice in the pot,

And frost on the backpacks.

In daypacks we stuffed water, film, lunch,

And warm, warm clothes.

To the switchbacks we headed,

Ninety-seven in all, in just 2.2-miles.

As we climbed, we shrank to ants -

The tents got smaller way down yonder.

We followed others,

Others followed us.

First to Trail Crest,

All uphill and exposed at 13,777-ft.

Then around the back of that mountain chain,

To climb up the mountain down .

Five hundred-feet we lost,

But found again.

Snow patches were passed,

Brownish, dirtyish, white, and pinkish even.

Then we see it,

There on the peak.

The hut, the shelter,

Just there, not far.

But not so fast,

’Twas not a straight trail.

Around the mountain shoulder we hiked and hiked,

Going all the way round, to ascend the far side.

But make it we did,

As the sky clouded over.

The view was grand,

3601 of mountains and haze.

Wow !! Just wow !!

People galore,

And ugly Boy Scouts, mooning the world.

They set out crackers, a mess they made,

Feeding marmots and chipmunks, a bad thing to do.

All was not lost, we enjoyed the view -

But we tarried not.

The sky was dark,

A threatening dark.

So down we headed,

And none too soon.

The showers arrived, snow pellets and snow,

Then sleet, with a cold, bitter wind.

We hurried on, the ground quite white,

A look to the west encouraged speed.

The mountain top, the ridge,

Not a nice place to be with thunder and lightening.

Sleet turned to light rain,

As we scurried on.

A camper below, we recognize the tent,

’Twas "Powder Man ," our neighbor of the night before.

He would summit on the morrow,

Going easy with a history of altitude sickness.

From there we go down the mountain up,

Then down the mountain down.

The switchbacks are still there,

Our tents far below.

’Tis still raining as we reach our homes,

And dive in to rest and hibernate a spell.

My nap is fine,

The rain ends, the sun appears for supper.

We look up at the mountains,

Hard to believe we summitted today.

14,497-ft.,

We must have been next to Heaven.

Such a great feeling,

The accomplishment, the happiness.

We met the challenge,

Our gear worked well.

Friday it’s all down,

Making heels a bit sore.

To the Portal we go,

For a burger so big, delectable even .

To the car we tread,

From the bearbox our stuff we retrieve.

Then down that twisting road,

To a shower, a hotel, a night in a bed.

The next day to Laws,

And a railroad museum - fascinating.

Then north to the Virginia Creek Settlement Restaurant,

Our last night on the road.

We upgrade from tent site to tent cabin,

The ADewy, Chetum and Howe Attorneys@ cabin .

254 for a three-minute shower,

A phone call to Bea from an outhouse fine .

Saturday we backtrack, just a wee bit,

To Bodie State Historic Park.

’Tis an old mining town in suspended animation,

Some needed repairs are made, but no restoration.

We walk and photograph, go "Ahhhh" and "Geeee,"

So much to see and absorb from the 18 and 1900's.

A tour of the gold and silver stamping mill

Is worth the time.

Then northward again to Mono Lake,

But the visit is just minutes as a deluge arrives.

Then onward to Reno,

To Circus Circus we wend our way.

The hotel glitzy,

But the semi-suite and buffet great.

The flight to Dulles quiet, serene, with a few bumps,

A Harry Potter book fills the void.

A quick taxi to Sterling,

A night relaxing.

Then the drive to Suffolk,

Reflecting on a trip divine.

I drove to James’ place for a night. We checked in 2-hours early at the Dulles airport - just in case they decided we had to unpack our duffel bag encased backpacks. They did not. Then we flew to Reno and picked up a rental car.

Our first stop in Reno was at Sierra Trading Post. We went in with full wallets and empty arms and came out the same way. Remarkable ain’t it ?

Traveling south out of Reno our highway, US 395, was bounded by sound suppressing walls. Many of these are right ugly, horrid even. But these were pretty. They were simulated rock. Behind the walls we could see ranges of mountains on the horizon. And we could see these same mountains on the sound walls. Every hundred yards or so there was a 50-ft long etched silhouette of the mountains to the west C really quite lovely.

I had MapQuest directions to three different Wal*Marts not far from US 395 going South from Reno. As it turned out, we stopped at all three. We bought groceries at the first but forgot stove fuel. We found the stove fuel at the second, but forgot matches, which we bought at the third.

And at the third we marveled at a monster bus. It was a small, yellow school bus, but was up on monster wheels/tires. For $10 you could (we did not) take a very brief ride. They’d cordoned off 1/3 of the Wal*Mart parking lot. But there were no bumps, no logs to go over, just a flat ride. Don’t see why anyone would want it. We could see why it cost $10; there were tire tread marks all over where the bus turned and wore off tire tread.

We found the proper side road and took a driving tour along the east side of Lake Tahoe. The varying scenes across the lake to the far mountains were just lovely. Jet Skis plowed the waters away from shore and, closer in, we saw a group of rental kayaks enjoying an outing. The rocky/bouldery shore was reminiscent of Elk Lake (in the Adirondacks), though the flora/fauna was much different.

Knowing we would not be landing in Reno until just after noon, and that it would take time to claim baggage and get and pack a rental car, I had planned our first night at Topaz County Park Campground, just over 70-miles South of Reno. MapQuest directions were good; we had no problems. I’d previously phoned about reservations. The kind lady who answered the phone said they are a first come - first served county park, but that on a weekday we would have no problem. And we did not. On the way in the three-mile road we saw three magpies, the first of number of these we saw throughout the trip.

We found a nice spot on the first row of tent sites, on sand and gravel, looking over a gradual slope of sparse desert plants to the lake below. There we saw California gulls and pelicans and Jet Skis. After setting up, we cooked a fine, fine dinner at the lodge/casino we had first seen next to US 395. As the lady promised, campground restrooms were clean, and the showers just great. Breakfast was also found at the casino, with a fine view out over the lake. On the way out to the casino, we spied a flock of California quail, with their cute topknots, crossing the road ahead of us, and cormorants on the lake below. After caloric intake, we continued South to Mammoth Lakes for some 7 to 9,000-ft hiking and the start of our hiking/altitude conditioning. On the way we slowed for a look-see as we passed the Virginia Creek Settlement Restaurant. We would be staying there on the way back North. It looked OK.

Our first stop in Mammoth Lakes was at the US Forest Service visitor center. There we looked over post cards and such, and talked to the folks about campsites. We had a site reserved some 15-miles to the South. This I called an "insurance reservation" in case we could not find something closer. That site, at McGee Creek, was the only Mammoth Lakes site I could find in the AAA guidebook that would take a tent reservation. The visitor center info lady said we could drive around the many lakes of Mammoth Lakes looking for a spot, or go through the US FS campground in town, right behind the visitor center and try our luck. While talking to her I heard a familiar voice and spied Clint, of Parthena and Clint from the A.T. Conference.

As Clint turned to leave his side of the counter, I casually stuck my paw, holding my A.T. Conference Trail Crew ball cap, out in his way. What a shocked smile I got in return. Here we were, some 3,000-miles from home and we meet in an US FS visitor center !! Parthena has found a new job and they are moving West in September. Meanwhile, they are hiking a portion of the Pacific Crest Trail with a group including Mike Dawson, our past A.T. Regional Rep. We talked a bit, then parted to go our separate ways. ’Tis indeed a small, small world.

James and I drove through the nearby campground, finding an empty site on the outside edge of an outside loop. James campsat while I went back to the self-service registration kiosk to pay and get our sticker. A quick question of the Campground Host revealed that our cost was halved due to my Golden Age Passport. Nice. As I parked back at the campsite, a staff person came by in a golf cart. He said yes, we could pitch our tents a bit back in the open pine woods. We just had to stay clear of a bike-hike trail he pointed out 50-yards or so behind our selected campsite.

After setting up our tents and talking with the campground host for a bit to solicit ideas for a short afternoon hike, we headed for a trailhead at the end of Coldwater Campground. Here we found the Emerald Lake Trail and started uphill through the open forest. In some spots we followed a pretty stream with many streamside wild flowers. In other areas there were pleasant flower-filled meadows or creek crossings. In one little waterfall area a small, ground hugging, yellow flower at waters= edge formed a pretty carpet of snap dragon-like blooms.

And, yes, we reached Emerald Lake and =twas beautiful. There was a dead tree extending from the bank out into the water, providing a photo op. The water was still and the reflections of the hills on the other side and the clouds and sky above were post card perfect.

In a meadow along a stream, and later by the lake, we found occasional, very small, though not short, very pretty lilies. They were like miniature versions of our own Turks Cap Lily. Most were a bit past, but we found one stalk of blooms in good shape.

We continued up the trail, heading for Sky Meadows. The Mammoth Lakes brochure and other hikers had remarked on the flowers to be seen there. And we almost made it. We could see it ahead when the darkening clouds became water-dropping clouds and we turned back toward the car. It did not rain hard, but we preferred to be lower on the mountain in case it started thundering.

At the trailhead we had seen quite a horse group. One gent in particular had been friendly, taking his break on the restroom stoop. He was still there on our return and we spoke with him for a while before we piled back into the car to go explore the town.

We explored a bit before parking for supper at the Berger Place - OK, but nothing really special. That evening we made sure to put all our food and goody smelly things in the car trunk - it was the best protection we had and we had been warned about bears. All the garbage cans we saw in town were bearproof. Most campgrounds, we found, were showerless. A sponge bath with Rinseless Soap worked well that night. The cut-off bottom of an empty one-gallon water jug served nicely as our water basin.

After breakfast we headed to the Mammoth Mountain Inn where we would pick up the tram to Devils Postpile National Monument. In looking around we missed the first tram, getting our tickets and the next tram a half-hour later. In the meantime we enjoyed watching the tourists, seeing the pretty flowers and a rather chubby, tourist-fed, ground squirrel. Tram tickets were free because of the Golden Age Passport. Another nice. The tram runs from 7:00 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. and is mandatory. Before and after those times you can drive into Devils Postpile National Monument.

Traveling in the tram, you can see why they discourage automobiles during the peak season. The road is a narrow, twisty-turny mountain road. Along the way we saw several patches of tall, purple larkspur. Unfortunately we never saw any to photograph while we were hiking. We alighted at tram stop 6 and walked over the Ranger Station. There we enjoyed their advice and the exhibits before starting out on the trail to the Postpile. We crossed a meadow on gravel, cut rock lined, trail with puddles. At times we walked on the edge rocks to keep feet dry. A ground squirrel stayed absolutely still on a rock next to the trail as I focused my camera. I don’t remember whether he scampered before or after the shutter click. I’ll know when the slides come back. At the far end of the meadow we entered open, very pleasant evergreen woods.

When we arrived at the Postpile we found the hugely interesting and scenic, open side in the shade. We took a trail to the left around and up to the top of the pile where there was good morning sun on the pavement-like tops of the "posts." After photos and a snack/water break, we continued around the top and back down to the main trail.

From there we continued hiking, heading toward Rainbow Falls on the San Joaquin River. The trail opened out into open, sunny, warm country and I was glad of my 30 UPF floppy hat. We saw a number of chipmunks, some juncos, a few sparrows, one unknown hawk, and lots of tourist hikers, some prepared, some not. The masses of lupine we saw were mostly past, with just a little bloom here and there. It must have been pretty two weeks ago. Goldenrod was pretty, as were asters and a few other flowers. The prettiest lupine we saw was at a garden near the initial tram stop in Mammoth Lakes.

The trail led us to a viewpoint at the top of the 101-ft Rainbow Falls. Pretty. And, yes, we could see a bit of a rainbow in the mist down below. It looked like a good hike down (300-ft) to the base of the falls, so we took that side trail down an unknown number of steps. There were a number of folks at the bottom, sitting on rocks, relaxing, and / or swimming. We could hear exclamations about the cold (!) water. We found a shady spot with good rock seats and had our lunch whilst enjoying the bikinis, and nearby flowers.

Rather than turning around and hiking the same trail back to the Ranger Station, we continued on the trail until we reached the Reds Meadow Resort store at tram stop 10. Of course we checked out post cards and the like, used the restrooms, then waited for the next tram back to our starting point at stop 6. That morning the good light had been on top of the Devils Postpile. But the side with its piles of rock, and straight/bent/curved >posts,’ looking almost manmade in their perfection, had been in shadow. So we hiked back to the Postpile for afternoon sun photos. The mornings= puddles, on the gravel trail across the meadow, were noticeably smaller and we could stay on the gravel and did not have to use the border rocks to get around the diminished puddles.

Once we had our afternoon sun photos, we returned to the Ranger Station to pick up the trail to Minaret Falls. For some time we followed next to, then above, a nice meadow and babbling stream. At one point we stopped for a photo next to an especially photographic pine, probably, from its looks, a Bristlecone Pine. Just before reaching the falls I took a tumble and scraped my right shin. The falls were pretty. They were a bridal veil of flowing water, much like a small edition of Crabtree Falls. After ooohing and aaahing, and taking photographs, my boots came off for a nice foot soak. James took his off for a quick wipe down with the cold water.

On this hike there was no loop and we returned on the same trail. Along the way we kept hearing a helicopter and finally saw it. It was carrying a fire fighting water bucket and seemed to be commuting from a nearby lake (Lake Sotcher) to a point about 5-minutes away, then returning to the lake. We wondered whether it was a fire or a training exercise, though we doubted the latter because it was a weekend. Later, at the Ranger Station, we found out that they were dumping on a small fire heading uphill to a large rock outcropping. They thought it would not get big.

We caught the tram back to town. We had seen the many ski lifts on Mammoth Mountain, a dormant volcano, that morning, and James had spotted the gondola ride. So we went. James, as an adult, paid full price of $16. I, as a senior kid, paid $8 - the teenaged ticket seller getting a kick out of my self-appointed designation. The gondola ride was nice, though Bea would probably not like it. It carried us from near 8,000-ft up to the top at 11,053-ft where we found a chill breeze and a patch of snow. Indeed, a boy of 10 to 12 was playing in the snow. No parents visible, and a drastic drop-off at the edge of the snow. Oh well...

We had to catch the 5:00 p.m. ride back down or walk. So we had only about 25-minutes on top. But we hiked the entire perimeter, admiring the wide-ranging view of surrounding mountains. Another hiker took our photo in front of the altitude sign. We could see many ski trails, and bike trails. You could, if you desired, place your mountain bike in a gondola car, ride the next car, and then bike back down to the bottom. The trails were marked on a map in the gondola station as to difficulty. All were one-way to avoid collisions around blind corners. They were of course one-way C what fool would want to bike up that hill (3,000-ft plus of climb). We certainly had no desires either way.

Back at the car we found we had time for some exploration. So we drove around the many lakes, stopping for scenic views. We even saw Sotcher Lake where the helicopter had been drawing water. The fishermen there must have had quite a show that afternoon. The outflow from one lake became a babbling waterfall (Twin Falls) as it fell 300-feet into another lake down below. A bit later we viewed this waterfall from the bottom as we drove around that lake. We were soon glad that we had the campsite we had. Those around the various lakes were very crowded, and packed together like sardines, thus noisy and not at all peaceful for backpackers. At one stop, where we walked a bit and went out on a boat pier to view the lake, we saw a fisherman returning to his car with a string of three nice trout.

One lake, Horseshoe Lake, was surrounded by dead trees, only a few of which showed signs of fire. The area looked very desolate and ravaged. Reading signs and warnings, it turned out that common CO₂ was the killer. Its concentration was some 90% above what is normally found in the air, and was a natural occurrence here from underground volcanic related action. Signs warned against sun bathing, lying down, and swimming.

The visitor center folks had told us about two places in town where showers were available, one for $3, the other for $5. The $5 spot was in the RV campground across the street. We gathered our kits and headed there, paying just after the boss lady decided to close for the evening. But she was gracious in accepting our funds. We had good showers in a campground restroom. Upon leaving the RV campground we headed for a drug store where I bought a box of 2x4 self-stick bandages to cover my scraped shin. Bacitracin I had in my F/A Zip-Loc.

Instead of heading straight to dinner, we headed for the town square for a Hawaiian Luau. We had seen a flier for this in the Mountaineering Store the previous evening, just as it closed, and thought it would be a treat. Although advertised through dinnertime, we found that all the food had been consumed before 2:00. p.m. Oh well… But we enjoyed the dance show (with authentic Pacific island dancers and musicians). We left in time to catch a restaurant before they all closed. On the advice of someone we asked, we ate at Angel’s - another so-so dinner.

That night a bear visited the campsite to our left and bounced around a cooler chest in the campsite on our other side. Stupid people, I hope everything in the chest broke. Our neighbor lady even heard a coyote. We slept through it all, except for the noise from the second site where the campers set off the car alarm and were making noise. We did not know about the bear until the next morning, just thought them obnoxious and noisy.

In morning we headed South to Lone Pine. On the way we stopped at what first appeared to be a fairly dreary, sunlit rest area. But we were fooled. Along the side of the property there was a small, running stream, and nice line of cottonwood trees shading picnic tables. On the far side of the stream was high desert sagebrush country, nothing but scrub and lava rock outcroppings all the way to the mountains on the west side of the highway. We talked with the caretaker for a few minutes, saying how nice it was. He, too, was enjoying a break in the shade.

Just south of Lone Pine, we stopped in at the InterAgency Visitor Center - Lone Pine for a look at post cards and to ask questions about the town. We had heard on the radio that flash floods from a bad storm had wiped out part of the main road from Death Valley to Lone Pine. At the InterAgency Visitor Center we learned that the entire Death Valley National Park was closed due to a complete lack of electricity and water, as we;; as road damage. We took advantage of tree shade in the parking lot to get our laundry together and have a snack. Back in town we stopped at the Mt. Whitney Ranger Station to pick up our hiking and backpacking permit, and to receive their standard briefing about the trail and bears and weather and etc., etc., and etc. On the permit I had to initial that I had these briefings. We were told that we could rent required bear canisters there, in a store in town, or from the Portal Store. To save a couple of days= rent, we decided to rent later at the Portal Store.

In town we paid a hot visit to the Laundromat, and then a grocery store. It was the only (!) grocery store in town, but surprised us with its very eclectic variety of food stuffs, including a nice oriental section. We also looked at some of the souvenir stores, oohing and aching at good stuff and bad.

The twisty-turny 13-mile mountain road up through the Alabama Hills, where many a western movie was shot on location, took us to the Portal Campground at 8,400-ft. In one Lone Pine store we had seen a "T" shirt that read "I survived the 13-mile road to the Portal." We did not buy it.

At road’s end, we could not find our campsite, and the campground host was not at home. A trip to the Portal Store rewarded us with a campground map and the location of a side road that lead to site # 42. Once there, we set up tents, worked on gear, and stored food and all goody smelly things in the bearbox provided (there’s one at each campsite) while a hungry (read spoiled) chipmunk looked on. It was chewing on the caked stuff around the wires on the campsite grill.

Dinner that night was a combination of Dinty Moore Stew and other things which had their revenge on me the next day.

After breakfast the next morning, we stopped briefly at the Portal Store. There we found that a car in the hiker parking lot had been hit by a bear. The animal had smelled something in the trunk, something really insignificant and stupid, that the owner had left behind. The bear had simply plowed through a window, ripped out the back seat, and gotten to whatever it had smelled. We also heard from the store owner about a sow bear that had been bluff charging folks in the early morning hours.

Many folks day hike the entire trip of 22-miles, starting sometime after midnight and ending from late afternoon to late evening. It seems the bear had learned to await hikers as they left stuff in the parking lot bear boxes, and bluff charged to scare the hikers away. She then feasted on the contents of the open bearbox. Seems like a fish story to me. If the bear was that bold, I think the Rangers would have moved it elsewhere, or something. It sort of goes along with the untrue weather lore that the store manager, Doug, spouted to anyone who would listen. Having been in the trade, so to speak, his words might sound good to the unknowing, but to me they were just said to make him look good to hikers who knew no better. But he was a good cook and did a thriving business from his store, the Portal Store. On the down side, specific requests, like >no pickle,= were not always honored/noticed.

We left the store on a day hike to Lone Pine Lake at 9,850-ft - getting some more altitude and huffin’-puffin’ under our belts to prepare for the Mt. Whitney hike ahead. On the way we saw a new bird for me, a Clark’s nutcracker, later identified at the Portal Store by the manager and a bird book. Its white wing flashes and white edged tail were very handsome. Lone Pine Lake, an alpine lake , is a real jewel, with pretty trout, some kids a-swimmin’, and a patch of snow uphill a bit. One of the kids said it was so cold he was having a hard time swimming. The last time I had been here Lloyd and I had several inches of snow, making this the most scenic spot in the world.

On the hike up we saw a mule deer doe with two spotted fawns at a creek crossing, and a cute little pica. We also saw a smallish, 6 to 8-inch, short-tailed mammal swimming across a little creeklet as we hiked the puncheon logs across the area. Chipmunks abounded everywhere. One, at our lunch spot overlooking the lake, was especially bold and we tossed things to shoo him away. The sun was warm to hot; the shade inviting and cool. In fact, after a bit, the shade was too cool for me and I moved back into the sun.

We took an exploratory hike all the way around the lake, amazed at the driftwood-like logs and all their roots along the eastern end. Just over the natural dam the ground fell away very steeply to the Owens Valley far below. I did find a few good skipping stones and played for a bit at being a youth.

The hike back to camp was pleasant, but warm. We each decided to splurge $5 for a shower at the Portal Store (one at a time in the single person, but very nice, clean facility). We also rented our bear canisters for the hike (required items, no longer an option). Then we each partook of one of the Portal Store’s famous burgers and fries C delectable. We were careful not to allow the chipmunks or Steller=s jays to partake of our meal. If you step away for just a moment, they’ll start robbing you, especially the Steller=s jays of which there were five or six in the nearby branches C just waiting. James tossed a pebble or two (mock food crumbs) to the jays in order to take a photograph. I tried the store’s satellite pay phone to call Bea. There was no answer, so I left a message. The satellite phone ($5 on the charge card) takes care of the local call, the rest of the call went against our phone card.

That evening we packed our packs with all but food and toiletries; James carefully packed all those items into the bear canisters. The rest we packed in the morning after we moved our car from the campsite to the hikers’ parking lot and stashed a few things in the bearbox there for the duration of our hike.

Tuesday the hike to Mount Whitney began with 12-inch pancakes at the Portal Store. Then onward and upward in the warm, warm sun. The trail starts in a narrow valley with rock walls rising over a thousand feet. These catch the sun and reflect it back and forth - at times a hot furnace to be avoided. The forest is open evergreen with some shade and many sun patches. You quickly learn to hike from shade spot to shade spot. As we prepared our packs, a group of about twenty-six Taiwanese folks was getting ready to hike upwards. Their lady leader was in the store. She and I chatted for a few minutes before they set off on their trek. They were a college reunion group, all previous members of a mountaineering club at their college. They had oldsters and youngsters with them and seemed quite well organized. One elderly lady did not have a backpack, but had a suitcase strapped to a pack frame. The store had misinterpreted an order they made. One lady put a bunch of the huge pancakes in take-out boxes, put the boxes in grocery bags, and carried them along for lunch on the trail. Seemed an awkward load, but the choice was hers, not mine.

My floppy hat was continually moved from low in the front to low in the back as we rounded curves and switchbacks. Over waterbars and steps we wended our way, glowing profusely I might say. Flowers, though the main season was past, were pretty and plentiful, if you kept your eyes open and looked. Down lower on the mountain some flowers were well past, while the same ones higher up were open or just buds.

Rock steps were also plentiful, very plentiful. Perhaps they were breeding. And the trail builders did not stint with small 6 to 10-inch lifts; many were 15 to 24-inch heave-=em-up steps. Thank goodness for the Lekis , they and the shoulders helped a lot heaving ourselves up the steps.

Waterbars were made with rocks end to end, instead of being overlapped like shingles as we do on our section of the A.T. The difference is that water runs between the rocks instead of along the line of shingle rocks. To each his own they say… Somewhere along the way a Ranger caught up to us and asked about the Taiwanese group, then continued uphill. He carried a packbasket labeled for human poop carry out. More on this later.

The Ranger passed us going the other direction a couple of hours later and we talked a bit about trail maintenance, then the Taiwanese group. Evidently the ladies at the Mt. Whitney Ranger Station in Lone Pine had taken an ethnic/racist view of the group and the Ranger was sent to investigate. He, as were we, was satisfied with their preparations and all that.

Our destination this day was Outpost Camp at 10,365-ft. Here we established camp on sand and gravel, under beautiful, widely spaced evergreen trees. Almost all the available sites were on the drainage slope from the beautiful waterfall just uphill, and from the rock walls on the valley sides. Yes, we were careful where we pitched our tents. And we stayed the requisite 100-ft from water. A group came in later and camped right beside the stream at the point where I had been filtering our water for supper and to fill our water bottles / bladders. From Lloyd’s advice we had expected mosquitoes, but were pleasantly surprised to experience none of these bothersome critters. James was delighted to have a chickadee chittering just above his head in a small evergreen as he relaxed reading his book late that afternoon before supper.

On Wednesday we continued our huffin’ ’n puffin’ ’n glowin’ as we sauntered (?) up past Mirror Lake, timberline, Trailside Meadow, and Consultation Lake, to Trail Camp at 12,000-ft. At Trailside Meadow we could see many, many vegetation clumps that held spent purple flower stalks. This scene must have been beautiful during their bloom. Plying its trade along the babbling stream we spied a dipper, a water ouzel , seeking out its midday meal. This day was, we determined later, the most pleasant weather day of the hike. Even up at the peak, we learned from other hikers, it was nice.

Along the way we’d been warned by other hikers coming down that the previous storm had flooded many tents on the right side of the trail at Trail Camp. Some folks had been forced to move their homes during the bad storm, getting soaked in the process.

We found spots near a small cliff on the left for our tents. Here we were a bit protected from the wind, had good sand and gravel for tent stakes, and good drainage. We faced downhill and the beautiful view down into Owens Valley and the town of Lone Pine. In the other direction rose the massive mountain range, with spots of snow, leading toward our goal.

My tent had a tiny siting that might not drain well. But the father-son team next door, in a rock walled site , were planning to leave later that afternoon. First they napped a bit and ate a meal, then packed and left. I moved my tent to their site quicker than a scampering chipmunk can scamper. James and I both secured our tents to rocks, in addition to the tent pegs. On my last trip with Lloyd, we’d heard about two tents actually being blown off the mountain at Trail Camp. And one had been a brand new North Face expedition tent. Ouch !! That must have hurt their hike as well as their wallets.

Folks we could see on the switchbacks above our campsite were mere ants as they made their way downward. The small mountain lake across the way held nice rocks from which to filter our water, and also had great reflections of the mountains in that direction. Reports from other hikers that day revealed that the Taiwanese group the night before, there at Trail Camp, had been very noisy, staying up late singing and merry making.

Sometime while at Trail Camp James experienced the high altitude effect on items that had not been opened since we left the lower altitudes. As you climb and gain altitude, sealed containers tend to maintain the pressure they started out with. The result is that you end up with a container having more pressure inside that outside. Whatever it was that James opened, gushed more than he expected and he gave rise to a startled expression as it did so. I’d never thought of, nor experienced, this with small containers. But, I automatically dumped pressure from the stove fuel tank when packing it in the backpack. And, as always, I dumped the trapped air out of my water bladder every time I filled the bladder with water. I’d long ago found out that air expands more than the water with altitude, and I’d experienced what I thought were leaks years ago. Not leaks, they were just over pressure discharges caused by the expanding air.

From our campsites Mt. Whitney, our destination, looked smaller than the other peaks, but it was farther away and perspective had its say. The mountain chain, from a distance, was mostly whitish rock by day. Close up there were rocks of many colors, mostly whitish, with some reddish and brownish. In the early morning sunrise sun the mountain wall took on a beautiful reddish orange tint - a whole new view to be appreciated.

Marmots whistled. We saw a mother marmot and her cub across the way. Chipmunks scurried here and there. The Taiwanese group started filtering in during mid afternoon. They were to stay the night before descending back to the Portal. Their trip was one day shorter than ours. Just before supper, under a clear sky in the brilliant sun, ice pellets pinged on our pots. James spotted two ravens silhouetted against the mountain wall as they flew and swooped down toward the lake. After dishes, a wee little mouse peeked out from between the rocks in the wall surrounding my tent.

During the early evening, on the way to filter water at the lake, I met the Taiwanese lady leader. We talked briefly. It was about 7:30 and I mentioned that some folks were already in bed. I gently asked her if she could quiet her group about 8:00. They were then singing quite loudly. She said she’d take care of it, and did. About 8:00 I saw her talking to several of the singing group. After that the noise then came from nearby campers who were only talking, but not very quietly. Without vegetation and trees, noise really does carry there above treeline.

Later, the stars came out in all their glory - a sight you won’t see in Tidewater. We had good neighbors and learned a lot from them of the hike ahead. One of our neighbors was a very pleasant young fellow who was doing Whitney for the first time. We had several conversations with him, talking about equipment, web sites, tents, and the like. He was to climb to Trail Crest as we headed for the summit. He planned to stay there a night before summitting. He had a history of altitude sickness and was being careful. We wished him well. His diet for the entire trip was a complex carbohydrate powder favored by weight lifters. It contained 600-calories per serving. In our minds we nicknamed him "Powder Man." He liked our idea of mixing chocolate with it, or maybe heating it, or even adding oatmeal to it for variety. It does come in several flavors in 5-lb. containers. His container was a gallon Zip-Lock bag of either vanilla or French vanilla. It did smell good.

Early in the night the stars faded behind a mist-like screen and I wondered about the morrow. But then those pinpricks of light reappeared with their beauty.

Thursday was THE day. I was up a bit early, before the sun shone into our valley. I was able to walk to a good spot for just one sunrise photo before the sun peeked around a rock promontory. Before breakfast we had frost on our packs; a neighbor had a bit of ice in his mess kit. And one of my ears was a bit sore. How does this relate, you ask ? It took a while to figure out why it hurt, but once discovered it was simple. My lightweight ski cap, worn that night so I didn’t have to zip my sleeping bag all the way up, had evidently had a crease across my ear and I=d slept on it.

We packed our day packs with lunch, water, film, cameras, and warm, warm clothes. Soon we were the ants we had seen the afternoon before, toiling our way up the 97 switchbacks past the Chains to Trail Crest as our tents shrank to invisibility below us. My floppy hat, this time, was switched from low on the left to low on the right, and back and forth, as we ascended the switchbacks. At Trail Crest we had a surprise. The trail went around to the back side of the mountain range. For a bit we were hiking up the mountain down as we lost a few hundred feet. But, not to worry, we gained them back. In several places the trail crossed cols between the peaks. Here the land was but ten feet or less wide, with narrow, windy clefts on each side looking down into the valleys thousands of feet below. These would not be comfortable spots in a high wind or on a gripless (read snow/ice) surface. Another place Bea says she would prefer not to experience.

Flowers, we still saw flowers. Yellow flowers, purple flowers, and tiny little purple asters. And rocks, lots of rocks, big, small, huge, nothing but rocks, and sand and gravel. Neighbor mountains showed patches of snow. Lakes down below were sapphire blue and emerald green. One lake scene showed tents on the shoreline far below. Hikers passed us in both directions as we wended our way toward the sky; a sky with increasing clouds and decreasing blue.

And then we saw it, there on the peak ahead. Not far, just over yonder. But distances in the West are deceiving - the air is so clear, the humidity so low. And the trail maker also did his part. Did we go directly toward the summit ? Heck no, the trail went all the way around the shoulder of the peak and summitted from the other side, like a backwards question mark. Our "almost there" wasn’t. But make it we did, at last. Wow ! Oh Wow !! Such a panoramic view. Mountains and snow patches and lakes and valleys, and cliffs in all directions. From our 14,497-ft everything was downhill. We made it !! We had climbed Mount Whitney !!!

And there was a crowd. ’Tis a popular spot for those who make the trek. The Forest Service does its part by limiting the area to 60 backpackers and 100 day hikers per day. We felt very lucky to win the lottery and get a 4-day, 3-night permit. The only drawbacks to the summit were the two unruly Scout groups who were throwing crackers all over the place for the marmots and chipmunks, and actually "mooning" for the cameras as they screamed back and forth.

Our stay was great, but short. Darkening clouds bade us be on our way, and soon we were. Our Lekis were as much help going down as they had been ascending. And we were in a hurry. Then the clouds dropped snow showers, snow, more snow showers, and sleet upon our hurrying selves. Soon there was enough to whiten the ground. James stood in for a photo at a snow field next to and partially covering the trail we had passed on the way up. The white stuff came up to his waist. Thunder and lightning to the West provided an energy boost as we went down the mountain up, then continued down the mountain down. Yellow and lavender flowers we had seen on the way up were even prettier on the way down, with a touch of fresh snow.

Just before reaching Trail Crest we spied a tent down below us. It looked familiar, and was. It was "Powder Man." We shouted down hello and how are you. He replied in kind. Then we shouted down "Powder Man," and he instantly knew who we were. We called back and forth for several minutes. He wanted to know about the trail difficulty and distance, our hiking time, the weather, and etc. We told him all we could before continuing our downhill journey.

At about Trail Crest the precip turned to a light rain; the flashbulbs and noisemakers disappeared.

We could see the camping area and our tents far below as we zigzagged down the slope toward our cozy homes. Would these switchbacks never end ? Back at camp, with it still raining lightly, we dove in to hibernate for a while and, myself, to nap. By suppertime the sky was once more clear. The stove was fired up - food quickly and eagerly dispatched .

Original thoughts had been to summit on Thursday and to hike down to Outpost Camp that afternoon late. This would leave us an extra night to spend at lovely Lone Pine Lake. Obviously the weather changed those thoughts. Also, another 2 1/2 to 3-miles this day would have been a bit much.

Friday we hefted our packs for the long, pretty slog downhill to the Portal.

For a while we followed two gents down the trail, but not close enough talk to. In fact, due to talking with other hikers, those two gents got way ahead of us. One of them carried a small spritzer on the back of his pack and I wanted to ask him what it was for. But, not to worry. When we reached the restrooms at Outpost Camp to make the trail turn, there the two gents were, taking a break. I said "Hi" or some such greeting. After chitchatting for a moment or so as all hikers do, I asked him if the spritzer was his brand of air conditioner. Not quite. It was his water saver device. He used it to spritz pots and pans when washing, instead of just pouring water. He’d evidently started this system with his son to teach water conservation. Anyway, the system worked for him and my curiosity was satisfied. And it would make a good air conditioner.

We passed uphill hikers eager for news about the trail and the weather. One gent had no idea how far he was to go and was trying to catch up to his girl friend. Another gent came straight from sea level and tuna fishing in San Diego, heading straight from sea level to over 14,000-ft. Two young couples were headed for Lone Pine Lake in the heat, on a hard uphill hike, with but a half-liter of water for the group. Oh well… It takes all kinds. A pleasant couple asked about the trail to the lake, its distance and etc. They asked not to tell their son, who was somewhere behind them, anything about the trail. I expected some youth, instead a tall boy of about 16 soon came by carrying a fishing pole. Between his teeth he had a half-pint water bottle held upside down and all but empty. When I pointed to his fishing rod and wished him luck, he muttered a thanks between clenched teeth. He did not appear to be a happy camper.

Also on the downhill trek we passed two dogs, one with a master, one with a mistress. The first was a larger dog, with a bunch of fur, visibly panting. His master did not seem to care, nor did he give any hints that he had helped the dog get into condition for the climb or the rocks. Much further down a little Silky was leading his mistress up the trail. Doubt they went far, hope not. At least that little dog was well groomed and well kept. We also passed three scampering lizards next to the trail and disappearing out of sight as we passed each one, and saw two hummingbirds

Back at the trailhead, James weighed his pack on a scale available in the kiosk area where rules, regulations and recommendations were posted. James’ backpack weighed 41-lbs., with no significant food left and water almost gone. I did not feel like taking mine off until it would come off for good, so mine did not get weighed. A family at the kiosk asked a few questions, and we all had a nice discussion. As we left to go to the store, I asked the gentleman to take our photograph at the trailhead sign. He graciously did just that and wished us well, and congratulations

At the Portal Store we ran into "Powder Man." He had not waited another day to summit. After we had talked (yelled) with him on our descent, he had waited for the snow to stop and had then summitted. He related that his night at Trail Crest had been a bit hectic and crowded. Three Norwegians had showed up with no equipment, not even flashlights, and without time to return whence they had come. They spent the night huddled with him in his tent. Gosh, what stupidity some folks exhibit.

Speaking of water…On the way down we ran out of water. I simply misjudged what we needed. Had I checked supplies before passing Lone Pine Lake, 2.5-miles from the Portal, we could have filtered and refilled there. Since we were going downhill, and it was not an exceedingly hot day, and had not far to go when we ran out, it was not a serious problem. But I should have known better. As it turned out, James had a bit more water than I, or drank a bit less...whichever.

Our destination that day ’twas not the car, ’twas not a shower, ’twas not our hotel. Our destination was another burger at the Portal Store ! There was another Ranger there and we talked to him for a few minutes. He explained that they were planning to move boulders onto the spots where campers had tented next to the stream at Outpost Camp, rather than erecting yet another sign that backpackers would ignore. We talked about the poop carry out policy and I let him know that Trail Camp had been out of the kits all the time we were there. He said that they, the US FS, were surprised at how well the carry out policy had been accepted by hikers. After he knew I was a trail maintainer, he listened a bit more carefully and I think he appreciated our comments. And yes, we had our burger and also bought our souvenirs. In our rush to get going, the one thing I wanted but neglected to add to my pile was a license plate surround that said, "AFTER MOUNT WHITNEY, EVERYTHING IS DOWNHILL."

I did try to telephone Bea from the stores’ satellite pay phone, to let her know we were down safe and sound. But a pole was down somewhere and the entire phone system from the Portal to Lone Pine, including the town, and all the way to Bishop to the North, was out of service.

We visited both the Mt. Whitney Ranger Station and the InterAgency Visitor Center - Lone Pine. I was searching for a bear do/don’t sheet that I had seen someplace. Neither spot had what I looked for. At the Mt. Whitney Ranger Station we again ran across "Powder Man." He was turning in his rented bear canisters. We said a final goodbye and wished him well in his quest of climbing the Big Seven .

At Dean and Kathi’s Mt. Whitney Restaurant (appropriately named), a prime rib for me. In James words; "In Lone Pine I had very good fried chicken. Thinly battered, very crunchy, no globs of fat (like Kentucky Fried usually contains). The fried corn on the cob was awful." We topped dinner off with a 1/4 pie that we split for dessert that evening, providing a fitting celebration at this "local’s" restaurant. I say "local’s" because everybody knew everybody and there was a lot of talking and jesting between customers and customers, and between servers and customers. It really was a friendly place to eat and celebrate. We had made it ! We had climbed Mount Whitney !

Afterwards, I called Bea from a pay phone outside. The phone system was repaired and back on line.

Bob Adkisson had climbed Mt. Whitney from the west and the Pacific Crest Trail at age26, then descended to the Portal and Lone Pine to resupply before climbing back up to Trail Crest. He used the word "strenuous" in the August-September TATC newsletter C I believe him. We climbed it a "month or two older" than Bob, and in easier, shorter stages. I would call it a long, continuous, physical workout . In any case, you had best be prepared. Respect the mountain. Respect and be prepared for Mother Nature and her whimsical weather whims.

In the morning I could not find my little black notebook in which I had been keeping all my notes. We looked everywhere, even returning to the Laundromat where I probably had left it. But the place had been cleaned and all the garbage cans were empty. Oh well…

Our return trip to Reno included a stop in Laws, CA. to visit a fascinating railroad museum. Here homes had been brought in and turned into individual museums such as a dentist office, a print business, a grocery, a hardware store, and etc. I took photographs of the dentists’ office for Doctor Bradshaw (our Dentist since we moved to Suffolk in 1977), and of a horse-drawn road grader for Ray Goodwin (a neighbor). A motorized crosscut saw claimed another photograph. I photographed James under the spout of a railroad water tank, the kind we’ve seen in so many western movies. There were many pieces of equipment scattered about and you could climb into an old steam engine. A highway sign on the side road to the museum (US 6), 202-miles SSE of Reno, proudly proclaimed "Provincetown MA 3205 Miles." I took a panorama photo of the sign for brother Charles. It seems that, before interstate highways came into being, US 6 was the main road across country to New England C hence the reason for the sign.

In Bishop we located the Owens Valley Paiute-Shoshone Indian Cultural Center, Bishop CA that we wanted to see. But it was closed. We found out in town that they only have two volunteers operating the center and openings are sporadic. We also found the Post Office and I bought more post card stamps .

Our last night on the road found us at the Virginia Creek Settlement Restaurant, 5-miles South of Bridgeport, CA., where we had a tent site reserved. Before the trip began, I had called a nearby RV campground. They had no tent sites, but had recommended the restaurant, giving me the telephone number. A quick call had resulted in a reservation. But use it we did not. The restaurant offered: six motel rooms; three, one-person replica Conestoga wagons; four cedar shingled house trailer mounted cabins, with skirts covering everything except the very tip of the trailer tongue; and five tent cabins. Rather than taking a chance with having wet tents to pack and bring home, we upgraded to a tent cabin. Each of these was named after a building in an old west town. Ours, fittingly enough for a Pulaskiteer, was named the "Dewy, Chetum, and How Attorneys Office ." We could hear the babbling creek all night and were glad our tents stayed dry as a thunderstorm rolled by.

In the restaurant, I’d asked for a glass of cider to go with dinner (it said "cider" on the menu). But I was surprised with hot spiced cider. It was good, but I’d had a hankering for a cold glass of cider. Dinner was one of the best spaghetti meals I have ever had the delight to imbibe. But the next morning it rolled through like Sherman through Georgia. Oh well…

Before leaving the restaurant after dinner, I traded a dollar bill for quarters. Campground showers cost 254 for three minutes. I could not get my first quarter to work, but the second one did and I had a pleasant shower. In the morning the men’s restroom was tied up and I had this urgent calling, so I just went ahead and used the ladies’. As I came out a gent was waiting for the gents’. I merely mentioned I couldn’t wait. He just smiled a knowing smile. James and I were glad we did not stay in our tents. The nighttime dew, and the edge of the thunderstorm that passed, would have soaked them. And there was a bright light at each site that did not go off all night - that would have been bothersome.

Before dinner a California Highway patrol officer had been in the restaurant lobby. We asked him for a recommendation for breakfast the next morning. He suggested the Hays Street Café in Bridgeport, five miles North. We followed his advice and had a terrific breakfast, once we found the café. As a souvenir for a former co-workers’ daughter, I bought a bottle of the café’s water. I’d previously brought water bottles from Mount Palomar, Death Valley, and etc., for her small collection.

Then we backtracked South a bit and visited the Bodie State Historic Park. This is the old gold and silver mining town of Bodie, active from the mid 1880's to mid 1900's. Some repairs are done, but no restoration. New shingle roofs are installed as needed, and both interior and exterior braces are placed to keep buildings upright.

One Ranger told us of a small house that had moved off its foundation in the snow last winter. Park personnel had pushed in back in place and fixed the foundation.

The town is in suspended animation, or, as their brochure states, "a state of >arrested decay’ ". ’Tis a history snapshot in time. Some few buildings are open, all the rest had wire across open doorways so you can see but not molest. Wallpaper is peeling from the walls. Sometimes several layers could be seen. The same is true for floor linoleum.

At the entrance station we received a map we used to guide ourselves around the widely spaced town buildings. Part of the wide spacing was due to fires that, over time, had wiped out about 90% of the town.

While waiting for folks to move away from the church so I could photograph it, I saw a hawk alight on the steeple. I asked a Ranger if they had Coopers Hawks. He said no, but that they had a lot of Sparrow hawks (Kestrels). We talked a bit about birds and he said to be on the lookout for Sharp-tailed Grouse and a Ferruginous Hawk. Though neither of us could remember the correct pronunciation of this hawk’ name, we knew what each other was talking about. Later, on the far side of town, I saw a hawk light on a telephone pole. I left James and slowly walked toward it until it flushed. It very well may have been the Ferruginous Hawk. We did not see the grouse. We did see a species of thistle that hugged the ground like a shadow, with blossoms just 2-in. high.

Speaking of telephone poles…the stamping mill guide told us that most telephone poles were but 20-ft high during that time period. But because of the average 15-ft of snow in Bodie, all poles there were installed as 25-ft poles.

We bought tickets for a well worthwhile tour of the old gold and silver stamping mill and learned a lot about that process. At first they used mercury in the process to remove 30 to 40% of the gold and silver. Later they used cyanide, removing 90 to 98% of the precious metals. After the tour we searched for the nearby restrooms shown on the map. We did not want to walk way back to those at the parking lot. We finally found the restrooms, they were carbon copies of the old outhouses, but in working order, right where the map showed them to be. We spent several hours strolling through the old town. Some of the buildings were bare and really in bad shape. Others still had furniture, a few clothes, and peeling wallpaper and floor linoleum in various layers.

Several homes had their windows blanked out with curtains. These were where some of the park employees lived. Being a desert climate, and heating with wood, and having tourists in the area, there is always a danger of fire, devastating fire. There was and is a water system throughout the town. Most buildings had running water. And there is fire equipment available everywhere. Fire extinguishers and fire hoses are housed in small, unobtrusive boxes mounted on poles. They are covered with the same shingles used on the building roofs.

The town was the first ever to have hydroelectric alternating current from as far away as 13-miles. Knowledge was so slim about electricity that the lines were laid in a direct, arrow straight line from the hydroelectric station to the transformer station in town. At that time they thought that, at a bend, electricity would leave the lines to start fires.

Later, we headed back to the car, taking photos standing in the cab of the miners’ cable drop where they descended into the mines. From the parking lot we drove just a little way to the picnic area where we had a late lunch. While there I saw the Ranger, to whom I=d talked to about birds approaching, in his truck. I flagged him down and we both had a laugh at now remembering how to pronounce "Ferruginous."

A fenced building near the picnic area with a trailer next to it, as James guessed, was the shower building for park employees. The fenced area is also used for youth and adult groups that do work in the park (paid or volunteer).

Then it was on northward to Mono Lake. The sky was quite threatening as we parked and walked down the boardwalk toward the lake. Our visit there was only about five-minutes long as a strong thunderstorm rolled in to obscure the lake, and its tufas, and its millions of birds. Tufas are columns of calcium carbonate formed when fresh water springs (calcium) seep up through the lake bottom into the salty water (carbonates) precipitating out limestone columns.

On the drive toward Mono Lake we spied a funny looking bunch of animals off to the west side of the highway. Thinking that I knew what they were, I did a "U-turn" as soon as I could, and came back to parked along the highway shoulder for a better look. It was a herd of about 50 to 60-elk in a fenced pasture. What a grand sight they were, some antlered, some not, some standing, some not. Elsewhere along US 395 we saw a coyote feasting on roadside roadkill. All along this highway there were side pull-offs labeled for snow chain installation.

Then on to Circus Circus in Reno, and a semi-suite that James had arranged. There were no Dollar Rent-a-Car parking spaces left. So, when we dropped our keys in the drop box, we included a note describing just where the car was parked. Hauling gear up to our room was a chore. We had to walk from one side of the parking garage to the other, then get the elevator. But we had to take everything so that we could rearrange things and get our backpacks into their respective duffel bags for the next day’s flight home. I spread my tent over a large wardrobe to air. In the hotel coupon book I spied a "$3 off All You Can Eat Sushi Lunch!" It was at a restaurant called Kokopelli=s Sushi. How you can mix an Southwest USA American Indian mentor/buffoon from folklore with sushi I just cannot fathom !!!

We had a good dinner in the buffet, then explored the hotel. We watched two circus acts, a low wire balance performer, and three ladies from the Chinese circus (only one of whom performed C doing quite admirably). The rest of that hotel floor was taken up with slot machines and many, many carnival booths (ring toss, dart throw, and many etc’s.) In the main casino we did watch the roulette tables, the poker tables, and the craps tables for just a moment, without being drawn into any of them - just curious.

After breakfast the next morning, we hauled our gear downstairs and caught the hotel shuttle to the airport without a problem (except that our baggage ended on the bottom of the pile and was last out). But, again, we’d planned plenty of time just in case. No problems. I found a book in an airport store, a Harry Potter book to kill time. Don’t blame me, Bea wanted a copy of this particular book as soon as it arrived in soft cover.

The flight was generally smooth, with a bit of bumpiness there and here. The weird thing was that the plane parked way out in left field, not at any gate. The People Movers came to us and carried us to the Dulles terminal and baggage area. Our bags were found on the carousel and a taxi quickly took us back to James’ place. There we found that some kid, probably, had broken my truck’s driver side window. The glass was all spider-webbed, not broken out. Of course, just touching the door sent all the glass tumbling. We spent quite a bit of time cleaning up, then putting the truck in James’ garage for the night.

A call to USAA, our insurance company, resulted in an 8:00 to 12:00 repair time frame for the next morning. The glass folks would come to us. And they did, just after noon. The job took a while, but a bit after two I was on the road home from a really terrific trip.