Wednesday (9-27)

On the way out of Sequoia National Park, I stopped to check out Moro Rock.  A large granite dome - google it.

Sentinel Tree at large tree mueseum 

Moro Rock - large granite dome

leaving park looking back at Moro Rock

Moro Rock:

This granite dome is on the way out of the park.  Impressive hike up the stairs to the overlook.

Stopped for Gas and ran into the micro-soda wall - impressive display of every type of soda known to man 

and an old favorite - the chick-o-stick.

I rolled into Barstow early evening and decided to “camp at Super 8”.  It was kinda nice to watch a bit of ESPN and then go to sleep.  Ria slept in her fold-up crate and seemed to enjoy a bit more civilized existence.

Tuesday PM (9-27-16)

After getting settled for the night on Tuesday, I had a neighbor pull in across the way from my campsite.  I guess we need to continually learn the “don’t judge by what you see” motto, as my first look at Luke and his truck spelled nothing but bad vibes.  An old Toyota truck with a hard side shell over the bed that had that “it’s on it’s 12 owner look” and an owner who look liked a character from “Deliverance” .  A quick hello and later a chat by the fire dispelled all my first impressions and offered a interesting story of a young man seeking what’s next.  He was in his mid-twenties with a very polite and easy spirit. 

Luke the farmer:

He had spent a spell in New Orleans going to Journalism school at Tulane.  Originally from Baltimore, he related working and going to school and enjoying the New Orleans food and music.   His story turned a bit tragic as he was 3 years into his program when Tulane up and discontinued their journalism degree.  Disenchanted and a bit lost, he continued for one more semester in Colorado before all the bad luck, bad vibes, and just this ain’t working crowed his brain.  He saw a craiglist posting for a farm position in Oregon.   A place to stay with some basic pay and in his case an escape from a run of bad luck and life not working out.  So he started working on a small Oregon farm tending to the soil and it’s bounty – strawberries, and vegetables of all sorts.  The work suited him and provided timely feedback that he was being productive.    Not making much money, but enjoying the back to the land existence.   Unfortunately the land owner was a bit of a unfair task master and also a bit unstable emotionally, so Luke had decided to move one.   He had given a friend a ride to LA and was working his way back to Oregon with thoughts of settling in the same area but with a new gig.   I enjoyed talking with him and offered him my advice that somewhere at the intersection of journalism (story telling), farming, and New Orleans cooking and Jazz was an opportunity waiting to parlay his skills and that he should be ready to step out when the door opens. 

I took the opportunity to grab a shower and do some laundry before heading out of Sequoia National Park and down into the California central valley.

I ran into the Farmer at the Lodge pole market and we did a barter of sorts.  I offered Smoked Jalapeno Cheddar Cheese Venison sausage and he reciprocated with a jar of dryed cherry tomoatoes, dried strawberries and some dill relish from this year’s crop.  The trade delighted me as I had sampled the cherry tomatoes during our chat by the fire. 

Always good to run into a farmer with jars of food

Tuesday & Wednesday:

Them are some big trees!  I spent the day looking at, taking pictures of, and just starring at the largest trees on earth.  First I drove down to the General Grant tree grove:

Small ones by the parking lot

General Grant Tree

Then I heading sound towards the the General Sherman tree.  Pretty cool to have one of these magnificent trees named after you.  I picked out a few that would be good as the “Not a General but Alvis no less trees”  Lobby your congressman and let’s see if we can get one of these named the “Alvis Tree”. 

Pics of Sherman

iPhone Pano version ( a bit distorted)

Tree all the other Trees pick on

It was getting late in the afternoon so I opted for staying in the Lodge Pole campsite  near to the Sherman tree.  They do offer dispersed camping – out a road to more isolated backwoods campsites, but I was tired and went the safe route.  You meet some interesting folks in these campsites and there appears to be a lot of Europeans over checking out the sites. 

Ode to Ria:

Ria is a blessing, a great travel companion, but a bit limiting in terms of taking hikes, etc as dogs are not allowed in the back country of national parks.  BLM is a bit of a different story so that is something to consider as I turn east in the coming days.  She is starting to get in a rhythm and learning the tricks of the camper, the timing of early to bed and early to rise.  On walks through the National park campsites, she basically is running for mayor and trying to win everyone’s vote.    

Monday (9-26)

Bacon and Eggs for breakfast – life is good and nothing seems to brighten your day like the smell of frying bacaon.  

Hard not to take a bunch of pictures

Token selfie

Broke camp and decided to head south to glacier point but on the way to the turn (angelic cord) I found the showers.   Hot shower and fresh clothes makes for one happy camper. 

Glacier point is one heck of a view:

Unfortunately the Mariposa grove of giant trees was closed for renovation, so I was out of Yosemite and heading south the Sequoia National Forest. 

The drive down to Fresno was a quick lesson in why you try to stay above 5000 feet.  Pulling into Fresno the temperature gauge was showing 100 degrees.  It was fairly dry so tolerable but it spurred me to get my Walmart spree completed as fast as possible and head for the hills.   I drove out hwy 180 out towards  the high country with my eye on getting to a campground in Kings Canyon or Sequoia National Forest.  I ended up staying in Azalea campground  in Kings Canyong National Park which was an easy choice as it was getting towards dark (a reoccurring theme – get you butt to a campsite by late afternoon!). 

King's Canyon campsite with now to familiar Bear box

Yosemite valley:

So I head to Yosemite to join the masses and get a first hand taste of the cathedrals of stone that is Yosemite.   Traffic is kinda nuts getting into the park and one must be prepared for long stretches of staring at the license plate in front of you.  

The wait as worth it.  As you enter the park you quickly find yourself saying – oh my, wow, check that out , as your picture that is your windshield fills with spectacular scenery  that gives glory to the creator.   

Ok do you see the climbers yet

Wall tent

see the little spot of color 

I decided I needed to break my two day streak and actually camp before dark, so I got on the waiting list in Yosemite for a camping spot within the park.  Luckly that worked out and I cooked up some pulled pork, along with chopped avocado and tomatoes slathered on a flour tortilla.  Ria met all the neighbors and still is a bit of a licking fool.   This is communal camping as you are right next to your neighbor, so  bit like camping at a music festival with really tall trees. 

Saturday (9-24 have been out of internet coverage so a bit behind)

After stuffing some quarters in the pay shower and enjoying a nice hot shower,

I decided to head towards Yosemite Valley.  This was a bit of a backtrack to hit the best highways heading south.  I took 80 back into Sacramento to catch Cal 99 heading south.  This is miles and miles of agriculture – orchards, vineyards and a occasional town with your normal cast of  retail characters.  This road is a bit like I-35 heading towards Austin – always crowded, occasional  slow spell and then the big one – 30 minutes of just crawling for no apparent reason. 

Ria is starting to get into a “road rhythm” and understands that we are driving for a long time so she might as well just crash out.  The occasional stop brings a spurt  of energy followed by another nap – wow I’m jealous cuz I like me a good nap. 

I tipped a hat to the old stomping grounds of my sister inlaw Evonna as I passed Modesto and the road to Oakdale.  My goal was to get within “spittin distance” of Yosemite such as the next morning it would easy to visit the park.  As the day before my timing was a bit off and I found myself trying to find a camping spot after dark.  Note to self:  get to a camp spot before dark is a much better plan.  I credit my brother Kyle as I have him a call and ask him to do some internet magic and give me some options off 140 heading into the park. 

He suggested driving  to a BLM (Bureau of land management) spot  (name) 30 miles of so west of the park.  After missing the turn and driving till I could figure out where I could turn around (Ford F150 + Camper not the easiest of U-turn mobiles), I was running into darkness for the second day.  I drove up a gravel rough road about 2 miles following an old railroad bed not road to some dispersed yet marked camp areas.  I managed to find a spot and proceeed to setup camp,  which luckly for my camper is just pushing up the roof and rolling out my sleeping bag.  I noticed a tent in the spot next to me and hailed to no avail to meet my neighbor.  So  a bit later I heard footsteps coming my way and figured – 1. It was my neighbor, 2. It was Sasquatch , 3. I should prepare for self-defense.   Well it turn out to be my friendly neighbor John Bowie which calmed my fears as how could any right Texan not like living next to a Bowie.

A couple of interlopers made a camp nearby in a area not designated for camping, but my initial thought was “go for it”.  Then my thoughts turned to can they really talk that much and that loudly.  I was struck be the irony of being in the middle of no where and wishing I had some earplugs as they talked about every conceivable subject.   Ugly American syndrome with a Californian twist and a sneezing  girl friend would be the most terse description I could come up with. 

Back to John:  A bit of conversation and more in the morning revealed John to be an interesting character.  He hails from Michigan, Detroit city to be specific and is the son of a long time Chrysler executive.  His story turns dark as he relates how he and his siblings had a scrabble over the estate of his father and it was not a pretty sight.  So here he was living on some BLM land, picking up trash, tending to land in the spirit of escaping a bad situation and using the experience to clear his head, find a true north, and to some extend escape a bad situation.  He seemed content and I told him I would pray for peace and resolution in his situation.  He seemed to be getting along just fine and was thinking about  some business opportunities in Mariposa, which is near by. 

Pictures from campsite and drive in:

Bear Box for food storage

Road out to campsites (~2miles or so)

Merced Wild and Scenic River BLM