Category Archives: Around home

Maybe it’s all a matter of attitude

Uhhh…that should really be Maybe it’s all a matter of altitude. Let me make a short story, long.

Michele’s sister, Claudia, was going to the family cabin at Squaw Valley and she graciously agreed to give me a ride – pretty far out of her immediate way – to get the Range Rover which was now back in Minden at Hollar’s 4×4.

As an aside, I had meant to post that on Monday but got the date backwards and told WordPress to post it on 06/05/2013 rather than 05/06/2013. I really left on Monday and got back on Wednesday. End aside.

Because Claudia was in Napa, the easiest way to meet her was to take the ferry to Vallejo. Michele dropped me off and I started my trip at the Ferry Building which has been remodeled – in 2003, under the Willie Brown administration – into a foodie paradise featuring local purveyors.

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In the back, the Ferry to Vallejo loads at a new pier.

Rover trip-0010I said Goodbye to San Francisco and about an hour later said Hello to Vallejo which is still devastated from the Navy pulling out (I think as a way for the Pentagon to punish California’s anti-war liberal Congress-members).

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Claudia picked me up and we headed to Minden under a darkening sky that turned to rain in the foothills and snow – with big flakes that didn’t stick to the road – as we got higher (passing blooming dogwoods in between).

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When I picked the Rover up at Hollar’s 4×4 and drove to Squaw Valley without the low coolant light going off even once, I felt very hopeful. Not hopeful enough to drive to Gerlach, but hopeful enough to think I would get home. Claudia and I spent the next day driving to Gerlach in her truck and, on Wednesday, I started home early so I could be home to let Precious Mae out (she had been locked in all night because Michele was now in Napa) .

When I fired up the Rover, in the cabin’s driveway, the low coolant level light started flashing immediately. This changed my chances of getting home, but I decided to give it a try anyway. I figured that there were two main obstacles: Donner Pass at  7,056 feet which I could go over slowly by taking the old road and Emigrant Gap at about 5,200 feet where I didn’t think there would be an old road to bypass the freeway.

After getting gas and a supply of anti-freeze, I drove around Donner Lake with Donner Pass looming, ominously, in the background.

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Donner Lake and Donner Pass are named after the infamous Donner Party (duh!, OK, probably only infamous in California). I figured, no matter what, my trip would be considerably easier than that experienced by the Donner Party in 1846. Considerably easier than working on the First Transcontinental Railroad when – primarily – Chinese  workers labored to get tracks through this solid rock landscape (today, it is hard to believe that all this work was done by hand, lots of hands).

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After taking a couple of hurried pictures from the side of the road near the summit, I turned back towards the car. Coolant was running out from under the engine. Not dripping, gushing. All I could think of as I ran back to the car was If I can just get over the summit, I can coast to a place to park where AAA can pick it up. I jumped in and started driving.

As soon as I got over the summit, I turned off the engine and started to coast. Ahead was a a little uphill section and then it looked like a long downhill and I was calming down, so I fired up the engine, and – watching the temperature gauge – got over the next bump. That pretty much went on until I got to Emigrant Gap where I stopped, let the Rover cool, and then poured almost a gallon of coolant into the reservoir tank. I called Michele and told her that I was not going to make it and I would keep her posted.

I went over Emigrant Gap at about 45 and coasted – off and on – to the Rest Stop at Gold Run. I stopped, washed my hands and sweating face, and decompressed. I was about 145 miles from San Francisco and our towing covers 100 miles so I thought I would see if I could get under the limit. This went on for a couple of hours, coasting downhill, crawling uphill at 45 until I finally got to the Great Central Valley. The I pulled off the freeway at a Park and Ride to add more coolant. It turned out that I parked next to the Placer Buddhist Church and I took that as a good sign. So I walked over to the Church while the Rover cooled. The Church was closed but the Koi in a pond- infront of the Church – were calming.

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I filled the coolant reservoir and it only took about a quarter gallon and I was off to see if I could get within 85 miles of San Francisco to give myself some breathing room on the towing distance. Then a funny thing happened: the Rover stopped spewing coolant. I checked in Vacaville even though there were no flashing lights, everything seemed fine and I kept going (at 45 on the Freeway!). I didn’t bother to check before I went over the Bay Bridge. I didn’t even bother to check  this morning when I fired up the Rover to go to the market. Still no flashing lights.

Michele’s theory, which I am completely buying into, is that the Rover problem is only bad at high elevations. This is because the pressure cap releases fluid at about 15 psi – pounds per square inch – and that is the differential pressure between the atmospheric pressure – outside the Rover radiator –  and the pressure inside the Rover cooling system. I have no idea what the pressure should be  inside the radiator, but let’s say it is 25 psi now. At sea level, the outside pressure is about 14.7 psi. That plus the 15 psi pressure cap is almost 30 psi at sea level, well over the inside pressure of 25 psi. Going over Donner, the atmospheric pressure is about 40% of sea level or 5.88 psi and that is not enough to keep the cap from releasing massive amounts of coolant.

Of course, the whole point of the Range Rover, for us, is to go to the mountains; to go over Donner Pass or, more importantly, Tioga Pass at  9,943 feet where the pressure is under 4 psi. But, if I stay at sea level until I do a restoration on the Range Rover, I may be OK. Or, maybe, it’ll be OK for the next week. We’ll see.

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The paper towel dilemma

bounty-hero When Michele and I buy paper towels, what we get depends on where we are. If we are at Whole Foods, we will get some something like Seventh Generation which advertise that they are 100% recycled paper and 100% unbleached. If we are at Safeway, we will get something like Bounty which just touts their soaking up power.

But, when we get home, both choices seem wrong. The Bounty and their ilk are made from virgin forests and bleach, so we are wrong there. But the perforations allow us to use half sheets so we use alot less. The Seventh Generation paper towels are perforated so we can only use full sheets (unless somebody wanted to use scissors to cut the sheets). So they may be made in a way that has less impact, but using them uses almost double the paper.

Systems Failure redux

RoverIt is Friday night and I am sitting in Michele’s family cabin; it is Friday night and my – formerly – trusty Range Rover is on its way back to Minden, Nevada. At least I hope it is on its way back to Hollar’s Automotive And 4 Wheel Drive in Minden. To start at the beginning:

After the Range Rover collapsed on the way to Death Valley and was towed to Hollar’s, it was given a complete top-end rebuild in situ. Monday, Michele and I set out to pickup what we expected to be the  rejuvenated Range Rover in Minden. We settled on Highway 88 as the best way to go. Highway 88 seemed counter intuitive but both Google and Apple agreed that it was the fastest way to get to Minden and we figured that, even if it wasn’t the fastest way, it would probably be the most interesting way.

We left home about noon and drove to Stockton by freeway. Passing into Red State California around Altamont Pass at the Jesus Saves Hillside.

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At Stockton, left the freeways for the – relatively – backroads. It was mostly straight roads across the Great Central Valley into the foothills. Then lots of sweeping turns over the Sierras and down into the Carson Valley to Minden.

The Rover was ready to go and Michele wanted to have her VW GTI serviced at Eurotech in Incline Village – because she felt they had done such a good job with the Rover the first time we were there and German cars are their speciality – so she drove ahead to Tahoe to get there before they closed.

I paid Hollar’s for the work on the Rover and then followed her a few minutes later. Driving up the Carson Valley and then over Spooner Summit on Highway 50, along, I marveled at how good the Rover sounded. Then the low coolant light came on. Just for a moment, just a flash, but enough to raise my blood pressure and adrenaline level. Then no light, then more flashing.

By the time I got to Eurotech, the light was flashing full time and popping the hood revealed splashed coolant all around the radiator holding tank. It was after business hours, so we left the Rover at Eurotech and drove the GTI to the cabin. The opposite of our plan which was now starting to look like a distant fantasy.

The next morning, Eurotech called and said that they tightened a couple of the houses and they thought everything was OK. It was amazing how quickly the fantasy returned. I drove Michele’s GTI over to Eurotech, picked up the Rover, and was on my way. The light didn’t start to flash for almost 45 minutes. That was Tuesday morning.

With variations, Wednesday was similar. Thursday was waiting for a part day – a part that was new about three weeks ago, but we were now hoping was defective – because the replacement was being shipped from Seattle. Today, Friday, was finding out that the part was probably not defective day and that I have a bigger problem.

It turns out that Dave at Eurotech and Mark Hollar are big off-roading buddies and fans of each other’s work. Dave called Mark who sent a truck to take the Rover back to Hollar’s in Minden. I don’t hold much hope that I will ever be wandering around in Nevada – in the Rover – again and, as I write that, I am starting to realize what a big portion of this blog – and my life – that is.

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Fremontia

Back Yard-9787This time of year, our backyard is dominated by our Fremontodendron californicum, known to Michele and myself as our Fremontia. It is a native of California but I don’t think that I have ever seen one in the wild (actually, I have not seen very many in captivity). The tree – bush? – is actually much more dominating than the pictures show, let me try again.

Back Yard-9786It is really rough and stickery up close and I am always amazed at how easily the squirrels negotiate it. Today, the bees were busy tending the Fremontia and

Back Yard-9796Precious Mae was busy at the watering hole.

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Death Valley Easter Trip 2013: Eureka Valley

 

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My preference is to drive to the desert, especially the deep desert, during the day. I like watching the subtle change from green to brown, and red, and yellow; from Civilization to the Great Empty. (About twenty years ago, I dropped Michele off at work and drove all day to Page, Arizona, to meet her flight that night. I had a deep feeling of where I was while Michele, having just got off the plane, wasn’t even sure which way was north.) On this trip, we left Bishop at about 10:00 PM after a late dinner and drove south to Big Pine where we turned east to drive into the White Mountains just as a large moon was rising.

When we entered Eureka Valley,  it was bright enough to get a sense of the vastness of the valley – really a graben – but not bright enough to easily spot the camping spot I had planned on. What we did find worked great and, after a leisurely breakfast we went south about ten miles on the Eureka Dune Road to the Eureka Dunes (duh!).

JR had already been up since before sunrise and had gone for a long walk and his enthusiasm, added to Gina and Courtney’s. I have been going to the desert – mostly Death Valley, but also The Mojave National Preserve, Anzo Borrego State Park, Northwestern Nevada, and assorted other places like the Moroccan Sahara – since the early 70’s when Iver Iverson introduced me to Death Valley and I Had a religious conversion as my very ex-wife so disparagingly put it. Michele and I got married there. But it has been hard to get friends to share my wonder, my fervor.

Over the years, I have tried, dragging people there with promises of subtle wonders. Their reactions have ranged from This is nice, let’s do it again, I’ll call you, don’t call me. to  Ugh? nice, I guess, but windy, to Where are the trees? to Can we go home now? ; but Gina and Courtney were the first people in a long time that caught the excitement that Michele and I share.

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Meanwhile, back in Eureka Valley, the Eureka Dunes are the highest dunes in California – which may be akin to being the longest earthworm or heaviest crow, interesting but not very important – at 680 feet above the dry lakebed they sit in (they look smaller because the surrounding Last Chance Range towers over them).

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We drove to the west side of the dunes, nearest the highest point and furthest from the crowded parking lot – it was packed, there must have been five cars – on the theory that we would climb to the top. I had climbed to the top, once, over twenty years ago where I ran into a guy who climbed to the almost-top with skis. He was going to ski down the steepest part, but it was a failure (for him, fun to watch for us). Everybody packed lots of water – as the temp was climbing – Gina and Michele brought snacks, and we set off across the dry lakebed to the dunes.

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Sand dunes are caused by the wind (in the desert, atleast). The wind scours the desert, picking up sand and dust. On a very windy day, so much is in the air that we can’t see across the valley, but – as the wind bumps up against a mountain and slows down – it looses its carrying capacity, dropping its cargo of sand and dust. Over time – alot of time, one grain of sand at a time – the sand and dust has built a dune 680 feet high and, maybe, a mile long. The shape of the dunes is governed by the shape of the surrounding topography that is slowing down the wind so it has been pretty much the same since the invention of the camera.

Sand Dunes - Death Valley, Ansel AdamsWhen we got into the dunes, we began to see and feel their complexity. In some places, they were hard and in other places almost too soft to get anywhere. Here would be a pattern and over there a smooth wall. On the otherside of a ridge, a valley going all the way down to the lake bed.

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And, as we climbed, the changing view of the Eureka Valley and the Last Chance range open up.

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I stopped climbing first, choosing, after our snack break to sit on a nice warm ridge and take an afternoon nap while everybody else kept at it.

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JR and Michele got the furthest, both of them – as far as I can tell – switching to barefoot sand-walking. At least they were both barefoot when they got back down to my level; JR reporting an equipment malfunction and Michele just seemed to like walking barefoot in warm sand. Then it was time to put the shoes back on, dust the sand from our butts – in my case, atleast – walk back to the cars, drive over the Last Chance Range to Upper Death Valley Wash, and find a place to camp.

Part One: Here

Next: Loosing Control here

Addendum: some additional shots from Michele

Eureka Dunes panorama - copyright Michele Stern 2013
Eureka Dunes panorama – copyright Michele Stern 2013

Steve at Eureka Dunes (by Michele)

That little group of specks on the ridge below is Gina, Cortney, Steve (different one) and Linda.
That little group of specks on the ridge below is Gina, Cortney, Steve (different one) and Linda.