Category Archives: Photography

Driving Up & Down 395 Looking For Fall Color and Thinking About Elon Musk

Generally, if draining is worth doing at all, it is worth overdoing...civil engineer George E. Waring Jr., speaking for the drainage design of New York’s Central Park, in 1867.

Anything worth doing is worth overdoing. My favorite homily, although Lazarus Long in Robert A. Heinlein’s Enough Time For Love (1973) apparently also said it.

Last week, we drove to Olympic Valley – formerly known as Squaw Valley – to spend some time with Rick Paine and Lynnaea Lumbard, who were passing by on their way to a family meeting. In a way, we were passing by, too, on our way to find some fall color in Bishop Creek Canyon, west of Bishop, California. We were in our electric Kona, which, while not exactly a problem, does take some planning to drive around rural California (exactly is the operative word here).

Our first stop was a Tesla charger near Roseville that’s almost next door to a Japanese restaurant. I thought about Elon Musk for the first time. Well, NOT the first time ever, but the first time on this trip. We had a Japanese meal while we topped up on electrons just before we started the uphill grind to Donner Pass at 7,056 feet. It worked perfectly.

We had a delightful but all-too-short 24 hours with Rick and Lynneae, and then they were on their way. We had charged the Kona overnight, so soon after, we drove around Lake Tahoe, on the west side, past Emerald Bay, through the border city strangely named South Lake Tahoe, over Kingsberry Grade, and finally dropped 3,000 feet into a different world on Highway 395 in Nevada.

We drove down the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada –Snowy Mountain Range in Spanish – crossing the border back into California at Topaz Lake as the shadows cast by the Sierras turned into twilight.

I want to make an aside here. The above photo was made by Michele, as was the photo above it and the photo above that. On the driving-to-get-somewhere part of the trip, at least, the great majority of the photos were taken by Michele while I drove. End aside.

While we had a very late lunch at the Whoe Nelli Delli, we topped up the Kona at a Rivian charging station, and I thought about Elon Musk again. Not that I like Elon Musk; he seems very juvenile and insensitive at best. And I want to add, I really don’t know much about Musk except for the chainsaw stunt or whatever it was – political speech? demonstration? childish asshole stunt? or just plain whatever? – in the White House with President Trump. Oh, and that he has a lot of kids, 14, I think – by four different birth mothers. He seems more childish and wacky than interesting, but he is worth a trillion dollars. A TRILLION DOLLARS, so he must be doing something right (assuming he does want to make lots of money).

A trillion dollars is an unfathomable amount of money, though, in the middle of the 19th century, the entire Rothschild family – in London, Paris, Frankfurt, Vienna, and Naples – were probably richer in total. Still, Musk is richer than any single person: ever. Sure, Elon Musk is exceedingly smart – he taught himself computer programming at an early age and sold the code for a basic video game, Blastar, when he was just twelve years old – and has often been at the right place at the right time, but I think his not-so-secret ingredient for financial success is that he is fully committed to whatever he is involved in.

Musk is a “put all your eggs in one basket” kind of guy; I’d even say, an “anything worth doing is worth overdoing” kind of guy. His 14 kids are an excellent example, so is Tesla. Every automaker makes electric cars, but most do it sort of begrudgingly. Tesla not only makes electric cars, but Tesla also makes high-speed chargers to make electric cars more convenient, and now they are starting to build diners nearby so people can eat or grab a cup of coffee while their car charges. They are committed. I’m pretty sure we could not drive across the country without using Tesla chargers.

We had a late lunch at the Whoe Nelli Deli, owned by the same kind of “anything worth doing is worth overdoing” kind of guys. The Whoe Nelli Deli is located in a Mobil gas station on Tioga Pass Road just off Highway 395 and just outside the small town of Lee Vining. To quote the New York Times, our editors were relieved to find the Whoa Nellie Deli, a shockingly gourmet oasis located at the local Tioga Gas Mart, and The Los Angeles Times described chef Matt Toomey as a manic figure in a white chef’s jacket and a baseball cap whose charisma and sense of humor are reflected in his cooking….To have one of the better meals of your life in a gas station is bizarre. It leaves you staring at your plate for a moment or two in disbelief. I know that feeling; I just had it at our lunch. I ordered the steak salad – again, because it’s so good – and just stared at the plate, thinking this is the most perfectly cooked steak I’ve ever had except, maybe, two or three restaurants in Japan and one in Paris.

After lunch, we drove to Bishop in the dark, had a late dinner, went to sleep early, and woke up to a view of a small portion of the Sierra Nevada’s eastern wall.

After an early cup of coffee and egg-thingy at Starbucks, we drove up Bishop Creek Canyon to see the fall color. Bishop Creek Canyon starts west of Bishop at about 4,150 feet and climbs up an additional 5,000 feet. Near the top are three lakes, North, South, and Sabrina, all with lots of Aspens in color. We hope.

The last time I was here was in October of 2018, and I was the only person at North Lake except for a Chinese women’s photography class. This year, eight years later, North Lake we had to follow a honey wagon on its way to servicing the new portable outhouses.

Years ago, probably about 15 years ago, I remember meeting Michele and Karen Amy for lunch in Nashua, New Hampshire. We walked around, stunned by the fall colors, especially in the lovely – can I use that word? – old cemetery where the bright yellow leaves were almost ankle-deep. The Eastern Sierras are not like that. The Eastern Sierras are less color and more mountains. (So, be forewarned, Karen.)

I think North Lake is the most photogenic lake in the entire Sierra Nevada that anybody can drive to in a regular car. In this case, there were too many regular cars already parked along the narrow dirt road for us to find a place to park close to the lake. The lake was packed, but from what we could see, as beautiful as it was in 2018.

I blame the internet for the crowds; I blame YouTube specifically; and I have very mixed emotions about it. Michele and I have pitched the Eastern Sierras for years with very few converts. I think YouTube, with dozens of people, often with kids, pitching the magic of the Eastern Sierras in fall, probably has a low conversion rate as well, but they have an almost infinite audience. More than 15 million people within easy driving range. It is the democratization of information in a way we have never experienced before.

Out of all these people, some, probably not very many, maybe a lot, I have no idea, will have their soul touched like I did in 1956. They will look at North Lake, even in a crowd, and their life will change. That’s great, but last week, they were just blocking the road. I have very mixed emotions.

North Lake in 2018.

After crowded North Lake, Lake Sabrina, South Lake, and the surrounding area seemed pretty empty, the kind of empty where you stop and chat when you meet someone. Most of the people we chatted with were locals, and most of them were interesting and charming, and most of them probably voted for Trump. But we didn’t talk politics; we talked about how stunning the whole area is, and even more so in fall colors.

Around Die At The Re-U

There are both Europeans and Americans at the re-u, and all the Americans have been to Europe more times than I’ve been to – hell, I don’t know – LA, and all of them speak at least two languages. I feel like a country bumpkin who wandered into a gathering of overachieving travelers.

I am not a Europhile – although I am a European car fan – I love California, especially the part of California where we live, but it is hard to shake the feeling, especially with this group, that Europe is more civilized and just plain more Civil than we Americans. The comparison between Greece during its Golden Age and Rome, which ruled the Mediterranean with sheer power, keeps coming to mind.

It is hot here – https://www.nytimes.com/2025/06/29/world/europe/europe-heat-wave-record-temperatures.html – with temperatures reaching close to 100F by mid-day, and it sucks the energy – energy I already have in short supply – out of me. Last Friday, we drove up a long, rough, gravel road to a view spot overlooking Die (photo in previous post). I didn’t take many photos, except for the spring flowers.

Saturday, we went to a small art show in a charming nearby village.

To be continued…

Driving From Yuzawa To Joetsu To Kanazawa

Yuzawa is a resort town in the Japanese Alps. Well, the Chamber of Commerce says that Yuzawa is in the Japanese Alps, so I should believe them. However, I think the signature feature of the Swiss Alps, which tops out at 14,691 feet, is its glaciated topography. The Japanese Alps top out at 10,475 feet, so they may have had lots of glaciers, but Yuzawa is at only 3,875 feet, and there was not a sign of glaciation anywhere.

Still, there were ski slopes and chairlifts, and I was reminded that it snows at sea level here. We stayed in a large stand-alone hotel that kind of reminded me of the hotel on the Indian Reservation near the newly formed Tulare Lake. We were here to see at least part of the Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale and, especially, the Kiyotsukyo Gorge Tunnel.

The next three nights, we spent in Joetsu, an off-the-tourist road city, so we could double back to the eastern part of Triennal and then drove – mostly along the coast – to Kanazawa, at the center of the tourist road. We are now in Kanazawa, surrounded by American – or, at least, European-American looking – young people.

This part of Japan is known for its rice and its sake. Michele says that the rice is very good, but my taste buds aren’t refined enough to taste the difference between this rice and, say, Luna Koshihikari Organic Rice from the Sacramento Valley. The Sake was different; the local stuff was terrific.

As we leave the shoreline, we come back into rice country. I’m amazed at how the rice fields seem to fill every empty space, but on reflection, I think it is probably the opposite. As family fields get divided between heirs, some sell their plot and it then gets filled with buildings.

Going to the East Side, ah, 395, you know, the East side of the Sierras

US Highway 395 runs from the Canadian border, just north of Spokane, through Reno, into the LA Basin, where it gets lost in the freeway maze around San Bernardino. A big chunk of it, about 300 miles worth, running through the high desert along the eastern flank of the Sierras, is one of the most spectacular drives in the world. I drove across California to 395, a week or so ago, to get a couple of pictures of the Sierra monolith at sunrise. It is the first time, in over ten years, that I’ve gone somewhere to just take photographs. I had forgotten how much fun it was.

It is about a five-hour drive from our house to 395 via Tioga Pass, normally about half of the distance and one-third of the time is on freeways but I told the Hyundai’s trusty GPS – Miss Song? – to minimize freeways so it took me about eight hours, going over the Coast Range at Patterson Pass and through the Central Valley on back roads. I stopped at every place along the way that I’ve always said I would stop (but, always, at some other time). 

That had the added bonus of getting me to Siesta Lake just as the light was getting good. By the time I got to the Olmsted Point scenic turnout, the light was good with clouds hanging on the face of Cloud’s Rest. Olmsted Point is at 8300 and it was already cool but I hoped the sky would get better in the sunset so I decided to join the other photographers who were standing around waiting. The sky did get a little better but it got much colder and I kept getting into the car to warm up. 

Leaving Olmsted point after sunset, I drove east through Tuolumne Meadows in the failing light and then down to Eureka Vally in the dark. 

Eureka Valley is 37.9 miles east of Highway 395, towards Death Valley, on the Big Pine-Death Valley Road and I figured it would be a good place to throw down my bag and spend the night. It was. At about 3000 feet, Eureka Valley was a balmy 62° and I didn’t even have to zip up my bag. Still, it was the first time I’ve slept on the ground in about two years and it was not as easy as I had expected. Part of it was that my Therm-a-Rest had a slow leak and went flat during the night but the bigger problem was that I had driven into Eureka Valley, picked a place to sleep, and put my bag down, in the dark and I always find that a little disquieting. That was made up for, however by the incredible night sky. I was about as far from a large light source as I could get, a bizilon stars ran from horizon to horizon, and the milky way was bright enough to walk around by. I woke up about 5:17, eight minutes before my alarm and loaded the car. I stopped just as the road left the valley, turning from gravel to pavement – to use the word pavement in a very generous sense – and took a picture of the horizon as it started to get light. Forty-five minutes later, driving down into the Owens Valley, the Sierras were glowing in the morning sun.  

After sunrise, my plan was to drive into Bishop and get an old-fashioned breakfast with a couple of eggs over easy, bacon, and hash browns but the light was so fantastic that I decided to drive up to  Lake Sabrina at over 9,000 feet. The clouds that were so beguiling looking across the Owens Valley were now clouds cutting off the sunlight at Lake Sabrina where it was 34°. Every once in a while, the light would break through, lighting up the Aspens but 34° is cold and I got tired of waiting for the light to improve, I got back in the car, turned the heat up high, and drove a mile or so to North Lake where the light was a little better and the shores, incongruously, were full of Chinese women photographers (not shown).   

I ended the morning at South Lake which was beautiful but the sweet light was gone so I called it a day and headed home.