Category Archives: Travel

Happy 4th….redux

Americana, Current Affairs, Photography, Travel

On the 4th I went to what seemed like my first, small town, 4th Of July parade. But, upon reflection, it was really my second 4th of July parade: my first was a parade in Downieville, California in 1957. I don't remember much about that parade except that, afterwards, I was eliminated – in the second heat – in the town footraces.

My second, small town, parade was in Sonoma. It was very small town. It was much fun, and, I hope, it will be as long before I go to my third, small town, parade. I don't know what I expected, certainly not the Rose Parade, but something more than what we got. Maybe not more, different. I don't mean to knock the parade, but I do want to say that it was more charming looking back at it than standing in the hot sun looking at it.

I kept thinking how the parade reflected California and, more specifically, Northern California, and how much different – and the same – it would be if we were watching an Iowa small town parade.

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What I didn't expect, but should have, is that most of the floats were by service groups, promoting their causes. This one, by a mentoring group, was typical.
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What I did expect was that lots of groups used somebody's car to promote their group.

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I was a little surprised that there were so few Mexican entries. Maybe not Sonoma proper, but the Sonoma area must be primarily Mexican – it is a farming community after all, even if the farming is mostly grapes for wine.

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A couple of great looking draft horses turned into riding horses.

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It wouldn't be a California parade without atleast one dragon.

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This grandfather and his two grandkids representing nothing more than their family, charmed me.

 

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I am not sure what the deal was with these zombies and their dollar truck – and if anyone has an idea, I would love to hear it – but I did think they were great fun. 

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And they were a contrast to the fuzzy puppy (Bichon) entry.

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Of course, I expected veterans, but is still a shock when the veterans turn out to be young kids from a war we are still fighting and not some old guys from WWII. This particular vet, I think the only one in the parade, was almost a parody. 

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I had come to get a picture of a fire-engine with flags, but we had to wait until the end of the parade.

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Maybe they are at the end because – in small towns all over America – everybody has come to see the
fire-engines with flags.

 

Running late to the Smoke Creek and beyond and back – really

Americana, Photography, Travel

The plan was to high-tail back to Mike and Linda's. Mike had said that the big mine, that we had visited in the morning, was about 2 1/2 hours away from their place. But we were a little further afield, going back the long way, and would probably stop more; so I was estimating about 3 1/2 hours. It took us more than four hours. But there was lots to see on the way: clumps of rye grass and mallows, Indian paintbrush with some very delicate pink flowers, morning glories, more antelopes, vistas, more road.

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We stopped for a late lunch along Applegate Trail – where Michele made sandwiches which we ate, hiding from the wind, on the lee side of the truck.

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An aside. The Applegate is the southern route of the Oregon Trail where the first wagon train came through in 1846. It  became a busy road with 3500 settlers passing through in 1853. Sixteen years later, it was mote. The country was connected by railroad the continent could be crossed in five or six days – sitting down. Twenty nine years later, my grandparents came to the United States from Europe, and kept going until they got to San Francisco.

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End aside. 

Finally we came to the Blackrock Desert, the biggest playa of all, and
we knew we were getting close to having a beer in Mike and Linda's
backyard with a great view of the Smoke Creek playa.

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We had alot of road to travel, so we said our goodbyes and drove south through the darkening desert complaining about the lousy light. At the very souther end of the Smoke Creek, as we were going over the pass, the sun finally came out to give us a farewell display. (Like all wide formate shots, double clickable.)

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Running late to the Smoke Creek and beyond and back

Americana, Travel

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Michele celebrated Memorial Day morning by sleeping in – under a threatening sky. Maybe more than threatening: we could see virga as we looked around.

As an aside. There are four deserts in the United States. They are generally characterized by the plant life but I think they can also be characterized by their character? myths? aura? I am not sure of the right word. I have not spent enough time in the Chihuahuan Desert to form an opinion, but the other three deserts are very different.

The Mojave Desert is the wacko desert and I mean that in the worst way and the best possible way. It is where people get abducted by Aliens, it is the desert of Charles Manson, the Repo Man desert. It is also the home of the Mojave Air & Space Port and China Lake Naval Air Station and Edwards Air Force Base.

The Sonora Desert is the Indian desert. It is where the Navajos live, where tourists go to Pueblos over 500 years old, the best place to buy real and faux Indian art.

The Great Basin Desert is the Cowboy desert. Yes, there are Indian reservations, but few tourists visit them. It is where wild horses still roam and cowboys try to thin the herds using helicopters. It is a cold desert in winter – but, now, by the end of May, it is pretty warm – and the dominant plant is sage brush. Rub up against a plant or drive over one and the smell of sage permeates the air. I find it delightful. It is called the great basin because it does not drain to the sea. There are no rivers that lead out of the Great Basin. You can accurately say that The rain that falls in Nevada stays in Nevada.End aside.

We had camped near an abandoned mine that was really just a vertical shaft – but deep enough so that we couldn't see the bottom – and there was abandoned junk spread around. It was more picturesque in the fading light of last night than the heavy gray sky of morning.

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After breakfast, we went south and ran into the tailings, abandoned buildings, and industrial size junk of what looked to be a huge operation. 

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Because a couple of the abandoned vehicles were WWII deuce and half trucks, I'm guessing the mine operated, at least, into the 1950s. But the remaining buildings and technology could have been from a hundred years ago. Including the Tequila Junction bar Michele dropped by and

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the outhouse with view.

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The mine site – I wouldn't call it big enough to be a ghost town – was a little creepy in the drab day and what we really wanted to do was go for a long walk, so we drove north to a canyon that looked promising on the map. And it was: we walked up a double track road until it petered out and then cut cross country back to the truck.

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When we got back to the truck, it was getting late, so we high-tailed it back to Mike and Linda's. 

To be concluded.

 

. 

Running late to the Smoke Creek and beyond

Photography, Travel

This is the second part of a multi-part post. To go to the beginning, go here.

Both Mike and Linda – the links @ their names are to their websites – are artists and their undisclosed location – as they would like to have it so referred – on the edge of the Smoke Creek playa, is like a giant art piece. Every vista is dazzling and every detail is thought out in a subtle but idiosyncratic way. Every time I come here, my first thought is I would like to move in and change nothing – OK, the name on the door, but that’s it.

Sunday morning, we woke up in our own guest cottage on the edge of a pond.

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And joined Linda, Mike, and their three dogs on their pre-breakfast walk around the ranch – property? spread? whatever.

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After breakfast and visiting, we wandered up the road a spell to Planet X. Planet X is a pottery studio  owned by John and Rachel Bogard. We probably would have stopped there anyway because we like their pottery and they always have an open house on Memorial Day, but Michele had taken a class there several years ago and wanted to stop by to say hello.

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Michele and Rachel talked about the economy and I tagged along. At one point, I mentioned that they looked busy but that most of the people looked pretty old – it never occurred to me that I was one of those old guys – signifying that this was probably their first time here. Rachel said No, they are the same people who always come here, they are just getting old. Gulp! Just like us.

As Michele and Rachel continued to talk, I wandered over to the TV to watch Dario Franchitti win the Indy 500.

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A long aside. Nevada is Basin and Range country. Between Lake Tahoe and Salt Lake City, the North American Plate is pulling apart, stretching the crust thin, fracturing it on a north-south axis. These fractured pieces, are rotating on the same axis producing a series of separate and parallel north south mountain ranges. Each of these Ranges has a flat Basin between it and the next Range. For 450 miles!

It is a geologically fascinating area and the great John McPhee wrote a geology primer about the Nevada Basin and Range that reads like poetry, titled, appropriately, Basin and Range. McPhee, when asked how he would sum up the book, said If by some fiat I had to restrict all this writing to one sentence, this is the one I would choose: The summit of Mt. Everest is marine limestone. Think about that, the top of Mt. Everest was once the bottom of an ocean.End aside.

Leaving Planet X, we drove through Gerlach – the sign says Where the pavement ends and the West begins. but we were coming in from the other way, so, I guess, technically we were leaving the West. Not really, after 18 miles of paved road, we turned east on a unpaved county road. Our trip would take us over several Ranges and through several Basins, starting by going up the fan into the Selenite Range.       (Double clickable.)

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To be continued

Running late to the Smoke Creek

Americana, Travel

On our three and one half day trip to the Smoke Creek desert and beyond, we started late and it got worse. We had not been up there in over five years and had completely forgotten how far away it is. I thought it would take us about six hours to get to Michael and Linda's place and Michele agreed. We started late Saturday morning and traffic jammed all the way through San Francisco, the East Bay, Highway 80 into Sacramento, and, finally, Reno. By Reno, we had been going for over six hours and still had a couple to go.

We turned north, out of Reno, on Pyramid Way and drove through the Sun Valley/Spanish Springs area. When we first started going up to the Smoke Creek, years ago, the country just north of Reno looked like this.    

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Now it looks like this. No wonder we are drilling for oil in 5,000 feet of water.



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Further north, we passed Pyramid Lake which in the past had always seemed pretty empty. Now, all the beaches were packed with RVs, probably trying to get away from Sun Vally/Spanish Springs  . 

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We got off the pavement at the north end of Pyramid and ran out of people. We also started to climb out of the lake basin and over a low pass. In the fading light, the hills were soft and as sensuous as we remembered.

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Finally, when we spotted the Smoke Creek playa, we were thrilled,
knowing we only had 40 miles of dirt road left to get to Mike and Linda's where Mike would be waiting to light the barbecue for us.

 

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To be continued here…