Random Round-up Including Mineral King History

Today is a round-up of several topics, including Mineral King.

The 2019 calendars are selling steadily – $15 includes sales tax, and I am willing to eat the mailing costs, yum yum. (The Three Rivers Post Office is actually a pleasure to visit.) Yes, that is Sawtooth Peak on the cover, one of the most prominent landscape features in Mineral King. (“Features”, as if it is landscaped? Good grief.)

Ever try to type on a laptop with two purring teenage cats on your lap at the same time? Tucker kept a paw and his chin on the keyboard area, while Scout kept climbing around and slobbering a little. Not a very productive time, but it is a pleasure to have kitties around (except for the slobber part).

A friend wanted to ride her new Harley to Mineral King. She has good sense, and instead, chose to ride it to the Mineral King mural in Exeter.

Louise Jackson gave a talk at the Three Rivers library about why the Disney plan for a ski area in Mineral King failed and how it tied into the larger world. It didn’t fail for one reason but for a combination of reasons:

  1. Roy Disney, Walt’s brother, was the one who ran the business behind the scenes. He kept saying, “We are in the entertainment business, not the recreation business”. When Walt died at age 65 in 1966, some of the fire for the ski area died down. Walt was a skier; perhaps Roy wasn’t. . .
  2. The environmental movement was growing during that time; conservation and preservation became more important than development.
  3. The avalanches were a real problem, and when the big one happened in 1969 that took out cabins, killed a Disney guy and proved that managing the snow was potentially a huge problem, more of the wind went out of their sails.
  4. The road was too expensive to fix. The road was terrible. Still is. We don’t mind. 😎

The avalanche of 1969 crushed the store and rental cabins; Disney sent people in to burn all the rubble. The only little cabin that survived was the Honeymoon Cabin, also known as the Point Cabin.

Honeymoon Cabin #32, oil on wrapped canvas, 8×8″, $100 plus tax.

And finally, I have been working on a new book! Nope, I’ll tell you about it next week. . . see you on Monday!

 

A Good Idea

C and Friends, pencil drawing, 11×14, unframed, $200

About 2 weeks ago, I took the brave leap into admitting that I have unsold drawings and that it bothers me. I also admitted publicly that those drawings were heading to the shredder if unsold for another month. This is not something many artists are willing to discuss, but I am not normal. (Thank you for playing along with me as if I am normal – you are very kind.)

Apparently, that was a good idea because almost all of those drawings sold! And there is still time. . . as of the date that I am writing this post, there are a few left that someone is pondering. (Those are labeled “Sale Pending”, as if I am selling real estate.)

Sometimes I go through those flat files and look at the unsold drawings, wonder if I could do any better, alternate between dark thoughts such as “Why bother?” and “But these are good!”. Then I go around and around: Could I have drawn it from another angle? Should it have been cropped differently? Should it not have been cropped? Is the subject irrelevant to my “collectors”? (Why does that word sound so pretentious to me?) Did I not show it to the right people? Who are the right people? Where are they and how do I find them?

Then I shut the drawers and move on.

Telling The Blog about the situation was a good idea. Thank you for listening.

P.S. There are more. Maybe in the future I will have the courage to put them on the auction block (The Blog) or the chopping block (The Shredder).

Cabin Thoughts, Part 3

Mineral King cabin folks come from cities, suburbs, small towns and out in the country; we live in mansions, estates, apartments, and even a few normal houses. We are artists, bankers, equipment operators, janitors, teachers, farmers, administrative assistants, engineers, retirees, dental hygienists, sheriffs, lawyers, doctors, day care workers, musicians, optometrists, veterinary assistants, physical therapists, moms, Park employees, physician’s assistants, and those are just the first ones that come to mind. We come from California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada, Utah, Virginia, New York, Hawaii, Florida, South Dakota, and Egypt. (Probably more places that I can’t remember. . .)

Our Mineral King cabins, AKA “small, poorly constructed huts in the woods”, are great equalizers.

Every one of us, regardless of our backgrounds, livelihoods, economic, educational or political status, is thrilled to have a small, poorly constructed hut in the woods. Every cabin has a barely adequate kitchen, a laughably tiny (or no) bathroom, maybe one or two or even no bedrooms. Every single cabin user has to figure out how to deal with unreliable water, peculiar propane appliances, old stuff that may or may not work, and the definite lack of a maintenance department, hardware or grocery store. There is a terrible road to get there, rodents, spiders and other wildlife that may or may not be appreciated, and all sorts of unexpected situations. (Who left this chair and what happened to my flashlight?? Who forgot the tonic water? Does anyone have any birthday candles? What do you mean Skin-So-Soft isn’t mosquito repellent? Are you kidding that I can’t blow-dry my hair?)

Every single cabin that is owned by multiple families has its conflicts, whether decorating, cleaning, maintaining, or scheduling. The cabins without partnerships have to bear the expenses, decisions, maintenance and cleaning without benefit of sharing the load.

Those who have complicated lives in fancy places might view a cabin as a mixed blessing: a family tradition, a repository of memories, and a bit of an inconvenience, but a treasured shabby shack in the mountains.

Those who have simpler lives in simpler places might also view a cabin as a mixed blessing: a family tradition, a repository of memories, and a huge treat, a treasured place of one’s own in the mountains.

In my 32 38 years of cabin ownership, I’ve observed cabin folks’ conversation topics go from “How can we save these cabins” to “How have you been?” We have fought together, helped one another, hiked together, learned one another’s family trees, and through it all we have built friendships weekend upon weekend, year after year after decade after decade. And I am just a newcomer. . .

A small, poorly-constructed, primitive, one-story hut in the woods where everyday life is distant and we gather to laugh with family and play board games while a fire keeps us warm. (If you have a giant log mansion on a lake somewhere, then you will have to edit this description to fit your idea of what constitutes “cabin”.)

Cabin Thoughts, Part 2

Mineral King, pencil, framed approximately 14 x 18″, $400 plus tax.

I looked up “cabin” on my Mac. The dictionary on my computer has fairly useless definitions as far as our discussion is concerned.

Cabin may refer to:

  • Beach cabin, a small wooden hut on a beach

  • Log cabin, a house built from logs

  • Cottage, a small house

  • Chalet, a wooden mountain house with a sloping roof

  • Small, remote, mansion (Western Canada)

  • Small, free-standing structures that serve as individual lodging spaces of a motel

Forget that. Where’s my real Webster’s dictionary?? Mine was published in 2004 rather than 1935. Oh good grief, look at this:

A small, simple, one-story house.

Willow Window, pencil. Is this a cabin? Nope, it is a bungalow. But it is a small, simple, one-story house. How do I know? Because I used to live there.
Kitchen Corner, pencil, framed, $150. Is this a cabin? Yep. How do I know? I live there in the summer. But wait! It has 2 stories!

A few folks checked in with their thoughts on what a cabin is. One suggested “primitive”; another said a place to get away from every day life; a third (and someone else I talked to in person) suggests that a cabin is a state of mind, “non-fancy” is a good description, and someone else added in a description of an ideal cabin. She used the word “spare”, which could mean an extra home or it could mean without clutter. (I’ve seen some pretty cluttered cabins, and I have lived in a cabin when it was my only place of residence.)

Come back tomorrow for more thoughts on cabins and cabin life; clearly, there is no clear definition of cabin, but there are many ideas about it. Clearly.

Cabin Thoughts

A classic Mineral King cabin. (sold oil painting)

In 1986 I married into a Mineral King cabin. I’d always wanted either a cabin or a beach house. Here in Tulare County, cabins are more available and accessible than beach houses. It has worked out well, even to the point that my art business is called Cabin Art. (Or Cabinart. . . for a Typo-Psycho, I am awfully ambivalent about the spelling of this invented word.)

But what exactly is a cabin? A dear old friend and I began discussing this, and I was surprised that I am unable to define the word. Some cabin neighbors along with Off Trail Guy and I had a discussion about the definition of “cabin”, and the word “woods” came up several times in both discussions.

My hiking buddy suggested I try Webster. I was so caught off guard that I said something truly clueless:  “What is that? Some internet thing?” We all got a big laugh when I realized she meant Noah Webster and the Merriam-Webster dictionary, not some World Wide Web gizmo.

We had an old dictionary at the cabin, so I looked up “cabin”. The 3rd definition said, “A small, rude hut”.

Clearly the word “rude” has changed in meaning since the dictionary was published in 1935. I looked up “rude” and saw “Poorly constructed”.

Alrighty, then. A cabin is a small, poorly constructed hut.

My Very Wise Dad always told us it is better to laugh than to cry. I might even fall down laughing at this definition, especially when folks mention their Shaver Lake or Tahoe cabins.

Let’s talk more about this tomorrow.

How do you define “cabin”? (Don’t spoil things by looking it up first – just speak from your gut or your heart.)

Mineral King on Friday

Shall we conclude the tale of our White Chief hike?

Trail Guy thought it would be fun to go down on the other side of the canyon rather than follow the trail. I will now begin referring to him as Off Trail Guy. It was really hard. My hiking buddy and I got giddy silly, and I fell down laughing. Actually I fell because it is tricky to pick a route and pick footing, especially when there are long grasses covering the rocks. Off Trail Guy and my hiking buddy managed to remain vertical; my buddy’s husband fell once. He probably wasn’t laughing. If my buddy wasn’t with me, I might have been scared. She is very brave. We stopped several times to take cool pictures (and to regroup and perhaps to cuss Off Trail Guy).

Oh no. Not ANOTHER unknown yellow flower!
Pink leaves. A diversion.
Swirly rock. Another diversion.
We came down THAT, the left side of the canyon as one looks up. The real trail is on the right side.
My favorite Explorer’s Gentian is hanging on and looks striking among its frost-damaged yellow leaves.

Holy guacamole, it was a 9+ mile day, much of it off trail. My hiking buddy and I came up with a rating system, 1 being on a flat trail or maybe even a sidewalk, and 10 being not speaking to our husbands for a week. Off Trail Guy GUARANTEED this was a 5; it was 8.5. Hmmm. . .

Only 1/4 mile left to go. I love me some flat trail that pulls me along, and green might be my favorite color while hiking.

We learned that Off Trail Guy rates trails differently than we do. We learned that we can laugh our way through difficulties. We learned another way to not come home from White Chief. And we learned that we have a strong friendship, not bruised by difficult routes.

Mineral King on Thursday?

. . . the saga of a busy Labor Day weekend continues. “Saga” may be an overblown word, but it is fun to use.

There are never enough hiking days, nor is there enough desire to get my hiney moving every time I go up the hill. I feel the calendar shrinking, and decided it was time to fulfill my desire to see the upper part of White Chief this year. There were 4 of us on the hike; one had a bowl of Cheerios, another had a bowl of Crankios, 2 of us had normal food, and we set off.

Within the first mile, we encountered these energetic folks from Ukraine, now Los Angeles. They did Great Big Hikes THREE DAYS IN A ROW! That included climbing Mineral Peak. . . very impressive. They also taught us that our name, Botkin, is famous in Ukraine because jaundice is called “Botkin’s Disease”. Nice, eh?

Mineral Peak
These cabin ruins at the beginning of White Chief canyon had something to do with John Crabtree. I know a man by that name, but he’s not related. That’s okay, because I’m not related to jaundice either.
White Chief as it appears from my position of semi-collapse among the Crabtree cabin ruins.
This Lodgepole pine is leaning from an avalanche, and its branches look like little trees (with a little red fir showing 2nd from the left on the other side.)
Trail Guy went to the falls to refill our water bottles near where the trail crosses the creek. (We live dangerously and are probably overconfident about what water we drink while out on the trails.)
Looking back down over the lower canyon from the trail among the mines, caves and tunnels.
See? mines and tunnels and caves!
Yep, this is the trail. It isn’t scary to me, but I am better at up than down.
See? caves! Be careful. . . Yes, I know, duh.
Trail Guy shared a laugh with some Bay Area cavers who thought they knew secrets that Trail Guy didn’t about White Chief.
This is at the top of the canyon, a peaceful place I love when the mosquitoes aren’t around. They weren’t around on September 2.
I put my feet in the water and then looked down the line of my hiking buddies, as we ate our lunches together in this lovely hard-earned spot.
HEY! This is a miniature Grass of Parnassus!

To be continued tomorrow. . .

Mineral King on Wednesday?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BANANA!!

On Monday, I said that our Mineral King happenings post was to be continued. Did you wonder when? Yesterday was a significant date in the life and history of our country, so I paused on my little tales to acknowledge September 11.

For a number of years, we have had a neighborhood get-together on the last summer weekend. I sent out an email invitation that included a warning that if you didn’t show, we might possibly set up in your nice flat front yard. We set up in the nice flat front yard and deck of a neighboring cabin. Then, The Neighbor showed up! Oops. It’s okay, we are all friends, and now we have something to laugh about for years. We moved to our not so flat back yard, and 22 of us managed quite nicely. (and The Neighbor joined us, bringing a lovely plate of fancy cheeses and some good wine, I’m told.)

 

What manner of weird food is this and what does it have to do with Mineral King?
Lady finger grapes, a new variety, shared at the neighborhood potluck.
These dudes were part of the BBQ detail.
The host and organizer has a soft spot for babies.
Someone knows how to put together beautiful plates of fruit.
Even in Mineral King, people use their phones, but only as cameras.

The next day, too tired to want to get up early, we got up earlyish and hit the trail for White Chief.

To be continued. . .

Mineral King on Monday?

Last Friday instead of posting about Mineral King, I posted old pencil drawings of Mineral King. I hope you didn’t feel ripped off. Just in case, here is a report on Labor Day weekend in Mineral King, the official last weekend of summer. (Pay no attention to the little words on the calendar on Sept. 21.)

On Friday evening, we were sitting with friends on their cabin deck and heard a Jeep go by with loud tinny music. The driver shouted in our direction, “[expletive deleted] liberals!”

Excuse me??

The next morning as I walked down the road with 2 friends, we saw this:

A ranger friend described this as “a little road karma”.

Was it the same Jeep? the same driver? Don’t know. He refused an ambulance, so it sounds as if he wasn’t hurt.

We headed up the Nature Trail out of the Cold Springs Campground. Most of the flowers are finished for the year, but there were still plenty of photogenic subjects.

Unknown berries.
Still good water coming down the east fork of the Kaweah River.
Unknown red leaf.
I heard Trail Guy laugh from across the canyon and looked over to see the tow truck.
Classic view of the tiniest tip of Sawtooth from the Nature Trail.
Oh no! More unknown whites!
Oh no! More unknown yellows!

To be continued. . .