My drawing students are used to me telling them, “You can be fast or you can be good; I get to be both.”
The braggadocio recently got tested. Someone had an art emergency, and gave me about 5 drawing days to complete a commissioned pencil drawing. There were more calendar days than just five, but I can no longer do detailed work in Mineral King (eyes too old and no drawing table or electricity for the magnifying light or to recharge the computer when using photos from it), and I had a funeral to attend, groceries to buy, and some sprinklers to keep running (the landscaping project at church, can’t find the link but you prolly* don’t need to see it anyway, and who cares about “SEO” and all the internet hoops to increase visitation, mostly by scammers and robots? Not this little gray duck.)
First steps
The customer had to get to the cabin, sneak photos when the intended recipient of the drawing was gone, and text them to me. Then I had to transfer them to the laptop and sort through, finding duplicates, organizing by potential usefulness. There were many important questions to be answered: Is the garage important? Is the fire ring important? May I move the sign? Where is the name of the cabin? Is the fairy house important? How many umbrellas are usually on the porch? May I leave off some of those lounge chairs?
Second step
Slammed out a sketch for approval. (I’ve whited out the cabin name and address because after all, this IS the World Wide Web, and we respect privacy in this corner.)
Good thing the customer has faith in my ability to draw. This sketch was fast, but it wadn’t* good by any stretch other than it shows what will be in the drawing.
Starting
I started laying it out, and then got a little tired of that. Shading is the funnest* part, so I started in the upper left so that my right handedness doesn’t smear as I work across.
At the end of the work day (nope, not using the tiresome cliche “at the end of the day”), I was this far along.
I love to draw!
*Wadn’t” is right there with “tryna”, “prolly”, “liberry”, and “Remorial Building”. You may recall that I attended high school in Visalia, the least (second least according to another article) educated city in the entire United States. Let’s just have some fun with that fact.
P.S. If you happen to recognize this cabin, stay quiet about it, PLEASE!
My longest running drawing student Mae borrowed a photo of this cabin from me and drew it when she was brand new to drawing (but experienced at watercolor painting). She put in in an art show where local history buff and old friend Alan George insisted that it had been drawn by me, despite her name being on the drawing. That was a long time ago, but Mae and I still get a laugh out of remembering it.
I drew this one. It is the oldest cabin in Mineral King.
August always feels like the longest month to me. Endless heat. Sometimes wildfires start and then we have heat and smoke. Not my favorite month. To quote my niece when she was about 3, “It’s my worst favorite.”
2. Jury duty is a rough way to spend a day because it is so boring and feels like a complete disregard of the value of time. Be there at 9, sit in a room until 11, half the people get called, the other half gets sent out to waste 2-1/2 hours, returning for another hour of sitting, sent out to waste 15 minutes, return to be dismissed for the day. The end. (until next year)
3. Look at these neato little paint buckets! They even have a magnet to hold your brush up out of the paint.
4. Choosing paintcolors is doggone near impossible. From left to right on this shutter: darkish green, lighter green, primer gray (with primer currently on the surrounding wall, which also looks greenish.) Glad it’s not my decision to make.
5. It is still possible for me to hike 8 miles on my numb feet.
6. If you buy something at BestBuy and it doesn’t seem to be working, RETURN IT WITHIN TWO WEEKS! I had to buy ANOTHER cord and ANOTHER “box” (the plug-in gizmo). They were the reasons that the new-to-me iPhone wouldn’t charge. I hesitated, thinking maybe I was doing something wrong, and it cost me about $35. Ow.
7. I learned how to change flourescent light bulb tube things. This is probably a nothing burger for most folks, or maybe you have People for that. I was in the church secretary’s office, it was dark, and she said she couldn’t climb a ladder or find anyone else to replace the tubes. I accepted this as a challenge, looked it up on YouTube, and got ‘er dun! Cheap little thrill, but it is fun to learn, execute successfully, and share the joy.
8. A lady in Three Rivers who runs a B&B has an unusually interesting background and recently published a book, Blow Back. (I wonder if our library has it. It’s about the mysterious 2nd person who was seen by 20 eyewitnesses when Timothy McVeigh bombed the Murrah building in Oklahoma City in 1995. Mar was an investigative journalist in addition to several other big deal jobs before she came to Three Rivers. I had no idea.
9. There is a type of alarm clock that simulates gradual morning light and can be set to sounds such as birds chirping. They are called “sun rising” or “sunrise” alarms, and they also have a variety of fall-asleep options. I’ve been needing this my entire life—how have I not heard of this before??
Sharon, I scooted over so the small red fir doesn’t block the gap, but then the boulder is centered. (Paintings fix these flaws.)
In order to do my August calendar picture post and the Learned-in-July-List in a timely manner, this week’s Mineral King report is landing on the wrong day. Flex with me, Readers!
It was a time of many people in our neighborhood, with much socializing and renewal of friendships. I felt as if I fit in, never mind that my buddies were 8 and 10.
I did no real hiking, only walks. It is weird to me that I resist going on something as pleasant as a walk with friends. . . cue the whinging. . . it’s too hot, I want to knit, this is a good book. . . When I push myself to get off my duff (what’s a “duff”? Dunno, it came from my dad’s vocabulary), it is always worth the effort.
These guys were tired. Horses and mules don’t often lie down. I wonder if the one on the right is named Spot
The destination was Soda Springs, about 1-1/2 mile from the bridge, an unmarked trail known to locals but occasionally frequented by other folks. It is a spot where we often take visitors when we want them to actually enjoy the walk instead of dragging them straight up one of the other trails or hauling them behind us for long distances to lakes.
The flowers continue to amaze and delight this year with their profusion, abundance, and variety.
Soda Springs is a peculiar little spot of water bubbling out of the ground. People swear that it is carbonated; I think it tastes like the drinking fountains at Hartland Camp when I went to summer camp there. Ick. Metallic.
The flowers!! Looking upstream:
Looking downstream:
Let’s end with an evening shot of Farewell Gap with the Crowley Family Cabin.
Dadgum giant boulder hogging the center foreground. . .
The first day of painting on the sequoia panel was way too hot, with the sun pounding on me and drying out my palette. The second day of painting took place inside the workshop with the doors closed and the swamp cooler roaring. I didn’t think there would be enough light, so I set up the ott light floor lamp. Maybe it will all look wrong when it is seen in pure daylight. . .
The sky needed a second coat, and while working on it, OF COURSE I slopped paint over onto the tree and all the foliage.
Next I reworked the ground. The paint didn’t dry nearly as fast as when the bright sun shone on it. (duh)
The lower left greenery in the background came next, then foliage on the big tree, the lower right greenery, and finally, the wood on the tree.
Finished, photographed in low light.
Finished, photographed with the doors opened.
This is approximately 54-1/2 X 23-3/4”. It’s kind of heavy, and it has hanging wire on the back.
Do you think that $450 is a good price for this? The smaller ones sold for $250. I didn’t measure them, but am guessing they were in the neighborhood of 18 X 36”.
Someone needs a business manager around here. . . perhaps an administrative assistant. . . then this would need to be priced at $900 in order to pay him.
Reimer’s Candies and Ice Cream is a destination and a landmark in Three Rivers, California. It is now on its fourth owner in my lifetime, and it is just as busy as ever, just as popular, just as magnetic.
I drew it for the second owners, people with the name of Reimer, who bought it from the Huffakers, the folks who started the business. The Reimers commissioned me and then used my drawing on a thank you card to include in every box of candy that they shipped out. Owners #3 did the same.
By the time owner #4 came along, the drawing was too many generations away from the original to look good any more, and the printer I used to use is most likely out of business.
We tried to foof it up, to make it good enough to use, but alas, not even Photoshop was up to the pixelation and moray patterns that resulted in printing from a print that had been printed from a print. . .
When owner #4 asked me how to get more cards printed, I suggested that he hire me to draw it again. He agreed, saying that some changes have been made to the property, so I took photos from as many angles as I could manage, trying to arrive when the light was decent but before the crowds.
After studying the photos, I decided a new angle would give it a new look, and did this sketch.
The owner understood that it was just a rough sketch and knows that I can actually draw, so once he approved the sketch, I began.
First, I figured out the main dimensions, which is lots of math and measuring.
Then I moved into getting it laid out on the paper. (This is 14×17”.)
Finally, I began shading in the upper left hand corner so that my hand won’t drag the graphite all over the paper.
Then I schlepped my self back to the house to collapse in a chair and wait for the most totally excellent husband, AKA Trail Guy, to tell me that dinner was ready. As is often the case, I spent the evening questioning my ability to accomplish this drawing, to capture all the detail, to do as good a job as when I could see without a magnifying glass over the table.
As is often the case, I also questioned my pricing, but this is Tulare County, and I’m not about to “gouge” my customers! What constitutes gouging? I dunno. Locals say my prices are high; people from far away say they are low.
Maybe owner #4 will provide some dark chocolate with the final payment.
This is the title of a very good book about Mineral King, written by a cabin guy who began working at the pack station at age 12.
Last Saturday Kevin Alltucker spoke at the annual Mineral King Preservation Society’s Picnic in the Park. Great storyteller, excellent speaker, knew how to reach the crowd and handle a microphone. He took lots of questions, and he quit before we were tired of hearing him. (The bulk of the crowd was behind and around me.)
I think you ought to buy a copy of the book. Really!
Too bad you weren’t there in person; it was $15 that day, instead of $18. No problemo—I’m confident that you can afford the extra $3.
Wildflower
Meanwhile, I continued to wrestle with my iPhone14 and got these photos of a flower that was at the end of the Blue/Purple chapter in Mineral King Wildflowers (sold out, so sorry, but not terribly sorry because there might be another book coming next summer…)
The panel isn’t made out of sequoia wood; the panel is made out of ?? wood, and I am painting a sequoia tree on it. Sequoia gigantea is the official name for the redwood trees in Sequoia National Park, not the redwoods of northern California, called Sequoia sempervirens. Those are tall; ours are thick.
Two wooden panels with sequoia trees sold quickly this summer. I poked around in the garage and found a larger panel with a sky blue background already painted on it. It seemed too big, but then I figured, “Why not?” After inquiring with the manager of the Silver City Store whether or not she had room, she said to paint it and bring it up the hill.
I opened the big doors to the painting workshop and propped the panel against my two easels. This was great in theory, but the morning sun is very strong and very hot on this area. Oh well, I’ve soldiered through heat many times in my life in Central California, AKA The Central Valley, AKA the San Joaquin Valley. Let’s just git-‘er-dun!
Here is the sloppy beginning.
Shade is creeping down the top of the panel, providing hope that perhaps I didn’t begin too early in the day.
Never mind. I was hotting to death out there, so I went back to the house for some cold water and a cooling break. Even the deer were smart enough to be in the shade, and I was too hot to yell, “GET OFF MY LAWN!” (Yes, that is my lawn, which is more like a meadow since, per my request, it doesn’t get mowed all summer in the hopes that it will become thicker; it might be working, now in year 5 of this unconventional landscaping approach.)
Slightly refreshed, I returned to the job and painted until I couldn’t stand the heat anymore. Besides, I had a lunch date with 3 friends in Three Rivers, which is a bit of a big deal to me. Eating out isn’t a regular part of my life.
Infomercial
My friends chose the River View. It has been about 7 or 8 years since I was there, and it is now on owner #3 since then. It always puzzles me to see how crowded it is, with cars lining the road, more cars than it seems they will have tables and chairs for. A driver needs to creep very very slowly past that place, because of the great crowds. Well, River View AND Reimer’s Candies. . . almost next door to one another.
We ate outside, where there were misters, fans, and shade. It was noisy (the fans). The food was fine, but it wasn’t Sierra Subs or Tony’s Taverna. The service was good. And I was shocked by how expensive lunch was—I spent $26 just for me. A turkey melt (I ended up pulling off the non-descript white bread and setting it aside) with sweet potato fries, the only fried food I like. Had to really load up on vegetables later that day.
Yikes. No wonder I don’t eat out much. (Sierra Subs is my go-to choice in case you were wondering.)
Thus we conclude this infomercial for eateries in Three Rivers.
50 years ago today I got medevacked* off Sawtooth.
A group of high school kids were on a backpacking trip in Mineral King, a week long loop. We were fully chaperoned by experienced adults, age 32. (Why does that no longer seem like an adult age??)
We camped at Columbine Lake below Sawtooth with a layover day planned. A group wanted to climb Sawtooth on the next day, and although I was tired and a bit afraid, I chose to go. My dear cousin Ruthie was part of the group and I didn’t want to be left out or let people know that I was a chicken.
The leaders wanted to try a new route up Sawtooth. Meant nothing to me, because I was just following along.
That was foolish. We were climbing up a chute, and following someone up a chute makes you vulnerable to falling rocks.
Sure enough, I got blammed** in the forehead by a falling rock knocked loose from above, saw it coming, and had no place to go or time to move. According to the eyewitnesses, I summersaulted 50-60 feet down the chute causing more rocks to fall, thinking the entire time, “I have to stop, I have to stop!”
When I stopped, I wiggled my feet to be sure I wasn’t paralyzed, realized I still had my contact lenses in, and that there was blood running down my face.
The leaders above got everyone down carefully. I remember saying to Jerry Peters as he passed by, “Don’t look at me; my face is all bloody.” Thanks, Captain Obvious, and why did I care if Jerry saw blood all over my face?
Mr. Leader stayed with me, and Mrs. Leader got everyone back down to Columbine Lake. The biggest strongest boy, Matt Moffett, got chosen to run to Mineral King for help. He ran the 8 or 10 miles to a crank phone in the Sawtooth parking lot, where he called for help. (I still have no idea how a crank phone works or who he called.)
This is not a crank phone, but it’s the only phone picture I have.
Eventually a helicopter arrived, and a few people and gear were unloaded. I remember it having trouble figuring out where to land, and that it made several trips. I also remember that Mr. Leader was shivering, because at one point during our wait it hailed a little bit. I finally told him to take his jacket back because no matter how many layers I had, I continued to shiver. Shock, I think.
There was a gurney, ropes, helmets, lots of people with rock-climbing vocabulary. According to Mr. Leader, rocks still fell occasionally as they moved me onto the gurney and into the helicopter. The inside, not the outside.
We flew to Ash Mt. where an ambulance was waiting. It wasn’t until then that I gave them my parents’ phone number, because what were they going to do knowing I was injured but inaccessible?
It was upsetting to have them cut the legs of my new jeans, and it was thrilling to know that we ran the 4-way stop on Highway 198 (this was pre-traffic light, but everyone still calls that intersection toward Exeter “The Four Way”).
Broken collarbone, lots of cuts and bruises, 2 black eyes (I didn’t let my Dad take a photo, and now I sort of regret it out of curiosity, but not too much),and a hematoma on my leg merited one night in the hospital. It was hard to walk, and eventually I figured out why: I had major blisters on my heels that prevented my feet from going flat on the floor. Those stupid hiking boots were brutal, but everyone wore them. Give me Crocs anyday over those beastly immovable ankle weights.
These boots weren’t really made for walking; it was a marketing scheme.
Matt was taken in by one of the cabins on the parking lot and fed enormous amounts of food, which he reported barfing up afterward. He became my boyfriend during my senior year in high school, a good guy, but we weren’t a match made to go the distance. (A 16-year old is not wise enough nor ready to choose a lifemate.)
While in college, I returned to climb Sawtooth with a group of friends. We took the conventional route, it clouded up when we got on top so there was no view down to the valley, and it was so scary that I sat down and cried. One of the guys had a rope with him and helped me back down with the rope around my waist while he kept me secure (Thank you, Doug!!)
Sawtooth. It’s good to paint and draw and see from Visalia as a landmark, but other people are welcome to climb it. I prefer to go to White Chief or the Franklin/Farewell junction.
P.S. Mr. and Mrs. Leader have remained part of my life, dear friends with whom I correspond regularly and love like family (minus squabbles that sometimes accompany family relationships).
P.P.S. Trail Guy doesn’t like Sawtooth either. We are a match made to go the distance.
