Cleaning up the Jackpots

Cabin Life

Behind and around our cabin is what firefighters call a “jackpot”. This is a conglomerate, a tangle, a giant mess of downed trees and limbs. Let’s not think too hard about their nomenclature.

I’ve been raking, dragging, cutting and organizing this in incremental sessions throughout the past 2 years. It is gradually decreasing, gradually getting cleaned up. Of course Trail Guy also works on this, approaching it a bit differently than me.

A handsaw rather than a chainsaw gives me a lot of upper-body exercise and makes some firewood to share with neighbors. My pace is laughable to Trail Guy, but I consider myself to be a rather productive tortoise.

Then I thought about swinging an axe to bust through a pretty stout limb, something I have only done once before in my life (a Three Rivers neighbor’s tree blew down in a storm, blocking her driveway, and no one with a chainsaw was available so I bravely marched down to her house in the rain with my trusty axe and got it into pieces that we could drag away.)

This piece required a lot of whaling, slamming, swinging, and wondering if I would be able to git-‘er-dun. When I got it this far, I asked Trail Guy for some input, guessing he’d bust through in 10 swings. He swung 15 times (yes, I counted), handed the axe back and told me to use a sharper one instead.

So I swapped axes, and went after it again, this time busting through with a shout of victory. The sharper axe was more effective.

I’ve asked Trail Guy to teach me how to sharpen an axe this summer, (mis)quoting Abraham Lincoln about spending an hour sharpening an axe and an hour chopping wood instead of spending 2 hours chopping wood.

Thus we conclude another look at my quirky cabin life. Perhaps next time I will be able to persuade Trail Guy to fire up his chainsaw, but most likely he will be working on neighbors’ stoves/water heaters/toilets/faucets/refrigerators. There has been way too much of that so far this summer. I helped with a water heater, and took photos and measured for a stove and another water heater to be replaced… I’m good for more than just some axe-swingin’.

Who Moved Franklin Falls? (in Mineral King)

Walking in Mineral King (Not a hike because we didn’t take packs)

Instead of the now normal down-the-road-and-up-the-Nature-Trail walk, or the wussy turning around at Crystal Creek, we went past Crystal to Franklin Creek.

It was a little bit farther this year. Don’t you just hate that?

Looking back
Looking ahead

The flowers were most totally excellent.

This was interesting to your wildflower obsessed Central Calif. artist: a purple bush lupine adjacent* to a seldom-seen pink bush lupine.

This is angelica, not to be confused with cow parsnip. Angelica has lacy leaves, sort of visible at the bottom of this photo.

Here is Franklin Creek/Franklin Falls. This is the stream that rose too high for my hiking pal K and I to cross last year in August. You can read about it here: An Exciting Mineral King Hike

Crossing Crystal Creek is way more my speed than dealing with the deeper, steeper, and faster Franklin Creek.

Oh man! I forgot again to put that dime in my pocket for understanding sizes of little flowers!

The Indian paintbrush were spectacular, particularly interspersed with the grayish green sage.

An Advertisement Because This is Supposed to be a Business Blog

This painting is sold, but I can paint it again for you.

*”Adjacent” is “everyone’s” new favorite word. Podcasters and bloggers love to attach it to other words, like this: “This blog about art is Mineral King adjacent”.

Walking Down the Mineral King Road and Up the Nature Trail

Gird your loins—this is a long post.

With my new-to-me iPhone 14 in hand, I walked down the Mineral King Road to Cold Springs Campground (STILL CLOSED—CALL YOUR CONGRESSMAN OR SOMETHING!) and back up the Nature Trail. This is about 2-1/2 miles total.

Let’s look at the flowers I found along the road. I actually did this route on two consecutive days and was very surprised by how many flowers vanished and new ones appeared in just 24 hours.

From left to right: mariposa lily—a ruffled variety I’ve never seen before; angelica (not to be confused with cow parsnip because angelica has lacy leaves); buckthorn

This view at the top of Endurance Grade always grabs me. Endurance Hill. Coral Hill. Whatevs. It photographs much better with the phone than it ever did with the camera, as much as it pains me to admit.

Most people prefer the view of Sawtooth. Sawtooth isn’t my favorite, but I paint it over and over because most people like it—they haven’t been medivacked off it*.

I love penstemon, particularly this variety. The color just slays me. Maybe I should learn the actual variety name.

A little past the ranger station, we cross the neglected bridge into the closed (WHY?) Cold Springs Campground. (It’s kind of fun to flick off the flaking paint. No, I am NOT telling you to do that! Why would I tell you to do that? Do you think I’m immature or something?)

Here are some yellow flowers on the other side of the bridge: seepspring monkey flower and false lily of the valley.

At the upper end of the closed (WHY?) Cold Springs campground is where the trail begins. It used to have lots of interesting and helpful signs along the trail. The Park removed them all with the plan of upgrading them, but it has been about 10 years so I don’t think it is a priority. (The Park will say, “Hiring freezes! Understaffed!” to which I have many opinions which I will keep to myself in order to keep the tone of my blog elevated.)

At least the beginning of the trail has a nice sign.

This is a Jeffrey pine, which used to have a sign explaining how to tell the difference between Jeffrey and Ponderosa pines and inviting you to sniff the tree, because Jeffreys smell a tad like vanilla.

Aspens are thick along the trail.

Can you see the trail? It’s definitely overgrown. Last week we saw a trail crew guy and I asked if I could prune it for them. He actually said, “If you want to!”

Blog Reader and Top Commenter Sharon calls this “Iron Falls”.

I finally remembered to put a dime in my pocket so that you can see the scale of wildflowers. I didn’t take into account how: A. difficult it is to photograph the 2 side-by-side with only 2 hands; B. to keep my hideous thumbnail out of the photo (yea for cropping); C. to make the phone focus on the blossom instead of the leaves; D. to actually see the screen. Maybe you are supposed to tap the bloom on the screen, but already being shorthanded, this is beyond my capability.

The little footbridge got rebuilt last summer, or maybe the one before. It all runs together.

More Sawtooth

And just in case you are into Sawtooth (Hi, Kathy Wolfe!), here it is one more time, peeking around the ridge, before the phone battery died**.

OIL PAINTINGS OF SAWTOOTH

WAIT! THIS IS A BUSINESS WEBSITE! Here are some oil paintings of Sawtooth available this summer at the Silver City Store (unless they have sold already.)

Sawtooth #67, 8×10”, oil on wrapped canvas, $165
Sawtooth # 68, 6×6”, oil on wrapped canvas, $75
Sawtooth #69, 8×8”, oil on wrapped canvas, $145

*It was 50 years last week so you’d think I’d be over it. I am, but it still isn’t my favorite. So there.

**This is the biggest disadvantage of using a phone instead of a camera. I also bought a charger, but it only works when it feels like it. The frustrations of tech are endless.

Walking to Crystal Creek in MIneral King

The Crystal Creek crossing is about 1 mile from the parking lot at the end of the road in Mineral King. It is relatively flat and easy. We don’t even pretend that it is a hike and it barely passes for exercise. But recently I’ve been thinking that as one ages, one’s body produces and contains progressively more discomfort. Since to hike is to be uncomfortable, one becomes less inclined to add to the discomfort by forcing oneself out onto trails of great steepness and altitude gain. (I AM SICK RIGHT NIGH UNTO DEATH OF THIS STUPID PERIPHERAL NEUROPATHY!)

Ahem. Excuse me for shouting. Let’s take a nice little gentle walk to Crystal Creek.

First, we cross the bridge and admire the classic view of Farewell Gap and the Crowley Family cabin.

Then we head up the road on the left side of the creek which leads to the pack station. The road turns into a trail after the pack station, SO DON’T BRING YOUR DOG.

There were a ton of flowers, and I experimented with the iPhone 14 as a camera with mixed results. All but one of these are dandelions, which are a wildflower in MIneral King, but a weed in your yard. The other is one of many unknowns in my personal wildflower index.

The trail passes through the green tunnel.*

Hey, a non-yellow flower! I’ve always thought these are whorled penstemon, but many books are calling them “small flowered penstemon”. I think “whorled” has a specific botanical definition, but I’m ignorant of it.

Here is the wide and shallow Crystal Creek. (That is kind of like Facebook, but it might be much wider and even more shallow.)

The views back down the trail:

Yea! More colors!

This summer is showing promise of being a terrific one for wildflowers. Everything seems to be about 2 weeks earlier than normal.

Tomorrow: The Nature Trail

*Remember this painting? I feel compelled to show you because this blog is supposed to be a business venture. Yes, it is the yellow tunnel here. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

While I am advertising, this painting might still be for sale at the Silver City Store.

Timber Gap with Bigelow Sneezeweed, 8×8”, oil on wrapped canvas, $145

Cabin Life

I misled you yesterday when saying we’d visit my short wussy walks in Mineral King. Instead today’s topic is Cabin Life: what in the world does one do in a place with no electricity, internet, or phones?

These are the photographical items on the agenda:

  1. Enjoy the views.

2. Help people hold down their porches.

3. Go exploring for things not noticed before, like these 5 trees growing off one downed tree.

4. Split wood (I’m downright scary with an axe.)

5. Test out a new method to oil the cabin. Looks as if nothing happened here; should have taken an “After” picture.

6. Dig through books trying to identify wildflowers.

7. Clean up messes from dropped trees. This is a giant long project.

8. Examine plants that are growing, with cautious victory dances that some transplanting may have FINALLY taken hold.

9. Spy on kids climbing The Big Rock, thinking how cool it is that kids still know how to play without screens (and then discover that they were inventing a way to get a tablet to the top of the rock.)

Non-photographical activities

We also listen to a lot of country music and try to guess the singers, read, and I knit. Trail Guy naps when he isn’t fixing things at other people’s cabins. (“Hey Mike, could you look at my fridge/oven/toilet/faucet/shower/water heater?” This is endless.) We hang out with neighbors, help strangers figure out appropriate hikes or walks, visit with people that we can’t avoid, and sometimes we hide from all the social activities.

And of course, we hike and walk. Hiking is when you carry a pack with water and lunch; walking is when you don’t have to carry all that stuff (but you can if you want—I rarely do.)

Next: Walking to Crystal Creek

Clear and Cold in Mineral King

When the fog cleared off, the sun began its work of melting snow. It was a time of much wood-splitting, wood burning, friendship, marveling at the clarity and brilliance, puttering, walks, and for Trail Guy and the Farmer, a time of making sure none of our immediate neighboring cabins had broken pipes from the cold. (A friend one mile down the road didn’t have water from when the snow first fell earlier in the week until he left on Sunday, but nothing was broken, only frozen.)

Okay, enough chitchat. Have a look, first at the changing light on the Crowley Family cabin and Farewell Gap, and then photos in no particular order.

This is Empire, not Sawtooth, in case you only somewhat familiar with Mineral King.

(That last photo is Sawtooth.)

Snow in Mineral King

As we left Silver City, the snow along the road made it apparent that it was going to be a bit dicey at the cabin, another 1000 feet or so above Silver City’s elevation.

There was a bit of a sunny window as we got near the valley, allowing a view of Sawtooth.

Oh-oh. Where is the snow shovel? Yeppers, I shoveled snow at the end of May!

The sun disappeared, and it got cold and foggy. Here are a couple of neighboring cabins.

I flipped over a bench on the porch so I could shovel better and was amused to see icicles hanging off the side.

Our neighbors had us over for dinner (no, they didn’t HAVE us for dinner—we all HAD pizza), and it remained foggy and very cold all evening. They have a top-notch wood stove, so we were very cozy inside.

Fog and cold continued the following day, when I went to another neighbor’s cabin to give a drawing lesson. That’s work that I love doing, and although we struggled a bit with being able to see via propane lamp, we made progress.

The following afternoon was sunny, so we continued our lessons on their deck. We opted for being a bit chilly in order to see.

The clouds came and went, and at one point while my student was trying out techniques, I was suddenly overcome by a need to photograph this window to draw sometime down the road. Literally down the road, because I might be drawing it at my studio, which has that magnificent drafting table and magnifying light.

Tomorrow I will show you how beautiful it all was when the sun came out for the rest of the cold weekend.

It’s June

This is Hume Lake as seen from the footbridge that crosses Ten-Mile Creek on the end of the lake toward the dam. For the past eight summers, I’ve had an idyllic reunion with a childhood friend at her Hume cabin. It is modest and rustic, and our times there are a real bright spot in life.

“Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.

That’s a song that we sometimes sing together, especially when we are out in a rowboat on the lake. We also have been known to sing “When Sammy Put the Paper on the Wall”, “Kookaburra”, and a round with 3 different parts including “Fish and Chips and Vinegar”.

You’d want ear plugs if you were with us.

Opening Weekend in Mineral King

This post will be photo heavy, with some captions for clarity, since a few folks among my tens of readers have never been to Mineral King. (It’s a special part of Sequoia National Park accessed by its own road.)

Farewell Gap
Iconic view from the bridge of Farewell Gap, the east fork of the Kaweah River, with the Crowley family cabin.
Timber Gap. You can get to the main part of Sequoia by a very long walk over Timber Gap.
A tree across the Franklin/Farewell trail about 1/2 mile below Crystal Creek.
Pussy paws
Languid Ladies AKA Sierra Bluebells
Western Wallflower
No idea
Dandelions
Rock outcropping of Empire (not the highest part where the mines are) with Monarch/Black Wolf falls

Cold Springs Campground is closed for an undisclosed reason (hazard trees?) but you can walk through on your way to the Nature Trail. The bridge desperately needs painting, but your park entrance fees and wilderness permits and other tax dollars are going to other needs things.

Iron Falls is Reader Sharon’s name for this section of river along the Nature Trail.
Violets
How is it that Trail Guy and I have never noticed this square nail embedded in the road before?
A cabin neighbor is burning yard rakings while cooking something in a black pot alongside the fire. Most cabin folks fly their flags when in occupancy.
Sawtooth Peak
Sierra Currants in bloom
The other kind of currants
Franklin/Farewell trail. The main peak is Vandever, on the right side of Farewell Gap.
Crystal Creek spreads wide across the trail.

It was a weekend of catching up with old friends, splitting wood, taking walks, reading, knitting, and eating. So many people brought us food: focaccia, pizza, dark chocolate (my vice), wine (someone else’s vice), carrot cake… never mind watching the blood glucose when surrounded by generous friends!

Western Tanagers show up in early summer. They flit around so much that Trail Guy did well to get this blurry photo with his red head turning.

The Road

The lower 8 miles of county road is worse than ever, thanks to the heavy trucks and equipment working on the park section. The next 10 miles are utter perfection—thought I was on the wrong road, or perhaps dreaming. It reverts to mess briefly right below Slapjack, and again around Redwood Canyon. I think the new pavement stops above Redwood, but since it was in fits and starts for awhile, I lost track. The upper dirt sections have a new layer of roadbase, which has been graded. However, it won’t take long until those sections deteriorate into corduroy. Those sections extend a mile above Silver City, and then the road becomes its old familiar mess of ruts, potholes, dirt, rocks, etc. Just go slowly and your car will be fine. (Fernando would love the new road. Sob.)

Final Mineral King Walk of 2025

We went walking up the Mineral King valley in search of brilliant fall color. This was easy to find, so many yellows, but of course we wanted oranges and reds too.

The cottonwoods are yellow; it is the aspen which turn orange and red, so for stronger colors one must walk farther up the trail than rather just hanging out near the pack station.

We call this the Yellow Tunnel.
The cottonwoods look so faded when viewed from the other side.
Crystal Creek is still flowing. The colors are very subtle looking up the ravine.

We spotted some orange through the cottonwoods, so Hiking Buddy and I continued on up the trail while the men turned back to begin tackling the chores of cabin closing. Not only do they close our cabins, they also close cabins for neighbors and are responsible for the water system for our little neighborhood, which they take very seriously.

That orange turned out to be a little disappointing. It was only the very edges of these few trees. (You might have to squint to see it here.)

But these trees were electric!

Franklin Creek was so tame, especially compared to my August adventure with K.

Each year in the fall I am determined to learn what shrub turns red. In the summer when it is green, I don’t notice it and don’t remember my annual autumnal intention.

Somewhere over there is where K and I were scrambling through the rain, cold, and hail to find our way home. We knew where we were going but not our exact route.

One last look at the Park’s packing shed.

WHAT? How did I miss this piece of brilliant advice all summer??

What I want to know is this: will a bear leave if I simply shout “BEAT IT, BOZO!” or do I have to say “GET OUT OF HERE BEAR!”? Who taught the bears to obey this command?

The next day was closing day. It was very cold, low 40s while we completed our chores and buttoned it all up for the season.

This is how it looked back toward Mineral King from partway down the road. Snow was expected up there. We closed in the nick of time. (Who is this “nick”?

Just for fun, this is the scenic spot where we stopped for some lunch on the way home.

It is always a bittersweet time. While we believe that summer goes way too fast, it is always a relief to be home, to stop driving that wretched road, to be able to go to church on the weekends, to keep up with emails and texts, to not be continually living in flux with duffle bags in plain sight, and to not worry/wonder about the water system or bear break-ins (in both locations.) Besides, we miss our cats.