The Coffeepot Fire started on August 3, from lightning about 15 miles down the road from Mineral King. Each evening, the down-canyon breezes start clearing smoke out of the valley. The next morning we get clear air until 9 or 10. I went for a walk on one of those mornings.
It was a difficult time for good photos with a PHD* camera, but I want you to appreciate the clarity.
It was kind of chilly out (high 40s?) so I headed to the steep and sunny Timber Gap trail. Those giraffe steps are always good exercise.
About 20 years ago or so, the private pack station in Mineral King closed. The Park built a corral and their own tack shed. They usually bring up stock so they can resupply the trail crews in the backcountry, but this year we hadn’t seen any evidence of Park stock.
Last year the Park brought their stock up in spite of the Mineral King closure, just to get the creatures out of the heat. It gave me an opportunity to find a couple of great subjects to draw.
This year we saw stock at the pack station that was definitely not Park animals. (Yep, we knew it wasn’t Park stock even in low light at this distance.)
The next morning we were delayed leaving on a walk for various reasons, and then were glad because we encountered the packers, Che (from Montana) and Dylan (from Wisconsin), two best friends who work for a private pack station on the East side. (That’s how we refer to the other side of the Sierra.)
Trail Guy explained a few things to the men.
Che rode this horse; Dylan rode a striking paint called Emmy. I didn’t get a good photo of her.
We walked ahead, and then saw them coming in the distance.
We stopped in the shade, waiting for the perfect photo when they emerged from the trees.
I thought that would be more impressive than it actually was.
So, I went crazy snapping pictures.
We followed them to Crystal Creek. That’s the best shot I got of the beautiful paint horse, Emmy.
Each packer led a string of five mules. They even look picturesque from the back (but I won’t be drawing or painting any mule heinies.)
You can lead mules to water but you can’t keep them from drinking.
A week or so ago, I told you about areas of neglect in Mineral King. Our cabin is not one of them, because it is our responsibility, not the Park’s*. It takes continual maintenance to keep a 100+ year old rustic structure together, and although we enjoy plenty of leisure time up the hill, there is persistent work to be done.
Our cabin is not painted, except for the window trim, which could use refreshing. (Next year. I’m busy with other things this year.) Instead of paint, the wood gets oiled every few years. Every ten years? I’m not keeping track; that’s men’s work at our address. I’m just there to stand on the bottom rung of the ladder to keep it from teeter-tottering or sliding away, along with fetching and carrying requested tools.
“We” did prep work, loosening the dirt, blowing it off, and then picking dirt out of the cracks on the decks using a tool that a friend made for us. (Sorry Dr. Baltimore, no photo, but much gratitude).
Then we discovered that some critter was able to access a cupboard in the kitchen that we had previously thought to be critter-proof. I’ll spare you the details, but show you how “we” stuff steel wool in the access points. (Or maybe I’ll just show you a scratched-up water bottle and a DeWalt flashlight.)
My favorite type of work is ongoing, rather than maintenance. I love to swing an axe and am responsible for splitting all the firewood needed for the cook stove. Trail Guy makes it easy for me by cutting it to the right lengths and selecting wood that is fairly knot-free.
Our stack was maxed out, so I took my best axe to a neighbor’s cabin to try my hand (my arms?) at white fir. The pieces were longer than I am used to, there were lots of knots, and the bark needed to be peeled. I worked my way through about 1/2 dozen chunks, and went away satisfied that I can split wood even if Trail Guy hasn’t paved the way for me.
Another neighbor has a brand new door, one that will stay closed without being propped by a rock. I won’t be painting this door but wanted you to admire it with me. I always think it is a shame to cover bare wood with paint, although the results are usually impressive.
We concluded our work day with a brief evening walk in the smoke.
*I recently heard that Sequoia National Park is operating with about 60% of the number of employees needed to keep things running well. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE??
Sierra Gentian just don’t photograph worth a hoot, but they are truly striking, and always appear at a spring between the pack station and Crystal Creek in August.
Trail Guy pointed out the marmot sunning on the rock. I asked him how he knew that it was alive, so he tossed a rock, and the marmot raised his head.
Almost 3 weeks ago, there was a thunder and lightning storm in Mineral King. A lightning strike started a fire, and it looked as if it would be quick to suppress the thing.
Looking out from Look Out point, 2 days after the lightning strike.
Being somewhat cynical, perhaps because we’ve lived through the “easy to suppress” lightning strikes in 2020 and 2021, I had my doubts that the various agencies would be in agreement and just squash that thing.
While driving home from Salem one week later, I received texts from friends in both Visalia and Exeter, inquiring about my safety because they could see flames from their towns. WHAT??
Trail Guy took this photo on the day I received those texts. That single column had babies.
One friend sent me a photo her Facebook feed (“feed”? “stream”? “account”?) showing 2 areas of flame at night as seen from either Exeter or Visalia. (There is something about a photo from that platform that forbids my saving and showing it to you.)
On our next trip up the hill a few days later, it looked like this:
Each day in Mineral King began with clear air, and then somewhere around 9 or 10 a.m., the smoke would drift up the canyon and obscure all our views. Where is Farewell Gap?
On the way down the hill on Monday, this is what we saw:
We also saw BLM equipment, a Forest Service car, 2 Yosemite fire people, and a helicopter dipping water out of the East Fork.
The latest report at the time of this viewing is that the fire has grown to 850-900 acres, is not contained (well, duh, because what does “containment” mean when it was “contained” before it erupted into this conflagration?) and is heading toward the South Fork drainage in Three Rivers.
Here we go again. . . sigh.
P.S. For current info on the Coffeepot Fire, go to WatchDuty.org.
The bottom part of the Timber Gap/Monarch/Sawtooth trail is usually dusty, hot, and always steep, with steps that seem to be made for giraffes. One morning I walked up it a ways, intending to go to the junction.
The trailhead is another site of the Park’s neglect. There is nothing indicating what trail you are on, which could be a problem if you’d never been there before.
And that’s all the photos that turned out because I was shooting directly into the sun. Well, there is another one of some stupid hon-yock hiking with his dog, but it also shows the face of a friend who probably wouldn’t mind, but I am not putting her on the world wide web without her permission.
So, let’s move on to noticing other things.
Noticing
The Timber Gap trail wasn’t dusty because it rained the evening before. There was a bit of a puddle-flood on the road, but Trail Guy reverted to Road Guy and solved it.
I didn’t photograph it after it drained because that would be ugly.
My neighbor’s cone flowers (a native wildflower, not actually planted by her) began blooming at the beginning of August.
A few weeks ago I did a little pruning around the cabin and discovered the weirdest branch.
On the way down the hill that weekend, we saw a fire from a lightning strike.
I sure hope it doesn’t turn into a conflagration, as a similar strike in a nearby location did a few years ago.
That’s too grim of a thought to leave with you. Here, have a look up the road at Sawtooth and the residual clouds from that dastardly storm. No, the storm was good, the lightning was dastardly.
One day a friend and I made the 2 mile round trip walk to Crystal Creek to fulfill my overwhelmingly vigorous commitment to exercise. (No need to be impressed.)
We realized that this is the first year we both sort of like goldenrod and concluded it must be the abundance, because it looks better in a mass than as a singleton.
We also admired the tremendous variety of colors and the extraordinary height of the grasses.
The flowers are good if you pay attention, and since I am all about noticing things this year, I am paying attention.
Crystal Creek looks kind of sorry this year, but it is just because we aren’t used to it flowing in a different channel with the main one dried up.
And, heading back is a familiar scene, looking toward Timber Gap. I decided to walk a mile or so up that trail for my next “excursion”.
Instead of hiking, I am taking short walks of about 2 miles round trip.
I thought I was seeing a new flower; after some careful study (about 5 seconds), I realized that it is sulfur flower as it is aging.
Sulfur flower, young-ish sulfur flower, aging
I love the intense greenery of the thimble berry bushes that grow so faithfully across the Spring Creek bridge.
This might be known as Eagle Creek. You can count on fireweed in early August at Spring Creek.
By the Honeymoon Cabin
The Honeymoon Cabin sits at the beginning of that trail, the tiny museum of the Mineral King Preservation Society. There is a tree that confounds me each time I paint it, and I decided to study it. It is a large juniper, with a smaller (comparatively speaking) branch coming out of it on the side, not 2 separate trees. In between the 2 parts is a weird growth, with a board on top of the weirdness.
The big old juniper just downstream has a wonky top. My friend said there used to be a footbridge across the creek in the vicinity, and we both thought that when the juniper falls, there will be a footbridge again.
This time when I tried to photograph my mystery flower, I had a dime in my pocket for comparison’s sake. And I decided it made a nice photo of greenery with a blurry Farewell Gap in the distance.
I am far away but like to keep these blog posts coming for my tens of faithful readers. Here are a few photos for you with my usual chit-chat.
Farewell Gap in the morning light looks much better in real life than with my PHD* camera.
Ditto in the evening light.
With the short season, I’m guessing in the time that I am away that this stream will have diminished in its flow.
This is the Oak Grove Bridge. It is supposed to eventually be closed to cars with a new driving bridge installed up the canyon a ways. Looks like an impossible engineering feat to me; I’ll believe it when I see it. Meanwhile, I will continue to enjoy my favorite bridge on the Mineral King Road, my favorite bridge in all of Tulare County. We may not have a Trader Joe’s, but by golly we have the Oak Grove Bridge.
*PHD = Press Here Dummy. Although I truly enjoy the convenience of editing my own photos and not changing film canisters, I will always miss the manual options of an SLR 35mm camera and the ability to actually see through the eye-hole instead of a screen that goes invisible in bright sun or requires cheater-readers to see. Yeah, yeah, I know there are SLR digital cameras. . . I’ve owned 2. Together they lasted less than half the time I owned my film cameras. So, a PHD that fits in my pocket is fine.
In late July on a non-smoky day, Trail Guy went to White Chief. He hasn’t hiked much this summer; it might be my fault because my feet won’t let me go. On the other hand, he might just be busy, always helping cabin neighbors. Whatever the reason, when he has a chance to hike, he chooses White Chief.
When the steep stuff ends, you break into this canyon. The patch of snow is called “Bearskin”, because when it is fuller, it resembles a bear skin. (Some folks call it “Bear Patch”).
Trail Guy met Mitch from Bellingham. They quickly learned that they are on opposite ends of the political spectrum but unlike most people these days, they had a civil discussion, listening to one another. Thank you, Mitch!
Trail Guy doesn’t stay on the trail; often, he is Off-Trail Guy.
Being off trail leads to this pond, a favorite spot. NO, IT’S NOT WHITE CHIEF LAKE!
Timber Gap is visible in the distance.
The swamp onions were thick.
I wasn’t there but he brought me his camera. (Maybe one day I will grow accustomed to numb/burning/tingling feet and return to White Chief. Shall we have a pity party?)
Because this is my blog, supposed to be about my art, here is my latest painting of White Chief. It is for sale at the Silver City Store, at Silver City Resort.
White Chief I, oil on wrapped canvas, 8×8″, $145 (plus sales tax if you live in California, plus shipping if you don’t.)
