On my most recent excursion to Mineral King, Fernando and I took our time getting there. (I drove myself so as to not cough on other people.) I didn’t take any road photos, lost track of how many potholes, dirt sections, and flower varieties, and thoroughly enjoyed the drive. (The radiator was replaced last summer, so all was well.)
In spite of not hiking, I found plenty to keep me occupied. First, I just admired our new umbrella.
Then I worked on some socks, which really looked great with the dress I was wearing.
I admired the umbrella a bit more.
I contemplated the changes up slope the hill from my vista point.
2021now
A few flowers were out in abundance and the light was right.
Western wallflowerBitter cherry
I admired a cabin with evening light through their tangled flag. I’ve drawn this in pencil and called it “Dawn’s Early Light”, which is more poetic than “Tangled Evening Flag”.
The classic view is both beautiful and unphotographical in evening light. However, it is useful to have this photo of the water as I finish up my current painting of the most popular Mineral King scene.
There is a lot of fun to be had at the bridge.
seeking flat rocksphotographing the big splashevening light beneath the bridge
By hanging out near the cabin instead of heading out on the trails, I spend more time with neighbors, splitting firewood, doing little projects, noticing details and new possible paintings.
Languid ladies, AKA Sierra bluebells
Let’s close this little session of chitchat about mellow cabin life with another shot of the classic scene.
A week ago, I had a situation to deal with: I got sick. Such a disruption. I was only able to paint a little bit before the need to lie down took over.
While reclining, I used the laptop to look carefully at the paintings finished and paintings needed for the upcoming solo show at CACHE. More paintings are needed, but feeling poorly meant that I would paint poorly.
There were other tasks to tackle, ones that didn’t require heavy concentration. One day I gathered canvases, put on the hanging wires, chose titles, assigned inventory numbers, and actually slapped on a light layer of paint. I knew it wasn’t a good day for painting when I dropped my palette. It landed upside down, of course. I headed back to the couch.
These are all 8×16″, a new size for me. 10×20″ was too big, and 6×12″ was too small. These might be just right, as Goldilocks said.
These are all 16×20″.
Another simple task for another day was to scan these two new Mineral King paintings.
Sawtooth #61, 8×8″, $145Mineral King Valley #7, 8×8″, $145
Recovery came; it always does (except when it is time for the big dirt nap).
If you look in the shadows between (and beyond) the 2 chairs, you might be able to discern a doe with 2 fawns, probably born that very day.
While getting gas at the Four-way (local vernacular for an important intersection), I snapped this photo. Barns this classic and oak trees this majestic, quercus lobata, are standard but disappearingTulare County items, and when seen together, they should be painted or drawn or just photographed. (If I paint this, I will edit it severely.)
This is called a vitex tree. Doesn’t that sound like some sort of diet supplement? We tend to refer to these as “lupine trees”.
I finished 2 more Mineral King paintings, both 8×8″, drying quickly in the heat.
My friend with the Hume Lake cabin sent me this photo, which might possibly be the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen. Maybe I shall paint it. . . yes, I KNOW it is in Fresno/Fres-yes County but it is a well-loved place, even among us ignorant, fat, uneducated, poor, diabetic Tulare County hon-yocks.
Do you know “Ranger’s Roost”? It is the higher ground to the west of Timber Gap.
I didn’t go. I was at home, dealing with a situation. More on that next week. . .
Trail Guy was gobsmacked by the abundance of phlox, as evidenced by the abundance of photographs of phlox.
Timber Gap has great views, both north and south.
Looking south into Mineral King Looking north into the middle fork drainage of the Kaweah river and the mountains beyond, none of which I can name.
I love trail photos.
If you are reading this post on the day it goes live, I hope to be back in Mineral King. Probably not hiking, maybe painting, probably just reading or knitting or splitting wood. Maybe next week’s Mineral King post will have photos taken by me with my camera.
P.S. You can tell these photos are from Trail Guy’s camera because the sky has those dark spots (from something on/in the lens, not chemtrails). He doesn’t mind. I bought him a new camera, and he declined it. I kept the new camera, and it went weird, while his spotty camera just keeps soldiering onward. I bought myself another new camera, and so far, so good.
This is a cabin. It’s a real cabin, not a fancy house in the mountains.
This is a pair of socks on the needles. Instead of spending hours walking around the lake, I got in some knitting.
My friend has a quirky sense of humor. This is in her front yard.
We didn’t just sit around the cabin. We had to figure out why the BBQ wouldn’t light and why it smelled so strongly of propane that the Hume Lake Fire Department showed up at 11:30 one night, sniffing around to find the problem. The next day, two of us spent a couple of hours cleaning the BBQ, then refilled the tank, which solved all the problems.
And we did walk down to the lake a few times. The grass was newly planted, just irresistible.
Summer camps for kids hadn’t yet begun, so the whole place was very calm and quiet.
Even the office has tremendous curb appeal. The entire place is well-maintained, landscaped, and ultra-friendly. (And it has electricity, working telephones, wifi at some of the private cabins, paved roads, and a fire department.) It isn’t Mineral King, but it has its own appeal, and still retains common cabin community characteristics.
The route home went back through Sequoia National Forest and Sequoia National Park. I left early enough to not have to deal with a ton of traffic, except for hoards heading up the hill once I was past Giant Forest. These are two attempts to get photos for painting.
OF COURSE I won’t paint in the speed limit sign. But I think the light on this tree was worth a quick stop.
Tomorrow we will return to watching paint land on canvases.
Compared to Mineral King, Hume Lake is a city. It is a city with some subdivisions I didn’t know about, in spite of having spent 1-1/2 summers living and working there, along with a handful of days each year for the past 7 summers. It is a growing city.
Let’s ease into our Hume Lake photos with a wild blue flax photo.
Instead of small rustic cabins that house 12 girls, with a little outdoor trek to a bathroom, THIS GIANT BUILDING holds 8 “cabins”, each housing 12 girls, each “cabin” with its own fancy bathroom. THIS IS NOT CAMPING, PEOPLE! Well, staying in rustic cabins wasn’t exactly camping either, but holy guacamole! I counted 6 of these buildings, and that was just for the girls. I didn’t see where the boys stay. Maybe they have all those rustic little cabins that used to be for the girls. I had no idea this section was at Hume.
There is even a skate park, which wasn’t quite set up yet. Skateboarding at summer camp in the mountains wasn’t even an inkling of an idea when I used to love summer camp (not at Hume—there was another camp in my life.)
This is all too much for my simple old-fashioned self to take in. Let’s just take a walk around the lake, shall we?
Hume’s geography always confuses me because the dam drains to the east instead of to the west.
Do I show you the same photos every year? I am always amazed by the abundance of the wild iris, love to walk around the lake, love to see the other wildflowers, and see the dam.
This year my feet have betrayed me, so I am thankful to have gotten in one walk. The rest of the time was spent hanging out at the cabin. I’ll show you some of that Monday.
A friend from childhood inherited a cabin at Hume Lake. In 2018, she invited me to join her and another friend for several days. We had such a wonderful time together that she has invited me back each summer since.
Every time I go, I choose a different route to get there. My favorite is to go through Sequoia, then take Ten-Mile Road to Hume. Some years the road has been closed, so I take my second favorite route, which is Dry Creek Road to Hogback to 245. This year 245 is closed.
So, this year I went through the Park both directions, in spite of road construction below Giant Forest and some logging activities in the Forest Service stretch.
There were beautiful wildflowers and flowing water. Even the dogwood was still in bloom, but the flowers were never near a turnout. My destination was Hume Lake, so I didn’t pursue the flowers.
Let’s take a tour.
This is the middle fork of the Kaweah River with Moro Rock appearing to tower higher than Alta Peak. It’s an illusion. Might make a nice painting, doncha think?
When I was a kid, the road went beneath Tunnel Rock. No mas. I could paint this, but not sure anyone would care.
Through the windshield is never an ideal way to take photos. But, this is another triumph of hope over experience. I could paint from this inferior photo.
If I was still using a film camera, I would declare this shot of the Sentinel Tree a waste of film. However, I could paint from this.
I photographed the Marble Fork bridge last fall when the water was almost nil. This would make a nicer painting.
Not painting this. Since 2015, there have been 3 devastating wildfires in Sequoia and Kings Canyon. I’ve lost track of which fire wrecked which areas.
Ten-Mile Road was a mess last year. This year it is a dream—a skateboarder would have loved the beautiful asphalt. Asphalt isn’t a subject that interests me for painting. Prolly doesn’t interest you either.
We have reached our destination! I could paint this, but it isn’t in Tulare County, and I’m unsure of my market having an interest.
Hume Lake
Monday I’ll show you some photos of my time at Hume.
There was a fair amount of puttering, cabin maintenance, hanging out with neighbors, a few short walks, and some painting on my most recent stay in Mineral King.
Because I needed to complete two more paintings of the iconic scene of the Crowley family cabin with the stream and Farewell Gap, I spent some time studying the water and a few details that often elude me. Customers don’t care or notice, but if I can’t get it right after painting the scene well over 60 times, then I am a little concerned for my own ability to pay attention.
Classic Mineral King
The snow was holding on the peaks and passes. We strolled up the valley toward Crystal Creek.
Crystal is very wide, but easy to cross, especially if you do it my way, which is to just walk right through.
Chihuahua Creek was running strong. This is a seasonal creek that races down the pack station road most years. The trail crew put in a very effective water bar last fall, so now the mud on the road is due to seepage, rather than an errant stream.
Speaking of the pack station, someone asked me about it last week. The short version is that the last concession packers in Mineral King got sideways with the Park, there were lawsuits, and then silence. It was a long time ago (15 years? 20?) No more horse rentals. Now the Park brings up stock as needed to resupply trail crews or just to get the critters out of the heat. They have a tack shed, and there are two abandoned buildings from the previous packer. That’s all I know.
In addition to studying the water at the bridge, I photographed the trees on either side of the Honeymoon Cabin, a mini-museum maintained by the Mineral King Preservation Society. The cabin is the second most popular subject that I paint of Mineral King, so it behooves me to know the details.
Juniper
I took a short walk up to Spring Creek. There is a very appealing curve in the stream below, but I will have to do some rearranging in order for it to make a nice painting.
The bridge was not in, but on the way home on Monday, June 3, we passed a couple of Park guys on their way up to place the bridge.
We took a stroll one evening to enjoy the late light, cool temperatures, beautiful views, and quiet.
On the way down, we encountered this:
Ken wore a hat that read, “Dirty Hands, Clean Money”.
The road has great wildflowers, lots of dirt sections, and is quite passable. BUT, you should be prepared to wait, and be prepared to meet 10-wheelers and other construction vehicles.
I learned so many interesting things in Texas about the culture, history, and of course, wildflowers. Here is more, this time in list form. There is even more I could add, but I expect you have a life. Much of it appeared in my Texas travelogue posts: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six.
COWHIDES IN THE GROCERY STORE?? Yeppers. (The grocery store, called H E B, was ENORMOUS, of course.)
2. Prepping for and laying sod is an enormous amount of labor. Now I know how to do this.
3. Ever seen a 3-D printer? Fascinating. It uses coils of plastic, much like what is in a weed-eater, and follows a preset program.
In about 1-1/2 hours you can have this little item in your hand. (A plastic shark wasn’t what I had pictured for a souvenir of my time in Texas!)
4. Harvester ants are really interesting—their “hill” is huge, and they wear paths in the soil in their labors. They are red and bite, but not nearly as bad as fire ants.
5. This poor photo is of a castle, built next door to friends of my friends. You can read about it here: Unknown Castle.
6. Gas was so much cheaper! (It’s hitting $6/gallon in Three Rivers now.)
7. The speed limit on the freeway was 75. Is it that high in California? If I went anywhere besides Visalia or Exeter, I might know the answer.
8. These are the funniest squishy Tupperware containers I’ve ever seen. N was surprised by my ignorance; I reminded her that we attended a Tupperware party together in the 1980s and told her I hadn’t paid any attention to the stuff since then.
9. Speaking of convenience stores, there is an ENORMOUS truck stop chain in Texas called “Buc-ees“; the mascot is a beaver with buck teeth. It is HUGE. Jee-um asked me how I liked their convenience stores, and of course I replied that everything is bigger in Texas.
10. N and I had fun working our way through a few watercolor exercises in the neatest little book, designed for the purpose of practicing watercolor. (I won’t be switching from oils—it was just for fun.)
11. I relearned how much fun pingpong is.
12. This is the brightest caterpillar I’ve ever seen. I didn’t look it up.
Food
13. I had venison for the first time in many years; also had brisket, which is meat cooked for a very long time; they call it BBQ if it has red sauce on it, the kind that is sort of sweet, which we call “bottled BBQ sauce” around here.
14. My friends (with the sod project) asked me if I liked queso. I said, “Well, that’s Español for cheese, and I love cheese.” Wrong answer. It is a cheesy dip for tortilla chips, just downright scary good.
15. Instead of root beer floats, they often serve Dr. Pepper floats, because Dr. Pepper was invented in Waco.
16. I ate something exceedingly good called “Texican Tamale”. It was at a restaurant called “Mickey B’s”, which apparently is where Randy Travis likes to hang out.
17. Boiled peanuts do NOT sound appetizing, but they are pretty common fare in Texas convenience stores.
18. Finally, I learned how very dear my Texas friends are to me. Travel is such a series of inconveniences, and as I was fixin’ to go, I questioned why I thought it was even necessary, or if it would be worth all the trouble.
It was.
P.S. The seller of the Texas mug refunded my money and then sent me a replacement. Yikes, it is ugly (offends my inner color junkie) and I don’t want it!
The blue on the Texas is faded and pink looks so wrong.The blue is beautiful and perfect with the interior of the mug.
