Labor Day weekend was a great time to just hang out with neighbors. We had dinners together, hiked together, did projects together, and just enjoyed these multi-generational friendships. Since I try to protect privacy on the World Wide Web, I’ll only show you photos that don’t include people.
Hmmm, a taco truck in the parking lot?
The Park’s stock almost always has one or two head outside the corrals. Since they aren’t worried about it, we don’t worry about it either.
Sunlight through the manzanita along a trail just stopped me in my steps due to the intensity of the greens and the light. It’s always the light.
I’m always thankful for the Spring Creek footbridge and the steady flow of water there. This was the first flowing water I drew in pencil (obviously earlier in the season), and it was so difficult that I titled it “Hard Water”.
Currants are ripe at the end of summer. There are two types: wax currant—no thorns, Trail Guy thinks they taste like cinnamon, and I tried unsuccessfully to turn them into juice for jelly making a few years ago; Sierra currant—thorns, and much stronger flavor with both tartness and sweetness.
Coneflowers bloom toward the end of summer, and there are two places where I count on seeing them. This year was not a disappointment!
If you squint, you can sort of see the remaining snow on Bearskin, the bowl on the right side of Vandever, the peak on the right side of Farewell Gap. I don’t think it will last until the first snow, but most folks in my circle think it will.
It may be a week or two before I make it back up the hill. The road construction schedule is now more disruptive, (schedule available here) and although the cabin isn’t closed, we are entering a season with more interruptions and responsibilities than during summer. Okay, maybe we just ignored some things, and now it is time to face the music. Sigh.
My adventurous and fearless friend K consented to hike with me and Hiking Buddy, even though we are no where near her level of competence on the trails. It had been years since I’d seen Mosquito Lake, and although I doubted my ability to tolerate foot discomfort that distance, we chose to go in that direction.
I divided the walk into segments, figuring that at each step, I could re-evaluate. 1. White Chief junction; 2. Hanging meadow; 3. Sink holes; 4. Eagle/Mosquito junction; 5. JUST GO ALL THE WAY! (Never mind that it was another 1.6 miles from the Eagle junction.)
The trail is steep in places, with roots and rocks, so pay attention to your footing!
This is one of the sink holes, where the water disappears into the ground. K said the hole has gotten deeper through the 60 years she’s been in Mineral King. The bottom doesn’t show here and there is no specific answer as to where that water reemerges, or if it actually does.
It used to cross the trail and go down into a different hole on the other side of the trail. Maybe that logjam ahead redirected the water to the current hole on the left.
This view was the inspiration for my oil painting “Heading to Eagle”. It never photographs well.
You can see that I veered off the photo; the ArtWorld would be proud of my non-dependence on photographs, but it was REALLY DIFFICULT. We often see deer in this area, so I decided that would spice up the painting.
Heading to Eagle, oil on wrapped canvas, 16×20”, $650
The sign is hard to read: Mosquito Lake is 1.6 miles away, and Eagle Lake, the most popular destination, is 1.4 miles. That trail is much harder because of a boulder field; Mosquito climbs quite a bit, and then drops to the lake. “EVERYONE” goes to Eagle; we chose to go to the less popular lake.
First glimpse of the lake through the trees.
There is no camping allowed at the first Mosquito Lake (there are 5 total); however, there doesn’t seem to be any enforcement. There is also no trail to Mosquito #2, just many random and varied trails, with ducks (AKA cairns) all over the place. Couldn’t prove it by me: this was my destination.
Never mind. Let’s look at the lake. The light was poor, and it was a bit smoky due to a wildfire in Kings Canyon.
Hiking Buddy and I turned back to Mineral King (after I put my feet in the water), and K went on to Mosquito #2.
The trail is a bit troughed, probably due to last week’s big storms.
Anyone ready for a snack? Some thoughtful person left these two goldfish on the trail.
Back to Eagle Creek and the sinkhole.
Hiking Buddy noticed this perfect stone in the creek. We wisely decided to just admire it from a distance.
I’m always happy to see Spring Creek bridge on the way back to the cabin. Yeah, smoky or hazy or whatever, but in real life, the green is dominant.
Depending on how one calculates distance or what signs are to be believed, the distance to Mosquito Lake is 3.6 miles, 3.75 miles, or, as most of the locals just say, 4 miles.
My feet hurt, but it was a great day. There were no mosquitos, although Hiking Buddy claims to have killed one when she slapped my arm.
Because we don’t have drawing lessons in July or August, sometimes my students say, “Have a nice vacation!” (One sings to me, “See you, in September. . .”)
“Vacation”? Fall down laughing. This is what I did workwise in July and August:
Framed (or repaired) all the pencil drawings in Around Here (my solo art show in Tulare)
Framed almost all the plein air paintings done on panels
Finished a colored pencil drawing of a stellar jay, because I wanted to try out a new brand of colored pencils.
Went through an old box of photos from an artist friend who assumed room temperature about 10 years ago. They were at the gallery in case my students needed reference material, but no one has looked at them for many years. So, they got redistributed, mostly into the round file.
Finished all the pieces for the 2026 calendar and got it ordered in time to receive a large enough discount that the price doesn’t need to increase over the 2025 calendar.
Got ready for the solo show, including delivering, hanging (I helped the director and her granddaughter), attending the reception, returning to visit the show with a couple of special friends, and finally, returning to retrieve the unsold pieces.
I continued learning to be comfortable driving an automatic. Sort of. I am comfortable with a 6 cylinder engine, the car has a cool built-in spot for sunglasses, a button that opens my gate (but won’t open the garage), and the CD player holds SIX CDs!
2. The library’s card catalog stopped working online after the last “maintenance” session. I spent awhile on the phone with a librarian, who told me how to email the IT department directly. Then he talked me through downloading the library’s app on my phone. Ugh. I don’t want more apps. It is much more convenient to order books on the laptop, but this is better than not being able to order books at all.
3. I visited the Santa Cruz Boardwalk for the first time in my life.
4. I saw my first skate, which I’d never heard of before.
5. I tried to solve Super Sudoku—guess I’m not as analytical as I thought. These things are impossible.
6. The SS Palo Alto was completely new to me—a ship used solely for entertainment, attached to the pier at Rio Del Mar California State Beach—fascinating!
7. I don’t really enjoy playing games, but it was fun with Mrs. Texas and her family. We played two games I’d never heard of before: Code Names, and Shut the Box. (Nope, I don’t want to own either one; don’t put those on a list for me, okay?)
8. How did I not know that Reba McEntire’s entire band died in a plane crash in 1991? I thoroughly enjoy country music, but until Trail Guy and I discovered a new station called The Legend (105.5 in Fresno), I hadn’t listened for a couple of decades, so this tragedy was new information to me.
9. A pattern is emerging that has taken me awhile to become aware of: I love to read books based on island or ocean locales. Most recently finished Alexander McCall Smith’s The Winds from Further West, Elizabeth Strout’s Lucy by the Sea, currently reading The Boy from the Sea by Garrett Carr. Anything based in Ireland—I’m on it!
“Salt and Light” or “Reading Rabbit”, 11×14” oil painting by Jana Botkin
10. In a random conversation with someone, I learned that non-compete contracts are not legal in California because they interfere with people’s ability to earn a living. So you can work for two competing print shops at the same time, or medical clinics, or restaurants, for example. But I still think that you can’t sell a business and then open one just like it across the street! This is what I found online:
California has banned non-compete agreements in employment contracts, making them generally unenforceable. This law, effective from January 1, 2024, requires employers to notify employees that any existing non-compete clauses are void.
By the time you read this post, this will all seem like distant past.
These photos are from the evening of K and my exciting Mineral King hike. I was pretty beat, but stumbled down to the bridge to see the muddy raging stream and to look up at Farewell Gap, with its sprinklings of hail from the day’s storm.
There was still some hail left the next morning, but the stream had subsided and was clear. (No water photos, so you’ll just have to believe me.)
On the way home, there was one of those alert messages on the radio, saying that there were severe thundershowers in Mineral King (along with a number of other places nearby.) The sky was ominous back toward Mineral King.
Even though it was in the 100s at home, I was quite happy to settle into the air conditioned house. I love air conditioning.
Tomorrow we will look at the Learned List for August.
Just a few days ago I told you about Trail Guy hiking to the Franklin/Farewell junction and lamented my lack of hiking this summer. Last Sunday a friend and I decided to go to the Franklin/Farewell junction, because I really wanted to see it at least one more time in my life. (yes, being a bit dramatic here). I figured I could turn around if my feet started objecting too loudly (or perhaps wear ear plugs?)
The previous day had a terrific storm, but looking toward Farewell seemed clear, so K and I took off, (along with Trail Guy for the first mile or so.)
We saw Western Eupatorium, a flowering shrub I’ve only seen up near Franklin Lake.
We crossed Franklin Creek without trouble; K hopped the rocks and I simply walked through the water, which was shallow and clear, making it easy to see good foot placement.
Shortly after crossing, we felt a few raindrops. No problem: we each had a parka AND a poncho.
Good thing. Thunder, lightning, rain, and hail, but we just marched ourselves onward up the trail with only one break to stand under some trees (yes, risky with lightning) when the hail got too strong.
The white line is hail; the brown line is the very muddy stream.
When we reached the junction, the storm seemed to be letting up, so we stopped for a bit to see if any flowers remained and to eat something. (This was a hike, not a walk, so we carried food and water, and needed ponchos to keep our packs dry.)
Feeling hopeful, but cautious, we cut our break short and headed back down the trail. Two men had just passed us on their way down from Forrester Lake, cutting their backpack trip short by a day because the weather was a bit much.
Not long after heading back down, it all started again, with pouring rain that turned to hail, and steady thunder and lightning. We caught up to the men, sheltering under some trees because the hail was just so strong again. After a little conversation about how our ponchos were fairly ineffective, we headed down again. The trail turned to a flowing stream of mud, making it difficult impossible to see foot placement. I gave up pretending that the combination of parka and poncho were keeping me dry, accepting cold and wet as reality. (Ever get hail in your Crocs? It feels like a pebble, but eventually it melts.)
We took a couple of breaks beneath the few groups of trees, just to assess ourselves and one another. K is tough as nails, resourceful, always cheerful, and game for almost anything as long as it is in Mineral King, making her an excellent hiking partner. So, we mushed ahead and then. . .
. . . Franklin Creek!! Completely uncrossable. Raging, muddy, scary.
I took two photos, then packed my camera into its case (knit and felted by me, of course), then the poncho bag, and then buried it in my pack under the non-effective poncho. No more photos—the hike’s focus became solely about getting home in one piece.
NO MORE PHOTOS
K and I thought about our choices:
Wait for the two men to arrive and cross in a human chain, holding to one another for support. (K did this downstream on Franklin Creek many years prior).
Get comfortable and wait for the stream flow to subside.
Find another way home.
Option one still felt too risky; option two was too unknown and could take hours; option three was the best.
We went back up the trail to where we could bushwhack our way down to the East Fork of the Kaweah, which begins up at Farewell Gap. I guess you could call this “Farewell Creek”, or “Farewell Drainage”. Whatever its real name, we made our way to the stream, which was very muddy but not raging. The challenge was clambering up the bank after crossing, and somehow we made it up the other side without actually falling in, with apologies to the willows and other shrubs that we stomped on.
Then what? We knew that there was an old “trail” (just a route, because the trail is not visible in most places) up that side of the canyon to Farewell Gap. When we were on the trail, I led; when we were off trail, K led. I did my best to keep up, and she was very kind in waiting when she saw I was struggling—she is quite tall compared to me, and used to this sort of scramble-hiking, whereas I usually avoid this off-trail stuff.
We went over wet grass, through scratchy shrubs, over fallen logs, through a bear sleeping area (he wasn’t home), through some soggy little drainages, and over a zillion slippery branches, one of which knocked me to the ground, but only one, so there.
THOUGHTS, EXPRESSED AND NOT EXPRESSED
If anyone had shown me a video of the day’s hike, I would have said, “I’ll pass—just leave me here by the wood stove with my knitting.”
I know this is wacko, but I’m kind of having fun!
Unless one of us gets dementia, we’d NEVER forget this day. (We’ve been friends for 40 years, and this was definitely a memory maker.)
Trail Guy would hate this!
ONWARD
We knew we’d have to cross White Chief Creek, and because K was familiar with that side of the canyon, she knew that it flattens out where it enters the East Fork, which was also a raging muddy force of wetness. After crossing White Chief, we continued down canyon, aiming to connect with the trail which the pack station used to use for crossing the East Fork.
Just as we hoped, K led us directly to that trail, which she referred to as “Davis Camp”, and we huffed and puffed our way up to the real trail, the one that leads to White Chief, where we had considered going. I pushed for the Franklin/Farewell junction, since I’ve been to White Chief twice this summer.
MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH
(WHERE did that saying come from??) Trail Guy was getting mighty worried. He went to a neighbor to apprise him of the situation, and together they began discussing a plan, correctly thinking that the Franklin crossing would be impossible.
While they were formulating a plan, we made it home. Trail Guy asked what I would have done if the situation was in the reverse. I said that I would have assumed he’d know to cross the East Fork and bushwhack his way home on the other side of the canyon, just as K and I did. He said that was exactly what he would have done, validating K and my decision making.
In thinking over the situation, K was the perfect partner for the adventure. Her cool head, optimistic attitude, knowledge of the area, stamina, and general toughness were just the right combination.
Meanwhile, we will never know how those two men made it across Franklin Creek.
Oh yeah. This is supposed to be a business blog. Have a look at a couple of oil paintings of Franklin Creek (both sold, but I can paint either scene again.)
Looking downstream, not too far below the Franklin Lake dam.
I was in Gilroy. Trail Guy hiked anyway. I’m glad that my feet aren’t sidelining him. It has been a couple of years since I made it to the Franklin/Farewell junction, a place we refer to as the Wildflower Cafe, since it is a nice destination for lunch, particularly in early July when the wildflowers are at their peak there.
Never mind. Let’s just enjoy Trail Guy’s photos, hmmm?
He crossed Franklin Creek without any trouble. (I would have waded in my Crocs—he rock-hops.) There is still decent water flow, considering it is August.
Explorer’s Gentian is my favorite wildflower. Trail Guy likes it too, although Leopard lilies are his favorite.
See? Leopard lilies. Some people call them “tiger lilies”, but they have spots, not stripes.
The peak on the left is Vandever, the one that lives on the right side of Farewell Gap. (Don’t be confused here.)
The Bigelow Sneezeweed were abundant. That’s my favorite yellow flower.
That’s Timber Gap in the distance, and Trail Guy was higher than Timber Gap because you can see a ridge beyond.
This is such an odd view—all those overlapping mini canyons with Farewell Gap in the distance.
Really and truly, I am glad that Trail Guy can still hike. In the seventeen years I’ve been blogging, he has been Road Guy, Ski Guy, and now Trail Guy; I don’t want to rename him as Deck Guy.
Posted by Deck Chick (AKA Central California Artist)
You may have noticed I haven’t done much hiking this year. Guess you’ll have to be getting most of your trail information from other sources. I’m sorry; I would like to hike more. (Take up the subject with my feet.)
So, we walk. Down the road to Cold Springs Campground, through the campground to the Nature Trail (which no longer has a sign to let visitors know about it because the Park is and has been very understaffed for several years—take up the subject with your congressman, perhaps?) —it takes us to the Mineral King valley.
These asters were very vivid right along the road.
Look at the cotton from the cottonwood trees along the road.
These are aspen, which resemble cottonwoods, but the leaves are rounder and they “quake” in the breeze.
There is a turnout for day use above the campground. This is the first time I have noticed the BBQ device. I’ve never seen anyone cooking here. Interesting. We just walked into the day use area to see if the log for crossing the river is still intact. (It is.)
The trail crew worked on this little footbridge so there isn’t such a giant step off it any more (or on, if you are heading downhill).
Trail Guy still hikes some (but stays on the trails these days). I’ll show you tomorrow.
When I first worked at the Silver City Store (4 miles below Mineral King) in 1985, at the end of the summer my car stereo fell out whenever I drove uphill because the rough road vibrated the screws loose. (1977 Honda Accord, my first car, because I know you care about such things.)
The road is much much worse now. Driving down the other morning, I took some photos in the construction zone. I didn’t take any photos in the unpaved upper areas because those sections require 2 hands on the wheel, 2 eyes on the road, and 2 halves of one’s brain fully engaged in crawling through the hogwallows, washboard, potholes, and deep ruts, some created by springs, some by run-off.
The plan is that the road will have 145 new culverts and be repaired after fall of 2027. This means 2 more years of road construction. The company is very accommodating, pleasant, and communicative. We can do this.
P.S. At the beginning of the summer, Trail Guy told me to NOT drive Fernando (’96 Accord with 255,000 miles and a wearing-out exhaust system) on the MK Road. Then I sold Fernando (sob) and got Mom’s Car (yep, that’s the name). Trail Guy told me to NOT drive Mom’s Car on the MK Road. So, I hitchhike with neighbors up the hill if I go on a different day from Trail Guy and then ride down in the Botmobile with him. However, no one was going up when I did, so I took The Good Pickup, AKA known as “my truck” (although it is a pick-‘em-up, not a real truck.) And I don’t consider a vehicle to be mine unless I have a hairbrush and gloves in the glove apartment (because gloves are supposed to live there.)
Trail Guy and I accompanied Laile, who is an archaeologist/historian (I think those are her titles) to show her something we found. She cleared up a mystery about a rock platform that we always thought was a cabin foundation. Nope, it was a ride-by bar! George Thurman and his wife Hattie had a bar for miners riding past, who could hold out their cup and get it filled with whiskey without dismounting. (I think it was for miners but now I have forgotten the years. I am NOT a historian.)
We headed up the trail.
Thurman’s Bar! (Calm yourself – they weren’t open and I don’t drink alcohol anyway.)
Laile explained that the grass-covered log with some metal spikes used to be a dam on the creek, which obviously has changed course.
It was so beautiful out in that meadow.
Working
I spent some time caulking and painting our windows. Look at the extreme difference between wet and dry paint. It was alarming at first stroke, but then as it dried, everything was okay. There is more to be done, but things are looking better.
Hanging Out
We hung out with our very dear annual neighbors, the Sawtooth Six (now there are only five, but the name remains, and we miss Ted something fierce).
Yeah, I said I don’t drink alcohol, but other people do. The “little” bottles are normal sized; the huge one looks like a joke. (This opinion almost got me banned from the neighbors’ deck.)
It is a tradition to hang out on the bridge in the evenings.
The Olipop can won the competition to become a tripod.
I left early one morning because I have actual work to do (as you might have read on yesterday’s blog post.)
Farewell, Farewell. (The weird darker spots in the sky are because I borrowed Trail Guy’s camera. Mine was temporarily missing, because I have too many homes, too many buildings, too many vehicles, and too many briefcases and totebags. This contributes to me being a loser in the true sense of the word.)
