Road Trip, Part Five

After Sidewinder Canyon in Death Valley, we took the long drive to Dante’s View. Dante was an Italian poet in the 1200s who wrote something called “The Inferno”, an appropriate sort of name for anything associated with Death Valley. Many places there refer to death and other unpleasant sorts of things, which is fitting when one considers that most things in the desert are designed to stab, kill, or poison the visitor. And almost everything in Death Valley National Park is a long drive.

I found a very pretty rock, but experience tells me that rocks turn meh when they get home, so it was a Leverite – “Leave ‘er right where you found ‘er”.

After Dante’s View, our hostess/tour guide/dear friend showed us a magical place, appropriately called The Inn at Death Valley. It was opened in 1927, and it was truly beautiful.

There was a burned out building that got turned into a beautiful garden, ponds surrounded by palms, stone steps and paths, classic architecture, and a mysterious palm orchard, for which I can find no explanation. These aren’t date palms. 

I have questions. Always.

And maybe you have a question for me. Ask away!

Okay, just two more photos.

And thus we conclude another road trip with the Central California artist, with the hopes that some seed of new creativity lodged in her inquiring mind.

Road Trip, Part Four

After our Salt Creek adventure in Death Valley, we headed to a place called Sidewinder Canyon.

This is the view looking back across the valley before we headed on foot up the canyon. The Valley. Death Valley.

That crack in the wall is our destination.

Looking ahead.Looking back.

Trail Guy helped me up the steep steps.

Then we reached a wall. Time to head back.

To be continued. . .

Road Trip, Part Three

We were able to pack many sights and sites into a short visit to Death Valley.

When our friend got off work, we headed to a place called Salt Creek. Someone told us that it gets really interesting if you go beyond the boardwalk.

This place is just so weird.

We walked across the salt fields, which were wet in some places.

So wet in surprising places that sometimes one sinks in and must crawl out, while trying to stand up but laughing too much to find a foothold. (And my friend was laughing too, but she took photos instead of helping me out!)

And this is why people are advised to stay on the boardwalks.

No worries – I just scrubbed up in the salty creek (and then rinsed the salt out of my shoes later). It was worth the hearty laugh.

We visited a mine next. I forgot the name but remember that it was in operation from 1904-1917 and produced a pile of gold.

It had a tramline like the one in Mineral King, but I didn’t feel like climbing up to it. (My shoes were wet.)

To be continued. .

Road Trip, Part Two

The first morning we were in Death Valley, our friend was working, so we took a walk to one of the many abandoned cabins, this one about a mile above her house. We saw it a year ago and found it interesting enough to visit again.

Our friend told us there are probably 100 or more such cabins in Death Valley. I find that fascinating (but no, there won’t be a book by me about this.)

As usual, my attention went right to the shiny and colorful object among all the variations of browns and grays on the rocky ground.

The cabin was located near a water source. We headed down to see it because we spotted some wildflowers, called Bitter Brush.

Of course we went off trail, which makes me a bit nervous in the desert where everything is designed to kill or poison you. 

There are an infinite number of places where people used to fling their trash, now called “can dumps”, which got me thinking that the entire park is now a Can’t Dump kind of place.

To be continued. . .

Road Trip, Part One

Oh boy, there she goes again, rambling on about another trip instead of showing us what it is to be an artist in Central California. Well, artists have to take field trips for new sights and locations; it fuels creativity (so I’ve read).

We went to Death Valley to visit a dear friend. The desert doesn’t really appeal to me with all its dry brownness, but this is a very dear friend and visiting her makes this weirdly wonderful place appealing. Because of her, we got to see all sorts of things that we would not have experienced otherwise.

We headed East on 178 which is in the Kern River canyon and goes over Walker Pass. It is one of the only choices for crossing the Sierra Nevada on the southern end.
The route took us through Trona, which might possibly be the ugliest town I’ve ever seen. Wow, those poor people who live there. . . there must be something to enjoy in that desolate place.

This is the view from the road in front of our friend’s house.

This is the evening view from our friend’s house. (The finger in the corner is a little bonus.)

To be continued. . .

8 Things Learned in January

As January flew by, I compiled another list of new-to-me facts, information, and experiences to share with you. Treasures, perhaps?

  1. People with barking dogs don’t care that their dogs disrupt the peace of any outdoor activity for the neighbors. They just don’t care.
  2. Eleven sets of variety pack notecards produced by me since the late 1980s? That was a lot of notes getting written to people. Maybe being in the Esses means one reminisces more about bygone days. (Two more posts about this to come next week.)
  3. I took a three mile walk along the length of Main St. in Visalia, beginning in the somewhat industrial east end, awed by the variety of downtown (Did you know there is a little store that sells nothing but succulents?? Neither did I.), admiring the old homes that are now lawyer and dentist offices, reminiscing a tiny bit as I passed my high school, on to the Courthouse area, through the office compounds, and past many beautiful Valley Oak trees. Walking is such a great way to really appreciate a town.
  4. Picking Up: On the Streets and Behind the Trucks with the Sanitation Workers of New York City by Robin Nagle was a weirdly intriguing book. Two main facts stuck with me: 1. Sanitation work is the most dangerous job in New York and 2. New York doesn’t use trash cans –instead, people toss bags of garbage on the sidewalks!
  5. In a few more generations, the terms “clockwise” and “counterclockwise” won’t mean anything. That’s even worse than not understanding what it means to “dial” a phone or “roll up” a window in a car.
  6. Word By Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries by Kory Stamper is another weirdly intriguing book (not finished yet) with a disturbing fact: dictionaries are descriptive rather than prescriptive. What this means is that they follow the trends of language rather than establishing it, so if a word is used enough in the wrong way, it becomes part of the dictionary. (I’m afraid to look up “irregardless” in case it has become a real word).
  7. Our national parks need employees.  The parks are more popular than ever, but some are so short-staffed in the HR departments that they can’t process applications to fill vacancies. What is causing this??
  8. Death Valley is weirdly wonderful. I wouldn’t go there if it wasn’t for a dear friend who is a terrific hostess and personal tour guide. Here are a few fun facts about DEVA: over 1000 miles of roads with only about 25% paved, maybe as many as 100 abandoned cabins, water all over the place in hidden canyons, and there are so many old mines that I couldn’t find the number. They were for boron, gold, lead, silver, zinc, clays, talc-soapstone, copper, tungsten, fluorine, pumice, zeolites, iron, manganese, uranium, thorium, antimony, sand and gravel. Probably more things too. But who could stand to be there in a place where temperatures can hit 130°??

 

And thus we conclude another month and another list of random items of interest to this Central California artist. I hope you also find this collection of odd facts fun and intriguing.

Winter Walk

What passes for winter in Three Rivers would make a Minnesotan weep. On Trail Guy’s birthday, we went to a foothill area of Sequoia National Park that most visitors don’t know about. It feels like trespassing, but it isn’t.

We parked at the Rec Building near Ash Mt. He said, “We had a lot of good parties there.” I replied, “Yep, and a lot of boring ones too”. This is the place where I used to attend retirement parties for Park people that I didn’t know until I figured out that attendance wasn’t mandatory. The building is long, narrow, and very loud.

Next area was a boneyard of equipment and non-photogenic stuff, then the corrals.

I appreciate the signage at the corrals. (Cowboy humor reminds me of Cowboy Bert. It’s been a little over a year since we lost him. Heavy sigh.)

We stayed on the road until we got to this little creek, appropriately named Sycamore Creek. From there, we took another road that led down to who knows where. Trail Guy said, “Do you think we can make it back up this?” I said, “It might be too hard, but we’ll have to do it anyway.”

He noticed that thing in the tree and said, “There’s a bar – I wonder what it’s for?” I said, “You want a beer? Or maybe you need a lawyer?” Turns out it was some sort of a microphone with a solar powered box, maybe to record animal noises. I don’t think we accidentally uttered anything subversive.

These little plants will turn into irises in about May. It will probably too hot to go find them then.

We saw a few mules doing what mules do. Horses too. This is a horse. (Thank you, Trail Guy, for straightening me out.)

I found this round thing and decided it must be a tuit. Might come in handy.

While Trail Guy poked around in the boneyard piles of old Park equipment, I studied oak branches, preparing for my next mural.

This might make a nice painting, although I never know quite how to handle the gray matter of leafless oak trees massed together.

This might be a better view.

There I go again, turning every outing into a business trip. That’s the way it is when one is an artist.

Sunny in Three Rivers

The Central Valley of California is known for its heavy winter fog, often called “tule fog”. I haven’t seen it as bad as I remember growing up. My sister would be driving the family wagon, and after the intersection of the closest avenue, we’d roll down the window and count the reflector bumps on our road. Exactly at bump #17, we’d do a hard left to turn into our driveway. That was the only way to find home.

Three Rivers is usually above the fog. One day last week, it was brilliantly sunny at home, but I had to go down the hill. I pulled over to the usual overlook vista point for this one last look at the sunshine.

Wowsa. This wants to be painted, but I’d emphasize Alta Peak with the snow more than it appears in this photo.

Then I looked down canyon to see what was ahead.

Oh boy. Looks like sweater weather down there, never a bad thing for a Knitter with more sweaters and scarves than there are days to wear them each year.

Mildly Interesting

Happy Birthday, Trail Guy!

Trail Guy and I drove down to Lake Kaweah (The Lake) to take a walk one morning in December before the rain turned it into a quagmire. At one point as we bumbled along, Trail Guy said to me, “Isn’t this exciting?” I responded, “No, but it is mildly interesting”.

The day was overcast and the colors were dull.
In spite of being the last day of Autumn, the sycamores were holding their color in the various drainages that lead down to The Lake.
Cockleburs are abundant and obnoxious. They are native to many places in the US but I didn’t care enough to find out which areas.
Cockleburs love socks. (Yes, I did knit those – thank you for your interest!)
I always notice blue things. There are many blue caps to various beverage containers.
I only photographed these and left many others undocumented.
It’s pretty trashy in the lake bottom. I never remember to bring a sack; maybe it is because it feels hopeless and because it will be too heavy to drag around.
Trail Guy likes to go poking around in the boulder clusters; he says he thinks he might find a body there. I think most bodies found in Tulare County are in orange groves.
There were no bodies, only a pair of abandoned socks. I didn’t inspect them for cockleburs but I wonder if that is why they got left behind.
I found a treasure!

8 Things I Learned in December

I spent many hours during December just sitting in my chair by the wood stove and the window. Tucker and Jackson kept me company.

December was a month of random life lessons and thoughts.

  1. Open studio events aren’t for me. Although I enjoyed visiting with each person who came, and the sales were decent, my studio is just too small, and I’d rather be doing other things than sitting inside, listening for cars so I can go help people find their way up the steps to my little shed. 
  2. Christmas decorating no longer interests me; in pondering my indifference and reluctance to participate, a pattern emerged. It isn’t just Christmas; I am satisfied with how our house looks and would rather put my energy into other things than fitting in some seasonal tchotchkes. Good to know it isn’t just Scroogism.
  3. It is very important to pay attention to all notes and messages from a customer before gleefully announcing that something is finished. Maybe I can call this the Remember Hockett Rule. (This post tells all.)
  4. I rarely go to Starbucks – neither Three Rivers nor Exeter have them, and when I am in Visalia, my list is too long and my time too short. But these are interesting: (clickable link that will open in a new tab): Starbucks hacks that can save you money
  5. Eyelashes are a big deal; 2 different friends told me about getting fake eyelashes, and suddenly I began noticing them everywhere. Someone even invited a “lash technician” to BNI, my business networking group – that’s a real job title? (Hint: mascara is easier and costs way less.)
    A random photo of Jackson to break up too much text.
  6. Note to self: ALWAYS check the dates carefully before scheduling a post. Note to subscribers: When I first scheduled this post, I used 2019 instead of 2020 – ugh, confusing to the subscribers. I’m sorry.
  7. Christmas can be as hasslesome or as simple as you want it to be. Very little is truly mandatory, and “No, thank you” is a complete sentence. Once all those shows and events were finished, my holidays became simple, with time to crack walnuts, paint a mural, help friends, read a stack of books, write letters (yep, I often write personal letters in response to some of those Christmas newsletters), visit with neighbors, and just enjoy what passes for winter in Central California.
  8. Adulthood feels stronger in the S’s. There is a new confidence when dealing with difficulties and customer “service”. Recently, I’ve encountered big mistakes both with the DMV and our phone company. Instead of accepting the default first answers (summarized as “Too bad, Chump, just deal with it”), I calmly pushed through the layers and levels until the bureaucrats did the right thing. Yippee-skippee for adulthood!