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”.

Mineral King: Weekend of Uncertainty

I am now down the hill from a long weekend in Mineral King and since a great number of my blog readers want Mineral King information, I will tell you about it this week.

The road is now closed. We were not evacuated, but were escorted out this morning. Everyone wanting to leave had to meet at the Conifer Gate at 10 a.m. Those who didn’t leave are “sheltering in place” for 48-72 hours. We were under an Evacuation Warning.

Saturday evening a pair of men from the Tulare County Sheriff’s Office came around, warning us of impending road closure and tacking notices on the doors of all the cabins (whether or not they were occupied or had been closed for the season).

What to do? Begin packing up? Nope. Take a walk and enjoy what time remained.

Nope, we were NOT recreating, an activity that was forbidden when we were admitted entrance for the purpose of closing our cabins.

We spent Sunday in uncertainty—close for the season? Simply drain and anticipate a return? Take down as much as possible? Leave things up in case of a return later this fall?

Fortunately, we did a lot of paring down of our belongings, packing, and loading the pickups. (The Botmobile is a bit smallish, so we rely heavily on the generosity of The Farmer with his Massive Pick-em-up Truck, HUGE!)

“Fortunately”?

Yeppers. A Park official showed up around 8 on Monday morning to tell us to be at the Conifer Gate by 10 a.m. We got a move on, and made it.

We stopped at the Silver City Store so I could rescue my unsold paintings and cards, and headed down to Conifer.

Tomorrow I’ll show and tell you more about the Weekend of Uncertainty.

Noticing, Neglected, and New: New

New

Although Sequoia National Park in Mineral King appears to be understaffed, with many things in a neglected state, things that are under the purview of private individuals are getting spiffed up. Cabin life is often about maintenance, and it is excellent to see this taking place.

This was rebuilt and is waiting for more siding.
A new roof!
New paint on the trim!
New steps!
New paint on the cabin!
Newly painted!

Finally, the Honeymoon Cabin has been painted!

Yes, many exclamation marks are in this post, because it is very heartening to see maintenance and care given to a cabin community’s tangible assets.

Another Mineral King Report

It was a smoky several days in Mineral King.

I stopped by a friend’s cabin for a quick visit and was struck by this timeless cabin scene.

The smoke did not prevent or hamper the 39th annual Mineral King Preservation Society’s Picnic in the Park, featuring our own Trail Guy.

He told of his three winters spent in Mineral King in the early 1980s, a story that held people’s attention for an entire hour.

Even little ones didn’t get restless, which is mighty amazing in this age of devices.

This one had a companion with her, besides me, her current MK BFF.

These are some of the very few artifacts remaining from the end of Trail Guy’s third winter (although the photos weren’t in the cabin when it went the way of all flesh.)

When the ordeal of public speaking was behind Trail Guy, we gathered with our neighbors in the evening.

The next day we went for a walk with some of our neighbors, in spite of the smoke.

Trail Guy loves to show people his favorite flower, the tiger lily (more accurately known as a leopard lily because it has spots, not stripes, but we have discussed this previously. . .) How thoughtful of those ranger buttons to disguise the face of his hiking friend.

The flowers were excellent, something I was almost resigned to missing in this hikeless summer. But some of the wildflowers are accessible even if one is only in walking mode.

Glacial daisy

This is Soda Springs, where water bubbles out of the ground with a hint of carbonation. Some people like to mix it with powdered lemonade, but I’ve never thought that was better than plain water. The water bubbling up tastes metallic. Some of these places are called “iron springs”, some “soda springs”, although I’ve never learned the difference, if there is such a difference.

The air cleared out in the evening when the winds shifted direction.

Thus we conclude another report on a series of days spent in Mineral King. Thanks for tuning in!

Community Life in Mineral King

Mineral King is a place for backpackers, campers, day hikers, day trippers, and cabin folks. Today’s post is about the cabin community. (Last summer I posted regularly about cabin life.)

There are cabin communities all over the mountains in this country, and most likely in other countries too. I’ve written in the past (2018?) about what makes them special: Cabin Thoughts, One; Cabin Thoughts, Two; Cabin Thoughts, Three, A Few More Cabin Thoughts, and Final Final Cabin Thoughts.

Today’s post is what happens on a busy weekend in our cabin community of Mineral King. There are several parts to the community: our immediate neighbors, those across the creek, the settlement one mile down the road (formerly known as “Faculty Flat”, now “West Mineral King” is the preferred name, and no, I didn’t ask for pronouns); Silver City (private property 4 miles down the road); and Cabin Cove (7 cabins about 5 miles down the road from us).

This is what happens on any given weekend—the closer to the end of summer, the more activities. We:

  1. gather at someone’s cabin for “happy hour”, eat fun things, catch up with one another, and then are too full for dinner
  2. eat dinner together
  3. (Trail Guy and The Farmer, not me unless The Farmer isn’t around) help with various repairs. (The cabins are OLD.)
  4. hike together (hike: carrying pack with lunch and water)
  5. walk together (no pack, no lunch)
  6. give one another rides up and down the hill
  7. bring supplies for one another when coming up the hill
  8. share books
  9. lend knitting needles
  10. let people use our telephone (when we had one) and borrow the neighbor’s phone now
  11. clean up the platform for the annual “Music in the Mountains” event
  12. prune in one another’s yards (okay, that’s just me. . .)
  13. use a hav-a-hart trap to catch bushy-tailed woodrats (definitely Trail Guy, NOT me)
  14. explore historic sites
  15. lend tools
  16. repair water line breaks
  17. go through the junk we discover in our respective cabins, sometimes trading items of interest
  18. share missing recipe ingredients

We stay in touch throughout the year, because our friendships are solid, not simply seasonal.

Cabin Life, Chapter Twenty-two (Finale)

Cabin Life: Final Thoughts

Someone’s Colorado cabin –definitely not small, rustic or rude

This is a backcountry cabin somewhere in Montana.

This rest of this post features drawings of Wilsonia cabins, where I spent 4 summers learning about that cabin community and discovering many common themes to the Mineral King community.

There are three distinct parts to cabin-ness:

  1. The building itself – small, rustic, basic, simple, often without electronic amenities. (But wait! What about the cabin pictured above?)
  2. The setting – rural, semi-secluded, in the mountains, taking an effort to get to (But wait! Have you ever been up Highway 180 to Wilsonia? And do these cabins look semi-secluded to you?)

     

A Wilsonia road

 

 

 

A Wilsonia neighborhood

The culture—slower, focused on people instead of technology; a place to play, recreate and relax, mostly outside; a place where meals and fireplaces become events in and of themselves; returning to nostalgic pastimes either of our youth or of some idealized youth of our parents and grandparents.

 

Outdoor dining is a big part of cabin life.

 

Napping is a regular method of relaxing at a cabin.

 

See? Outdoor dining area

 

Even outdoor cooking!

Fireplaces are a huge part of cabin culture.

 

Eat and run??

It seems that the culture part is the strongest determining factor of cabin life. Some of our cabin neighbors gathered in another location for several summers, due to illness of one of their group. One of them told me, “We do Mineral King things in Seattle, and Mineral King is present with us there.” (I probably paraphrased it beyond all recognition – Forgive me, Sawtooth Six!)

Thus, we conclude our 2023 series on Cabin Life. (unless I think of something else)

P.S. Most of the drawings in this post are part of the book The Cabins of Wilsonia, available here.

P.P.S. I can draw your cabin because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

Cabin Life, Chapter Twenty

Mineral King Cabin Community

Mineral King cabin folks come from cities, suburbs, small towns and out in the country; we live in mansions, estates, apartments, and even a few normal houses. We are (or were) artists, bankers, equipment operators, janitors, teachers, farmers, administrative assistants, engineers, retirees, dental hygienists, sheriffs, lawyers, doctors, cowboys, builders, day care workers, musicians, optometrists, veterinary assistants, physical therapists, moms, Park employees, physician’s assistants, and those are just the first ones that come to mind. We come from Arizona, California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Virginia, New York, Hawaii, Florida, South Dakota, and Egypt. (And more places that I can’t remember. . .)

Our Mineral King cabins, AKA “small, poorly constructed huts in the woods”, are great equalizers.

Every one of us, regardless of our backgrounds, livelihoods, economic, educational or political status, is thrilled to have a small, poorly constructed hut in the woods without electricity. Every cabin has a barely adequate kitchen, a laughably tiny (or no) bathroom, maybe two, one, even no bedrooms.

Every single cabin user has to figure out how to deal with unreliable water, peculiar propane appliances, old stuff that may or may not work, and the definite lack of a maintenance department, hardware or grocery store. There is a terrible road to get there, rodents, spiders and other wildlife that may or may not be appreciated, and all sorts of unexpected situations. (Who left this chair and what happened to my flashlight??  Does anyone have any birthday candles? What’s wrong with this place that has no outlets? Are you serious that I cannot blow-dry my hair?)

Every single cabin that is owned by multiple families has its conflicts, whether decorating, cleaning, maintaining, or scheduling. The cabins without partnerships have to bear all the expenses, decisions, maintenance and cleaning without benefit of sharing the load.

Whether folks have complicated lives in fancy places or plainer lives in simpler places, all view a cabin as a mixed blessing: a family tradition, a repository of memories, and a bit of an inconvenience, but still a huge treat, their own treasured shabby shack in the mountains.

We have fought together against bureaucracy, helped one another, hiked together, learned one another’s family trees, and through it all we have built multi-generational friendships weekend upon weekend, year after year after decade after decade. And I am just a newcomer. . .

P.S. I can draw your cabin (or house or barn or garage or shed or hut or cottage or mansion) because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

Cabin Life, Chapter Nineteen

What is a Cabin?

You may have noticed that some posts about art are beginning to be regular interruptions to our series called “Cabin Life”. My art business is waking back up after a semi-comatose summer. 

So, let’s wrap up this topic with some final posts. These are a rerun from 2018, but maybe you have slept since then, or maybe you didn’t read my blog back then.

Wilsonia cabin porchWhat is a Cabin?

In 1986 I married into a Mineral King cabin. I’d always wanted either a cabin or a beach house. Here in Tulare County, cabins are more available and accessible than beach houses. It has worked out well, even to the point that my art business is called Cabin Art. (Or Cabinart. . . for a Typo-Psycho, I am awfully ambivalent about the spelling of this invented word.)

One would think that I would know how to define the word “cabin”. Alas, one would be wrong about that!

We had an old dictionary at the cabin, so I looked up “cabin”. The 3rd definition said, “A small, rude hut”. Clearly the word “rude” has changed in meaning since the dictionary was published in 1935. I looked up “rude” and saw “Poorly constructed”.

Alrighty, then. A cabin is a small, poorly constructed hut.

But is it? 

I looked up “cabin” on my Mac. The dictionary on my computer has fairly useless definitions as far as our discussion is concerned.

Cabin may refer to:

  • Beach cabin, a small wooden hut on a beach
  • Log cabin, a house built from logs
  • Chalet, a wooden mountain house with a sloping roof
  • Small remote mansion (Western Canada)
  • Small, free-standing structures that serve as individual lodging spaces of a motel
  • Cottage, a small house

We called this The Beach House while growing up; never once did the word “cabin” enter our little skulls.

Forget that. Where’s my real Webster’s dictionary?? Mine was published in 2004 rather than 1935. Oh good grief, look at this: “A small, simple, one-story house.”

That’s it? Au contraire! (Is that how you say “You are wrong” in French?)

In 2018, a few folks checked in with their thoughts on what a cabin is. One suggested “primitive”; another said a place to get away from every day life; someone else put forth the idea that a cabin is a state of mind. “Non-fancy” is a good description, and another added gave a description of an ideal cabin. She used the word “spare”, which could mean an extra home or it could mean without clutter. (I’ve seen some pretty cluttered cabins, and I have lived in a cabin when it was my only place of residence.)

To be continued. . . (and your thoughts are welcome!)

P.S. I can draw your cabin (or house) because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.