The photos from Friday and these photos today were all taken within the first 2 weeks of October each year. I just arbitrarily grabbed different ones from my very extensive photo collection (34,000? maybe 36,000 now?) so you can see the variety from year to year.
I did not choose my very best or think about an equal distribution of scenes. Instead, this is just a random selection to give you a sense of the inconsistency from autumn to autumn.
2025 fall photos will come later this week.
I stayed home last weekend. Our cabin is a summer residence in a summer place, and I am very ready to be home for awhile. So, I went through my photo archives, and today’s post will be random October photos of Mineral King from past years.
That was interesting. Let’s do a few more next week.
The weekend began with a surprise visit by a childhood friend. I knew she might be coming in the fall, but so many people tell me their potential visit dates that I don’t even try to keep track. That meant it was a wonderful surprise, and I got to spend an hour or so with her and her offspring. Since this is the World Wide Web, and because I want to experience and value life even when it isn’t documented and publicized, I took no photos (except for asking her daughter to take one of us together, which I HOPE her mom will send to me!)
The road construction continues. We waited just below Wolverton Point for about 45 minutes for the 10 o’clock pilot car shuttle which we followed to Silver City. SEE THE NEW SCHEDULE BELOW.
A neighboring cabin had 8-10 hazard trees threatening their place. We went snooping, and all is safe now (but the cabin is exposed), and there is a boatload of downed wood, a real mess. Here is how part of it looked as drawn for The Cabins of Mineral King and how it looks now in real life.
It rained several times and was overcast. We did not hike. People who live in Mineral King just hang out sometimes. Instead of being on vacation, we are simply experiencing cabin life.
We thoroughly enjoyed the warmth from the wood stove, trying but not succeeding to keep a fire going all day. That stove wants feeding fairly often. I would have split more wood, but we kept covering the woodstack due to the rain.
We walked to the pack station and found an enormous tarp all wadded up, and the stock was gone. Couldn’t just waste that tarp, because chances are we paid for it with our tax dollars. So we folded it up and then put it in the storage container.
I saw this trimmed mule hoof on the ground, and the snow stake is now installed for viewing on the winter webcam.
Berries are ripe in the fall. Don’t eat the white ones. Trail Guy loves the red ones, Wax Currant.
There is a specific type of mistletoe which grows in red fir trees. It is weird stuff.
Look at these two huge chunks of the red fir that got dropped a few weeks ago. They got randomly placed in our neighborhood after being moved from the road. One has a thing attached that had something to do with phone lines. I didn’t photograph the messes from the dropped trees, but know I will be dragging brush and sawing limbs for a long time coming.
Now, the funnest of the fun things: I FINALLY* met Kevin Alltucker, author of The Mules of Mineral King, a book that I told you about back in August. He graciously accepted a gift of my Wilsonia book, and then his brother said that he (the brother) is one of my tens of blog readers. This gave me the idea to do this dorky photo (me dorky-looking, clearly too thrilled to think about posing better or controlling my grin) and remind you all who like Mineral King to BUY THE BOOK! It is so well-written. It was also fun to talk about the logistics of writing, publishing and (not) marketing one’s own books with a fellow self-published author.
The Mules of Mineral King is available through Riverfeet Press, (also at that big online store which begins with A and takes a large bite out of an author’s profits.)
The hazard tree crew returned to our neighborhood.
We had rain, both up and down the hill. It was overcast for a day or so after the rain. I wonder if this would make a good pencil drawing.
The classic view from the bridge, with Farewell Gap obstructed by the clouds.
The sun shone the next day, so Hiking Buddy, K, and I walked to Soda Springs.
Crystal Creek is still running.
See the orange? That’s where Soda Springs runs down into the creek.
It bubbles out of the ground.
Many cabin folks have a tradition of adding lemonade powder to the water, swearing that it is fizzy and delicious. It tastes like metal to me, reminding me of the drinking fountains at church camp as a kid. Ick, no thanks. K is very traditional, complete with a Sierra cup hanging on her daypack.
Here is the classic view in sunshine.
On the drive home, we were amazed by the ENORMOUS pile of road base collecting at Lookout Point for the ongoing road construction project.
Finally, here are The Potholes, still running steady and strong in September. My theory is that all the trees which used to take up water above this stream (called Squirrel Creek) burned up, so there is more water to continue flowing throughout the season.
And thus we conclude another tour of Mineral King. I’ll get back to work next week.
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.
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.
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.
WARNING: very long post
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.
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.
K and I thought about our choices:
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.
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.
(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.)
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)
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.)
