California – Page 6 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

California transit

12/30/2013 Orange Grove RV Park Bakersfield CA 65 degrees F as the sun sets

Transiting California reminds me of all the reasons why I really don’t want to ever live here again. Yes, I am a California girl, was born here, as were each of my children. But I left for good reasons, all of which come to mind as we travel south on I-5.

California has so many areas that I love, that I wouldn’t want to have missed in my lifetime. If you are from the east and haven’t seen Big Sur, or Yosemite, or the Mother Lode in springtime, or Lake Tahoe, or the Lost Coast, or Santa Barbara, Santa Cruz, Monterey, the Central Coast ……I could go on and on. San Diego is rich with culture and has perfect weather. The Bay Area is vibrant and fabulous, with so much to see and do. Parts of California have wonderful places to live for lots of people who love it. Mo lived happily on the coast north of Half Moon Bay for 35 years.

Trouble is, we have been to all those places many times, and now are just trying to get THROUGH California so we can get on to the southwest deserts. This time of year 395 isn’t smart, and the coast highway 101 is waaay out of our way. We are moving fast so that we have as much time as possible when we get to the Gulf Coast and Florida. That leaves us with the one choice in California that is the least lovely.

Down I-5 we go, passing what I consider one of the creepiest cities ever, Stockton. The freeway through Stockton is like something in a third world country. Once beyond the Highway 120 ramp toward Sonora, the traffic thinned a bit and the road got a bit smoother. The foggy smog cleared enough that we could see a bit of the landscape around us. Just a bit, although at this time of year it was brown and barren and not so pretty Thought I would put in a pretty photo from our 2011 trip south to remind me of how beautifully seductive the state of California can be at times.

We did get through it. Mo and I taking turns driving, and by the time we got to our exit toward Bakersfield, I was tired of all those cars, just so many cars, all going fast and trying to pass each other and the trucks. I plunked along at 60mph, and decided to avoid the fray, but the lines of cars passing me in the fast lane were often bumper to bumper, moving fast, but rarely a car length between them.

Turning off toward Bakersfield, we negotiated our way around some back side streets trying to find Costco. Google Maps and the GPS don’t seem to understand fences and we ended up right by the gasoline bays, with a fence between us and them where the road ended. Hmmm….did manage to wind around to another highway and found the entrance, but it sure did seem silly. No such thing as a simple off-ramp by the Costco. According to my trusty Gas Buddy, it was the cheapest gas around at 3.37 per gallon, considerably less than on previous trips through this part of California

It really was a short easy day, driving only 275 miles or so to our afternoon destination at Orange Grove RV Park. We ambled in to a nearly empty park, planning to relax after washing the rig, only to find that the park was booked solid and we were led into overflow. Water and electric only, no sewer no cable. I didn’t have reservations, but tonight the park is completely booked. The owner said that this is their busiest week of the year. oops. good thing they have an overflow! In fact, after the overflow fills up they have a big space for dry camping as well. Nice that we didn’t have to do that.

Instead, tonight we are packed in like little sardines, lined up row by row with a lot of very friendly campers. Most of them are from California with another big contingent from British Columbia. A smattering of Washingtonians and Oregonians rounds out the mix. Everyone wants to talk, everyone is just so nice. We are out of practice. We live out in the woods and like to boondock. I love nice friendly people, but in small doses! It is just a different way of camping, of enjoying the RV lifestyle, and I know lots of people really love it. Others are famous for NOT loving it, and wouldn’t dream of staying in a crowded RV park

We could have just continued on to Joshua Tree, but it would have been a long day and I wanted oranges. We also will be boondocking a bit and we wanted to fill up with water and be sure the tanks were clean before we wander out into the desert. I have no clue if the campgrounds (dry camps) in Joshua Tree will be full. In years past we have traveled there this time of year and everything was empty, but with this park packed in and overflowing, I am a bit skeptical. Whatever happens, we will be ready for it. There are lots of boondocking sites nearby if things are filled up in the park.

In a few days we will be back with full hookups enjoying the pools at Catalina Spa in Desert Hot Springs.

“Do you ever get tired of being on the road?”

December 29 2013: Lodi CA 49 degrees F and clear

Miles driven today: 373

A friend asked that question of me this afternoon, after seeing a Facebook post about being on the road again and loving it. And the answer is “yes, of course”. That is why we aren’t full timer’s. I love going home at the end of the trip. I love being home. In reality, the only time I really get tired of being on the road is toward the end of a trip, whether it is 3 days, 3 weeks, or 3 months. Once we turn toward home, and it is getting close, I get antsy, and get tired of the doing and going of a trip. I am ready to be on with it. Much like when I am home and know that we are leaving, I am ready to get going!

In reality, Barb’s question was a surprise. Reading RV blogs as I do, I know that we are on the road much less than many folks out there, even part timers often travel more than we do. In 2013 we only were on the road for a total of 102 days, a little more than 3 months, a quarter of a year. Only. I really thought that it was more than that. Until I actually counted, I thought we were out between 1/3 and 1/2 of the year. This year, however, it might actually get a bit closer to that 1/3 to 1/2 time. We will see.

Looking back again, I saw that most of the summer, we were home as planned, enjoying Rocky Point. Most of the fall I was home doing family things, quilting, knitting, cooking. Last winter and spring I was still working. So no. I don’t come even close to getting tired of being on the road. Which is a good thing. Like an unfinished “bucket list”, there is so much more to do, to see, more places to explore, more hikes, more rivers…and more evenings just sitting in the MoHo quietly typing away and thinking about what I am thinking. Ha!

This morning we managed to get up easily at 5:30. I had been awake since 4 and couldn’t sleep. Deb had made coffee in the house for us and left the back door open so we could slip in for a last shared morning cup before we got going. It was cold, maybe 30 degrees, and everything was shrouded in an icy fog. Seems as though those foggy inversions are a very common winter occurrence in the Rogue Valley.

We left just at 6am, in the dark, with full tanks ready to go, and sleeping with the slide in and the car hooked up, we just pulled out and within minutes were on Interstate 5 heading south. Oh I do love that feeling, knowing that there are miles and months ahead of me with expected and unexpected adventures. Sometimes just a change of scenery outside the window from one place to the next is all I need to feel energized.

Especially energizing today was watching the temperature rise from a frosty 14 degrees F near Yreka just over the California border to a toasty 64 degrees all the way from Redding to Lodi south of Sacramento. I have written about this stretch of road so many times, driven it more times than I care to count. Just what can you say about it anyway? The surface is a bit better in places than it was last April. The skies were clear to the west with gorgeous views of the coast range and a bit murky to the east and the Sierras. Nope, that isn’t anything new at all. I quit trying to analyze it, and when I took over the wheel, and Mo napped, I just slid into the sound of the wind coming in the open window and the feel of the sun on my face….and in my eyes. Dang, that California sun is BRIGHT!

Oh…a quickie story, another one about Michelin tires. Remember how we got an entire set of Michelin tires for the MoHo before we left for Alaska? Somehow after sitting in the Texas sunshine waiting to be sold, the sidewalls deteriorated and Michelin replaced them in full, minus balancing and mounting.

After 40K miles on the new second set, the tires were getting a little tired, so Mo decided to replace them before we embark on more than 8,000 miles of traveling. She replaced 5 of them in late October. Just a short time ago, she received a notice from Michelin saying those tires were being recalled. Sheesh! bad timing for sure. Mo went to town to get the spare replaced on the recall and talked to the manager at Basin tire about what to do. Today we got an email from Michelin saying that Mo was being reimbursed for all five tires that she bought.

These recalls aren’t such a bad thing I guess if Michelin keeps giving us free tires!

Tonight we are settled in to Flag City RV Resort in Lodi just off the interstate. We arrived early enough to set up easily and get the TV going in time for the 49rs game, a close one, but they did win. Then another re-heated dinner of yummy roast pork, apple compote and scalloped potatoes from Christmas was perfect.

Earlier in the afternoon, while Mo watched the game, I took Jeremy out into the sunshine for a walk and checked out the park. This place is so generic, close to the freeway, row after row of cement pads and little grass yards, and yet it is completely perfect for us just as it is. It is clean, predictable, 27 bucks for everything with the Passport America card, with great hookups, good TV, spotless restrooms and laundry, and a really nice lounging area in the office. We don’t use any of these lovely facilities, since for us this is always just an overnighter on our first night out.

Still, as I was walking around the park I thought it might be fun to at least post some photos of it and as I walked about six big rigs pulled in at the same time. Some kind of caravan thing had arrived. We never make a reservation here, and even with the caravans choosing this park, we have never had a problem getting a site.

Yup, I love the unpredictability of a road trip, and then again, I love it when some things are predictable. Such as a great place to stop for a good night’s sleep on a level pad with power, water, sewer, and cable. Sadly, we are in Lodi, and if we were “stuck” we could explore the more than 100 wineries in the area that have the very best old vine zins in the world. Instead, we will settle in for a good night’s sleep, grateful that the MoHo is fairly well insulated from the sounds of the interstate, and continue south in the morning. Generic freeways, generic RV parks, all have a bit of a purpose, they get us where we are going. The desert is calling.

Six Days off the Grid

Waking early Wednesday morning, I looked out over Medicine Lake, smooth as silk, without a ripple anywhere.

The skies were clear and only a faint bit of smoke remained on the eastern horizon. Our days of doing nothing were about to begin with a meandering 3.5 mile loop around the perimeter of the lake.

Our campground site is at the upper mid right of the map above, the swimming beach is the far right marker, the best fishing hole is on the lower left on the lake and the Brownell Cabin in on the lower bottom left on the shore. The good bike trail goes to Little Medicine Lake on the upper left shore. Somehow slipping into a kayak in the early morning feels like nothing at all, no effort, just a silky glide across water so clear I can count fish and silence only broken by the cry of ospreys.

I don’t know how long we were out there that first morning, maybe a couple of hours, but by the time we returned to camp the wind had picked up a bit and the smoke was disappearing completely. The day began with french press coffee and tiny donuts before we went out on the water and waiting for a mid morning hearty brunch seems to work best for us on this kind of trip.

The day would have continued without much fanfare, but as we settled onto the beach for a bit of sunny doing more nothing, our neighbor approached us all full of conversation and questions. She wanted to know where we were from, where we got our kayaks, and if we wanted to join up with their kayaking group from the Medford area. Martha was a very gregarious, talkative, and friendly woman and by the time she left, we had exchanged emails and had plans to contact each other for a day on Recreation Creek.

Not long after that conversation, she and her friend pulled out of the site just next to us, number 43. Earlier, when we found out they were moving, I asked Mo if maybe we should relocate, and she said, “No Way!!” But after they left, and we walked over to the site, the very easy, not steep, and not rocky path directly to the beach from the camp spot changed her mind. Ok, let’s do it!

Within minutes we pulled in the slide and backed the MoHo down the 50 yards or so to the much bigger, much more level, much more private site even closer to the lake. The funniest part of all was later when I was reviewing my photos, I realized that we had camped in this site back in 2005. How could I forget?!? Rather than hooking up the trailer, we just rolled it down the hill by hand to the new site, and floated the kayaks over to their new beach..

So much for doing nothing! After getting all settled in again, I had to run around in a flurry trying to take photos of the new site to remember why we made the move. It was a great plan and for the next several days we said over and over how happy we were that we didn’t have to get up and down that rocky trail to the beach from 45. Funny, I think I remember saying yesterday that 45 was such a great site. Well, it is, but only if you can’t get into 43.

A bit later we were down on the beach again when another woman came up to us asking questions about the boats and our rig. Seems as though she and her husband were camping and were hoping to eventually retire and buy a small motorhome of some kind. Before long we discovered that her husband was the base commander at Kingsley Field back in Klamath Falls and she was some kind of retired air force officer who now had three kids. I swear this woman didn’t look a day over 35. I guess some people make all the right choices at the right moment. She talked about her travels in the world, her husband, being active duty parents, and all about how much they loved living in Klamath Falls. People in campgrounds are just so incredibly friendly.

It wasn’t long afterward that another couple moved into our vacated site 45, only they at least were camping with a tent. Next thing you know, they are coming down the trail asking about the kayaks. They were from San Francisco, at least that is what they said at first. When we responded with “Oh, where in San Francisco?” she said, “Pacifica”. Then when Mo said she had taught in Pacifica for 25 years, they started talking about driving Devils Slide and the new tunnel, and then it came out that they actually live in Montera, just a few blocks away from Mo’s ranch in Montera where she lived for that 25 years while teaching. We all laughed about how you just say “San Francisco” to folks you assume won’t have a clue where Montera actually is located. How does that happen anyway?

It turned out that Barbara and Ansel were a highly entertaining couple, with some crazy quirks and a LOT of stories that they liked to tell with gusto. They also had a brand new inflatable kayak and were fairly new kayakers and wanted some advice about where to go on the lake. By this time it was very windy and there was no way anyone was going out on that lake in a kayak. We knew there was a small window of quiet usually in the morning for silky boating and told them to be up and on the water by 7 if they wanted to take advantage of it.

We spent the rest of the day doing our usual nothing, which includes some reading, some sitting and watching the sky, throwing balls for Abby in the water, watching the lake, and eating. We used the Weber Q for our suppers and the days just seemed to run all together. I had taken the computer with me, thinking that I could at least write for the blog with the inverter or when the generator was on, but sure enough, I had forgotten the plug! I am having to remember all this several days later since writing with a pencil is something I just can’t seem to do any more at all. I didn’t even take photos for two entire days and the only way to remember what we did is to go back over the photos.

We kayaked every morning and some evenings, had a big campfire every night where I roasted marshmallows and filled them with little pieces of chocolate that would melt perfectly. We had great dinners, and wonderful big breakfasts that were closer to lunch and never bothered with lunches the entire time.

We went for short hikes up to the Glass Flow, rode our bikes up to Little Medicine Lake on the lovely bike trail. We tried to ride to Arnica Sink on the not so lovely bike trail that was deep sandy pumice mined with fat lava rocks. We turned around on that one and decided that riding on the road was much more fun.

The birds are always a highlight, and after a few mornings I actually recognized the two blue herons that flew from shore to shore. It is always a decision as to how close to get, with the rule being if the bird is uncomfortable and starts to look nervous, you are too close. I think I got too close to these herons. I felt guilty, and then would think, well maybe if I am really slow and still it would be ok, but it wasn’t, they flew away, and dang! I need a longer lens.

The lake is populated with at least a dozen ospreys, perched on snags on the east and west shorelines and always entertaining with the diving and fishing. We also saw one bald eagle on the west side one morning, and a couple of red tailed hawks and another hawk that I couldn’t identify.

I was surprised to see several vultures as well, as I don’t remember seeing them at this kind of high altitude before. There was one Great Egret in the meadow on the first morning, too far for a photo, and he wasn’t there again. Ducks were surprisingly few, with just a little group of young ones without a mother paddling along on the east side of the lake.

Mo and I don’t fish, but we had a great time searching for fish in the clear water, with some great success along the southwest shoreline where one of the springs comes up. Sometimes we could see six to ten trout, maybe 14 inches or so, swimming around beneath us. We also love paddling into the knotweed with the happy pink flowers standing up above the water and making for some great photos with my pink kayak.

On one of our days the winds blew so incredibly hard I decided to spend a large part of the day inside the rig knitting a luscious wrap that I have been working on for much too long. The sound of that wind was fabulous, and the clarity it brought to the sky was breathtaking. I loved it, even though it made it too wild on the lake to take out the kayaks or try to take a swim.

I completely finished reading a great book about cheese, and Spain, and slow food, and betrayal. It was written so well that I had to highlight phrase after phrase of beautiful words to remember. I highly recommend “The Telling Room”, by Michael Paternini. Reading that makes me feel like I have read something worthwhile is great. We even had time for watching a couple of movies in the evenings, with the inverter handling it just fine without having to run the generator. I laugh to remember that we had this rig for several years before we knew it would do that.

Finally on our second to the last day, the wind died down completely, and I managed to slip into that crystalline water for a great swim. Cold, but great. Barbara and Ansel came down the hill to join me, but neither one of them could manage to get all the way in. I probably wouldn’t have stayed in as long as I did if I hadn’t been trying to convince them to swim with me. The day heated up beautifully, but with the warmer temperatures and no winds, before long there was a bit of smoke in the air again. Nothing like Grants Pass a couple of weeks ago, but smoke nonetheless.

On our last morning kayak, we took our slow time meandering around the lake. While admiring the old historic cabin on the southwest shore, the owner came down to the shore to visit with us. I must say I haven’t had such a busy social life in a very long time! He regaled us with stories about the cabin, built in 1928 by his wife’s father who saved the life of the original owner of the property. When asked what he would like in return for saving his life, the man said, “If you ever sell the property, sell it to me”. Sure enough that is how he got it. Now there are three sisters who share the space with extended family who have memories of staying there as girls in the 1940’s. They live there 3 months out of the year and then return to Morro Bay in California.

He told us that the first trout were brought to the lake on mules in 1880 and by the 40’s there were huge browns in that lake that the girls remember catching. In the 60’s however, chubs were winning, and the Fish and Game decided to kill the lake and start over. Now the fish that are planted each spring are fairly well fished out of the lake with no big old boys left. The deepest hole in the lake is about 150 feet, but the rest of the lake is quite shallow. It was great to get local stories from the local folks. He even said we were welcome to hike up behind his place to Brownell Meadows but we will have to wait for the next trip to take him up on the offer. Besides, this was the camping trip for doing nothing and we were getting a bit carried away with all the somethings that we were doing.

When it was time to leave, once more the campground was very nearly empty, with only a few occupied sites even over in the busy Medicine Campground. Our Hogue camp was almost completely empty. How often can you find an empty campground on a lovely lake in the middle of August!?! We read on the campground sign that there was an RV dump nearby but turned the wrong direction and ended up going south on 49 instead of where we were supposed to go. As many times as we have been to Medicine Lake, I still needed to get out the map to be sure we were on the right road heading home.

Down from the Highlands, summer set in again, with temperatures rising ten degrees in as many miles and smoke thickening the air as we approached Klamath Falls. bummer. At least we got a nice break from it, and Rocky Point has enough thick forest to help oxygenate the air a bit. I just read that Janna and Mike tried to see Crater Lake this week. Such a bummer and bad timing. I an only imagine how disappointing it must be for folks who travel from all over the world to see the beautiful lake and its gorgeous blue. Ah well, Medicine Lake isn’t quite as blue, or as big, or as dramatic, but it was lovely and perfect and I am so glad that after five years we finally took our Medicine.

Medicine, or dropping off the grid into a Volcano

Medicine is a word of several meanings. As in, Take Your Medicine, or more beautifully, This Place Has Powerful Medicine. Medicine Lake is named for the second meaning, the sacred meaning, but the two seem to overlap here in the deeper meaning of healing, either body or spirit, and of course, both are connected.

Medicine Lake is a small lake in the bottom of a 4 by 7 mile caldera on the Medicine Lake Highlands near the Northern California border. This sweet little lake is just a couple hours drive from Klamath Falls, and yet I don’t often hear of people from Klamath traveling here. Most of the license plates are from California, with folks driving up the nice paved two lane road from Mt Shasta. It is a bit of a drive, off the grid entirely, so perhaps that accounts for the open campsites and quiet lake.

There are no hookups here, no cell phone service, water in the campground but not at the sites. We came ready to boondock for six days, with a full tank of fresh water and empty waste tanks. Generator use is allowed in the campground from 8 in the morning to 10 at night, but we tried to be considerate and except for one early evening movie when the campground was nearly empty, we only ran the generator for an hour or so in the morning to keep up the charge. We were careful and when we left, our tanks still had plenty of room to take on the extra six gallons of water we added with jugs and a funnel. Mo has a small solar panel and although it doesn’t support heavy use, it does keep the charge up throughout the day.

Medicine Lake Highlands has the distinction of being the largest volcano in the Cascades and the largest volcano in California. Unlike the dramatic peaks we are all so familiar with, Shasta, Lassen, Mt Hood and others, this volcano is a broad volcano with dacite and rhyolite lava and obsidian flows as recent as 1000 years ago spreading from the shield volcano for more than 30 miles in every direction. From Klamath Falls, the Highlands can be seen in the distance to the south, unassuming, appearing as a nondescript broad plateau.

Medicine Lake Highland’s volcanic area exceeds 200 square miles in Modoc and Siskiyou counties and encompasses portions of three National Forests including Modoc, Klamath and Shasta-Trinity. Over the last half-million years, volcanic eruptions on the Medicine Lake shield volcano have created a rugged landscape dotted with diverse volcanic features including more than 700 lava tube caves. Some of the most popular features include Glass Mountain, Burnt Lava Flow, Medicine Lake Glass Flow and Undertakers Crater. Medicine Lake has no known outlets yet the water remains clean and clear with inflows only from snowmelt, rainfall and springs.

Driving south from Klamath Falls through Merrill, home of one of the best quilt shops in Oregon, Tater Patch, we continued into California on Highway 39 to Alturas, turning west toward Tionesta 40 miles or so south of Tulelake. The road to Medicine Lake is well marked, but narrow, paved but very rough. Abby and Jeremy complained quite a bit about the thumping, bumping rough sounds of the regular seams across the road. I guess they are created to prevent frost heave on a road crossing soils thick with pumice deposits.

The road rises over 20 miles or so from the juniper sage desert at 3900 feet to high red fir and lodgepole pine forests at nearly 7000 feet elevation. We watched the temperatures drop from the mid 90’s to the high 70’s as we drove. The skies were clear and gorgeous, with just a bit of smoke from the California fires marring the blue. In the past few years, we have planned trips to Medicine Lake, changing our mind at the last minute because of fires and smoke. This time we decided to go anyway, because fires and smoke in the west seem to be a constant and if we wait for no fires, we may never get back to this favorite little place.

We decided to skip the tow car on this trip, instead hauling the boats and bikes in a small trailer. We have traveled here several times, and spent days wandering the forest service roads exploring lava flows, obsidian flows, and taken in the views from the high mountain fire lookouts. This time we intended to relax completely. Without the car, we wouldn’t be tempted to wander any farther than we could go on a bike or our own two feet.

We arrived on a Tuesday afternoon, to find one of our favorite sites wide open. There are three main campgrounds at Medicine Lake, with the first one a bit more open and a sign says not suited to larger rigs. We aren’t quite sure what that means, because the sites are quite large, but the road is narrow. The sites are also not even close to level. We could camp there in a pinch, but the second campground, Hogue, is our favorite. There are a few sites in the upper part that can accommodate bigger rigs, but our favorites down by the lake are a bit small and not level. Medicine campground is the third one in, usually busier with lots of room for larger rigs. The Headquarters campground is farther west on the gravel road beyond Little Medicine Lake, and is very quiet, open and usually empty because it is a bit of a distance from the lake with no lake views. Another place that would do in a pinch if you drove a long distance to camp and there are no reservations here.

Our site 45 has a gorgeous view of the lake, a nice big picnic table down the slope from the rig, and for some reason there are two additional rock firepits added to the big one that was here when we camped last in 2008. A rocky trail leads down to the water and with a bit of maneuvering, we got the boats down to the shore where we could leave them safely for the duration of our visit.

We settled in for a great afternoon of watching the water, watching the sky, playing cards, and I brought out a decidedly sinful and delicious supper of old fashioned hot dogs, baked beans and potato salad that I made the day before at home. The site has only a small drawback. It really is a bit more suited to tent camping than a rig, but we managed to get the MoHo leveled and pulled in far enough that the back end was off the camp road. It is times like these that we are grateful for our perfect length of 26 feet. We can fit most anywhere and yet still have enough room to travel comfortably for weeks or months.

Our sleeping area looked out over the camp road, but there was no one in the site across from us, and the road was quiet, so it wasn’t a serious problem. The night was completely silent, the moon was low and reflected on the lake and the stars were brilliant. I wondered momentarily about the next several days. No internet, no phone, no car. Just a book, a boat, a bike, and a chair. Ahhhhhhhhh.

Next: kayaking, birds, and social life at Medicine Lake

Mammoth and Mono and Snow Monday May 6

It was cool enough in Bishop that we were glad for electric hookups so that we could take the morning chill off the MoHo with our little electric heater. The big furnace is almost as loud as the air conditioner, and I would much rather use free shore power for a little heat than listen to that thing burn up costly propane. The weather was considerably different than what we had left behind in Death Valley as we continued north on 395.

There is just so much to see in such a short distance, but the fact that the morning was cloudy, chilly, and blustery made the little side roads a bit less inviting. We decided to skip the 6 mile backtrack for another trip to Eric Schat’s Bakkery and packed up and continued on north towards Mammoth Lakes. I had never been into the town itself, the famous ski mountain and summer mountain bike destination is a mecca for all things skiing and biking.

Mammoth Mountain also happens to be the very heart of the Long Valley Caldera, source of that huge volcanic blast that went as far as Nebraska. For years I have followed the USGS monitoring of this site. I was close enough to Mt St Helens when she blew that I was buried in volcanic ash and trapped in Moscow, Idaho for three days. The fact that it was my wedding day and I had a houseful of people made it all that much more exciting. Imagine a honeymoon with all three of my teenaged girls, my foster mother, my best friend, and assorted other friends who couldn’t get out of town because the ash was choking all the auto transmissions.

Volcanoes and earthquakes are fun to study, although maybe not from such close quarters. I also live now in the shadow of Crater Lake, another huge caldera responsible for a massive eruption, and Shasta, the sleeping giant, is visible from the road south of our home. I love following the earthquake and volcano sites and seeing just how restless our earth can be. So traveling around inside the perimeter of the Long Valley Caldera is exciting.

As we approached the city center of Mammoth, we stopped at the big beautiful visitor center. The complex was beautiful with lots of interpretive signs about the caldera, Mammoth Mountain, and Mammoth Lakes, the local flora and fauna, and the restless earth. Inside the center was a live display of current earthquake activity and interesting discussions of the history of movement in the area. There are CO2 emissions from some part of the mountain that are dangerous enough to cause the trees to die off, and to elicit a warning about CO2 poisoning concerns for humans in that area. Magma is rising and the earth is bulging. Cool

Speaking of cool, by the time we found the Earthquake Fault Trail, it was snowing lightly. The trail isn’t officially open, so the signs mentioned on the web site are not yet in place, but with the help of the iPhone, we found what looked like the right road. Amazing that I had a 5 bar LTE signal up there at Mammoth. I guess rich kids with snowboards require good phone reception.

The “fault” isn’t really a fault, but a fissure from fairly recent volcanic activity. Some of the earth failures seemed to be even more recent than the 700 years or so mentioned on the sign because the fence posts had fallen in with some land failure and there was a more recent fence keeping folks away from the edge of the fissure. It was a great little walk, just 1/4 mile or so to the fissure and then some rudimentary steps and a trail around the edge.

We drove up to the main ski lodge at Mammoth Mountain surprised to discover the lifts still operating and people skiing. Amazing. My nose was still in nosebleed mode from 104 temperatures and no humidity. California is truly an amazing state and you can find just about anything you want within a few hours drive.

Back in town we were delighted to discover another Schat’s Bakkery, although this one wasn’t Eric Schats Bakkery, but just Schat’s Bakkery. Either way, the Sheepherder bread was there and the tiny difference was that Eric’s bread had olive oil in it and this bakery did not use oil in their bread. Seems as though the Schat’s had a divorce and this was the wife’s establishment. We had soup and bread in the small eatery attached to the bakery, bought a couple more pastries for the road and another loaf of that famous bread. The soup was utterly fantastic, tomato basil and turkey vegetable. The tomato soup appeared as if it had been made from a luscious medley of roasted veggies and ripe tomatoes. Yum.

It was raining fairly hard when we got back to the MoHo where we left her near the Hot Springs Geologic Site. We didn’t take time to drive out to the springs, but did see the steam from what is now a large geothermal generating plant. At one time Native Americans used these springs, then several different kinds of spas and hotels were there until the geothermal plant took over in 1983. Did I mention magma rising? Yup!

Continuing north along the highway toward our evening destination of Topaz Lake, we were happy that this time the Mono Lake Visitor Center would be open. The center is closed on Tuesday and Wednesday, so we had missed it on our way down. This visitor center is an absolute, without a doubt, must see requirement if you are on Highway 395 near Lee Vining. Lee Vining is the tiny town where the Tioga Pass Road climbs the east side of the Sierras into Yosemite, still closed this time of year. The sun even cooperated as Mono Lake came into view, slipping out of the clouds just enough to make the skies interesting.

The building is beautiful from the outside, with beautiful xeriscaping (landscaping using drought tolerant plants), a lovely interpretive nature hike, and beautiful views of the desert and the lake. As I walked through the entrance, the interior took my breath away. The center is architecturally beautiful and the exhibits are truly wonderful. The very best part for me is that I learned something completely new. You have probably seen photos of the amazing tufa pillars at Mono Lake before. There is a certain volcanic rock called “tuff”, and I had no clue that “tufa” and “tuff” are not synonymous. In the center are some informative displays of how tufa is formed under the surface of the extremely alkaline lake water where calcium rich spring waters emerge into the lake. These tufa pillars are then exposed as the lake level has receded. Mono Lake is a must return site, only next time with our kayaks. I really want to paddle around those tufa towers at the southern end of the lake, even if it means getting our boats all salty and in desperate need of a good rinse.

In addition to the natural history of the lake, the center explains the recent human history of the water wars surrounding this magnificently beautiful high desert lake. Once again, water was removed to feed the hungry masses in LA and it was only in the last few decades that a group was formed to try to save Mono Lake from complete ruin. The displays at the visitor center explain this controversy clearly and beautifully, and as yet the problem has not been solved.

Living in the Klamath Basin as I do, where these kinds of water issues are at the heart of our culture, I so wished for a beautiful, informative visitor center like this one for the Basin. The Mono visitor center was an Inyo National Forest facility, but I couldn’t help but wonder how such a state of the art, creative and informative facility was funded. We stayed a long time, perusing every exhibit and taking our time to walk the pathways.

I was shocked to realize that it was 3:30 in the afternoon when we finally left and as yet we hadn’t decided for sure on where we wanted to spend the night. Snow flurries and white on the mountains all around us precluded a boondocking night and instead we decided to forge on north toward Topaz and the Topaz Lake Casino.

We passed the road to Bodie, (which was surprisingly open already), Dogtown, Bridgeport, the beautiful campsites along the Walker River. A little roadside stop in Bridgeport gave us enough internet to do a bit of research and discover that the Topaz Lake Casino had full hookup, pull through sites for $20. per night. Not bad!, and even though the rain was getting heavier and the skies darker all the time, we made it to Topaz. For once, the weather gods weren’t with us, and Mo set up in the pouring rain while I walked in the pouring rain to secure the last pull through site available. We were both pretty wet by the time it got dark, but after a bit of relaxation with 88 tv channels and the heater going, we decided to go to the casino and take advantage of our free drink coupons.

Most of the time we can pass up the gambling, but every now and then we will donate 20 bucks each to whatever tribe is trying to make a living. It took us a few minutes to realize that we were actually in Nevada and weren’t donating to any tribe at all except the rich state of Nevada. Oh well, Nevada has better pavement than just about any state out west, so I guess it is worth it. It was also more fun than usual because I won 50 bucks, leaving the casino with $40 instead of the $20 I had walked in with, including the free drink! There isn’t a level site to be found in that place, but it still is a definite stopover on 395 if you want to save a little money. They have spaghetti for 3.99 and biscuits and gravy for 1.99, neither of which was on our radar at the moment, but still good to know.

By morning, the rain had lifted and the skies were only a bit cloudy as Mo negotiated the urban interface where 395 passes through Minden and east of Carson City, through the Reno interchanges and on north toward Susanville. There is so very much to see on this route as well, but we were ready to be home, and like a couple of barn sour horses, we just drove and drove all the way to Klamath Falls. I was missing my cat big time, and it was with great delight that I picked him up at the vet, where he gave me a good scolding and snuggled up to my chest like glue.

We stopped at the Moore Park RV dump site, which was thankfully open, flushed our tanks and then headed around the beautiful Klamath Lake, over Doak Mountain, and pulled into the driveway at Rocky Point in late afternoon. It was good to be home again in the forest.