Travelogue

Mono LakeHello again Mono Lake! We’re back!

Herb just loves this place. I do too, but probably not quite as much as he does. Brine flies and gnats tend to like me more than they do him.

As I mentioned in our previous stop in Bishop, the Neowise Comet was appearing in the sky every night after sunset, and we thought if we could capture it over the tufas, that would be pretty awesome. Spoiler alert - that didn’t exactly happen, but we still had a good time and got to see it again. I don’t think we’re going to make it to its next appearance in 6,800 years.

Just like Neowise, which appears in the same spot just under the Big Dipper each night, we appeared back at the same camping spot we had stayed at earlier this trip.

Tufa furniture storeAfter learning the hard way, and getting muck up to our knees, we now knew the way to navigate our way around the springs and marshy parts to get down to the water’s edge without mishap.

We spent the afternoon wandering around the area between our campsite amongst the tufas along the lake’s shore.

During an attempt to get back to the truck without getting mucky, I took a different way back and discovered a very different strange-looking type of tufa. Rather than grandeously rising towards the sky like a castle or tower, these were low and boxlike, more like furniture than castles.

Mono LakeSometimes it pays to have a bad sense of direction, because it leads you to new things. When I showed Herb the photo of them later, he said, “where did you find them?” Sometimes you just have to wander aimlessly, and even cluelessly.

As the afternoon wore on, some clouds moved in. Usually, this was a good thing because they made sunsets more dramatic, but not so good if you were trying to see a comet move through the night sky. Oh well, it is what it is. We would just have to wait and see what unfolded.

Our campsite on Mono LakeSunset wasn’t until 8:15 tonight, so we had a lot of time to kill before finding out. While we’re waiting, let’s talk a little about the Neowise Comet.

First, what is the difference between a meteor and a comet, although they are both very exciting things to see in the night sky.

A meteoroid is a lump of rock or iron that orbits the sun. Occasionally, they crash through the Earth’s atmosphere and burn up (usually before reaching Earth) resulting in a streak of light across the sky. When that happens the meteoroid is now called a meteor. It happens quickly and you can miss it if you blink.

Neowise over Mono LakeComets on the other hand are frozen leftovers from the formation of the stars and planets billions of years ago. They are composed of ice, rock, and dust and range from a few miles to tens of miles - much larger than a meteoroid. When one of these large balls of ice gets close enough to the sun, some of the ice melts, and that melted ice becomes a gaseous tail that extends away from the Sun and is pushed out by the Sun's solar wind. Unlike a meteor, a comet takes its time as it crosses the night sky. That is because it is millions and millions of miles away from us.

Also comets are predictable, in that we know when they are passing through again, and repetitive, in that they will re-appear, in Neowise's cast, just below the Big Dipper, after sunset for nine consecutive nights. In this case, from July 15th through July 23. This was July 18th, so we should now be in the thick of it.

Okay, enough of that. Now let’s see if we can see the real thing.

The skies were still quite cloudy, but Herb did manage to get a photo of Neowise in a clearing. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had also managed to capture a meteor streaking through the atmosphere, up and to the left of the comet at about 11:00. Really tough to see in the photo, but it was there.

Travelogue

Along the drive up Silver CanyonAndrew and Celeste were working, so Herb and I decided to go to the the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest for an overnighter.

The Bristlecones are due east from Bishop, about 15 miles as the crow flies, but a much longer 40 mile drive south to Big Pine on 395 and then right back up north on 168. However, with a High Clearance 4WD there is a much more direct way up Silver Canyon. It might not save much on time, but it certainly was more scenic.

So rather than going south on 395 to Big Pine, we drove 4 miles north from Andrew’s on U.S. 6 and made a right onto Silver Canyon Road.

During the drive up Silver CanyonThe road was very steep, climbing from 4,200 feet to 10,400 feet in elevation in just 11.4 miles. We had to make several stream crossings, but the water wasn’t too deep. The last part of the drive became steeper and narrower, with tight switchbacks, but nothing really technical.

We stopped a few times to look back at the tremendous view out over the Owens Valley with the Sierra behind, which is why the 4WD book recommends taking this road down rather than up.

Eventually we came out onto the White Mountain Road which would bring us to the Ancient Bristlecones, the world’s oldest known living organism, some of them dating back as far as 5,000 years ago.

Lolo and the Patriarch TreeThey are very photogenic, each of them individually sculpted by thousands of years of wind, ice, and extreme exposure to the elements. Their twisted and contorted shapes are evidence of their ability to not only survive, but to thrive in adverse living conditions. It’s funny how the harshest growing conditions produce trees that live the longest and are the most contorted and interesting. There’s much to be said for tough love.

There are two groves in the Park: the Patriarch Grove and the Schulman Grove. We decided to go first to the Patriarch Grove first, hoping to be able to camp somewhere nearby, to catch the evening and morning light on the bristlecones. The Grandview Campground, the only official one in the Ancient Bristlecones, was closed due to Covid.

Lolo wanting a different perspective of a bristleconeWhen we got to the Patriarch Grove parking area, a sign very clearly stated “No camping,” so, so much for that. Herb mentioned that another camping possibility was the White Mountain trailhead about 5 miles up a dirt road. Since it was outside the boundaries of the Ancient Bristlecones and used as a starting point for backpacking trips, camping was permitted.

There are two short trails in the area. We set off first on the quarter-mile long Timberline Ancients trail, which loops through the grove containing the Patriarch Tree, the world’s largest bristlecone pine, with a 36-foot diameter. I made Herb take a picture of me happily nestled within its gnarly arms.

Afterwards, we took the half-mile long Cottonwood Basin Overlook trail, which led up to a vista point looking out over Cottonwood Basin and back overlooking the Patriarch Grove, which we had walked through earlier. We could even see the ranges of the Great Basin to the east.

Along the ride from the Patriarch Grove to the White Mountain TrailheadWe were still unsure what to do about camping, so while waiting for the light to get lower, we took a drive out to the White Mountain Trailhead, where Herb thought we might be able to spend the night. The 5-mile drive there was worth it, even if just for the beautiful scenery along the way.

When we got to the parking lot there were half a dozen cars there and room for plenty more. We would have to see what we felt like later.

In the meantime, we drove back to the Patriarch Grove to see it in the changing evening light. As the sun got low, so did the temperatures. After all, we were at 11,300 feet.

Lolo sets out on the Methuselah TrailThe debate about camping here got a little tense. I like to follow the rules and didn’t feel at all comfortable staying in a parking lot that clearly said, “No Camping.” Herb felt like others were doing it and that it really was the only way to get good photographs after dark.

I won, and Herb very begrudgingly agreed to move the car to a legit spot. He didn’t want to drive the windy road up to the White Mountain Trailhead in the dark, so we just drove a few miles down White Mountain Road to a pullout with a really nice view over the mountains. Herb informed me in the morning that we were still within the boundaries of the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, so this was probably not allowed as well. Oh well.

Along the Methuselah Trail in the Schulman GroveThe next morning we drove to the other grove in the park, the Schulman Grove, where the Visitor Center is, although it was closed now due to Covid. From the Visitor Center there are two trails: the 1-mile Discovery Trail and the 5-mile Methuselah Trail

We took the Methuselah Trail, named for the oldest documented living tree in the world which lives along this trail. It is estimated to be over 4,750 years old. Unfortunately, although we would most likely see it, we wouldn’t know when, because its location is kept a secret, for fear that someone might cut it down or harm it in some way. How sad is that?

The trail was lovely, winding its way for 4 ½ miles through bristlecone pines, both ancient and new – some of the baby ones were probably only about a thousand years old.

They are truly beautiful trees, with a rich red-brown colored wood, and their twisted and gnarled branches, shaped by the extreme wind and harsh environment they grow in. They thrive under adversity - what a wonderful trait.

Old Miner's cabin made of railroad ties along the Wyman Creek RoadWe decided to take a different way back to Bishop, along the 4WD Wyman Creek Trail, an old mining and pole line road that would bring us down to 168 and eventually Big Pine.

The trailhead, which was at 10,500 feet, wasn’t far from the Schulman Visitor Center - just a few miles on White Mountain Road, then a short distance on Silver Canyon.

We weren’t on the Wyman Creek road for even a mile before we came upon a quaint old miner’s cabin made of railroad ties and a tin corrugated roof. When I peeked through it’s open door, I felt like an old silver prospector calling on a friend.

The road passed the now abandoned White Mountain City, an old 1860s silver processing town. All that remained were some stone walls and smelter stacks.

Crossing Wyman CreekThe road continued steadily downhill through gentle switchbacks into Wyman Canyon, passing the now abandoned White Mountain City, an old 1860s silver processing town. All that remained were some stone walls and smelter stacks.

After this point, the road started to criss-cross the canyon’s stream several times, but fortunately it was fairly shallow and mellow. I can imagine that after a storm, it is a very different story.

After a few miles more of following the stream, we came out into an open boulder field before arriving at Highway 168. Asphalt again.

Unlike our shortcut from Bishop up Silver Canyon to the Bristlecones, we had really taken the long way around this time. It was an hour drive from here back through Big Pine and then up to Bishop.

What a great road. It felt like a journey through time.

Travelogue

Day 1 - Arrival

Our sons climbing at Pine Creek CanyonWe were unbelievably excited to see the kids, and very happy to be back in Bishop, a place that Herb and I had discovered years ago, never thinking we would have a son that would actually move there. Although we did miss them terribly, now being 6.5 hours away, it did make for some high-quality family time when we visited - which was quite often.

Day 2 - Sport climbing in Pine Creek Canyon and Offroad Motorcycling in the Buttermilks

Whenever we come to Bishop, we know that we’re going to spend a good deal of our time rock climbing.

Lolo attempts the GimpenatorBishop is famous for its climbing, and people from all over the country come here to climb at one of its numerous premier climbing crags: the Buttermilks, Volcanic Tablelands, Pine Creek Canyon, and Owens River Gorge. In fact, the excellent climbing opportunities are the major reason Andrew and Celeste chose to move here.

This morning we chose to go to Pine Creek Canyon, a stunningly beautiful canyon nestled between Mount Tom and the Wheeler Crest, famous for its large collection of sport climbs - the only type of climbing that Herb and I now do in our senior years. Even if you don’t climb, the hike into the canyon itself was worth the trip.

However, climb we did - all of us, even me. They got me to try to do a repeat performance on Gimpenator, a 5.8 that I had successfully “sent” in the past. This time, however, I ignored all their instructions (better known as “beta”) as to staying on route, and continued going where I felt more secure. This resulted in a more dramatic fall when it inevitably happened and I swung and wound up upside down. Nothing hurt, just my pride. Maybe next time, I will take their “beta” more seriously.

Andrew and Celeste along the Buttermilk LoopWeekends are precious to the un-retired, so Herb and I have to keep up with them on what are often multi-event days. No time for naps. Tommy and Erin had to get back to San Francisco, so we said our goodbyes to them, and then discussed what we should do with the rest of our day. Andrew and Celeste suggested going off-roading out in the Buttermilks, them on their motorcycles and us in our 4Runner.

Since they moved to Bishop, both Andrew and Celeste have bought off-road motorcycles to enjoy the hundreds of miles of off-road trails in the area. The opportunities are endless. Today we followed them for about 20 miles along the scenic, bumpy Buttermilk Loop. Celeste has only been riding for a very short time, so having a support vehicle following was probably a good idea. Celeste did great - very impressive.

Day 3 - Hike to Duck Pass

Along the Duck Pass TrailToday Herb and I were on our own, which meant that rather than rock climbing, we could choose a more age-appropriate activity, like hiking.

It gets very hot in Bishop in July, making it too hot to hike. However, the really nice thing about living in this area is that if you want cool temps, you can just drive an hour from Bishop (elevation 4,150) to Mammoth Lakes Basin (elevation 9,000 feet) and feel like you’ve entered a new season.

The Mammoth Lakes Basin is absolutely gorgeous with over a dozen lakes and 50 miles of hiking trails. Today we planned to do the hike over Duck Pass to Duck Lake, a 9.5-mile out and back with over 2,100 feet of elevation gain.

Looking down at Barney Lake on the way to Duck PassWe probably should have known better than to do this hike on a weekend, because this area is extremely popular. There was absolutely no parking at the trailhead, which is located in Coldwater Campground near Lake Mary. We almost gave up, but then found a spot about ½ mile away along the side of the road near the lake. I guess we were turning our 9.5-mile hike into a 10.5 one.

The trail climbed pretty steadily from the start and didn’t let up for 5 miles until we reached Duck Pass. The scenery, however, was beautiful enough to be distracting. The first two lakes we passed - Arrowhead and Skelton, each had spur trails down to its shores. We did not take them, but admired them from afar.

Crossing the scree and rocks on the way to Duck PassThe main trail did, however, come right alongside the northeastern shore of Barney Lake, but then veered further away from the lake before leading up a steep series of switchbacks to a wonderful view back over Barney Lake.

Another ¾ of a mile or so of more steep climbing brought us to Duck Pass (elevation 10,800 feet), located on a broad saddle along the Pacific Crest.

Atop the Pass we came to a fork. To the left was Pika Lake, about 1-mile further around the northern end of Duck Lake, tucked beneath rugged cliffs. To the right was Duck Lake, also set surrounded by jagged peaks.

Finally, Duck LakeI think we couldn’t go wrong, whatever we chose. Herb had read somewhere that Pika Lake was really beautiful, so we started off to the left. However, when we hiked about a tenth of a mile down the steep Pika Lake trail, which we would have to hike back up later, we both decided that after 5 miles of steep uphill climbing to get to the Pass, we were pretty done with the uphill stuff.

Instead, we retraced our steps back to the Pass and turned onto the Duck Lake trail, which led us along a ridge overlooking the lake, with no elevation change. Eventually this trail would lead down to and along the western shore of Duck Lake, but we stayed up on the ridge and had lunch overlooking lovely Duck Lake, cradled in a huge cirque of jagged 11,000-foot peaks.

From there we retraced our way 5+ miles back to the trailhead. I never mind out-and-back trails because the views coming back are always different.

Day 4 - Overnighter to Ancient Bristlecones

See next stop

Day 5 - More Offroad Motorcycling

Offroading through the Sierra FoothillsAfter our return from the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, we spent a few more days hanging out with Andrew and Celeste and enjoying more of the great outdoor activities Bishop has to offer, which are pretty endless.

Andrew and Celeste had to work the first day we got back, so Herb and I just hung around the house doing laundry and sorting through all the photos we had taken.

When they finished work, we took another trip out the Buttermilks with their offroad motorcycles to follow them in our 4Runner along the incredible dirt trails of the Sierra Foothills. Celeste was getting better and better each time she went out. It was fun following them and I think they felt more comfortable having a support crew along, especially since Celeste was pretty new to this.

Day 6 - Hike to Lake Sabrina, Night climbing at the Buttermilks

Hiking the rock steps on the way to Lake SabrinaThe following day Andrew and Celeste had to work again, so Herb and I went off on our own to hike to Lake Sabrina, pronounced "Sah-bry-nuh" by the locals, which my now “Bishop local” son kept trying to reinforce in me every time I said "Sah-bree-nuh".

The trailhead was only 20 miles from Andrew’s house, just up Highways 168, through the town of Aspendell. There was no parking left along the road, so we parked at the end of the road in the parking lot for the boat ramp, and walked back down the road a short distance to the dam to the trailhead.

Lake SabrinaFrom here we hiked south along the east side of the lake which remained pretty flat for about a mile, after which it began to climb steadily and veer away from the shore. As the trail steepened, we crossed over several open rocky areas, and at around 2 miles we came to an awesome view of Lake Sabrina and the ridge of the Piute Crags to the northwest.

Blue LakeWe continued to climb, leaving the forest behind and proceeding through rocky areas, over granite slabs and up a series of rock steps.

After more switchbacks, at about 3 miles we reached the outlet stream for Blue Lake, where there were a series of logs we could use to maneuver across. I’m not great at balancing on logs, but fortunately I made it across without drama.

From there we walked about a quarter mile along the western side of lovely Blue Lake and found a sunny rock slab to have lunch. We were at an elevation of 10,400 feet, but we had been acclimating over the past week, so we felt fine.

Evening at the ButtermilksAfter lunch, we retraced our steps back over the outlet stream crossing, and hiked down the steep trail we had ascended. Lake Sabrina was in even better light on the way down, so we stopped again to gaze and take a photo.

The entire hike had been 7.6 miles with an elevation gain of 1,534 feet, and at elevation, so we felt it was a good workout.

When we got back to Bishop, Andrew and Celeste were just finishing up work, and wanted to have some fun too, so after dinner we headed out to the Buttermilks for some night-time bouldering.

Night time bouldering in the ButtermilksSounded good to us. The Buttermilks are absolutely stunning in the early evening. The sunsets over Mt. Tom are quite dramatic, especially if there are a few clouds to light up the sky.

We had watched them boulder many, many times before, but never in the dark. It was kind of cool to watch them finding their way up the rock with the light from their headlamps. It actually seemed very effective.

When they were finished, and we were walking back to the car, we saw a bright light (with a tail) in the sky just below the Big Dipper. That’s right! Comet Neowise was in town. As if this scene wasn’t already breathtaking enough, now we were throwing an every 6,800 year astronomical event into it.

Sunset over Mt. TomUnlike a meteor, which just zips through the sky so fast that if you blink your eyes you miss it, a comet takes its time as it crosses the night sky. That is because it is millions and millions of miles away from us.

A major difference is that comets are predictable, in that we know when they are passing through again, and repetitive, in that they will re-appear, in Neowise's cast, just below the Big Dipper, after sunset for nine consecutive nights. In this case, from July 15th through July 23. This was July 16th, so we would have more opportunities to see it all next week.

An added bonus is that since Neowise is an especially bright comet, it is visible in the night sky with the naked eye.

Neowise Comet over the Buttermilks

Day 7 - Camping out at the Buttermilks to photograph the Neowise Comet

We decided to stay another night in Bishop, so that we could camp out in the Buttermilks and watch Neowise cross the night sky. There was a hill just beyond the climbing area that we thought would be the perfect spot.

The hill is short but steep and is best done in a 4WD. When we got to the top there was another couple already up there already with a tripod set up, but we knew they weren't camping overnight because they had left their car at the bottom of the hill.

It was a lovely night and Neowise was punctual as always.

The next morning, we stopped in at Andrew and Celeste's to stay goodbye before heading towards home, with one more night camping at Mono Lake, which we thought would be a great location, with its very dark skies, to see Neowise once more.

Travelogue

Our campsite by Mono LakeThe drive along the Tioga Road east to Mono Lake is dramatically beautiful, with views of Mount Dana and Mount Gibbs, Ellery and Tioga Lakes, and the Lee Vining Canyon along the way. I feel bad that Herb, as the one driving the motorhome down this precariously steep and twisty road, doesn’t get to appreciate the scenery. We always breathe a sigh of relief when we Mono Lake comes into view and we know we have reached flatter ground.

For anyone traveling through the Eastern Sierras, a stop at the Mono Lake to see the “tufa castles” is a must. It’s a place like no other.

We absolutely love Mono Lake. It is such a unique and otherworldly place. Besides being over a million years old, and probably the oldest continuously existing lake in North America, it is 2 ½ times saltier than the ocean and 80 times more alkaline.

A little mucky to get to the tufasThe other unique feature of this lake is its mystical “tufa castles” formed when carbonates in the water combined with calcium from freshwater springs feeding into the lake. As the lake levels dropped over the years, these extraordinary-looking knobs, spires, and minarets became exposed. Most of the towers visible in the lake are from 200 to 900 years old and rise as high as 30 feet above the water. The largest concentration of them can be found along the southern shore of the lake at the South Tufa State Reserve, just ½ mile west of Navy Beach.

Our kayaks weren’t along this time, so rather than paddling out to Paoha Island like we usually do, we drove our 4WD 4Runner along the sandy southern shore to find a place to camp. We were hoping to get to the remote tufa area that we had kayaked to in 2016, where there is a spring and interesting shaped tufas. There’s even one that looked like a giraffe.

Herb's Mono Lake PJsWe knew it was about 6 miles beyond Navy Beach, because that is how far we had to kayak to get to it, but we hit deep, soft sand well shy of that, so we had to turn around and look for another place to camp. The road doesn’t go too close to the lake, so we wanted to find something where we could at least walk down to it fairly easily.

After settling into a spot with a decent pullout off the main sandy road, we headed off through much sand and sage grass towards the water’s edge where we saw some tufas.

Morning view of Mono Lake tiny tufasIt wasn’t long before we discovered that the sage grass was not always on as firm ground as we expected, and we found ourselves frequently sinking down into knee-deep muck. I have had this experience at Mono Lake in the past, one time sinking thigh-high deep in the sand bringing by iPhone, which was clutched in my hand, down with me. The water table is a pretty high here.

After about ¾ of a mile, we got to the tufas, and were able to wander around on the beach without sinking.

I am used to always suffering from the heat at Mono Lake, so I was a bit surprised how cold it got that night, forcing us to don our long johns and winter jackets. It was plenty warm though sleeping in the truck that night.

An osprey with some tufasThe next morning, now that we knew a bit better how to navigate around the minefield of muck, we strolled back down to the water to photograph the tufas in morning light.

Our next stop was Bishop, where our son and daughter-in-law lived, and our other son and fiancee were visiting - in other words, Mommy heaven.

Rather than take the usual route down 395, we decided to try something different - east on Highway 120 to Benton Springs and then south on 6 into Bishop. It was a very nice road, and it is always fun to see something different.

Land tufas wondering where the lake wentNot too far on 120 we stopped at Crater Mountain, part of a chain of craters, domes, and lava flows that stretches 25 miles from the northwest shore of Mono Lake to the south of Mammoth Mountain. This is, or at least was, a very active geothermal area.

We continued on 120 but rather than go all the way to Benton Springs and down 6, we decided to take the Bentron Crossing Road, an inviting-looking dirt road off to the right, that would bring us past Crawley Lake and the Long Valley Hot Springs, before delivering us back to 395 and down to Bishop.

I was so excited to see the boys (and girls)!

Travelogue

Herb setting out on the Tenaya Lake LoopThere are many routes over the Sierra to Bishop, each of them steep, winding, and beautiful, but my favorite is the drive along Route 120 through the Tuolumne. Tuolumne is very different from Yosemite Valley, and usually much less crowded. At an altitude of 8,600 feet, it is high country and therefore, considerably cooler and wetter, resulting in it only being open generally from May through early-November, as the rest of the year it is covered in unplowed snow. It is also usually much less crowded.

We were fortunate to get one of the newly required day permits to drive through the park, a policy implemented during Covid to restrict the number of people visiting the park each day. Despite the restrictions, It still seemed pretty crowded. The pass does not allow you to stay overnight in the park, so we were just passing through on our way to Mono Lake.

Lolo navigating the Lake Tenaya outletThere are so many beautiful stops along the drive through Tuolumne, but our plan for the day was to hike around Tenaya Lake, an absolutely stunning glacial sapphire-blue lake, surrounded by glacially-carved granite domes, giving it the honor of being referred to as the “Jewel of the High Country.”

We have kayaked this lake many times, but had never in all our years hiked around it. Well, it was about time.

There is always a crowd here and the parking lots fill up early. However, we managed to find a parking spot along 120 at the eastern end of the lake.

The trail around the lake is an easy 2.5-mile hike, especially by Yosemite standards, in that it is flat. Almost every other hike requires some significant elevation gain. This one started at an elevation of 8,150 feet and didn’t get much higher. That’s the nice thing about lake hikes.

Lovely Tenaya LakeThe only possible challenge on this hike is during spring and early summer when the water in the lake’s outlet on the western end might be high enough to require some fording. This was July, so we would probably not have a problem.

The hike was fun and uneventful and the water in the outlet was low enough to just require some rock hopping. Our feet didn’t even get wet.

Having knocked that hike off our bucket list we continued on towards Mono Lake, regretfully having to just drive by lovely Tuolumne Meadows without time to stop. The drive down the steep and windy section of 120 out of the park and down to Lee Vining was as scenic and dramatic as always.

Travelogue

Captain Herb entering Reflection CanyonNot knowing yet that this would be our last day on the lake, we decided to try to catch the morning light in Reflection Canyon. Surprisingly, it was not as good as it had been at noon time when we were here a few days ago. Much of the canyon walls were still in the shade. Still, it was quite beautiful.

We cruised back out to the main channel and thought about where to go. It was 60 miles back to Wahweap, so we figured we would head south covering some of that distance today and the rest tomorrow morning.

There was definitely a shift in the weather. Every day so far had been still, with clear blue cloudless skies. Today the wind was picking up and there was sort of a gray haze blocking out that bright sun we had gotten used to.

Then we realized that it wasn’t smoke, but smoke from one of the many fires in California, and that wind was blowing it right to us.

One last cruise into Reflection CanyonAs we continued down the lake, the water was getting really choppy, both from the increasing winds, as well as from the greatly increased boat traffic - it was Labor Day Weekend. This was not good - crowds, winds, and smoke. We decided to pull the boat today.

The roughest part of our 70-mile cruise back to Wahweap was going through the narrows by Antelope Island, where the wakes from all the boats were bouncing off the canyon walls, churning up the water. We later learned that two boats actually capsized going through this section.

The boats lingering around the Stateline Ramp to pull their boats was fairly sizable, but it went pretty efficiently. The way it worked was, someone from a boat would get off at the dock and go retrieve their truck and trailer from the parking lot up the hill. Whoever got down to the water first with their trailer would get to pull out next. It probably took us less than a half hour.

Back to Wahweap Campground before the long drive homeFortunately, we got a campsite at the Wahweap Resort and Marina Campground, so we didn’t have to start driving home tonight. It was really, really windy now and getting to be quite unpleasant.

I am so glad we pulled today.

It took the next two days to drive the long 900 miles back to Santa Rosa. The drive was surreal. When we stopped in Barstow to get sandwiches, we couldn't open our doors because the wind was blowing so hard. We didn't feel comfortable driving through the Tehachapi Pass with these winds, so we just sat in the truck and waited for awhile for it to die down a little.

As if that wasn't crazy enough, our entire drive the following day up I5 felt like we were on Mars. It seemed like most of California was on fire and the winds were blowing ash and coloring the sky with a dark orange haze. Our son said that in San Francisco, it was completely dark (orange) at noon. It was both beautiful and frightening.

It was so good to be back home, even if everything was orange and smoky. Hopefully, the fires would stay away from us.

P.S. The fires did come to us and we were evacuated from our home for 10 days just 3 weeks later. Three homes in our development burnt down, but our house was unscathed.

Travelogue

Our campsite in Chuckwalla Springs CoveLast time we were to Lake Powell, we had found a lovely anchorage in Chuckwalla Springs Cove, where we were able to take a decent hike up a wash to some beautiful red rock formations. But try as we might, we couldn’t find the spot. Maybe the changing water levels since then made everything look different.

We pulled into another cove, where a spring flowed right down to the lake. Hmm...Maybe this was the real Chuckwalla Springs and the other one was an imposter.

There was no sandy beach here, just rock and an old dead tree, so Herb had to spend a lot of time anchoring us securely. One anchor went from the stern and was wrapped around the dead tree. A second one went from the stern to the nearby rocky promontory, where he secured it around a large rock. I thought he was done, but then Herb got his face mask and snorkel out and dove down with a third anchor (I didn’t even know we had three anchors) to place at the edge of a rocky shelf on the lake bottom. I was exhausted watching him.

Sunrise by Chuckwalla SpringsLater that afternoon, we took a walk, but there really wasn’t too far where we could go. We did find the source of the spring atop the hill. We felt a cool rush of air emanating from it even before we saw it. When we got back down to the boat, we even moved it slightly, without upsetting the anchor setup), to get out of the way of the cool draft.

It was a lovely spot, but not as nice as most of our other campsites - no expansive views, no hiking opportunities, and a challenging anchorage. We were definitely getting jaded. If this was our first night, we would have thought it was awesome, and we would have been right.

The next morning the sunrise was pretty red and dramatic. Living in California where wildfires are a way of life, this was not a very good sign. The wind was picking up, most likely blowing smoke from any one of the fires currently burning in California our way.

Travelogue

Defiance House kivaAfter a morning hike up to the ridge overlooking the Waterpocket Fold, we pulled up anchor and headed out of Halls Creek Bay and then north on the main channel to Forgotten Canyon (Buoy 106), at the end of which was a hike to the Defiance House Ruin, an Anasazi dwelling more than 700 years old.

We continued up Forgotten Canyon until the water ran out. There were already four boats parked there, with anchors buried in the sand. One boat had an interesting anchor set up. He used a ski rope with a stick put through the handle into the sand. As expected, the stick had tipped over, basically meaning that this boat was not secured at all, but it was boxed in by other boats and probably wouldn’t go anywhere. Just in case, Herb put the stick back in.

Lolo sitting beneath an anatomically correct pictographFrom there we trudged through some muck before getting to the main trail, eventually coming to a series of switchbacks that led up to the ruins on a shelf on the canyon wall. The site consisted of two dwellings, a ceremonial kiva, and several kitchen pits, which have been restored by the National Park Service. However, by far my favorite was the large pictograph of three warriors “defiantly” (hence the name) waving their clubs and shields in an apparent duel. They were even anatomically correct.

That was as far north as we planned to go, so after leaving Forgotten Canyon, we headed back south passing right by Halls Creek Bay, and started looking for good anchorages for the night. We came upon one promising one, right across from Annie’s Canyon, but were concerned that there might be too much wake, being that it was along the main channel - although it did have a bit of a place to tuck in behind a rocky outcrop.

Cocktail hour at our campsite across from Annie's CreekWe continued on for about another mile, and after finding nothing more appealing, we turned back and Herb did his anchor management magic, making us feel that we were secure. Surprisingly, there was very little boat traffic the rest of the day.

The views were great, as always, so we set our camping chairs up on a rock overlooking the main channel and sipped wine and watched the sunset.

Travelogue

Our campsite in Halls Creek BayAfter leaving Register Rock, without ever getting to sign the register, we cruised on up the main channel, bypassing the left turn which would have taken us up the Escalante Arm. We cruised into Iceberg Canyon to look for an inviting campsite, but found nothing great.

We figured we would try Halls Creek Bay, where we had a terrific campsite last visit along the west side of the Bay that was set against the Waterpocket Fold. Camping along here would allow us to take a pretty decent hike.

But first, time to gas up at Halls Creek Marina and pick up some ice. While Herb handled the fuel, I went into the store to get ice. I was pretty appalled. We have been so careful wearing masks and social distancing during Covid - after all, we are in the vulnerable age group now and Herb has asthma.

Swimming to the caves (?) from our Halls Creek campsiteApparently here, Covid was a hoax. The girl checking people at the door had a mask haphazardly below her nose (I hate that) and she just kept waving people in. There were probably well over 30 maskless, 20-somethings in that store acting like life was totally normal. Their attire definitely gave away their political affiliation and covid denial. I grabbed a bag of ice and got out of there as fast as I could.

From there we crossed back over to Halls Creek (Buoy 93), a large bay barely noticeable from the main channel because of its narrow opening. Along its 12 miles, there are innumerable coves that cut into the southernmost toe of 100-mile long Waterpocket Fold, many of which have sandy beaches for camping.

View from the ridge above our campsite in Halls Creek BayWe managed to find a nice quiet home for the night in a shallow cove, hopefully too small for houseboats to join us. The scenery was incredible and there was much more opportunity to hike for longer distances than we had been able to so far at our previous camping spots - good, because I was beginning to feel a little confined on the boat, and then I get cranky.

We were getting in a groove now - cruise in the morning, find camping early afternoon, swim / float, and then hike when the sun got low.

This particular cove had a rocky promontory jutting out into the lake with what looked like a series of caves in them. I swam out to them, smeared my way up the rock, and tried to enter. No cave, just a deep cutout. Still, very cool.

Gazing out at the Waterpocket Fold from the ridge above our campsiteWhen I got back, Herb went for a swim. He’s a much stronger swimmer than me, so he continued on and around the promontory where I couldn’t see him any more. He was gone pretty long, but as I was just starting to get nervous, I spotted his head coming around the bend.

That evening, we took a lovely hike up to the ridge that looked out over the bay on one side, and the Waterpocket Fold on the other. Another evening of breathtaking views. For us, the best campsites were those with expansive views and the opportunity to hike at least a mile.

In the morning, before setting out, we took another, longer 2.5-mile hike up to the ridge towards the Waterpocket Fold. So, so beautiful.