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Welcome to my blog. I document my adventures in travel, style, and food. Hope you have a nice stay!

From Yosemite To Death Valley: (mostly) David

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No, we didn't climb El Capitan.  However, we did arrive in Yosemite only a few days after the huge chunk of it came crashing down on some unfortunate climbers and tourists, killing one.  Dust was still on the surrounding trees, and we also saw huge stretches of burned trees from previous years' fires.  Some of this year's fires were still smouldering in places along the roadside. 

Just outside the park we saw charred acres where people had already started rebuilding homes they had lost in last year's fires, just as in our travels along the Gulf coast we've seen houses going up on the same beach fronts that had ben devastated so recently by hurricanes.  We often wonder about the fate of our Provincetown home which, although it sits high up on a dune, is in a town whose main street is only a few feet above the rising tides. 

While climbing was not even part of our contemplation in Yosemite, we did test the mettle of our knees by hiking down from Glacier Point to the base of Sentinel Rock on the Four Mile Trail.  The four miles (closer to five, according to the books) was not a problem, but the 3,200 foot elevation drop with dozens of scree covered switchbacks were.  Fortunately we'd arranged for a guide to pick us up at the bottom of the trail so we didn't have to hike back up the 3,200 feet.  The views were spectacular, and we persuaded ourselves that the burned calories justified both ice cream before dinner and pie a la mode after dinner.

We had been planning to drive down the west side of the Sierras from Yosemite to Sequoia, and then to Death Valley.  However, we couldn't find a way to avoid going out into the Central Valley, through Fresno on the way to Sequoia and through Bakersfield on the way to Death Valley.  So we jumped at a guide's suggestion that if we were not faint of heart, we could skip Sequoia NP, cross over the Sierras north of Yosemite, and drive down along the more scenic eastern side of the mountains.  We could stop on the way to see the sequoia grove in Calaveras Big Tree State Park.  It was good advice, and it led to some memorable encounters.

The first was in Groveland, an isolated town of around 600 souls outside the western entrance to Yosemite.  Lora had called for a "pit stop" just before we entered the town, and the Iron Door Saloon looked like the only prospect.  A plaque on the building said it was the oldest continuously operating bar in the country.  The boast may not be true, but who cares.  As you enter, the ceiling and walls are the first things that grab your eye; hundreds of dollar bills are pinned to them.  The next thing you notice is the bartender's tee shirt.

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The Man From Nantucket showed me the drill:  Poke a thumbtack through the center of a dollar bill; lay a quarter on top of the head of the thumbtack, essentially sandwiching the head of the thumbtack between the quarter and the dollar bill; and fold the corners of the dollar bill back over the quarter to make four fins, thereby creating a dart.  He invited me to try, saying that if I could pin the dollar bill to the ceiling, we would qualify for leaving a $20 bill in the bucket for a local charity.  The result is now part of the local lore. Watch it here. If you have trouble with this link - which seems sort of stubborn loading, go to: https://youtu.be/QP3TGWUIgLs 

(Lora): I forgot to include this photo that I took in Jamestown, California (last post).  It was at an opening of a bridal shop.  I can't remember the song the guy was singing but I am sure it was about finding love, setting a wedding date and then buying clothes with which to walk done the aisle.

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(Back to David): After my success in Groveland, we happened upon Angels Camp, an old gold mining town with a curious claim to fame.  Mark Twain lived there for several years, supposedly as a way to avoid the authorities in San Francisco who were interested in him for some we-do-not-know-what incident.  Twain says he heard a tale while in Angels Camp upon which he based his short story "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County," the work that established him as a noted author.  In celebration, Angels Camp has held a frog-jumping jubilee every year since 1928 that draws contestants from far and wide.  Each year, the frog with the longest jump -- as determined by Angels Camp Frog Jumping Rules -- and the frog's "jockey," are honored with a sidewalk plaque that includes their names and the length of the jump.  According to the plaques, winning leaps have often exceeded 20 feet.     

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Then came the magnificent sequoias in the Calaveras grove.  Here's the obligatory photo with Lora standing at the base of a tree.  It's a Where's Waldo sort of exercise.

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We went on to cross the Sierras on Route 4, over Ebbetts Pass.  The Yosemite guide was right: The road is for the faint of heart only if they don't know what lies ahead.  It's winding and narrow, with a long, steep drop where you might wish for a shoulder to help keep you from tumbling down the steep, long drop.  At the top of one descending curve the yellow roadside sign said "24% Grade."  Porsches and Corvettes roared past us on the grade, except for one Corvette that we passed.  It was sitting with its front end up against a large tree and crumbled as far back as the windshield.  Fortunately there was no blood to be seen on the ground and everyone involved seemed to be standing around assessing the damage.

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Heading down Owens Valley we came upon Lone Pine, California, which boasts of being one of the most frequently used locations for filming Western movies.   A few of the stars who have been in the saddle in Lone PIne are John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Spencer Tracy, James Stewart, Errol Flynn, Will Rogers, Russell Crowe, Hopalong Cassidy (raise your hand if you watched him on TV!), Roy Rogers, Gregory Peck and Nicholas Cage.  We learned all this because the main road in the town, US Route 395, was closed for a parade when we tried to pass through on our way to Death Valley.  The parade, part of the town's annual Western Film Festival, featured a number of men and women from the town who were stand ins and stunt men and women in the films made around the town.  Here are some of the folks who participated in the parade.  It was great to see the Future Farmers of America and other assorted locals and pets marching as well

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We finally reached Death Valley.  Our reservation was at a motel in Stovepipe Wells located in the center of the Park.  We had assumed Stovepipe Wells was a town, but it's not even an intersection.  It's simply a motel (with restaurant and bar) on one side of the road, a general store with a gas pump on the other side of the road, and an unmanned National Park Service structure that has an exterior cold water faucet and a self-service kiosk for paying the park's admission fee.  The place reminded me of a scene out of the movie The Right Stuff.  We wouldn't have been surprised if Sam Shephard suddenly appeared on horseback and walked into the bar.

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It wan't as hot was we'd worried it might be, but we waited until close to dusk before setting out to take pictures of the famous sand dunes.

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We stuck around, playing Lawrence of Arabia, trying to find a scene that didn't include hundreds of foot prints, until the wind picked up and filled the air with fine desert sand.  At first it just obscured our view.  Then it turned fierce and began to to drive the sand into our eyes and into the innards of Lora's camera.  We beat a hasty retreat, but not until after we saw a strange and beautiful sunset.  The wind howled all night long, and we awoke to hotel room dusted with fine grit. 

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The road out of Stovepipe Wells offered both breathtaking views of horizons impossibly far away, as well as immediate reminders of those who came before under far more hostile circumstances.  We passed a number of bicyclists going in the opposite direction, into the valley, and wondered if they would be memorialized in the same way as these 1874 travelers. 

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Death Valley is our next to the last National Park scheduled for this trip.  Carlsbad Caverns comes next.  Our ten dollar senior cards have paid for themselves dozens of times over since we got them to use at the Cape Cod National Seashore.  The price has gone up to $80 which still covers everyone in the car.  A bargain at twice the price, in our opinions.  Best ten dollars we've spent in a long time.  

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