Perspectives 20 - 31 May, 2007 Motorhome sweet motorhome, tooth loss, and other great expectations of our upcoming retirement age

	Lundy Lake Canyon the trailhead -- lake, with a waterfall above it, and then a trail leading to the snow line -- and, if you had time, passage through the saddle to Yosemite.

I already addressed motherhood dementia several times here. Lately, though, I have wondered whether I still may blame my somewhat eccentric experiences on being a mother. The kids have been reasonably behaved, they both nap in the afternoon, I practice yoga (that is, if I'm not currently ill), granny often baby-sits -- so why is it that I remain mental? I begin to fear that my motherhood dementia has gradually transformed itself into geriatric senility. For example: I went shopping for something against cough, and for soy sauce. I grabbed a cough syrup and put it in my basket; then I checked out soy sauces. First I chose a large bottle, then I swapped it for a smaller one. At the cash register, I found TWO soy sauce bottles in my basket, and NO cough syrup (it perched on the soy sauce shelf). The other day I marched out of my gym clutching the gym-issue towel -- and the most interesting part was that I stopped by the counter to pay for our annual membership -- I must have juggled the towel, my wallet, cell phone, car keys, and two children -- and it had never occurred to me that I was not supposed to hold on to the towel as it was not mine to keep. Strange, too, that no-one ever noticed or reacted to my leaving with their property. Another time I brought Tom back home from his school -- I clearly remember going to our bedroom and taking off my jeans. For the rest of the day, I searched them in vain (and seriously pondered whether I might have really left the school only wearing my knickers), only to find them in the evening, tucked into Sid's bed.

	A shallow natural lake -- which has flooded and killed these trees.

Another explanations is that girls don't take away their mother's beauty, they take their reason. While I grow dumber, Lisa gains wits in giant leaps. We were sitting at our dinner table, her majesty was poking at her allotted serving. Daddy and granny helped themselves to second round of meat, but since there were no sides to add, they grabbed some bread. Lizzy focused and asked for bread, too. Sid and I told her clearly that she had already received her dinner and will eat what's on the plate, and not get ideas. In a heartbeat, Lisa had evaluated the weakest point, donned a doggy gaze and with her sweetest voice declared: "P'eash b'ead, g'anny". If she wants something, she can haggle surprisingly well -- in contrast to our pig-headed, angry Tom, she has no problem using pity-inspiring begging, disarming cuteness, or kindling laughter in authorities, just to have her way.

	Oddly enough, the lake with the dead trees does not look very depressing.

Given the fact that kids have obviously gain control over their grandmother, we did not hesitate to leave them for another weekend. We had kind-of forgotten about Monday being a national holiday (Memorial Day), which meant that even our closest neighbor had plans and left. I broadcast e-mail SOS to nearby mothers, if somebody was handy should our granny run into a situation she could not handle (e.g. try to figure out in a foreign country, what to do when your water pipe ruptures) -- and to my delighted surprise I received several responses within a few minutes. I love my neighbors -- we were free to scamper away carelessly.

While we were leaving by eight in the evening, children drank their evening milk and watched a fairy tale on TV. It had been obviously more interesting than their disappearing parents -- I got two lukewarm kisses and overall indifference. Nevertheless Lisa had explained to granny before going to bed that mama and daddy gave her a kiss, waved good-bye, and drove to work -- apparently she must have noticed despite the outward disregard. We got into our car-bed by midnight near Strawberry.

	Hippo at Lundy

We busied ourselves on the next morning by exploring the surroundings of Sonora Pass and looking for backup camp sites for the kids. We have been planning to take them along on our next trip, and there's no way we could sleep all together in our wagon (or the bus); we required a spot for a tent, with not much dust, in the shade but not inside a thick forest, it had to offer some entertainment for the children (e.g. a brook into which one can throw rocks, or fall in bodily). After a while we found a few candidates and descended from the eastern slopes of Sierra onto Highway 395. I longed for a Texan lunch. Three years without their special barbecue sauce are long enough to let one develop a serious withdrawal. What more, the owner of the Mountain View Barbecue in Walker serves good beer -- and has the gift of estimating his guests' tastes. When we asked for available beers, he has recommended Alaska Amber and Steelhead Pale Ale. Some chap at the neighboring table requested beer, too -- and was offered (American) Budweisser (which we don't deem worthy of being called beer, yet there are people who drink it).

After this refreshing experience we let a turnoff to Lundy Lake lure us into a canyon. Passing through a campground, we endured a dirt road alongside a lake, and reached a trailhead loop. The hiking path started here, with a couple of people and a dog standing there. We started chatting, they were obviously in the know. They exclaimed that it was indeed going to be a great hike. While walking and talking, we managed to lose the trail, but we found it again quickly. We kept running into each other for the rest of the way up -- they were apparently also stopping and enjoying the views, not the sporty types. I noticed how much I enjoyed careless talk. For once the topic did not include diapers and baby food, and my partners in dialogue did not keep reaching for me with sticky little hands, did not argue among themselves, and did not demand that I mediate their arguments, did not fight over toys, and did not expect me to fix their snacks and then make a tunnel for a choo-choo train.

	A mountain pine above Lundy Lake.

Sid maintains that Virginia Lakes are prettier, but I liked the valley above Lundy very much. Besides a mountain creek and waterfalls, you can find a strange little lake there. Flotsam twigs had formed a long dam and the held water has flooded a meadow with grown-up trees. Apparently this has leached off all the food -- most of the trees are dead -- their silvery, weathered trunks reflect in the shallow, clean water of the new lake. Oddly enough, it does not express sadness -- perhaps due to the live trees and green young grass lining the shores.

	Buckeye River Valley - our favorite landscape

Over time we depleted our energy, so we each devoured a muesli bar while spinning a long discussion about water. Tourist guides claim that some evil bacteria lives in California water and that if not treated, it is ill suitable for drinking. Yet the old camper Randy, whom we had met four years ago at Kennedy Meadows, maintained that one can drink from mountain streams -- one must only take care to do it away from places abundant with animals (or people), for the bug spreads mostly through droppings. And now we found ourselves high up in the mountains, the creek was visibly sourced at snow-covered peaks high above us, and my Hippo had finished his water bottle. Thus we decreed drinking from such a creek being surely safe. Just to be cautious, I did not participate in the experiment, for I reckoned that if we were to run into difficulties, we would need at least one driver. Sid drank from various creeks for the rest of the weekend, and it does not seem that he would contract any infection -- apparently, we have busted another pointless myth.

Having ordered take-out sandwiches for dinner and breakfast, we noticed Sid' credit card was missing and concluded we left it at Mountain View BBQ. Next stop was Buckeye. If the hot spring would be occupied, we planned to eat the sandwiches and wait, if it was not, we would jump in. If there was free spot to pitch a tent, we would build it, if not, we would go elsewhere. Simply free reign. This is one of the major advantages of traveling without children -- there's not need for planning, having ready answers for questions like "are we there yet?" and "Why do we have drive away again?"

	Twin Lakes.

The springs were mildly occupied, to our relief the occupants were all naked. One couple of retirees and one young couple. The elders were getting ready to leave and the youngsters took over the warmest pool. As cold wind picked up on intensity, it became uncomfortable and so Sid ran up on the spring rock, to adjust the water temperature by stone "faucets". Then the young couple got out and we splattered in the warmest pool. Our muscles, tired from our Lundy hike, slowly relaxed and our tiredness floated away. When we, too, had finally enough, we discovered that the young couple was still hovering around our clothes. They had just arrived from San Francisco and wanted to exchange opinions about snow levels, weather, hiking and our plans. I am apparently a latent nudist -- only after the fact I had realized that while talking, we stayed more or less naked.

	Though it was not hot, we carefully sought out shade for every break.

After the bath, we searched for a spot to sleep. When we noticed that even after a third try we could not agree where to park our wagon to ensure level sleeping, Sid begun to laugh that we act as if we turned into motor-homers, who sometimes complicatedly level their mobile abodes. Who knows, perhaps we shall end up using a motorhome we so much sneer about -- alas, our motor homing theory is full of holes -- my Hippo grumbled in the morning that during our estimates of our wagon's tilt, we did not take into account the intrinsic sloping of our "beds" and that we could have parked it better...

We finished our sandwiches for breakfast and I have discovered some rash on my arms; later the hot springs turned out innocent -- I am intolerant to the spray-on sunscreen we were using. Then we could not quite decide what to do with the new day -- we had been to Virginia Lakes three years ago, and at Lundy the day before; we have seen Mono and Bodie many times over and our aversion to crowds kept us away from Yosemite. So we let it to chance and turned right onto Twin Lake Road, which passes next to Buckeye. At its end we found the most horrific campground I have ever seen in America. One motorhome crammed next to another, separated by about six feet space, which contained carpets, or artificial lawn, beset with lawn chairs, optionally filled with lounging inhabitants. Who can possibly enjoy a view to a dirt road, garbage cans, dry toilets and another camper? I don't get it.

An elderly employee at the gate to this horror visibly perked up, when Sid asked him for suggestions of some hiking path. He pointed to a place to park our car, told where to cross the campground and how to locate a trail to the waterfalls. He added advice to go a bit further beyond the waterfall. We packed our minimum -- i.e. a pocketful of cereal bars with nuts and fruits, a bottle of water, and we were moving above the valley. Leaving the last motorhome, we spotted the ghost of the White Lady -- despite being 10 o'clock, a barefoot ancient woman wearing only a lacy nightshirt dragged herself around her wheeled house. Farther away we encountered two little kids lost in the woods -- not that they were really disoriented, but they looked like they parents simply pushed them out. Could it be that this motorhome concentration camp offered some exhausting night life?

	Alpine landscape - there's Matterhorn Peak here!

As soon as the camp disappeared from sight, we found ourselves alone in the middle of beautiful alpine nature. A view to the lake, the trail, flowers, mountain stream, snow-covered peaks -- it all made me remember the Alps. Apparently I'm not the only one who had found the shapes familiar -- later at home we learned that one of the peaks is called Matterhorn. Our ascent was much easier than on the day before -- but it was probably to our average elevation being about thousand feet lower. We reached the waterfalls relatively fresh, and we opted to hike higher, to a meadow.

	A stream in the valley below Matterhorn Peak

A stream wound itself luringly through the green grass, but any intentions to refresh myself there vanished after the first touch of my fingers. The water, after all, came directly from nearby snow field and was deadly cold. We located a fallen tree to sit on for a snack break. There, Sid suddenly started emanating funny sounds and pulled a tooth out of his mouth. Closer examination revealed that it was merely a crown, but still -- I had not expected that losing our prosthetics would come so early. My laughter and good mood left me in a moment -- when I discovered that I was missing my favorite sunglasses. Returning, we thus felt quite defeated -- my shades missing, Sid with his tooth in our camera bag pocket. Well, I found the glasses a few yards down the trail, but Sid had to wait for his crown to be glued back until we made it home and dentists opened again.

On our way down we started encountering other tourists. It seems that in inhabitants of the motorhome town do, after all, venture beyond area marked by toilets, garbage cans and their vehicles -- but at least they wait for the mid-day heat. Aha -- at least something good came out of Lisa's harassing us at seven in the morning -- we're trained to get up early, with or without her.

All we had left to do was driving to Walker and picking up our forgotten credit card. We tried to call granny, but to no avail. Eastern Sierra has not yet seen the cellular progress. At three in the afternoon we drove out of Walker -- and until Sonora Pass we felt slightly out of this world -- all slower cars were politely making room to let us pass in perfect accord to the spirit of our whole trip -- somehow, everybody's much more respectful, friendlier, relaxed and easy-going, in the Eastern Sierra Nevada. It's interesting how, just after the Pass, the mood changed -- traffic got more nervous, small congestions occurred. Even so we have probably made a record -- reaching home shortly after seven thirty -- i.e. the whole trip across the mountains and valleys took us four hours and twenty minutes.

Copyright © 2007 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.