Head lamps on: the whole expedition - minus picture-taking Carol - on the trail to the caves in Pinnacles

The weather began to look like there may be summer after all, and so we hurried to join Tezaurs on their first camping in Pinnacles this year. We usually avoid official campgrounds; somehow we feel that when we want to be in the nature, let it happen without other people. Alas, it's not possible to do it in Pinnacles any other way, and we wanted to grant our children a campfire night, which cannot be done legally any other way in California -- on account of wildfires.

We tried our new mega-tent.

Driving out on Saturday, we took it easy, as we were supposed to arrive to the campground no later than after noon (until then, the previous occupants could theoretically still hang out there). An officially looking woman stood at the entrance to the park, and said that the park was overfilled and we would be required to park and change onto a bus. This did not matter in our case since we were turning off to the campground. The person further noted that if we last till four, most people would roll out of the park again, and we may be allowed to enter by car then.

All this more or less fitted our plans, and we set out to find our arranged campsite, thinking that before we pass a challenging test -- erecting our new tent -- it would be late afternoon. Since Tezaurs had already arrived there, we had plenty of time for reading use guides and arguing over where to place the poles. Kids ran around furiously and were enjoying themselves.

Evening was still far away, and we chose a small walk. Tom and Filip, however, put on their head lamps and very determinedly and briskly headed for a cave entrance, which they remembered from last time. The cave itself was a cause for a problem, and our expedition got separated in two groups. While a pack of offspring trotted forth, exploring new and undiscovered right branch of the cave, Radka and Sid were taking pictures and fell behind. I hurried as not to leave Radek alone with four kids. When I managed to catch up with and stop the forerunners, I returned to the intersection to inform our photographers that we were taking another route, but I did not find them.

Our pink princess Lisa at a campfire in Pinnacles

I turned back in the moment when the eager boys found more directional arrows and continued in the creek bed. I carried Lisa part of the way and tried not to get water in my shoes the way Radek did, but then there was trouble, for Tom who'd been left behind wailed and did not want to wait for me to carry Lisa through and return for him. Resigned (and wet) Radek grabbed Lisa, who was screaming, and I returned for Tom. Eventually we had emerged out of the cave in a known section right below the reservoir, and proceeded to wait for Sid and Radka, hoping they would come out of the other side and we'd be complete again. This did not happen; we set out back towards our cars -- after all, the weaker members of the pack began to show signs of hunger and fatigue. Not so Filip, who still climbed rocks in vicinity. And in his elevated position was spotted by Radka, who turned out to be on the path behind us and not in front of us, as we were anticipating.

Filip assists Lisa in roasting marshmallows.

The photographing part of the expedition was somewhat angry and exhausted. It would seem that we managed to miss each other several times at the intersection in the cave, after which Hippo and Radka oscillated back and forth through both arms of the tunnels. Which would be mostly fun, except for Sid being handicapped by his size (tunnels tend to accommodate people of Tom's size rather than a Hippo), and Radka by the fact she was the only one without a flashlight. So they were feeling slightly miffed, but the situation improved before we reached our tents.

State-run campground is about the only place in California where Tom is legally allowed to thoughtfully gaze into flames of a campfire.

The evening proceeded with roasting sausages and marshmallows, and much experimenting with fire. At any given time, somebody was poking the fire with sticks, or alternatively run around with a burning branch etc. Over time we succeeded in rounding up the children and stuffing them in their sleeping bags, then we sat by the fire for a while. It surprised me how other campers, including a boy scout unit, which took the spot right across a few bushes from us, behaved very civilized; the whole campground got quiet by ten o'clock.

The night was probably quite cold. We have warm sleeping bags -- that was not the problem; the tent was all soaking wet from water condensed from inside. We waited the whole morning for the tents to dry up a little. Kids did not mind, and they continued their evening program of burning twigs. Eventually we packed the still wet tents and drove out to the park. Our plan was to visit Old Pinnacles, where an old road used to connect the eastern part with the west.

Alas, there was a considerable queue at the entrance and the ranger was already turning cars back onto an overflow parking lot. In the moment she was ready to send us back, too, her radio spoke and said that there were two spots in Old Pinnacles, and hence they let us in, apparently two last cars for the day, whose crew was not limited to a bus shuttle.

Old Pinnacles is an ideal terrain for a hike with children.

Old Pinnacles is a very nice trail. Nothing is left of the original paved road, and a dirt trail winds by a creek and across meadows. Kids looked full of energy, except for Lisa, who whimpered a bit. Unfortunately with her it's really hard to judge whether she suffers a real problem or is being her princessy self and simply had not slept well, or perhaps reckons she would have a tantrum day. Nevertheless we walked some distance and found an ideal location for a picnic -- spot where you can sit or lay, with a tiny brook for splashing and building dams, all this on a pretty little meadow. Lisa asked to lay down and sleep; she actually spent some serious time under my fleece, and it made us think that she might have caught something (in retrospect, she did not, but it's true that the kids went to bed late the night before, and had run all day, and she could have been simply tired). Meanwhile, boys had built dams and channels in the brook.

Quicksilver: our oak savanna turns brightly green in April.

Going back took some more time, as everybody felt tired. For the whole weekend I worried that some child would poke another in the eye with a stick; I would not have expected Lisa to be the one who in the end hit Filip in his head with a rock. She did not do it on purpose, just threw some stones in a creek from a safe distance, and Filip intersected the rock's trajectory. Fortunately there was no real damage (Lisa's not very strong and the rock flew only a small distance), even so, I was glad we remained friends.

A tree in bloom in Quicksilver park.

On the following weekend we made a small trip to our nearest hill, Quicksilver. My Hippo has a favorite trail, which I have never been on. He used to hike it with Tom on his back, while I was pregnant with Lisa and complaining, so I used to just drive them. The route is five miles long (one way), and it cannot be made into a loop. Hence this time we used both cars, left the bus at the lower end and took the wagon up into the pass, where the trail begins.

I was surprised how beautiful this county park is. From the valley it looks like a simple steep hill overgrown with deciduous forest, but on the top meadows alternate with groves of beautiful oaks, in spring all brightly green, peppered with thousands of wildflowers. With children's pace we slowly advanced on country style dirt roads, and only from an occasional overlook we could see the urban fill of Silicon Valley.

Easter: egg hunt in the backyard.

Tommy coped best of all with this trip. He certainly did not show any signs of tiredness, discovering and seeking alternative tracks and shortcuts, watching butterflies and caterpillars, and felt in his element. Hippo and I felt a bit slow towards the end, while Lisa was at her worst, and later only moaned and trotted mechanically. Eventually even she had managed to walk all five miles (8 km), and I'm taking an opportunity to publicly commend her.

All neighborhood kids gathered in a park for an Easter egg hunt.

Then Tom had brought a colored egg from his school and I had realized Easter was upon us. This year I tried to color eggs at home, with my kids. Our colors work cold, so we boiled the eggs, drew things on them with wax crayons, and then colored them. I was rather pleased with the result -- it worked the way I expected, although the final expression belonged more into abstract arts than a traditional folksy custom.

On Saturday all neighborhood families gathered in our nearest park, bringing food for picnic and eggs for the kids to seek. Soon we had discovered that the egg hunt would have to be organized before the picnic, for all the kids were seriously eager and bothersome. Tom hesitated during the actual hunt -- he refused to collect pink eggs, for those are girly, and then was disappointed since he amassed few eggs -- for some reason he thought he HAD TO collect exactly ten eggs. Brian (one of the fathers) saved us by retracing the area earlier visited by the Easter Egg Bunny, and by distributing all leftover treasures among the children.

While Lisa happily run around a playground with other girls, enjoying them all wearing dresses (dresses being currently her absolutely highest priority). Tom practiced batting baseballs. It caught me by surprise: both Sid and I harbor an aversion to all ball games. Now I'm scared that my son will demand playing baseball (especially if his buddies play it). The Easter Egg Bunny has also visited us at home on Sunday and even brought some chocolates. It was funny how our juniors emptied their baskets on one heap and shared them without trouble.

Lisa conquers last of the 1,200 feet of our ascent in Garrapata County Park.

We're swimming again in mid-April.

It was rather chilly during Easter, but an almost tropical heat wave came on the next weekend, and so this year we can again check off in our calendar that our first swimming in our pool was accomplished in April. We invited Brehs and Tezaurs, and things proceeded according the usual script -- kids in the pool, parents on chairs near the grill. Later I filled our old sandbox (minus the sand) with water and our backyard lawn got seriously sprinkled, together with roses, lemon tree, concrete and our house walls. Still all present looked happy. Within the next three weeks, a veritable parade of our friends rotated through our backyard (neighbors, pre-school buddies, further members of our Czech gang), and then it got rapidly colder again and we've returned to a regular spring. Perhaps it's better that way, for we plan to fly to Czechia, and would not appreciate a temperature shock.

On the last weekend before departure we collected our courage and climbed Garrapata. We had been there three years ago with granny and I kept a fresh memory huffing and puffing in a horrible up-hill with a toddler Lisa on my back. I also remembered beautiful wildflowers and the feeling of a good trip; still the memory of the effort turned me off a bit. Still we wanted to enjoy southern California, and we went. I have to say that our huffing got better only a little. The improvement can be found in the fact that Lisa walks now, and she made it all by herself all the way to the top, earning quite a few admiring looks and comments from other tourists.

A view from Garrapata State Park to Pacific Ocean and Highway One.

During this short backyard pool time, we had two frogs instead two children, but Garrapata returned our train and a horse. It represents a few logistic issues, for the train insists that horses are forbidden to enter its imaginary tracks (trails), while the horsey keeps on squarely ignoring not only the tracks, but even the horrible whistling of the train engine. Then we must resolve a complicated dilemma -- train colliding with a horse -- should we blame the bullyish train or the obstinate horse who refuses to back off from the tracks? There's another complication with the many (still completely imaginary) train cars. Tommy protests if someone walks too close behind (that person causes the cars to derail) -- since Tom naturally pulls a very long and heavy train. I must say that our little horse often seems to derail the cars on purpose, but other times she's got no other choice (we can hardly demand of Lisa to keep a thirty feet distance from the rest of the family).
As our departure approaches, we begin to worry whether airlines would agree to a horse transport, and how much they are going to charge us for all the extra cars. It would be likely easier with frogs.