Kids at Tehachapi Loop.

Thanksgiving is probably the most popular holiday here. It also comes with the guaranteed longest time off, since the actual celebration with the obligatory turkey roast is fixed on a Thursday; hence most institutions add an extra day off on Friday. Tom's school added Wednesday, which turned it into a five-day mini-vacation. Our plans were made since last year -- we would join Vendula and Pavel in camping at Alabama Hills, California. On the previous fall, we were faced with a not quite optimistic weather forecast, and Lisa fell ill, so we only went on a weekend trip to Tehachapi. Current weather looked good and our kids seemed healthy, and we dared to start looking forward to it -- carefully.

Tehachapi Loop offers trains for Tom and horses for Lisa.

School was giving report cards on Tuesday, the last day before the holiday. Having already had a conference with the teacher, I was ready for Tom's good academics and needed improvements in behavior; there was no surprise. It's a strange feeling, though, to hold the first report card of your "little baby". I hope that all the others will be similarly positive.

I spent most of the last day of school packing, or more precisely, re-packing. In the course of the summer we had amassed plastic containers in the kitchen, which we simply re-stocked with cans and camping gear; I decided to clean them out completely (all those wonderful things one finds at the bottom!) and match their contents to now somewhat colder conditions outdoors. I quickly purchased padded trousers for the kids (they naturally grew out of their old ones), checked various winter jackets (juniors use a intricate system of hand-me-downs among themselves and various friends; who's to know what will fit the best at the moment?), completed sets of hats and gloves, made winter boots ready again (I went overboard last year, so this year they're still OK), and so on. I quickly broke off for the climbing gym in the evening, to finalize our approximate schedule with Pavel.

A view from the campground to Mt. Whitney Portal

Our family drove out on Wednesday; my Hippo took his comp-time for Veterans Day (I don't know what good is a holiday on an odd Wednesday at the beginning of November), and we could split the four hundred miles into two days. Reaching easily Paso Robles on time for lunch, we were surprised how well they remember us at our favorite Thai restaurant Basil -- we were sure we have not been there for at least half year and Sid had shaved his beard meanwhile. On the other hand -- the other day people would recognize the Hippo even in a space alien mask, so a suddenly hairless face must be of no great import.

Tom was not feeling well already on Thursday.

There was quite some traffic on highway 46 from Paso. We usually take it on a weekend, but his was still a regular workday, and big trucks rolled on. Everyone kept their pace, though, and so we reached the Tehachapi Loop before sunset. Hippo was nervous, rumbling that we would not likely catch a train in the loop, for the signals were all down. Tommy got very disquieted by such a perspective, but fortunately Hippo was wrong and soon a train rushed down from the pass. It was much shorter than is the custom here, but even so Tommy was satisfied, despite this one being the only train we saw during the whole trip. Lisa enjoys the Tehachapi Loop with or without the trains -- there's a farm inside the loop where cattle and horses live, and so she watched horses through our binoculars, and later got interested by the waxing moon. Lisa can hardly hold the binoculars up, but it obviously did not turn her off.

I tried to ask the motel receptionist about some local Asian restaurant, but she clearly never been to such a place, and was not even quite sure about those listed on a brochure. We gave up trying to spot the most popular dinner place, and ate at a known Chinese buffet. In the evening I decide to go to sleep right with our children, who of course chose to lead a night life, and kept nudging each other in their sleeping bags. Around eight thirty, Vendula call from somewhere near Gilroy (they, having no extra day off, started in the evening after work) checking, whether we were on our way as agreed, and asking about traffic. (I think my sleepy voice caught her by surprise; she may not have thought I was as old as needing to be in my bed by this hour.) Tom and Lisa remained up till nine thirty, thus my attempt for a few extra hours of sleep failed miserably.

Alabama Hills Panorama.

I was unfazed when Tom complained in the morning that he felt tired and that his head hurt. I scolded him for being silly in the evening and missing his rest. Lisa was perky, but she has been always needing only minimal sleep. We expected our breakfast to cheer Tommy up, especially since we followed his wish and went to a restaurant with a model of the Tehachapi Loop and a functional train that the kids can make run through. Tom claimed to be cold at the restaurant. Well, they were not exactly overheated, and I took him to our motel room, where he dropped in my bed and shivered -- but he had no fever and after ten minutes under covers he asked for a movie. I gave him acetylaminophen (I get migraines from not sleeping enough) and on our way to Lone Pine he chatted merrily about trains and propellers, he even finished his breakfast toast.

Pavel led most of the routes.

Meanwhile a text message from Vendulka arrived that they reached our destination (Lone Pine Campground near a town of the same name), there were sites available and they took the site number two. The drove like crazy through the night, slept in their car about one hour past Tehachapi, and got a lead on us. We met them one mile before the campground -- they were getting ready to climb at Alabama Hills. We promised to joined them as soon as we get settled, and continued to the camp. We considered squeezing next to their micro-tent, but eventually we reckoned we could afford to spread out with out giga-tent in the next site. A motor home parked across the road, which was somewhat disquieting -- we were hoping that its owners did not have a generator and if they did, they would not run it in the evening (I don't know anything more annoying than a rattle of an underpowered engine in the midst of beautiful nature). We were quite wrong -- the two women that belonged to the conveyance were apparently so shocked by our giga-tent or by our children that they moved all the way to the other end of the grounds. We must be very repulsive.

Alas, Tommy began to whine again and did not join the fun. Lisa enjoyed the open running space and the desert; she helped me erecting the tent, while Tom just sat around and subsequently lay down on a bench near a (cold) fireplace. Our morning optimistic estimate regarding Tom's "possible migraine from not enough sleep" has quickly vanished. We wondered what to do. Turning around and driving back home, some four hundred miles away, now that we had accumulated a few hours driving on that day, did not seem very rational (safe) solution. We reckoned we would dose Tom with Tylenol and will see in the morning -- should it be only some one-day virosis, in which he's been an expert, we would stay -- and if he turned still ill in the morning, we would pack up and leave.

Lisa liked Alabama Hills very much...

Hence we eventually ventured after Vendula and Pavel to the nearby Alabama Hills to quickly climb something. We were looking for a Subaru (just like ours, only newer) on dirt roads amongst rocks. I was surprised how far the hills go and how difficult it is to spot cars parked in the shadows of the boulders. I grabbed our binoculars and soon pin-pointed not only a silver car, but also familiar figures scaling the rock above.

In the finish Tom altogether refused to leave our car; it was clear he felt even worse. Tom is usually the first one to explore an unfamiliar landscape, and Alabama Hills are simply perfect for kids like that. A high desert, where one can dig in the sand, with boulders one can climb on, little caves, holes, simply an ideal playground. Lisa was enchanted and enjoyed the next three hours to the fullest. Tommy did not rebound even after another pill, continued to refuse leaving the car, and huddled beneath a blanket.

...she even climbed.

After having driven four hundred miles in two days, we had some three hours left for Alabama Hills. It was more or less obvious that we would have to drive the same distance back home on the next day, given Tom's state, and so I tried to squeeze the maximum out of the time we had.

I must say that I was quite smitten by Alabama Hills. It's been the first area here in California where I feel the whole family can climb. A beautiful campground with a view to Mt. Whitney, which offers a place to sleep and light up a fire (a great attraction for the kids). Just a stone's throw to town, which means I don't have to pack a full set of groceries for all days ahead, much can be bought as needed, and one can (gasp!) go eat at a restaurant. Actual rocks are well secured (so that I'm not scared), the routes are short (one can climb and keep kids under control), and most importantly, it's a wonderful landscape for the children. Compare it with Pinnacles, where steep and narrow access paths wind right at the foot of the rocks and where kids would get quickly bored; alternatively, I would lose my sanity from endless correcting them to not push each other close to the drop-off filled with poison oak -- so I reckoned that in this Eastern Sierra Nevada desert, kids can be relatively safely released.

Alabama Hills are like a nice climbing gym.

I climbed three routes led by Pavel, gradually getting my hands on things that hold and things that break off; I was learning to climb in a terrain new for me. Meanwhile Hippo hiked around nearby rocks with Lisa, coming back to tell me that he spotted a route for himself. It did not look too bad, so I lead climbed it and discovered it to be even easier than it looked from below. By that time even Lisa itched to get climbing, and Hippo had to let her go first. He eagerness lasted about two steps, then she began to talk back and chatter, but she had climbed at least a few yards. She had no real climbing shoes; her sneakers would slip and fall off, which did not make her any happier. Strangely, Hippo would neither chatter nor hesitate, and climbed the whole way up. He declared that he liked it and that he would enjoy climbing such (easy) routes in the future. This makes me happy, for we had finally hit an area where Hippo is not scared and is willing to admit that climbing is rather fun. Bottom line: it seems that we really find a place for the whole family.

all kinds of fun can be had at this gym.

In the end we moved to Shark Fin - a rock that really reminds of an ocean predator's prominent feature. Tommy began to ask for food there, which I took as a good sign, although I could not oblige him, for we had left our dry supplies back at the campsite in a bear-resistant box. Vendulka offered him a banana, but was refused -- Tom said he "wanted a real dinner". That made me think he was not feeling so bad, if he was being obnoxious about food. Alas, what I was considering the light at the end of the tunnel (i.e. Tom's betterment), was only an express passing through.

Sun had set behind Sierra Nevada and it got so cold that we quickly donned dawn jacket. Time had arrived to rush away to the restaurant. Unfortunately, this was a big holiday and the town offered only one true dining place that was open. We could not find a parking spot, had to park around the block, and on our way to the restaurant, Tom got sick. By that time I was utterly confused by his illness -- he was OK at moments (e.g. when he shunned the banana and wanted dinner) and at others he looked really ill.

He ate very little at the restaurant, he leaned heavily on Vendulka (who sat next to him) and subsequently on me (when we changed the seating order after he mentioned "getting sick" -- although he did not vomit again, I wanted to be close and ready for exit. We tried to mull over again whether it would be better to drive right home, but then we thought, Tom may appreciate more getting a chance to sleep well at night, which he could not while sitting until four a.m. in the car.

Hippo climbing.

Still at the restaurant, I changed the children into their fleece pajamas, putting their jackets over and topping it off with winter hats; back at the campsite they went straight to their sleeping bags, and I covered them with my spare, warm blanket bag. Then we made fire and mulled wine, and -- as far as I am concerned -- had a decent Thanksgiving celebration. Peter and Melissa whom we know from our indoor gym, showed up, unplanned, at the campground; they spent the majority of the evening by cooking a sophisticated dinner under our admiring gaze (however, I hope that this has not caused some unwanted side effects, like my family now demanding that we prepare campsite food with ingredients like fresh mango or cilantro -- I still intend to stick with last resort soup in a plastic box, and apply my field culinary skills on one-minute rice and canned tuna).

Hippo is the only one not equipped with a dawn jacket (during my Tuesday packing spree, I purchased one on 75%-off sale, which a slight defect -- the jacket is practically white, so if I take it along to camp and climb, I shall soon look like a filthy homeless woman), and so he was the first one to head for the sleeping bag. He somehow overlooked a wooden rail between the car parking sport and the tent area, and he smacked down on his face right at the hard asphalt in front of our bus. He roared mightily, so that I was worried about losing my mortgagor. Yet it seems that he only sprained his wrist and bruised his knee, and on Friday I was not forced to drive the whole way back home on my own.

It was really hard to leave such a beauty.

If my memory is right, I got into my sleeping back by ten thirty. I was not going to get much sleep, though. Tommy alternatively spoke while asleep, and while awake he asked for drinks, covering up, uncovering, coddling, holding, and sometimes around five vomiting again. After I unwrapped both of us from all sleeping bag layers and took us out into the freezing morning (OK, perhaps it was not freezing, but it was cold), I realized that Tom was not really vomiting, he only tried to get something out of his throat. I had my head-lamp on, and it truly was not difficult to check out my son's throat, and quickly diagnose strep-throat. It that moment I could not do anything else for him, besides giving him another Tylenol and a spoon of honey. It worked; for the next three hours Tom slept.

Eventually it was me again, who got out first in the morning. After all, I've got a training of getting up by 6:45 in time for school, and I could not hold still anymore. I tried to take a picture of Mt. Whitney, but our camera apparently got cold in the night and refused to operate. Hippo, my optimistic ray of sunshine, declared that the camera surely broke down just like the camping lantern (which we drove all four hundred miles just to discover it being useless), and that it was a great trip, with everything @#$% up (he was wrong at least with the camera).

We had a breakfast on a beautiful sunny morning, gradually taking off our clothing layers. Tommy refused to eat and we had a hell of a time trying to force some lukewarm apple juice with honey into him. Later he lay in Vendulka's tent (here we thank for this kind favor), while Hippo and I collapsed our giga-tent, tossed all our bags in our bus, and drove away with a heavy heart, while the rest of the expedition was getting ready for another climbing day in these friendly rocks.

However, next morning after our departure turned out like this.

We drove like demons, stopping only for gas and toilets. Rain surprised us on highway forty-six -- the original forecast for the four holidays mentioned only sunny weather! We reached home in a heavy downpour by five thirty in the evening. I picked up my phone and made an appointment at our clinic for Tom; they're open till seven and there's an advantage of them having all our medical records, (including data about our insurance, hence we don't worry about bureaucratic issues), and as a second plus I consider the appointment method. You have to way an indeterminate length of time at a hospital's emergency ward, before it's your turn, sometimes for many hours, exposed to other coughing and sneezing people in the waiting room.

Hippo took Tom to the clinic and I started to unpack with Lisa (i.e. I was unpacking and Lisa played) -- but even that was OK, for we did not have to tow so far healthy Lisa along through the waiting rooms. The doctor confirmed my self-diagnosis, so he was issued penicillin and we could start curing. Fortunately, he responds miraculously to antibiotics. Twelve hours after his first dose, Tom began to eat again with almost regular appetite, and after another twenty four hours he was strong enough for running around and mischief.

On Saturday morning, twenty four hours after our early departure, I received a text message from Vendulka that two inches of snow fell on the campground and they were driving home. So now I tell myself that Tom's strep-throat saved us from a frosty night and packing of a wet tent, which is not a bad deal, is it? Viewing it globally, our trip was actually a progress -- we never even drove out last year; three days this year, and if this trend continues, next year we may spend the whole Thanksgiving on a trip somewhere. I would only like to know what good are all the weathermen, for they're unable to forecast such a strong shift in the weather two days in advance.

Although we spend only a few hours in Alabama Hills, we brought back enough pictures for a whole page in our gallery.