My friend Jana had described to me how they had discovered a beautiful natural bathing spot along a creek in Felton, and I decided to check it out. We go to Felton relatively often — to walk in the redwood grove, watch the historic steam engines, frequently both; yet we did not know about the baths.

Kids at Roaring Camp, Felton: left to right Bryce, Lisa, Aiken, Tom.

Queue for a rope swing on San Lorenzo River.

Lisa had first enjoyed a riding class on a pony with Emma, then we loaded Emma's younger brother Aidan, arranged over the phone with Rumiko, and soon after noon we met in Scotts Valley to have a Thai lunch. A larger count of chicken satays had disappeared in the children, we added Rumiko and Bryce to the crew in our car, paid entrance to the park, and headed for the river.

In the end it was not hard to find it at all, only the main beach seemed a tad too crowded, so we continued upstream to explored if we could spot anything less popular. Well, we had found another sandy river bank, but the children had changed into their swimsuits and embarked on an adventurous expedition downstream the river to the original beach. Rumiko and I then gathered all the backpacks and shoes and followed them un-adventurously on the riverside trail. The discoverers took some more time, but we could hear their shouting all the time, and we were never worried about their fates.

San Lorenzo River is special in that it operates in summer as well (for many Californian rivers simply dry up), and by having the sandy beaches and simple folks on them. Overhanging trees have been fitted with rope swings that facilitate jumping into the deeper pools (some spots in the creek are up to five feet deep!), it is possible to dig in the sand and build muddy puddles. Fish and crays thrive in the icy water, and many pebbles heap on the other side, and they can be hurled into the stream. Again my idea got confirmed that children need no Disneylands and computer games to have fun. After two and half hour, Rumiko and I dredged out of the water four totally exhausted, chilled and hungry, nevertheless loudly protesting little wet figures. They yelled that they did not have enough time to play. Still back at the car and subsequently at home my offspring just sat and gaped, and so I think that the activities had drained them of energy after all.

Younger riders impatiently await the return of the first shift. (photo granny)

A stop on a horse ride on Leavitt Meadows.

Another mass action awaited us on the weekend. After confusion with various friends signing up and later cancelling participation, only Kubíks remained. There are three Kubíks — Kubík, Honzík a Míša, but with minimum age difference, they look incredibly alike, and Jana dresses them in t-shirts of same color (to keep track of her boys everywhere), which makes them completely mix up for me. I usually tell them apart by the following key: Kuba plays with Tom, Honzík plays with Lisa, and Míša is the smallest of them all. In May we had camped out with them in the Pinnacles; this time we had decided to advance to the next level and planned camping in the Sierra and a horse ride.

We agreed on meeting in a pub in Knights Ferry. If I remember correctly, this time no-one fell in the pond, only Míša could not keep up with the older kids and was not fast enough to flee before a rotating garden sprinkler, so Jana had to change his clothes. Despite having threatened us with vomiting children, Jim (Jana's husband and the father of all the Kubíks) held close behind us all the way across the whole Sonora Pass, and we had reached Leavitt Meadows together. Clouds were clustering over the station, but our team held in high spirits, and we had sent our first batch on their way. Craig had only five horses available, but since we only wanted one-hour rides with respect to the boys having never ridden before, it was quite alright. The oldest boys (Tom and Kuba), men (Jim and Sid) and Kubík's grandma (visiting from Czech Republic) went first. She hesitated at first, but soon took advantage of a ready saddle — you've come all the way to the Wild West, you better try everything it offers.

Thunderstorm rolling over Leavitt Meadows.

Everybody participates in gold prospecting in a fallen tree ditch under our campsite.

Myself, Jana and our granny were holding back the smaller children, promising their turn would be next. But soon we had to chase them inside the office, for a thunderstorm had rushed close. When the downpour just began, the first expedition made it back, and as soon it stopped raining, we were mounting our steeds. Lisa could choose between Bonnie and Large Marge, and insisted on Marge; for the next hour she was showing off, yelling that she is a cowgirl, and that this is the best ride in the world, and generally enjoyed herself, contaminating the other children with it. I think that her enthusiasm had contributed in a substantial way to the overall success of this enterprise.

When we had paid, thanked and said good-bye (i.e. dragged Lisa away from the horses), we had to drive up to Cottonwood Creek. Alas, Kubík's Odyssey has a lower clearance than our Sienna (and they had one extra person along), and they arrived with a ripped-off undercarriage cover (this plastic affair sheltering the engine from beneath); fortunately it turned up to be easily fixable. The only thing I don't know, is how Jim managed to fit in their tent with his huge halo, for he never complained, not a single word.

We hope that we had succeeded in demonstrating in practice WHY we favor a campsite in such a remote place. All five kids had disappeared toward the brook, while we wrestled our tents. We managed to lure the children back with setting up a campfire and offering dinner, but we practically did not know about them for the rest of the time. When we all started to get to sitting down and having a chat, another thunderstorm rolled in and we had to hit the sleeping bags with no regard to age. I was a bit worried how they all would cope, but the sun was shining in the morning again and since none of the tents leaked, our spirits warmed up quickly.

Blue Lake.

We took a long time to eat a serious breakfast with the excuse that tents had to dry. Kids scattered in the woods and to the brook again, and I had not heard "mamíííí" for at least two hours. Eventually we had to pack and set out for Virginia Lakes; we had promised to take our friends on our favorite hike. Lakes hold less water this year and we could not deliver the pinnacle experience of high elevation snow patches — still there was much fun. Regarding my theory about the redundancy of Disneylands — we experienced throwing rocks, skipping puddles, visit to an ancient gold prospector cabin, climbing rocks followed by some more rock throwing, while the adults gave some admiring yelps over the landscape.

Finally one family snapshot by Cooney Lake.

Regular Journal readers surely recognize this gold prospecting cabin on the Virgina Lakes trail.

Jim had to return home early on Sunday, and so their part of the expedition rushed back home across the Pass after returning from the hike. We proceeded to have a late lunch/early dinner at Jeff's in Walker. We had come here for the first, and possibly last time this year, and we tried to use the opportunity to greet an old friend.

With the arrival of August came granny's departure, and kids' start of school approached. And because of Hippo's new job (i.e. the absence of time-off), we were unable to organize any serious trip, and I tried to make it up to them with several local attractions. Besides San Lorenzo River, to which we kept returning throughout August, I took them to the Monterey Aquarium again. We got membership tickets, and it simplifies things. And since we came there on a weekday, we could afford to venture into the kids' section, which is clogged on the weekends. I thought that if I offer the children something new, we could skip the familiar exhibits — but no luck; we had to see EVERYTHING.

And since I got caught unprepared to Lisa having consumed her birthday present books within two days, I had signed them up with the City Library. Now they possess their important-looking cards and I have been discovering that they can read altogether a lot. Lisa is burning through everything, Tom borrows mostly encyclopedia and non-fiction books — but four to eight books lasts them about a week. I hope we would keep track of all the books and wouldn't feel brutal late fines.

You climb up this dike.

Vendula on a slab at Pywiack Dome.

On the last weekend before granny flew away, I made a detour on a climbing expedition. Pavel with Vendula picked me up after nine o'clock, so we reached our obligatory sleeping meadow after midnight. One gray Subaru was already parked there, and a tent next to it — Pavel resolved our speculations, whether that was Peter and Melissa, by going and shaking their tent — indeed the tent cursed in Melissa's voice. She was surely glad to have such good friends.

In the morning we endured our breakfast and a long line to the entrance to the park, and eventually crawled with the rest of the cars all the way to Pywiack Dome. I had eyed it many times before, routes in a slab look simple and beautiful. We warmed up on Dike Route 5.8. As the name suggests, you climb along dikes standing out from the otherwise flat wall. It isn't hard, only you can get used to how little you need to stand on or hang from. We began to climb in sunshine, but the skies above began to overcast more and more, until we were quite glad to be leaving the spot. Pavel went to wait in the line under Needle and Spoon, but before we unwrapped our ropes, it began to rain. We retreated to the car, but mountains are unpredictable — soon the sun was shining again and so we got back and climbed Needle and Spoon. That's already five ten (5.10a) and Vendulka alternated between cursing and screaming and simply hanging on, but eventually finished climbed it up all the way to us.

On our way to the eastern side of the national park, Pavel insisted on a climbing stop at some rock, but there the mountains showed their teeth again — as soon as he got up to the top, we received a generous shower from above, and all we could do was scramble up (Pavel), pack the wet gear, and definitely retreat to dinner.

Carol on Pywiack Dome; Tenaya Lake in the background.

We overnighted in Mono Basin.

At Nelly Deli we ran into (surprise!) Peter and Melissa, so we sat down with beer on the deck right past closing time, and eventually camped near Mono Lake. I had cowardly built not just a tent, but the rain fly as well — unlike Melissa and Vendula I had no partner along to be able to chase out into the rain to put the fly on. Thus I was (about five minutes) late getting in my sleeping bag, but still it was me who was up first in the morning. No one of my buddies had little children, and they are obviously used to sleeping in.

Our Sunday plan included OZ on Drug Dome — allegedly the most beautiful (Pavel's version), longest and most strenuous (as defined in the guide book) five ten class crack on Tuolomne. And after Pavel and I would finish it (haha), we would take Vendulka on some single pitch non-crack routes in the vicinity. It happens that plans go awry, but this time it was rather dramatic.

Already from the trail to the rock, we could see two guys wrestle with the second pitch — a difficult wall 5.10d. Under the entry, another guy from a couple was tying himself on, and his partner was on the first anchor. The first pitch is extra easy, and the hero ran it up in no time, and while he was entering the the second, hard pitch, and the first couple started in the crack, Pavel ran up to the first anchor. When it was my time to conquer the entry wall, something between panting and hollering sounded from above. Vendula, who could see up and left, said that a guy was fighting with the crack. Yet within a few seconds the panting morphed into an extended yell, which lasted unpleasantly long time. About as long as you would take to fly in a free fall, head first, a hundred feet, and then get stopped by your rope. I could not see anything, but the sound effects alone scared me quite enough.

Pavel leading in OZ on Drug Dome, Carol on the bottom end of a diagonal rope. (photo Vendula)

Carol climbing after Pavel in the course of supportive moves after the fall. (photo Vendula)

Vendula reported the chap was alive, and his belayer as well. I finished climbing to Pavel and the second couple passed us information that the fallen guy had a bruised ankle and his buddy would try to clean their belay gear, and then perhaps rappel using the second couple's rope. And so we were waiting, trying not to make the situation more crowded on the second anchor. Eventually Pavel ventured into the difficult short wall, the second couple moved on to the improvised third anchor under the crack, and I began being bombarded by icy hail. The injured pair rappelled down to Pavel, and subsequently, using our rope, traversed to me, from whence you could rappel with a single seventy meter rope.

It may sound complicated as described thus, but it took perhaps an hour or one and half. In that space the sky cast over and a veil of rain, since the moment of the fall visible on the horizon, got within a reach. And then it reached my head and the rocks around. I tried to climb in the difficult wall, but wet granite is too slippery to hold; a thunder began to rumble — even Pavel started to accept that it was not too reasonable to continue. Eventually we, too, rappelled down and then stood at attention for about ten minutes, glued to the rock where the huge roof under the top of the dome would protect us at least a little.

Temporary waterfalls were pouring down the rocks, thunder was rattling all around us, and in pauses between showers we trotted back to the car. We were hoping that on our way west we would get into some dry area, but until the intersection of highway 49, dark clouds haunted the skies and it was wet. Eventually we gave up, and the impossible happened — I got back home from my climbing trip before nine o'clock in the evening (including a dinner break).

Heroes face Pacific surf (photo Granny)

Kids are warming up in the mouth of Big Sur River lagoon. (photo Granny)

And while I was climbing on and off in Yosemite, Sid and Granny took the kids on a trip to Big Sur, a stretch of Highway 1 south of Carmel, quite famous and popular with tourists. First they checked out a beautiful little beach near Garrapata Park, which Granny had discovered this summer and whose existence we never suspected for a whole decade, and then they headed to the mouth of the Big Sur River in Molera Park. There, nature had created a combination of a lagoon, a creek, and a shallow oceanic cove, where one can jump, run like a hero into the (icy) Pacific Ocean, and immediately "warm up" in a lagoon only a few degrees, but still, warmer. The children had quickly made friends with other offspring (who, accidentally, came from Canada), and again did not require anyone to supply them with entertainment. While hiking back, they encountered a completely fearless wild mouse. What fun!

The last week of vacations happened in fast forward. We took Granny to the airport, and both kids wept. It consoled them a little that they were going to see her again in only a fortnight, when we would go visit Czechia. And to prevent them from having time to miss Granny much, I took them and some friends to Felton on the following day (three hours of splashing), and on Thursday to canoes on Vasona Lake. Friday's highpoint was a visit to the school and studying new class listings for the next school year. The name of Tom's new teacher was not familiar, Lisa was disappointed that she got a different teacher than Tom had in his second grade. I tried to describe how her new teacher looked (for I remembered her) — and Lisa declared in disappointment that the teacher was old (she's rally a mature lady perhaps a generation older than me). I assured her that she's nice and that Bryce, who had her last year, really like her. Lisa grounded me by saying: "Um... old people like you, mom, may be often nice, don't they?" So there I have it.

From the left Big Sur River forms a lagoon, while from the right Pacific Ocean fills a protected cove.

The mouse was munching something on the edge of the trail.

Our Saturday was especially hectic: we began with a neighborhood party at eleven thirty. This year there was no organizing duty assigned to me, and everything worked in the relaxed, friendly manner as usual. At eleven thirty a parade had set out; Tom took it again like a race and biked among the first people around the block. Lisa had bruised her shoulder playing on a palm tree swing; we chatted with old and new neighbors, and mostly with our neighbors' granny Julie, who lives in Santa Barbara and whom we don't see as often as back when she used to baby-sit her grandson (who turned nine in January, no longer needing services for toddlers). Having left the party, we quickly jumped in our pool, and it was time to get together at Kovar's — after three years, Kubackis came back from Czech Republic on a holiday, and we wanted to see them.

Lukáš and Radim began to climb rocks more in the last three years, and the plan for Sunday was set — we would all go to Castle Rock. I invited Jana to join this fun, as she expressed a wish to try climbing. Well she had camouflaged it that her BOYS should try it, but I know what I'm talking about. We were marching to the rocks like a wedding procession — five Kubíks, the four of us, three Kubackis, plus Vendula with Pavel. When I spotted an unoccupied 5.9, I decided to step in it right away. I had had the wherewithal to borrow some cams from Pavel, and I jammed two of them in the rock so that I would not be afraid (I remembered quite well how I was using a loop desperately in this spot some time ago). Then I left the rope at mercy of various top-ropers, especially Jana, who had eventually scrambled all the way to the top and, following my instruction, "sit back", she sat down prettily on the rock. We had to clarify some terminology, but even she, in the end, got lowered down. While Lukáš, Radim and Vendula were each trying their luck, I top-roped something difficult that Pavel had led. By then Hippo with Jim and the kids showed up on a platform above the waterfall, yelling that they wanted to drive home.

On Vasona Lake.

Neighborhood party: kids are militarizing.

After a few logistic back-and-forths I trotted to the junction under the rocks and received keys to Kubík's car, so that Jana and I had some way to get home — Hippo promised that he would take all the kids and Jim (fortunately we had our bus). I then later climbed top-rope the five niner, changed the gear to a relatively difficult 5.10c, top-roped it, and left it to other interested parties. I moved on to follow Pavel and Radim, who wanted to climb a waterfall route, which I had been eyeing for a long time, but I could never master the start. Pavel managed it easily and was sent to fetch my rope in the 5.10c. Radim belayed me, and then I returned the favor. He then pulled the rope up to the platform and left toward the parking lot. I had to walk around the rocks from below, grab my backpack and hike up to the junction. I admit that I was not feeling well — being alone in a quickly darkening forest, in mountains known for their mountain lions — hence I was happy to meet with Radim at the junction. Before we reached the parking lot, it got ass-dark. But we had a great climb and perhaps a new convert, Jana.

On Monday, the children started school — they are totally old hands, nothing special happened. I filled out release forms for our trip to Czechia, participated in an introductory noon yard duty, greeted various parents, teachers, kids and caretaker — and that was about it. Tom brought home a list of things that he was to do by Tuesday — e.g. bring from home a book to read. He wanted to take his guide to hamsters, and I opposed saying that he should probably read some fiction — we agreed that he would take both and see what the teacher says. When I picked him up after school on Tuesday and asked him what she said, he admitted FORGETTING the books at home. Lisa did not bring back her lunch bowls and had to go back from the car looking for her sweat shirt. On Wednesday it was Tom who failed to return with his sweat shirt, but we did not find it anywhere. On Thursday 7:45 a.m. Tom gave me a questionnaire that he was supposed to return on that very day — but in the afternoon he had found his lost sweat shirt again.

I myself had my best moment on Wednesday — I had promised the kids that I would bring them freshly (re)baked focaccias for lunch. On my way from school in the morning I bought the pies, unpacked them back at home, left for my yard duty — discovering there my two kids approaching me with expectations of food (focaccias were located, carefully unpacked, at home in the fridge). I was bound to beg for a lunch for them at the school cafeteria. Simply put — a NORMAL school year had begun.