Right to left: Hippo, Tom, Martin and some stranger.

Golden Gate Bridge.

February had driven past me with the speed and momentum of an express train, and only luck can be attributed to the fact that I had not been run over somewhere in a ditch. As soon as I re-gained my bearings after a case of common cold, we were headed for the mountains again. This time we made an experiment and started out late on Friday evening, despite the kids. The situation with our traffic is usually pretty desperate, so either you manage to slip out before the peak hour, i.e. around two in the afternoon — or you need to postpone your travel until eight p.m. Outside the peak, you can reach the mountains in three hours, but it easily doubles at rush time, which we find pretty much both time-wasting and nerve-wrecking.

So the children had bathed on Friday evening and boarded the car in their pajamas, they would just jump from the car into their sleeping bags at the "cottage". Lisa commented that she liked the journey passing quickly — no wonder, she had slept through most of it. On Saturday, Rýzls had arrived to ski, and our children were happy to enjoy time with friends. I had discovered that the creek had bubbled through the remains of the snow near Granite Rock, and hence a part of my cross-country track was not machine-groomed, allowing me to wade on my own through soft powder. After all those frosted tracks, such an expedition represented a welcome diversion — it turned out to be the last fun before the storm.

On Wednesday we welcomed my former Czech climbing partner, Péťa, with her husband Ondra. We had much to talk about, consumed some beer, and figured a plan for their Thursday trip (coast, redwoods, optionally a mission), which they had covered on their own, while I joined my work process, picked up kids from school, and subsequently stuffing our visitors in the car, taking them to dinner, followed by kidnapping Petra to the climbing gym.

On Friday our visitors went to Monterey to see whales and Point Lobos, and in the evening we proceeded planning, what next. Kids' vacations were starting, and Hippo could take one day off his work. Finally we settled on a trip to Golden Gate and Point Bonita for Saturday, and longer rides for Sunday and Monday.

San Francisco from the northern end of the Golden Gate.

Point Bonita.

I think that my guiding pride had suffered a setback at Golden Gate — I kept urging everybody to carry warm jackets and hats, promising cold weather — and just on this one day a warm breeze was blowing from the continent instead of the icy oceanic wind. Instead of enjoying an uncommonly hot day wearing just t-shirts, we packed heavy jackets.

About half the population of San Francisco had taken advantage of this beautiful day to fill all roads, turnouts and parking lots in the parks, and Point Bonita brimmed with people. Somehow we had found a way in and a parking spot, and could set out on a small walk there.

On Sunday we had used both cars and reached Pinnacles; it seemed for a while that we would not find each other among all those crowds, but all ended well. Péťa and Ondra, unburdened by children and years, (Ondra is about ten years younger than I), had sped up ahead at such a pace that we gave them directions cover both High Peaks and the caves. Again the weather was quite ideal; we wore short sleeves, some hippos among us even short trousers. The kids enjoyed scrambling up rocks, looking forward to the more adventurous parts of the trail where you climb up and down steps carved in the stone, and on bridges. Tom had found a spot where he traditionally "spans" across the trail like a bridge — as he gets taller, it becomes easier.

On a trip to Pinnacles.

It's already spring in Pinnacles.

We had reached Basil in Paso Robles for dinner, and continued ten more miles to Atascadro, where we had reserved our hotel rooms. We could not find anything for a reasonable price in Paso; it was much more reasonable in Atascadero. We settled in a hot tub and discovered that even the regular swimming pool had a bathing temperature, which was very pleasant after a whole day of hiking in the heat.

Our direction for the next day was clear — using Google Earth, we had spotted a suitable glen in Los Padres National Forest — and the reality was no worse than the virtual model. We had found ourselves in a small canyon, facing a steep hillside, where it was safe to shoot. Our new four-legged steel target were the hit of the day, for they ring when hit, and when you do it right, they tumble over.

Noon had come and gone and we noticed that we would put more and more clothing layers on — it seemed incredible that on the previous two days, we had run around in only short sleeves. Relatively chilled, we packed our guns and targets, and covered the rest of the way to Soda Lake in California Valley. We had not been to the place for several years and we also wanted to show our visitors another local curiosity, a salt lake. Soda Lake was showing off, for a wind that preceded a storm front had stirred up sparkling white salt dust, and it looked like a glaring white smoke emanating from the surface.

A favorite part of the trail.

Tom spanning across the valley.

A cross-country detour had ensued, also known as looking for the San Andreas Fault. Hippo was navigating more or less by memory through the remnants of bulldozed dirt roads that trace the original plan of a town that had eventually never been built here, and I was hoping that he would find it. Soon we reached a series of small hills, containing the world-famous ditch running away with the shifting coastal plate from the creek flowing from the continental plate.

It was the fault where we said good-byes to Péťa a Ondra — they had their journey to Tehachapi and Las Vegas ahead of them, while we aimed to get back home. Still in the end we were bound to drive the longer way through McKittrick to get gas — it did not look like the rest of our tank would last all the way back to Paso Robles.

On Tuesday the kids had announced they preferred to stay at home — it suited me well as I immersed myself in laundry, packing and shopping, so that we could set out to Kirkwood again on Wednesday. A front that had spooked us on Monday by Soda Lake, had meanwhile hit the Sierra Nevada, delivering a nice heap of snow, and we could look forward to playing in it.

On Wednesday noon we met with Jana and her three boys in Martell — Jana said that the boys would probably like pizza, for she would not know what to order for them in a Japanese restaurant (preferred by us). We had demonstrated in practice that the Japanese also serve, besides raw fish, the apex of Czech cuisine, i.e. Viennese cutlets (Wiener Schnitzel), here even for reasonable prices — and thus all the kids stuffed themselves at lunch and still were taking some along in a box for dinner.

Hippo in Pinnacles.

A cold front had caught up with us at Soda Lake.

We had stayed together for the rest of the way; I did not want to lose Jana. We were going in a Subaru, but Jana had all the kids, skis, snowboards, and sleeping bags loaded in their minivan, and if it should turn out that the roads did not get maintained, we would probably have an easier time putting on chains together. Fortunately, it was not necessary, although some spots on the road were icy; by three o'clock in the afternoon, all the kids were digging in a snow bank, and Jana and I went shopping for lift tickets for the next two days, to avoid long lines in the morning with kids wearing ski gear.

On Thursday, Jana and I took the boys to a green (easiest) slope. It, however, has a very flat finish, and the kids were unable to pick up any speed there, so we moved to a blue one next door. Our family was intermittently joining them, or riding with Martin and Bryce. Later on we met Jana again on the back side of the mountain, with long medium difficulty runs, but by then it looked like a crisis was brewing. Their youngest, Míša, had apparently had enough and began to strike. I had offered to take the older boys around to one more run, but they refused.

I had expected that while we would have our last run, Jana would reach the "cottage"; I was worried when I did not find her there. Fortunately they came right thereafter, while I was getting ready to go search for them, and possibly help her with tired children.

From short sleeves, we switched to windbreakers and hats.

A creek over San Andreas Fault.

Vendula had arrived in the evening, and so it turned into a girls' party — well... not quite, as we sat on a sofa, watching a movie Identity Card; we had maybe a bit of wine. As things go, in time we could start knitting. In the morning I took the kids to black slopes and concluded that Jana would have to try Sentinel. I took her place with her boys on blue runs and sent my children to take her through some more interesting terrain. Just one ride with Míša was enough for me — he's pretty tough and a fighter, but it was obvious that his style "falling every six yards" would soon wear him out, and make him cranky as well.

I had sent Jana with Tom once again on the black Sentinel, which lets you reach Timber Creek — a beginners' slope on the other end of the resort end where we skied on the previous day. I took the rest of the children to Timber Creek over a blue traverse. Our first ride on TC resulted in Míša's full approval — he said it was "cool", for he did not fall even once, and that had settled it.

Our children love Timber Creek — they had started skiing off groomers there. Wooded gullies with scary names of Ditch of Doom and Trench of Terror became their favorites. So they took the oldest, Kubík, into the Ditch and the Trench. Míša had escaped my control and sped after the older kids. When I saw him get ejected by a sequence of jumps among the trees, I worried, but Míša stood his ground somehow, and made it to the lift only falling once. There he declared that from now on he would be skiing only with the oldest kids, and had eventually spread his enthusiasm to the undecided Honzík on a snowboard.

Kids had invited friend for vacations.

Since they had closed Thundersaddle, we were bound to ride One Man Chute.

We had stayed at Timber Creek practically the whole day, only I took my kids a few times to Sentinel, and sent Jana there a few times. For closure, we let Jana and the younger boys take the skiers' shuttle to our "cottage" and dragged Kubík through Drain. It's marked as a black diamond run on the resort map, which in my opinion it is not, but Kuba was ecstatic that he was able to run black diamonds just as much as our children used to be, and we did not spoil it. The only thing that Jana would have to deal with, is the fact that her kids may not like to only ski maintained slopes, and that they had discovered wild terrains.

Jana departed on Friday, but we still had Martin and Bryce. Alas, Vail again had come with an improvement — Thundersaddle had been closed for the whole week all the way to Two Men Chute — which is our favorite track — allegedly for some race. One Man Chute remained our alternative. Lisa was first objecting, but then naturally managed to ski down without a problem. We alternated on Sentinel occasionally, from which one can ski around caves with frozen waterfalls to the favorite Ditch of Doom. The kids were wondering how to name this section, and I think they decided to call it Two Men and One Girl Chute, in their own memory (the men were Tom and Bryce, while Lisa represented the female component of the expedition).

Totally exhausted I then had to pack the kids and drive home, to my working Hippo. I had only Monday left to clean out the stuff from vacations, wash the laundry and pack for my trip to Czech Republic. I was counting on the kids being in school and me having time and room, but I was wrong. At nine thirty they called from the school that my daughter was feeling horribly ill and that I was to come and get her. Given that she did not have a fever, did not look ill, pale or otherwise tired, I concluded it was a case of the Mondays. But since she managed to convince the teacher and the school medic that she absolutely could not cope with learning in the classroom, she had thus prescribed herself rest in bed at home. When kids as truly ill, they are usually allowed to slouch on a sofa in front of our TV set, but Lisa's very serious medical condition apparently called for stronger treatment. Well, I think that she did not have much fun, and perhaps she would next time think again before pulling anybody's leg.