Lisa wanted to have a birthday party with girlfriends.

Labor Day at Leavitt Meadows.

Coming back home from Czech Republic was exhausting, especially for Tom, who was seriously taken aback by the fact that he was supposed to go back to school in five days. Somehow he had lived under the impression that school would start in three more weeks. Naturally there was no first-year sentimentality (by the parents) and eagerness (by the children); we simply took the kids down to the school. That is — we actually walked with them all the way to their classrooms, instead of just one of us dropping them off on a street corner, from whence one can easily reach the grounds. Our children are old hands; they blended into the crowd of friends in the schoolyard, and we went back home.

On the first week of school we managed to organize Lisa's birthday party. She did have another, family one in Czech Republic, but she's at the age when she likes to have one with her girlfriends. Luckily now in the summer it's easy: one invites kids to our swimming pool, and that's the program. Another lucid point of the school year start is a neighborhood grilling party. It took place in a cul-de-sac this year, which was great; kids had plenty of space and nobody needed to deal with cars passing through. Although, Tom had discovered that his friend Kai from his Lego class lives in our neighborhood, and they hid at his place for most of the party duration.

Secret Lake

There was a whole bunch of us at Jeff's

It felt like the children did not really have much school in the early weeks. They began on a Tuesday, hence the first week had only four week-days. The following one had five, but right after that, an extended weekend (Labor Day) followed, with us having reserved horses at Leavitt Meadows. Luba had asked whether they could bring more friends along, and thus there was a whole bunch of us. Seven kids in the age from seven to twelve, and six adults. Only Klárka and Lisa kept confusing people — both are petite, leggy blondes.

Unfortunately, we did not manage to arrange a horse for the new blonde, Klárka, this quickly, and she had to accompany her own family on a visit to Bodie, while we (minus Mirek and Oliver, who did not care for a horse ride) set out to Secret Lake. Whole California had been dry according to media coverage, yet this corner of Sierra had received a thorough serving of summer storms. It would not rise river levels in the long term, but meadows had grown green grass and even flowers were blossoming again.

In the afternoon we all got together at Jeff's for coffee and lemonade, agreeing to a late excursion to a historic ore crusher at Golden Gate Mine. Later, back a our campsite, the pack of children occupied the woods — and we chatted. And sung, too, which was a nice surprise. We even remembered most of the verses of most of the songs!

Kids helping with a balloon envelope.

Dragon Moon.

In the following week, the children went to school only for two and half day — Labor (Mon)Day had extended our camping weekend with friends; on Thursday I picked the kids up already by noon, to allow us to reach Reno, Nevada, by the evening. We had rejected a somewhat shorter route via Sacramento on account of being usually horribly jammed, and slithered via highway 88 by way of Kirkwood. We checked in at six, met with Jeanne and Tom withing half hour, picking up our parking pass for balloon crews — and we set our alarm clock to a later five o'clock.

Dawn Patrol does not fly on Fridays, and all the launches can wait till sunrise — even so, alarm at five was rather out of ordinary, but we managed. Alas, Jen and Mike did not participate this year, and thus we only had one balloon to crew. The Great Reno Balloon Race is likely the biggest gathering we are still able to take part in (as Albuquerque, NM, is somewhat out of ways for us), and we wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. In the afternoon, we could barely stand upright, hence we corralled the kids in their bed (so that we, too, could lie down). For how obnoxious they were about (not) being allowed to read, they spaced out pretty quickly. Unfortunately, Lisa woke subsequently up with a fever, and we had to quickly detour to a drug store and get something for her bad cold.

This year, there was An Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe, and Beagle Max.

Great Reno Balloon Race in full swing.

Brutal wake up at three thirty awaited us on Saturday — Jeanne was flying Dawn Patrol, and we were to show up in the launch field at four fifteen. We planned that should Lisa feel sick, I would return with her to our hotel room, and then come back to pick Tom and Sid up, after it all ends for the day. Yet Lisa seemed happy and perky, and eventually begged from me a fair attraction — jumping in inflatable bubbles, and thus we declared her more or less healthy. Tom and Sid drove out chasing our balloon, while Lisa and I enjoyed the festive atmosphere and collected trophy cards of all the participating balloons.

Lisa tracked down Kris and Lance, our local friends, and invited us to their home for an afternoon visit with their puppies. Naturally the former little doggies had grown up over the year into massive Labradors, but at least they stopped jumping on every person in the vicinity. And the visit was a fine program for our afternoon, including a walk with the dogs; very relaxing.

Our morning schedule repeated on Sunday, with the difference that this time we gave our farewells and departed to our hotel to pack, to be able to get back home in the afternoon and somehow start recovering from our virtual East Coast jet lag — indeed, getting up two or three hours earlier than usually for three days in a row makes you lose your rhythm. I was leaving Reno with a heavy heart; it's one of the places where I could imagine living. I love deserts and mountains, and both are represented aplenty. And it's relaxed — you can cross the whole city in fifteen minutes.

We reckoned that Lisa was not seriously ill after all.

Dawn Patrol is worth getting up at three thirty a.m.

In the following week, our kids again enjoyed Friday off, and it came actually handy. Lisa had been complaining about ear aches, and although she did not develop a fever, I took her to a doctor on Thursday, who said there was no infection and that it would pass; we took advantage of the day off. Tom underwent installation of dental braces, and I had another round of dental implant procedure, thus filling our time with medical stuff. We managed to get out to the ocean beaches with new friends, after which Tom went down with common cold; apparently he got it from Lisa. A week later, the cold jumped to Hippo — the only aggravating part is, it's not a classic virus that lasts seven days, but some durable bug that takes several weeks to battle.

I remained that last healthy family member, and I was glad for that. Pavel and I had arranged our outdoor climbing, actually our first such WEEKEND this year. Originally we had planned Shuteye, but a wildfire erupted there a week before our departure. We changed our plans to Lovers' Leap, which started burning on Thursday. Going through our options on Friday, we came out with Courtright Reservoir, as we were seeking a spot high enough to avoid hot weather, and something out of range of the wildfire smoke and ash fallout.

A view to the launch field (from somebody's patio). Can you spot Darth Vader?

From the chaos of a balloon race into the rocks - Courtright Reservoir offers Yosemite landscape minus the Yosemite overcrowding hassle.

Thus we set out on Saturday morning across the Central Vally, and only then, a bit more southerly, we could see how really dry this year was. We were crossing a rocky desert where nothing grows, only in spots we could see remains of dry grass, but otherwise it was only dust and sand. The Courtright Reservoir was practically empty. Still, the landscape totally impressed me. There were granite domes like in Yosemite, only without the National Park crowds and hassle. Not that we wouldn't have company; it's a recreational area with cabins, serving whole Fresno County, and hunting season had begun; occasionally, a chap with a rifle would emerge from the woods, but chaps with guns don't irritate me anywhere as much as squealing tourists in flip-flops. Hunters remain quiet and polite.

We crossed the Courtright dam and parked near some information boards, withing sight of Power Dome. According to Rob, there is quick approach to Power Dome. Pavel had confirmed this, and when eyeballed, it really looked nearby. Still I think that I shall have to work with my fellow American climbers on our vocabulary. A quick approach means for me that if it is not possible to belay while propped against the hood of my car, I can at least go grab a snack from my car whenever I feel like. In their understanding, a quick approach means that you walk a hundred yards toward the dome, which all by itself would be OK. However, after this, you must climb down onto one ledge, discover that this isn't it, followed by climbing one level lower and subsequent two-pitch rappelling, finishing up with walking some two hundred yards more around the dome skirt (on a slab, without ropes — but I feel proud of myself, for I threw only one tantrum there). This IS NOT a quick approach to a climb. Anyway, I won't take this route to just grab a snack from my car.

First bolt seems awfully far.

Sunset amongst storm clouds.

Pavel chose Welcome to Courtright for starters, which should be 5.9 and looks awesome from beginning to end. However, they did not put many bolts there, in fact, there's only one in the first pitch (and one crack to place your cam); there were three bolts over a somewhat more complicated bulge in the second pitch. I was finishing up there kind-of disquieted by the fact it got darker around us — black clouds did not look friendly at all, but I could not hear any rumbling, and so I hoped that in the worst case we'd just get rained on. The aforementioned quick approach would offer an advantage in having a place and, more importantly, a WAY to run. A cold wind was chasing through the canyon, an so Pavel climbed the third pitch (three bolts) wearing a windbreaker; I donned mine at the next anchor. Sun came out to smile on us in the fourth pitch, and the clouds returned for the fifth — and on the top of Power Dome, a few drops fell on us.

By then it was all the same to us, for at the end of the route we found ourselves some five minutes over an easy terrain from our car; we got in and drove to the reservoir to wash. All we had left to do was finding a spot to sleep, which one can, in a National Forest, do exactly the way I'm describing it — one spots a nice flat location and camps there. It started raining during our placing of the last tent stake, and for the following twenty minutes we just sat in the car and looked out disbelievingly as hail fell all about us. When it had passed, we ran out to cook dinner, and then ran back into the car while another storm rumbled by — like in the cartoons.

A crimson sunset was embellished by lightning — weather showed off its full repertoire, it seemed. It got quieter at the time we were ready to sleep; our tent was up and dry — and the forecast for Sunday was sixty six degrees and sunny, with storms predicted to pass by eleven p.m. Indeed; stars were visible during the night and I had the bottom of my dawn sleeping bag unzipped, although I did put a scarf on my head toward the morning.

C47 Skytrain

Close encounters.

To my surprise the weather remained very variable in the morning — in the sense that either heavy storm clouds raced overhead, or it rained. In the moment that sun came out, we hurried to dry the tent top and bottom, to allow packing. Naturally, there was no chance of the promised sixty six degrees, but still we kept hoping that it would get better. We had chosen Trapper Dome for our climbing, which was supposed to fulfill requirements of a SHORT approach, and more importantly, there are several single-pitch routes, representing simple ways of retreat. But, the moment we had our gear packed and under Trapper Dome, a shower chased us back to the car. After twenty minutes of focusing on our respective books, while hail alternated with simple rain outside, we concluded that the forecasters had made a slight mistake and we would not be climbing here after all. Wet granite is very slick, and judging by how the rain formed puddles and streams, it was obvious that much would be flowing down the rock faces for quite some time.

So we decided to try our luck in lower elevations, namely at Squarenail. For the following hour we drove down the soaked mountain landscape, emerging shortly before Squarenail into brutal sunshine. Before we found an approach path and got there, it was past noon, and the sun had heated the dome face so much, it was glowing like a stove. I used to take Bikram yoga and liked it, but I really don't have to have Bikram climbing. And so I longingly gazed at the storm-front over the mountains, which would not quite move enough to get above us. At least I can't complain that I would not get properly exposed to outdoor elements — there was everything: from hundred and ten heat to lightning and hail storm. Too bad we could not climb in it; Welcome to Courtright had been wonderful. Perhaps we shall return one day.

Thunderbirds.

Thunderbirds.

A Salinas Air Show traditionally takes place at the end of September. This year it seemed that some jets would fly there again — Thunderbirds. We were rather tense on our way to Salinas — clouds rolled in from the coast and the whole weather picture looked rather ugly. It gave us a pause, whether we should go at all — after all, tickets for four people and parking added up to a hefty price, but in the end we took a chance and went. We arrived in the moment when World War II bombers were being shown with an interesting commentary, and that was rather good. Monster Trucks, on the other hand, were a complete flop — all three cars simply broke apart before they managed to show anything substantial. Well, there was a final with Thunderbirds, and that was great.

From Salinas, we continued to Santa Cruz, where friends of our children had organized a birthday party on a beach. We came late, but it mattered not — our kids joined the others for a cake and pizza, and a campfire on the beach. And Hippo and I slipped away to a date. Well, a date — we simply went to a dinner at our favorite Sabieng, only minus the kids. We picked them up after seven o'clock, moaning about being tired (still suffering bad cold), and took them home.

If I ignore sicknesses and dentists, our September turned out rather nice — horses, balloons, aircraft, beaches, mountains — a little bit of everything. Lisa started rehearsing for a new school theater play. First she sniveled over her casting, for she was to play one of the crooks, and said it was not fair that she gets thrown in jail in the end, and we had to work on her about the fact that it was a rather good cast. We think she got a challenging and difficult character to play; definitely moving from the category, "one of the sheep", to individual characters, and that's good. Tom has his Lego class, no change here; even the teacher is the same — the one who spends his time with boys putting together tanks instead heading out and having a date. We had turned down Mad Science classes on Thursdays; instead, I try to take the kids out once a week, to climb. After all, they spend all this time sitting in school or poring over homework (or playing computer games, let's not deny that), and the simple jumping and running around slowly disappears from their lives. This way, they can have some athletic activity besides weekend things with our family. I always try to let their friends join us, to avoid overexposure to boring parents, and so we shall see where it will take us.