I’d Rather Vote for A Yellow Dog Than . . .

I am proud to say that I am a “Yellow Dog Democrat.” Someone recently once asked what that meant, and I have to admit, allying myself with a “Yellow Dog” does have its negative connotations, especially if you are an aficionado of old western movies as I am. But when I explained it to her the meaning was clear.

So the question then becomes this: what particular yellow dog would I vote for if there was only a Republican on the ballot? And up until this week's visit to Morro Bay, California, the Albertson’s market parking lot there, to be specific, I didn’t have an answer.

But now I do.

This, in my humble opinion, is the coolest yellow dog on the entire planet.

Do We Still Love the Sierra? Oh Yes We Do.

One of the great things about California is that if you get tired of the scenery all you have to do is get in your conveyance and drive for an hour – the scenery changes that fast.

So yesterday, Sunday, I went up to the Sierra Nevada once more with my cousin’s spouse, Frank. We stopped in Three Rivers for breakfast, a steamy chorizo and egg burrito with a cold glass of opaque apple cider, and then proceeded on into Sequoia National Park.

Now Sequoia National Park is not my favorite. I am a Yosemite man through and through. But Yosemite lies farther off and it is absolutely jammed with holiday goers at this time of year. And Sequoia has all of these day hikes for old codgers like me who don’t get to go outside very much any more.

So my hike up to Tokopah Falls was made for me.

The hike starts at Lodgepole campground which is situated on the south bank of Horse Creek.

It is an easy ascent. The trail is simply cut through talus slopes that define the north bank of the creek.

And then there are the cool ferny respites that make all hikes in the Sierra the pleasant strolls that they are – from time to time. We kept crossing the path of a young African-American girl in braids who was a first-time visitor to the park, and who, maybe as a result, made some some wrong turns from time to time.

She was “from Philly”. Frank claimed that she was stalking us, but I didn't think so.

The falls are really glorified rapids. No sheer drop offs, but nothing you would want to take your kayak over, either.

But then getting up close, and beyond the safety signs posted at the end of the trail, you appreciate the rapid descent of the cool clear mountain water.

Frank, ever the rock-hopping jackrabbit, was all over this outcrop. I, however preferred to stay put in my perch and receive occasional blasts of mist from the falls.

And then, finally, just before returning to civilization, one last look down-canyon and its U-shape that betrays its origin as a canyon gouged out by glaciers.

The Sierra has a restoring force, just as a spring or a bungee cord does. It regrounds you into a sense of place and size.

And when comparing this place to where I live right now on the Gulf Coastal Plain, it gives you a sense of “non-flatness.”

Day 4 of Half Empty Takes a Holiday: Morro Bay Beckons

[Nothing happened yesterday so . . .]

DAY 4:

We raced across California's Central Valley through Valley Fog in the a.m. to make the 11 o'clock deadline for breakfast at Harris Ranch. Those who know Harris Ranch for their beef, and their fine restaruant at the corner of I-5 and US 198, but haven't been there awhile - hey, the food is still good, and the breakfast is still superb. Try their Tri-tips and eggs.

Then we beat a path to the coast trying to avoid one of those famous CalTrans road building projects where they make you wait for about a half an hour while Jesus knows what goes on. In being too clever, we encountered another such project along our alternate planned route. While waiting to be allowed through the construction area, I recalled that there was an incident a few months ago at another CalTrans project on US 138 in Antelope Valley. There, a driver became so irate at the delays and CalTrans employees' seemingly uncaring attitude toward his angst, that he angrily took off through the construction zone before he was given permission.

He was stopped and arrested.

Here is a story on how drivers have issued death threats to CalTrans workers on that project.

As I recalled that story, and the story on the bullying, I smiled at our flagman, and patiently waited for the "pilot car" to guide us through the construction zone. It eventually came, and it guided us past busy road builders and one not so busy road builder taking a snooze in a ditch next to his parked paver.

Sorry no photo. It came up too soon.

We alit on the California central coast at a little fishing village and tourist trap known as Morro Bay. It is named for Morro Rock which dominates the view (along with the 3 stacks atop the PG&E electricity generating station), and presides over the harbor entrance.

It was a bright clear day. These photos were taken of the coastal view just north of Morro Rock.

Then if you turn around 180 degrees you can see the harbor entrance. I noted a returning fishing boat and snapped this photo.

Right on its heels came one of those recreational fishing boats where they charge a fee and sell you bait so you can fish to your heart's content in the deep sea. This boat, in the photo below, roared past the professional boat and it looked like a madhouse was entering the harbor. Sports fishermen were falling all over each other throwing unused bait up into the air and in the water, to be eaten by what looked to be about 50 assorted species of sea birds, dominated by sea gulls, but with a good contingent of brown pelican to boot. It was a circus.

Then there's Morro Rock itself, standing at the harbor entrance, forming one side of it, brooding over the whole scene.

Later on, as we were walking along the Embarcadero, I finally got to find out what you do if you own a sea crane, but no one is using it for anything just now. What you use it for is to tip over your big heavy flat bottomed fishing boat so you can dump the water out.

Hey, why use a bucket when you have a sea crane to do all your work for you?

Half Empty Takes Half a Hike

[Practically nothing happened on Day One so . . .]

DAY TWO:

One thing that you can do when you are tired of the flatlands of California is take a road trip to the Sierra Nevada. That’s what Spanky and Melissa decided to do this morning and the daughter and I were up for it.

Spanky said, “Now I’ll understand it if you say no, but I’d like it if you didn’t say no to this question.”

Me: “Um . . . er . . .OK, what?”

We’d like to drive up into the mountains today, is that alright with you?

“You think I’d say no to that?”

So we piled into the semi-sensible SUV and headed up to Kings Canyon National Park. Melissa handled the mountain curves expertly and if she didn’t notice my white knuckles as I was clutching the side door hand brace, she was polite enough not to make mention of the fact of my alarm.

Make no mistake, as a Cali native I know my way around mountain roads, but since migrating to Texas, the closest thing I have come to a steep curvy mountain road has been the parking structure ramp at Bush International.

After climbing to 7000 feet we came to the General Sherman Grove. The grove refers to a close association of trees of the species Sequoia sempervirens. They are Sequoia trees associated with several others. The largest, and oldest was the “General Sherman Tree” named after the Yankee general that sacked Atlanta during the War of Northern Aggression (as some Texans and other southerners refer to it). Here are two shots of it. One close up and one taken a few hundred feet away in a gap between the trees. These trees cannot be captured in one horizontally taken frame. I was flat on my back taking the leftmost photo.

In perhaps a bid to repair the schism that developed between the North and the South a century and a half ago, the Park Service also singled out another giant sequoia for naming. They named it the General Robert E. Lee Tree.

Sorry, no photograph. OK. . . OK. . . OK. . . here's a link.

However I did take a photo of a small group of sequoia trees. You generally don’t see them grouped together this close. It is probable that one of these gave rise to the rest. And no, I don't know anyone standing in the photo. They just wouldn't get out of the way.

Then we drove to Hume Lake. Hume Lake sits on the border between King’s Canyon and Sequoia National Parks. There’s a nice little path around the lake to take a nice little hike.
Over at the other end you can see the dam that makes Hume Lake.

Then, on the way back to the SUV we happened across a pair of white tailed deer. Now taking photos of deer in the brush are as hard as H-E-double hockey sticks because, guess what, they have protective coloration. But I caught one as it darted across a sunlit area and you can see the deer clearly.

In the end, though, this particular deer made its opinion of our invasion of its privacy known and did in the woods what bears are most famous for doing, also.

Then, as a grand finale, we thought we would try for Cedar Grove. A particularly picturesque grove at the bottom of Kings Canyon. No go, road closed. We went anyway to view the massive disaster that befell the closing of the road. I envisioned massive boulders covering a broken road, perhaps with half a school bus sticking out on one side of the debris.

Ay me, not to be.

It seems they close the road at this time every year.

They close it because they don’t want to keep it open with snow clearing equipment. The snow that you see in the photo. Yes, THAT snow. That’s right, I don’t want to repeat it.

Oh yes I do: your government inaction.