The Usual Activities | Sierra #1

In what has become an enjoyable tradition, the end of June marked a few days of fun and relaxation in the Sierra with Pops. Usually, busy schedules keep us from getting up until just before Labor Day, but this year we pulled off our visit early!

With perfect weather, we soaked in the sun and surroundings. Visited traditional lunch spots. And trapsed our way through blackened forests of the 2020 Creek Fire. And of course we ate well.

This time, I've decided to break up the trip into two parts. The first - our 'usual activities' of lazing around camp and checking out local landmarks, and the second, a look at some of the flora and fauna that were all around in late spring.

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Upon landing in Las Vegas to pick up the Tacoma, I went through the familiar provisioning exercise. Pops and I had decided that we'd each supply our own breakfasts, I would make lunches, and he would make dinners. That was a pretty good deal in my opinion, since I was promised chicken marbella for all three of our dinners. Not that our loaded turkey sandwiches with the three 'C's - chips, cherries, and cookies - were anything to turn our nose up at.

It's not a short drive from Las Vegas to our special little spot in the Sierra - something on the order of 8 hours if you drive as grandpa-ly as I do - so it was nearly 10:00pm when I finally squeaked and creaked my way into camp. Grabbing my chair, I joined Pops around the camp fire, where we chatted for a few hours before finally going to bed.

Morning Activities...

One of the greatest things about our trips to █████████████ is how relaxing the entire experience can be. As opposed to my usual adventures - up at sunrise and moving until sunset - we park in one place and lazy around camp, in the most beautiful surroundings, for days at a time.

And so, I figured that waking up at 9:00am was not only called for, but expected. Climbing down out of the tent, it was already warming up, and I was greeted with a view that I've come to love.

Wandering up to camp, I fully expected that Pops wouldn't be taking it quite as easy as me. Morning in the Sierra is his favorite time of day - the early bird gets the worm - and I knew he'd be taking advantage of his first morning to bird his brains out.

Waiting around was no problem - I enjoyed some cereal and cherries in the shade - and half-an-hour later, I spotted a familiar looking figure emerging from the charred forest, spotting scope on his shoulder and a smile on his face.

After Pops returned from his birding frenzy, the remainder of our first day consisted of hanging around camp and chatting about all matter of topics. I have no idea what any of these topics were at this point, but I'm sure we were regularly interrupted by the flittering and fluttering of birds. The moving of camp chairs from one shady spot to the next - the fire resulting in less pine needle cover - was another of our main activities of the day. And of course, eating.

Paradise? Perhaps.

In Search of a Knife...

After enjoying the warm weather around camp, we decided at some point that we ought to head up Lost Knife Knoll for our annual check of the memorial pocketknife from which the knoll derives its name.

Even before setting out, we failed at beating the heat. It was 8:57am when we padded out of camp, our packs empty but for the sandwiches and some liquid gold - ice cold Dr. Pepper and Coke that we'd enjoy with a view - that I prepped before our departure.

While not the official trailhead, I always think of the bridge as the real beginning of the trail. I think this is because the trail - to this point - largely works its way down a granite dome, the path unaffected nearly all of nature's wrath. Across the bridge, the trail enters the forest - and ███████████ Wilderness - a place that has changed dramatically every year since the Creek Fire.

Unlike the sparsely treed forest around camp, the trees on this side of the creek once formed a much more traditional forest. As a result, the fire burned hotter here, killing many of the trees. Over the last four years, those charred trunks have begun to fall, with more falling every year.

The major climb to Lost Knife Knoll takes place in the third and fourth fifths of the hike. This trailless section is slow-going, the general route familiar, but never exactly the same. Before last year, it was a route that Pops hadn't climbed for quite some time, his hip bothering him until he got it replaced.

Today, his hip fully healed, we made quick work of the incline, and soon we reached the saddle, an entirely new view - of the ███████████ watershed - opening up before us.

Not far from the top, we reached another familiar spot. This spot was the location where, on my first visit some five years earlier, Pops and John asked me to trim back the manzanita along the edge of the upper rock, in order to widen the "trail."

After wandering around the summit and soaking in the wrap-around views for a good 15 minutes, we couldn't delay discovery of the lost knife any longer. It's not that we thought it wasn't there, only that we wanted to revel in the anticipation as long as we could. And so, wandering around the protective stone, I suggested that we might as well assume it was there, and just eat lunch.

As if that was even an option.

Our curiosity satiated, it was time to enjoy lunch. Like most everything in this place, we found our traditional lunch spot and settled down to enjoy our sandwiches and cherries as we reveled in the hike, the knife, and the memories of previous years when we'd done the same.

Back in Camp...

It was hot by the time we found our shady chairs back in camp. More chatting, reading, and napping were on tap for the remainder of the day and much of the next. That, and Dad spent time at his remote office - a card table that once belonged to Grandma and Grandpa - keying out the birds and plants that he'd collected throughout the day.

It was as we sat in camp that we started to smell it. The breeze had been blowing up canyon - as usual - over the course of each day, but it was only on the third and following days that the smoke made it all the way to our location. From the Basin Fire, it was thick enough that Pops even checked the status to make sure we'd be ok for the remainder of our stay.

Trail Limo, Rolling Out...

We never get to spend enough time in this little slice of paradise, and before we knew it, our supply of chicken marbella was depleted and our sandwiches were gone. Surely, we could have survived on water and ice for a few more days, but with a planned stop at my favorite Mexican food joint - La Morenita in Turlock - on the docket, the writing was on the wall; it was time to hit the trail.

As always, our final act - remembered only after we'd left camp, thus requiring a trek back up the hill on foot as we carried our chairs - was a traditional camp photo. With the forest thinning behind us and shade becoming scarce, we struck the pose.

 

 

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