Slowing Down in the Sierra

More than 30 years ago, my dad found what is now his only camp spot. For the last five of those, I've been lucky enough to join him at least once over the course of the summer for a few days of relaxation and soaking in of the sights, fresh air, and some staying-in-one-place rather than the usual travels of my adventures.

This year - like last - was up in the air for a while. Much of the Sierra National Forest is still recovering from the Creek Fire of 2020, and there are quite a few places that are not yet open to recreation. Luckily for us, after a few calls for clarification, we surmised that we'd have to take an alternate route to camp, but that there were no restrictions on us actually being there. Whew!

And so, on a Thursday - morning for dad, and evening for me - we rolled into camp. It wasn't without incident, but luckily for me, Dad showed up first and was able to take care of the manual labor.

We'd roll out again, several days later, having spent much of our time in camp chairs, thoroughly enjoying ourselves as we slowed down in the Sierra.

For now, though, it was time to settle in. Ultimately, since we didn't move around much, I sort of just carried the camera around. This report then, will be a collection of photos and a few stories of our time. Enjoy!

 

Around Camp

We spent the bulk of our time hanging out around camp - chatting in our chairs as we gazed out at the granite landscape, reading, and in Dad's case, birding. The weather was rather varied - warm the first day, cloudy with wind the second, and clear but cool on the third. Ultimately it was good news for our coolers, which didn't have to work so hard, but a little chilly for us.

 

Scarred Landscape

Reminders of the Creek Fire were all around. A few trees that we'd seen the year before and wondered as to their survival had died; others had fallen through the winter. In the years to come, the danger will increase as more of the standing dead succumb to the elements. Still, we were thankful for what was left - it certainly could have been much, much worse.

 

Lost Knife Knoll and Tip of the Spear Point

As nice as it was to relax, I couldn't sit around camp the entire time. On our second day, I decided a hike to Lost Knife Knoll was in order, as well as - pending conditions along the ridge - a possible extension to Tip of the Spear Point.

My previous hike to Lost Knife Knoll - the first after the fire - had been an eye-opener. Dozens of trees were down over the trail, and it was obvious that I was the first presence in quite some time. Expecting the same this year, I was delighted to see that some significant trail work had been performed and the trail was in better shape than ever before; albeit through a charred landscape rather than a towering pine forest.

With relatively cool temps, I made it to the ridge leading to Lost Knife Knoll in relatively short order. The views - as always - to the █████████████████ were dramatic, the water raging in the river below.

Of course, the reason I'd come was to check on the status of the "Lost Knife." I'm always a little nervous when I get to this point, wondering if I'll find the stone that guards the knife, its location never quite where I think it should be.

After a few moments on the Knoll - some chatting with Dad over the ham radio, a few checking my phone with the first LTE service I'd had in two days - my next steps were obvious: it was time to make my way to Tip of the Spear Point for the first time since the Camp Fire.

It has seemed that one of the side effects of the fire has been a decrease in the four-legged wildlife in the area. So, I was happy to see that along the ridge, there was evidence that at least two recent inhabitants.

Mostly downhill before a steep climb to the summit, I soon found myself in a place I'd only been once before - the highest point at the Tip of the Spear.

Heading down from the point, I soon found myself back in the burn area, the devastation here, as stark as any I'd seen so far.

Making my way back towards camp, I soon found myself crossing ███████ Creek, where our traditional swimming hole was looking fine - the water higher than it has been the last few times I've visited, requiring me to wade across, rather than my usual hopping from rock-to-rock.

 

Winged Wildlife

As always, one of us was more attuned to the winged wildlife than the other. Still, I happened to capture a couple of our flying friends when I happened to have my camera in hand. Of course, the most interesting sighting - described to me as "an impossible bird" - wasn't captured on film, but it was the first time Dad had seen a Lawrence’s Goldfinch in his 34 years visiting this place.

 

Chrome Grills

And now, for a fun story.

I don't remember exactly what we were talking about that led to the specifics of this discussion, but at some point, we were talking about a few of the spots on the Tacoma that could use a bit of touch-up paint. The most obvious is the dent in the bedside that I got when running the Oregon Backcountry Discovery Route. I ultimately - after purchasing a kit to repair it, including some color-matched spray paint and clear coat - decided not to repair it, realizing that it was likely only first of many.

Our conversation of paint prompted Dad to tell me about the time he'd painted his Jeep in his parent's garage, using dozens of cans of spray paint, picked up at the local hardware store. After a good chuckle, he then related to me a story of some of his friends at the time who went so far as to paint the front grill of their Jeeps a chrome silver.

"It was just so wrong. Jeep grills shouldn't be chromed," he chuckled.

 

Back Down the Mountain

Eventually, it was time to pack up and make our way back to civilization. As always, it was a bittersweet process - happy to have had a few relaxing days in this special place, and yet wishing that we had more time to remain.

As we packed up, I mentioned to Dad that I was thinking about heading out via a different route than we'd come in. We knew there were two - at least - bridges out on this route, but I was curious as to the state of bypasses, and whether we might be able to use this route on future visits, assuming bypasses that the chromed-grill Jeep could navigate.

And so, with final glances and a plan to regroup once we reached pavement, we each turned in separate directions and made our way through the blackened forest and out of the mountains.

In the end, this alternate route seemed passable. Who knows, maybe it will be our way back in, the next time we visit!