My boss puts a quote of the day on the whiteboard at work… today’s credited Jerry Seinfeld with saying, “The road less traveled is less traveled for a reason”… I thought about that a lot today and would have to say instead “The road less traveled is sometimes the best road to travel”.
As a child, my Mom planned an annual Spring Break vacation for our family. Zion, the Grand Canyon, Bryce, Monterey Bay, Lassen… so many people and places and things that were new and fascinating and thought inspiring. As an adult some of my fondest and clearest memories of childhood revolve around those trips. It was something that I always promised myself I would do for my children when I grew up. Our first official family vacation was several years ago to the Grand Canyon and surrounding areas. Then three years ago to Zion National Park in Utah. Seeing these places through the eyes of my children… and through the eyes of myself as an adult… it made them all the more special and indelibly marked in my memory.
This year we continued our family spring tradition by heading north with several places on the itinerary to visit.
Thursday was a typical travel day with traffic, stops and travel-sick kids. Arriving later in the afternoon at the Hostel we were greeted by Doug Sr with a big ol’ smile. We settled in for the evening, and I nursed the still travel-sick boy child (to much sun and heat in the car I think).
Having looked beforehand at the weather forecast, I wasn’t surprised when Friday dawned overcast and kind of blah. For this reason I had planned for us to do a lot of indoor activities. I knew that the Norman Clyde exhibit was open and in it’s final set-up stages at the Eastern California Museum in Independence. So, after sleeping in a little bit the three of us got up, ate our breakfast and headed north. The exhibit was not quite complete, but fantastic all the same (the grand opening is April 18th… if your in town you should take the time to stop and look.) I think Damien got the biggest kick out of the
Native American exhibit and Alana was fascinated by the
Manzanar information. She asked if we could visit Manzanar so I put that into the schedule for later that day. After finishing at the Eastern California Museum, we met up with our favorite Elusive California Moose for lunch. Laura, in her typical Auntie fashion, presented the kids with gifts and I don’t think either of us realized the extent of the enjoyment Damien was going to get out of the hacky sack she gave him.
After lunch Laura went on back to work and the kids and I headed to Manzanar. I knew the basic history of the area and what it was about for the most part, but I must say I was moved by what I saw inside the museum and I’m pretty sure the kids were affected as well. It’s something that is hard to put into words… but hearing testimonials and accounts of the people who actually lived there… they were innocent people who didn’t do anything and instead of being bitter for being ripped out of their lives, they settled in,
made it theirs and said they were just doing what they could for their country. I would definitely recommend a visit here at least once for anyone driving past… it really doesn’t take a long time and it’s a piece of our history.
Plans were made to meet for dinner at the Hostel at 1700 so we headed back towards Lone Pine, but I wanted to see the Western Movie Museum before returning to the Hostel. I admit, I’m a huge western, black and white, cheesy old movie fan. I spent as long as I could perusing the displays, thanking goodness for each second that a bored child wasn’t tugging on my arm wanting to leave. I must, however, admit to some disappointment. They had some props from a couple of John Wayne movies that I happen to have watched a few times, including one of his shirts. Looking at it… I swear it should have been bigger. There’s no way that shirt would have fit the Duke… he was a man larger then life… and that shirt… it was.. well…. so small!!!
“Mmmooommmm lets GO!” This, spoken with something verging on whining petulance as a bored boy child started poking at the Graboid display from Tremors, prompting me to wrap up my trip through Great Western LaLa land… and we went back to the Hostel.
Laura was already there so she and I ran across the street to Pizza Factory and got some pizzas. About 1900 Tomcat and friend Jim wandered in and introductions were made all around. Shortly thereafter
Richard P and Gigamike joined the festivities… and Kevin Treiu and friend as well. So there we all were… happy little groups of peoples chattering away. John (one of the Rangers from Manzanar) joined us as well and after not to long he challenged my son to a game of
hacky sack. Now really… how many places can a family go to stay and be able to get away with playing hacky sack in the lobby?? Not only let them get away with it… but cheer them on and join in? By the end of the night Girl Child, Boy Child, John, Cherida and myself had all participated in the game. 2200… the group tackling the MR next day headed off to bed and I rounded up my kiddos for the same purpose. Lights out… bed time… sleep well.
Saturday… I had set my alarm for 0630 the evening before so I could get up and watch sunrise… and oh man was I rewarded. The colors were fabulous against the east face of the mountains… sherbet orange and zinfandel pink gilded the snow covered peaks … while above and to the south of Whitney a snow white moon drifted westward and down. I sent a silent thought towards my climbing friends and then set about getting my day ready. Kids up and dressed… we headed east towards Death Valley. I had never been there before and was looking forward to it. Unfortunately I didn’t realize just how far of a drive it was. Call me silly… but for some reason it just didn’t click that we had to drive over two mountain ranges. So… we swoop up over the Angus (?) range and pull out at
Father Crowley overlook. I step out of the car and am amazed… astounded… inspired… there is it… Death Valley… but.. um… wait. It looks kind of small. I study the lay of the sand laden valley in front of me, trying to reconcile it to what I’ve always imagined Death Valley to be… and it’s just.. not.. working. However, I decide to hold my skepticism to myself, get back in the car, and drive on to explore. Imagine my surprise (and relief) when the sign at the bottom of the mountains announced Panamint Valley and the road continues up… again… cresting the Panamint Range we head down again, happy upon seeing the “welcome to Death Valley” sign. We stop at the Furnace Creek visitor center and museum, spend a few minutes there and then back in the car. Organizing our battle plan… we decide to start at
Badwater and work our way north. More… driving… still… in .. the.. car… forEEVVEERRRR. The kids explode out of the car with the pent up energy that only young kids and pre-teens get from being cooped up like that. We explore and both of the kids are fascinated by the
crystalline formations on the bed of the Basin. We are specifically looking for the USGS marker that we assume should be marking the lowest point in the western hemisphere. Unfortunately we can’t find it. After a family discussion the kids come to the conclusion that there isn’t an actual, physical marker because the water and minerals would ruin it. We all three turn in a general north-westerly direction… and wave at Laura and friends at the highest point.. from where we are at the lowest point.
Back in the car…. Driving again… kids singing songs now… Lord above HELP ME! “Look guys… “
Natural Bridge Canyon”.. lets hike there!!!”. We unload, again, make sure camelbaks are full and lunches are inside the packs… and head up canyon. It’s only a mile from the trailhead to the bridge… but it is such a different landscape then at Badwater Basin that we might as well have left one planet for another. Gazing up the canyon walls a person could clearly see where waterfalls flow during wet periods… and with not much effort at all that person could also imagine the roar of a flash flood sweeping through that canyon. But this day… this beautiful,
robins egg blue sky, peaceful day wasn’t one for flash floods. It was one for
sprawling out in the shade, watching the other tourists, listening to my babies playfully banter with one another.. and breathing deep of the quitetude offered only by an out of the way place. After awhile we picked up our gear, made sure our trash was stowed and meandered back towards the car.
Next… Artists Drive. Oh the colors… there aren’t words to describe the blending and smearing and soothing palette of colors. Pinks and greens and browns and tans … all next to each other in some abstract art presented by
Mother Nature specifically for those who would take this lesser traveled path to see them. Damien says “Mom… it looks like someone used colored chalk all over the mountains”… we drive slowly (it’s REALLY hard to look and stay on the road at the same time)… and discuss what minerals and chemical reactions might cause all of these different colors… When they put their minds to it my kids really impress me. They listen when I think they aren’t and bring that information to the discussion when it’s relevant… like here… then again… my boy is something of a rock hound. We get to the intersection to head further north to Scotties Castle, or turn west back toward Lone Pine. I present the kids with the choice of going north or heading “home”. They discuss it amongst themselves and we turn westward, choosing to save the northern reaches of the valley for another visit.
Back at the Hostel, John the Ranger joins us for a “family” style dinner in the lobby area and more hacky sack. Plans are made for him to join Laura, the kids and I the following morning for a nice leg stretch up Onion Valley and we all part ways for the evening.
Easter Sunday morning dawned as beautiful as Saturday did. It felt almost strange to have it be Easter and not have eggs to hide, or a large dinner to help prepare. But it’s nice in a relaxing way. Laura joined the kids and I and we headed across the street for a big breakfast… she had spent 18 hours the day before summiting Whitney and I wondered if she was up to the task of leading the kids on their first snowshoe adventure. But, true to form, Moosie was rearing to go… but somewhere along the line we miss making a connection with John and unfortunately couldn’t find him when it was time to head towards Onion Valley. So.. back in the cars we went and northward bound. This was the first time I’d been up to Onion Valley and found it absolutely beautiful in it’s winter glory. After loading packs, lunches, snowshoes and grabbing trekking poles we headed out, Laura pointing the way but letting the kids set the pace and take the lead. Damien was so excited to get the snowshoes on, he kept asking when we were going to stop. Thankfully he listened when Laura explained about the parts of the trail that would melted out until we got a little higher and didn’t fuss about having to wait. Finally Laura “pulled us over” and we set about the task of fitting snowshoes for the first time. An adjustment here, a tightening there… and we’re ready to go. The kids aren’t so very graceful on the shoes and I try to explain to them that it will take a little bit to get the rhythm down. Laura explains to them how to better balance on the shoes… but they both keep falling down and Damien quickly looses all interest in this particular activity. Thankfully Laura is a font of patience or I have a feeling the “No Whining” sign on her pack would have been tattooed across his forehead.
I’m not sure how long we walked… maybe an hour… Laura had a set destination in mind for us… a little lake along the trail… but as we came to the base of the bench that it rests on she turned and looked at me and said “ I don’t think its doable”… I was Ok with that.. the kids weren’t really having fun anymore. Their socks were wet (dang it I coulda SWORE those shoes were supposed to be waterproof)… and they just weren’t getting the snowshoeing thing. So… Laura picked a
pretty place for us to have lunch and we all settled down on our packs and ate.
Downhill is easier then up… so the kids
blazed the way back towards the car sometimes skiing, sometimes shoeing.. all the time looking forward to warming their toes and drying their feet. Hugs all around… Laura headed up to Btown for a much needed nap and the kids and I headed back to LP to start gathering our gear and get dinner.
Go figure.. it being Easter Sunday and all… there really wasn’t to much open. Choosing the Totem Café we settled in and the kids devoured their dinner. Damien ate an entire
rack of babyback ribs… Alana plowed her way through a 12oz steak… we talked about our day and the trip in whole…. And then we eventually headed back to the Hostel for bed.
Monday… return to reality. It was an uneventful drive home and our own beds were nice, but as the mountains faded from my rearview I was already trying to plan for my next journey.
Sometimes the road less traveled is less traveled for a reason… but sometimes the road less traveled is the best road to travel. We explored some of those roads this weekend… whether it was fresh snow up a valley that no one had been yet this season on snowshoes that had never been tried before… or up a canyon where the sound of any others voices were projected up and out, muffled into unrecognition. I have one person to thank for my ability and want to travel those roads… for my desire to show my kids those roads… so… Momma… thank you for showing me the roads less traveled as a child… and for showing me how to take them and make them my own…
The rest of the pics here:
Eastern California MuseumManzanarDeath ValleyOnion Valley 
