How you react to any situation, ultimately sets a chain of events in motion. It's oh well, it is what it is, shit happens, make the best of it, poor me, or any number of things Garfield says, that really set the tone for what happens next. To you.
It could be someone not 'liking' the picture you tagged them in, or maybe Apollo Creed won't stop punching you in the face. Do you plead for him to stop? Do you run away? Or do you get the Hell up and punch him back? Adventurers like myself and my lovely, ever trusty compatriot, are punchers.
Of course, I don't mean that literally. The 'chain of events' is pretty predictable if every time we got bad news, we hauled off and started punching people in the face. What I mean to say is, keep fighting. In this case, it may very well have been just the look on our faces that did the fighting for us.
"No worries Micheal, nice to meet you and you all have a fun night. Tell them Happy Birthday from us! Say, would you know of a place we could camp out?"
Ya man, sure. Just go set up your camp over there behind the bar, under those pine trees wherever you like, and hey, would you like some homemade whisky?
Cue Bubbles and I, mouths agape, wide-eyed, and in total unison: Yes um... we would like some homemade whisky!
Want to know how to become instant best friends with both Bubbles and I? Exactly that way. It turns out our new best-est friend ever Michael doesn't own the place, hasn't asked the owner for permission, he doesn't even work there, and in this beautiful little forest town that time forgot, it doesn't even matter.
He does introduce the owner Kendra, who is very sweet and shares my sisters name. She is happy enough to oblige us with not only confirmation that it's fine to post up anywhere we want, use their little airstream trailer, use the bathrooms and showers that are open all night, but also gives us a hook-up on some really good IPA's. Talk about a welcome wagon. Faith in humanity is being restored.
We have enough time to find the perfect spot to set-up camp, crush a couple of those tasty IPA's, play a little dice (I won, neener, neener), before we settle in to watch the stars blink on one by one and the big bright moon pop up to illuminate our surroundings through the net top of our cozy tent. Call me a cynic, but this isn't how I pictured 'sleeping behind a bar' would be.
The blissfully cool and quiet night had us both snoring so loud, the threat of real bears investigating these new loud neighbors was down to a minimum. Even the occasional rustle of a curious field mouse at night was a calming reminder that we were doing this the right way and comforted us both right back into dreamland. Waking early with the rising sun had us craving coffee, so we obliged the invite to our new favorite bar and got big cups of the black stuff, right as they opened. Our bestie Micheal was also there. We aren't sure where he slept, but the breakfast burrito with vodka screwdriver combo is the sign of a true professional. We took the advantage to get to know him a bit better and what a neat guy he was. He has been a world traveller his whole life, and used his construction ability as barter for room and board while building houses and schools with non-profits in Argentina, Brazil, Chili, and many more I forget. Not a bad record for mid-30's and one of the happiest most content people you'd meet. He was doing the same thing there in Kennedy Meadows for the last 18 months and was lamenting it was the longest he'd really stayed anywhere. Ever. We both would have loved to pick his brain and hear his stories all afternoon, but our empty stomachs and empty gas tanks were crying for attention.
Nine-mile road that leads down from the 6200' Kennedy Meadows to the sea level 395 is about 6 miles long (I dunno) and chopped straight into the side of the mountain. It's treeless and steep enough theres a ton of stories about trucks and cars going over the edge that were never recovered. I didn't tell Bubbles that until we left the parking lot of Grumpy Bear to head down.
The drop in elevation also brings the desert heat of summertime in California. At the bottom, 95 degrees and 108 miles past the "No gas for 78 miles" sign, we took a northerly turn and hoped that somewhere close in the shimmering distance the heat waves would reveal little metal pumps that dispense the rendered dinosaur juice we needed so badly.
Freeways suck, highways are tolerable and the 395 isn't that bad of a highway. Neither one of us wants to be there. We'd rather travel there, but our slight backtracking adventure of the day before had solidified that the 395 was the only reasonable way north, on this side of the Inyo mountain range (In yo mountain! sucka! Sorry, but it really is hilarious if you do the accent just right. Sucka.), because the only other way is the I-5 through Fresno and I'd rather be punched in the face by Apollo Creed. What comes with 'the only way north' is say, if there was an impending summer rain storm, no way to navigate around said summer rain storm.
After a successful dino-juice/water stop that came just in time, memories of our previous trip Jeeping in Death Valley, deep snow, tragically lost, sleeping with the fire of scrap wood stolen from a mining camp, had reminded me we had found civilization upon our exit in the form of the Mountain Rambler Brewing Company. Easily 2 hundred miles farther north than I thought we were that day. Notice a theme? We had a paper 'map' then too:( A re-visit to the scene of the elated victory was in order!
Making good time means nothing without a destination, but even so... we were making good time. Shooting for something near Lake Tahoe, but definitely, absolutely, NOT the expense and crowd of Lake Tahoe. The highway sweeps past many beautiful lakes, and it wasn't until leaving Mono Lake and Lee Vining the skies had darkened dramatically.
You can't even leave them for a minute!
Looking intently at the free and invaluable MyRadar app we saw the rain storm up ahead that I so eloquently alluded too in my oh so excellent foreshadowing earlier. Blue is damp, green is rain, yellow is uncomfortably wet, and red means get shelter. Lots of green, enough yellow and red to be concerned, and zero shelter ahead. We're gonna get wet. I also took this opportunity to be a complete city boy sissy and book an expensive room with the crowds in South Lake Tahoe, in case we got soaked with nowhere dry to camp.
I've had practice using this app before during my prison time in Florida, bobbing and weaving my motorcycle through the inevitable thundershowers that come in at 3:25PM and last until 4:10 every single summer day, so using all my timing and superb skill to let one pass, we shot the gap on a wet highway only to be sprinkled upon enough to get relief from the hot ride we'd had all day. Win!
Passing just into Nevada, we picked up the 89 to avoid Reno entirely. If you've been there, you know why. That lead us over the utterly amazing and steep Luther pass that crests at a cool 7735'. Great pavement, gliding curves, and pointing to a waiting hotel room with a hot shower!
Once in Tahoe, HOT showered and thirsty, we decided to take advantage of the free admission tickets to the beach. Admission. To a beach? Ya well, we took some shots through the fence of the glorious sunset, avoided the throngs of tourists, donated our passes to a friendly family, and decided to concentrate on the thirsty thing.
Arm in arm we battled the forces of oblivious vacationers on rental scoots (only one dollar and I can full-speed slam into people and property as I wish? I'm IN!), found a good outdoor beer bar with terrible karaoke that turned out to be the band, and started feeling a little too close to civilization. It's not the bars fault... you can buy a beer, but only with food (because a virus is contagious if you drink beer without food?). Oh, and the pretzel bites that you want aren't 'food', the shitty $4 hot dog on a dry bun that you don't want is 'food' (sigh). That OK, I just realized it's my birthday and everyone knows that not dying for an entire year deserves a celebration! I'd rather enjoy a nice cocktail anyway, but once we turned the corner, and the neon of the casinos lit up the drunken masses gallivanting aimlessly and starkly unprotected, it was an easy choice to just grab some celebration supplies (small bottle of good whisky, and lemon yogurt almonds) and courageously retire to our room, grumbling as old folks do. I'm beginning to relate to the guy from "UP!". She even let me win at dice:)
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