The Big Bump
So we charged out of Mazourka Canyon, full of the spirit and with time on our paws. What to do?
As the trail, now a maintained county road, turned towards Independence we found a familiar if much less traveled trail heading south across the desert floor of the Owens Valley against the base of the Inyo Mountains. Knowing that the long defunct community of Reward lay in that direction, we pow-wowed briefly to discuss tactics and then set off on what seemed to be a smooth trail. Speeds increased as the dust flew and we spread out, the beast in the lead.
He started it! The master four-wheeler, the one who taught the rest of us how its done, surveying the trail before we head off for Reward. Taken by my Fox.
Katie contemplating life as the wheels roll and the dust flies. Taken by my Fox somewhere near the wash that drains Coyote Spring.
Pre-bump. Notice how calm everyone looks. John, Adam, and Will fill the third seat of the beast while Katie sits all alone in the jump middle seat. Image by my Fox.
Moments after my Fox took the above image we took a nice hogback in the trail at about thirty miles per hour, causing the three boys in the back to all smack their heads smartly on the ceiling of the beast, leaving three noticeable dents in the headliner that took days to de-compress. Howls of protest were immediately forthcoming from the young men, drowned out quite effectively by Katie laughing hysterically and yelling "More! Again!" Notice that her belt is properly applied and secured...
Entirely unintentionally, I almost immediately complied with Katie's request while decelerating; we took another hogback at about twenty miles per hour. Bam! More howls, more giggling, more hollering "More!" Even the boys were laughing now. Added to the cacophony of sound was Matt's voice on the radio, calmly observing that we were bouncing around a bit. "No kidding," my Fox mutters, rubbing her shoulder where her seat belt had restrained her vertical acceleration moments before. Grabbing one of our FRS radios, she laconically replied "Thanks for that, Matt!"
Suitably chagrined and now traveling at a much reduced speed, we continued on towards our immediate objective: Reward.
Looking up Eclipse Canyon from what's left of the mine and community at Reward. Originally known as the Eclipse, and at other times known as the Brown Monster Mine, Ruth, Grahm-Jones, and F.D. Roosevelt, the Reward Mine produced the largest amount of gold of any Owens Valley mining operation, and was in operation from 1860 to 1936. The mine also produced marketable amounts of lead, silver, and copper. The community of Reward had its own Post Office from 1900 to 1906. Here the younger members of the crew hike east up steep Eclipse Canyon towards the upper workings of the Reward Mine.
The more sedate members of the crew at Reward. View looks southwest, the northern end of the Alabama Hills are in the left background.
By the time we headed back down to highway 395 we were all getting a might hungry. Fortunately we had the culinary expertise of the ages along with us, ready at the drop of a dusty hat to crank up the Mac and Cheese production line...
John and Will safely back at the boys mobile bunkhouse, cooking. Image by Gloria with her Canon A95.
Sunset above the high Sierra Nevada. A fitting end to another great trip. Image by Adam with his Canon Rebel XT.
Unfortunately, our young men and Kelli had to return home Friday morning, pulling out around 0500 to be back in Shaky City by 1100. Various commitments at various churches on the part of Matt, Mike, and John prompted the early departure, so Adam returned to bunk with us for the final night. After seeing the boys off before sunup we slept in late Friady morning. We spent the later part of the morning cleaning up our own coach, working through the noon hour into the early afternoon. Then we cleaned ourselves up a bit and ambled over to the elder's motel room for a little R&R. (Beats me why they refer to wine and cheese and various munchies as "R&R", but whatever...) We whiled away the afternoon with them, shared an early dinner, and trundled back to camp for a video and some sleep. Upon the morrow we would depart.
Rigged for the road. Moments before our departure my Fox snapped this image of our rig with the Sierra in the background. Mazourka Canyon dust still covers the beast.
Leaving is never much fun for me. I like cruising through the countryside, but the cloud of realization that I will be back in the Los Angeles basin by mid-afternoon hangs over my head, muting the joy of the day.
Goin' home.
I should have taken a hint from my son, who seemed to be quite happy to be going somewhere... anywhere! Just as long as he has his tunes and a clear view of the road, he's happy. Taken by my Fox somewhere near Pearsonville on US-395.
So we arrived home safely. No breakdowns, no blowups, no real issues of any sort to get excited and write home about. My father and I are already plotting our next assault on the White Mountains east of Bishop, with our sights on Wyman and Silver Canyons, and perhaps a trip into the Saline Valley. I'm already getting impatient!
Thanks for joining us! Tread Lightly, and Sing to The Sky!