I woke up on Tuesday morning to find the sun on the truck and the super glue on my cut finger holding fast. A good sign!
Taking my time packing up, I enjoyed coffee and a light breakfast. Of course, “packing up” didn’t take very long. All I needed to do was put the computer and reading stuff back up front, then put the chair, table, and bucket in the back. Easier than falling off a horse.
I remember looking out through my mirrors as I pulled away from my Alabama Hills site – I had not done a “final-final” before driving away. Kind of a cardinal sin, and I needed to get back in the habit.
What is “final-final?” Well, it’s something Michael and I came up with when we spent 14 months living and traveling in Taco Negro. “Final” check came when we thought we had everything packed up. A walkaround of the rig. But “final-final” was the last walkaround of the rig. It happened after we’d started the truck, the last thing we did before we drove away. This double-check saved us a few times, although mostly with small things like the dog’s water bowl.
From Alabama Hills I headed north on Highway 395. I think this stretch of road might be my favorite place in California. The Sierras stretch as far as you can see to the west, and the Inyo Mountains rise up to greet you in the east. It’s amazing. And – somehow – I don’t have a photograph of it. I’m not sure how I’d even go about capturing the vastness of the view, anyway.
My destination for the day was thee Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, up Highway 168 and at around 10,000 feet in elevation.
I was pretty excited to photograph these trees (the oldest tree measured there at Schulman Grove is over 4,000 years old), but I was not so excited about the timing of my arrival: noon.
Worst time possible for photos.
Even though the sun wasn’t directly overhead, as we were in late fall, noon is still when the light from the sun is at its absolute harshest. And there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
So… I ate lunch first. A big fat bowl of yogurt with almonds and strawberries. That might not sound like a real lunch, but it was a bit chilly at 10,000 feet and I didn’t feel like setting up the stove. So I sat in the driver’s seat, in the sun. It was actually quite pleasant.
At first, I set the solar panel up in the passenger seat. The battery needed a charge and, like I said, it was sunny outside. At some point, though, I moved the panel outside and rested it against the passenger side tire, because the sun exposure was best there.
I know I should have waited longer to head out on my hike, but I’ve never been the most patient photographer. So after lunch I took a look at a map and saw that I had two choices for hikes at Schulman Grove. There was a 5 mile hike, and that one led out to the 4,000 year old tree. The other hike was just 1 mile and it did have bristlecone pines. Under other circumstances I would have chosen the 5 miler. (I probably should have!) But I live at sea level now. And hiking at 10,000 feet is not as easy as it sounds. Even when I used to live at 5,000 feet, hiking at altitude was hard. So I took the easier route and went with the 1-mile hike.
With the clear skies I found some fantastic images. They needed some heavy photoshopping, though, due to that harsh sunlight.
The 1-mile hike was called the Discovery Trail and it had many signs talking about the trees and the local environment – there are lots of conditions that allow bristlecone pines to thrive here, including the soil itself. (They like alkaline soil.)
These trees also have something called a sectored architecture. This means that sections of the tree are supported by big, deep roots, and that the roots serve only the section of tree directly above them. So if one root dies off, only the section of tree served by that root dies. It doesn’t affect the rest of the tree. It’s just one of the things that give bristlecone pines such a unique look.
After my hike I decided to head down to the town of Bishop. Among other things, I was looking for something Michael and I had found here last year, in one of Bishop’s outdoor stores. It was some kind of nut butter (peanut butter?) but with more stuff in it, and it came in a big squeeze tube. It was delicious and I have yet to find it anywhere else.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember what it was called. So when I walked into Eastside Sports and the guy there asked if could help me, I was honest. “I don’t know what it’s called,” I said.
“Well,” he replied, “help me out a little. Is it… clothing? Or food?”
I laughed and told him it was some kind of awesome peanut butter. And he pointed me to a shelf full of these:
As you can guess, I bought several. I was delighted to find all their information on the back of the package, and yes, you can buy Trail Butter online. I can’t wait to try the dark chocolate and coffee blend.
After my nut butter excursion it was still pretty early so I went to Looney Bean Coffee for a decaf and their free WiFi. The coffee was good and as I was shoring up the details for that night’s campsite, I had this sudden awful flash.
Did I repack the solar panel and battery when I left the Bristlecone pine forest? I tried to picture it and there was a big blank spot in my memory.
Dread mounted as I gathered my stuff and hustled out to the truck. Maybe I really had packed it and just couldn’t remember. That’s happened before. When I got to the rig I opened up all the doors and searched.
No solar kit. It was gone.
Ah, Christ. I had this moment, right there on the street in Bishop, California, where I felt like such a total fuckup that I burst into tears. How could I have been so stupid? That expensive piece of gear had survived 14 months of travel with me and Michael, but not even two whole days with just me. Because I didn’t do a final-final. That’s practically the golden rule of overlanding, FFS.
I sent a text to Michael and then I sat in the passenger doorframe and continued to cry. I swore a lot, too. None of it actually made me feel any better, but at least I got it out of my system. (Okay, not the swearing part. I’ll never get that out of my system.)
I did a Google search. There was a Visitor’s Center up there, a nice, new-looking one. Staffed with park rangers and everything. Surely they had a phone?
Maybe, but the office closed at 4:30 and it was now after 5pm. Shit.
Michael texted back and suggested the kit might still be up there. Well, that parking lot was about an hour away. But what else did I have to do? Sit around at a campsite and feel sorry for myself? So I got up, closed the doors of the truck. Then I walked around it – twice – to make sure I wasn’t going to lose anything else before starting back up to the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest.
At least the drive was uneventful and I arrived up there just after sunset. There were actually a few cars in the parking lot and I assumed they were full of photographers waiting to get those awesome trees with a starry-night background.
What was not in the parking lot was my solar kit.
*sigh*
Hindsight being what it is, I kind of regret not sticking around and trying to get some starry-night photos myself. It was a super clear night and I knew where to go. But I’ve experienced nighttime at 10,000 feet, and it is not warm. At the time I convinced myself that I didn’t have the right gear and that I didn’t want to freeze my ass off, so I headed back down the canyon.
I had a plan: camp in the canyon (the lower down the better), as it was all National Forest land, and therefore free. I’d scouted several suitable locations on the drive up. Because it was a canyon, though, cell coverage was nonexistent. So in the morning, I’d drive out to where there was a cell signal and call up that Visitor’s Center to see if anyone had turned in my solar kit. If it was gone, well, at least I’d tried.
I picked a good-sized pullout for my site. It wasn’t really level but I didn’t really care. I just wanted this day to be over.
The next morning I woke up at 6:30. I knew it would be hours before the sun hit my campsite and warmed it up, so I put on all my layers and packed up. A very deliberate final-final later, I was on my way down.
I pulled off onto Death Valley Road. It’s the road that leads to Scotty’s Castle in Death Valley NP, and officially the road is closed until 2020 due to a recent flood. That corner was in the sun, though, and I had full bars on my phone so I looked up the phone number for the Visitor’s Center.
Well. Turns out there is no direct line. I got a lot of automated messages, so when given the chance to connect with the Inyo National Forest Office in Bishop, I took it. I told the guy who answered the phone my story. He said, with a bit of a laugh, “Yeah… there’s no direct line up there.” But he got on the radio.
And.
Someone DID pick up my solar kit. But he wouldn’t give it to the Ranger up there. He gave the Ranger his contact info. If the owner called, this guy said, then get the owner’s contact info to him and he’d return it.
At first I thought that sounded strange. But then I realized how smart that strategy was. If this guy gave the solar kit to the Ranger and nobody ever claimed it, well, what a waste. Nobody would get it. But if he hung onto it, and nobody contacted him, then he’s got himself a free solar kit. Guilt-free. He did his due diligence, after all.
So I gave my contact info to the Ranger. Then I waited. At some point I decided I should at least not be waiting and hungry, so I drove into Bishop and went to Denny’s. Even lousy coffee makes things better, right?
Please, random stranger, I thought as I sat at my booth, continue to do the right thing.