Over the weekend I camped up in Lone Pine, California. It was an incredible experience, full of rugged wild scenery, high lonesome nights and hot desert days. Mt. Whitney is the star in the Sierra Nevada Mountain range, and tons of people climb it each year; I am not one of those people. I prefer to look up at the jagged mountain peaks and hike short beautiful trails and scramble over the
weird boulder fields known as the Alabama Hills.
Pretty in pink, this little Columbine flower caught my eye.
The last morning of my stay, I wanted to catch the mountain in the early morning light, so I bypassed my coffee stop and drove up the Whitney Portal Road. At the Alabama Hills I scrambled around the boulders, eager to get some nice shots. Just me and my camera, along with the rocks and trees and mountains and deep blue sky. When I was quite done, I treated
myself to an extra hot, non fat, triple Latte.
The first few days of my stay, I camped at Lower Grays Meadow in Independence, halfway up the road to Onion Valley. Sunrise was spectacular and found me roaming about the campground in my red flannel
jammies shooting photos.
My eyes feasted on
gorgeous layered color, which changed every few minutes.
The sun hit the top of the mountains first and slowly worked its way down into the valley.
At last the whole mountainside turned a glorious shade of pink.
My humble campsite in Lower Grays Meadow in the early morning light. The first night, the campground was nearly filled. The second night, I was all alone except for one couple in an RV at the very end. They couldn't hear or see me and I
couldn't hear or see them. Kind of spooky when the lights went out. The good part was lots of sparkling stars, the Milky Way, a few shooting stars, the sound of the creek and the wind blowing through the trees.
Independence Creek runs right through the campground and people were catching fish like you cannot believe!
After two nights in Grays, I drove up to Onion Valley to camp in the high country. Fragile poppies bloomed along the road, somehow surviving this incredibly harsh
environment.
My campsite in Onion Valley was spectacular. This is the view from my table as I sat looking up into the clouds.
This is the view in the other direction; an outstanding view of the
Kearsage Pass saddle. There is a different feel when you are up over 9000 feet. Even the wind whistling through the pine and aspen trees sounds different; more lonesome, more wistful.
"Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean." John Muir
The morning I got to Onion Valley, I took a hike up the
Kearsage Pass trail. It is a bit steep with quite a few rocky switchbacks, but well worth the views. I passed by a rushing stream cascading over the rocks, twisted,
gnarled trees, a small mountain lake and amazing views of the valley. Never saw any onions, but stir fried a nice big red onion with some chicken, cherry tomatoes and
zucchini for dinner.
The lake was so still, no one around but the trees, mountains and a large, gray and black Clark's nuthatch, calling out like a crow. I sat down on a rock and ate my lunch looking all about me at the brilliant, yellow daisies lining the water, waterfalls flowing down the mountain and bright pink flowers flanking a small stream that flowed into the pond. Never saw another soul.
I wanted to swim, but the wind was so cold that it made me nervous to be soaking wet in this wild place. Several years ago I was not so careful and nearly got hypothermia.
My faithful Subaru parked in my campsite at Onion Valley. I sleep in the back, unless the weather is real nice and I want to listen to a creek or feel the wind in my hair. Then I set up my tent without the rain fly and sleep under the stars; it only works if its not raining. Down in Grays Meadow I slept out under the trees and listened to the night noises; terribly good fun.
Over the weekend I camped up in Lone Pine, California. It was an incredible experience, full of rugged wild scenery, high lonesome nights and hot desert days. Mt. Whitney is the star in the Sierra Nevada Mountain range, and tons of people climb it each year; I am not one of those people. I prefer to look up at the jagged mountain peaks and hike short beautiful trails and scramble over the weird boulder fields known as the Alabama Hills. 
Pretty in pink, this little Columbine flower caught my eye.
The last morning of my stay, I wanted to catch the mountain in the early morning light, so I bypassed my coffee stop and drove up the Whitney Portal Road. At the Alabama Hills I scrambled around the boulders, eager to get some nice shots. Just me and my camera, along with the rocks and trees and mountains and deep blue sky. When I was quite done, I treated myself to an extra hot, non fat, triple Latte.
The first few days of my stay, I camped at Lower Grays Meadow in Independence, halfway up the road to Onion Valley. Sunrise was spectacular and found me roaming about the campground in my red flannel jammies shooting photos. 
My eyes feasted on gorgeous layered color, which changed every few minutes.
The sun hit the top of the mountains first and slowly worked its way down into the valley. 
At last the whole mountainside turned a glorious shade of pink.
My humble campsite in Lower Grays Meadow in the early morning light. The first night, the campground was nearly filled. The second night, I was all alone except for one couple in an RV at the very end. They couldn't hear or see me and I couldn't hear or see them. Kind of spooky when the lights went out. The good part was lots of sparkling stars, the Milky Way, a few shooting stars, the sound of the creek and the wind blowing through the trees.
Independence Creek runs right through the campground and people were catching fish like you cannot believe!
After two nights in Grays, I drove up to Onion Valley to camp in the high country. Fragile poppies bloomed along the road, somehow surviving this incredibly harsh environment.
My campsite in Onion Valley was spectacular. This is the view from my table as I sat looking up into the clouds.
This is the view in the other direction; an outstanding view of the Kearsage Pass saddle. There is a different feel when you are up over 9000 feet. Even the wind whistling through the pine and aspen trees sounds different; more lonesome, more wistful. 
"Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean." John Muir
The morning I got to Onion Valley, I took a hike up the Kearsage Pass trail. It is a bit steep with quite a few rocky switchbacks, but well worth the views. I passed by a rushing stream cascading over the rocks, twisted, gnarled trees, a small mountain lake and amazing views of the valley. Never saw any onions, but stir fried a nice big red onion with some chicken, cherry tomatoes and zucchini for dinner.
The lake was so still, no one around but the trees, mountains and a large, gray and black Clark's nuthatch, calling out like a crow. I sat down on a rock and ate my lunch looking all about me at the brilliant, yellow daisies lining the water, waterfalls flowing down the mountain and bright pink flowers flanking a small stream that flowed into the pond. Never saw another soul.
I wanted to swim, but the wind was so cold that it made me nervous to be soaking wet in this wild place. Several years ago I was not so careful and nearly got hypothermia.
My faithful Subaru parked in my campsite at Onion Valley. I sleep in the back, unless the weather is real nice and I want to listen to a creek or feel the wind in my hair. Then I set up my tent without the rain fly and sleep under the stars; it only works if its not raining. Down in Grays Meadow I slept out under the trees and listened to the night noises; terribly good fun.