In early May, I followed my heart and drove up to the Eastern Sierras in California. Once I hit Lone Pine, the view from Route 395 was spectacular. The sky changed by the minute, with billowing clouds bouncing over the horizon.
Bishop Creek Recreation Area was my first stop, where I found a nice campsite overlooking the creek. The warbling sound of the river always soothes my soul.
A recent snowstorm from the night before had dusted the Sierras in white and left its mark on the trees, plants, ground and flowers. On my first day in Bishop Creek, I had just sat down to a warm campfire when it started to snow again. In the beginning, it seemed like dry snowflakes and I got my umbrella out and carried on. Then it got wet, and soon sleet and snow were pounding me. I gave up the campfire, folded the umbrella and crawled into my bed in the back of my Subee.
In spite of the rapidly changing weather in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, spring has a way of pushing through and showing off colorful blooms.
"Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10
My second campsite was off by itself and overlooked such gorgeous scenery. Simply breathtaking.
One day it rained almost all day. As soon as it somewhat cleared, I hopped in the Subee and drove up to Lake Sabrina. The dramatic landscape has massive rock slides, probably left behind by some glacier eons ago.
Lake Sabrina in the early evening shadows. So cold. So pretty. So sweet.
The following morning when I left Bishop Creek, the sky had cleared revealing orange wildflowers against the backdrop of the snow covered Sierras.
My next stop was at Convict Lake, just outside of Mammoth where this gorgeous campsite was waiting for me. What you cant see in the picture above, is the creek which is right behind the grassy area. I sat by the water for hours and did nothing but think.
This little bridge takes you over the creek which then leads to Convict Lake. On my early morning walk over to the lake, everything was very icy, and I took great care not to slip. I did find a nice hot cup of coffee at the Lodge, which made me happy, happy, happy.
It is possible to walk up and down the creek, hopping over puddles, jumping onto grassy hummocks, and ducking underneath dry branches. Great fun.
At Convict Lake, there is a moderate 3 mile hike around the lake, that shows off the lake at every angle. One afternoon I ventured out and explored the full length of the hike. In places, the lake was so clear you could see through to the rocky bottom along the shore.
Convict Lake in the very early morning hours, when the wind was still and the fishermen had not yet descended upon the shore.
After leaving Convict Lake, I headed north on Route 395 and stopped to take a picture of Mono Lake. Both of the above pictures were taken from the same vantage point. The top picture was facing Mono Lake, the bottom picture is after I turned around and faced the Eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains. You can see my little Subee parked in the pullout.
Such spectacular scenery along Route 395 and Highway 89. Whenever I am in the Sierras, my heart seems to expand and grow larger. Its a strange feeling, one that is difficult for me to describe.
I stopped at the Carson River and hiked around, before settling down at a Forest Service Campground in Markleeville. One last campfire before a stop in town with some old-timers for breakfast, then off to my sisters house.
Me and my sister Judy, at Emerald Bay in Lake Tahoe. The water up there is absolutely freezing. Learned that from experience. On our way to Tahoe, we stopped at the American River, where I dunked my head into the river to relieve a headache. I had to balance myself nearly upside down, with both my hands plunged into the icy water to keep from falling headlong into the river! Judy would have nothing to do with such nonsense, and simply stood on shore, waiting. Needless to say, I did not attempt a dunk into Lake Tahoe.
That would be me, one small speck on the vast horizon of Lake Tahoe. Wishing you and yours a blessed spring and summer. May God shine His face upon you and give you peace. Susan Little