the great before and after......

Ian's front door in Los Angeles, on the edge of Marnia del Rey and Venice, needed a bit of an overhaul according to his frustrated architect.  Those are his words, not mine - he could tell his friends that his mom and Robert were working on it but he used the terms frustrated architect.  I was not frustrated, but having a great time getting my hands dirty.  We returned to LA as Ian said he had pneumonia.  We found out it was the type that allowed him to go to parties and that we didn't have to play parent, however, we did anyway, with laundry and food and cleaning.  If that wasn't enough, we decided to redo the front of the house - we have been watching too much HGTV and DIY and tore out the lawn, sketched some ideas on a scratch pad and went to Home Depot.  Several times.  And Ace hardware, which is called B & B here, one of our favorite stores.   Several times.



Robert framed the "engawa" - deck to you haoles, while I worked under the apricot tree in the back, on some paintings that had been giving me trouble. Robert was having fun, the neighbors were having fun, the youth in the house was having fun - so I decided to join him after he framed the deck and to dig holes, clean out the front garden and visit Home Depot Garden Center.  We got muddy, as we had to soak the ground to get the grass out, or even dig the holes for the plants.  Ian was given the decision to make between a "sophisticated" design or cottage style with a bunch of white roses and lavendar.  He chose sophisticated, despite saying that he wasn't and neither was the house. 
Robert also beefed up the 4 x 4 on the porch, which wasn't really, as well as build a small "trellis" to frame the opening.  Ian said it all looked sort of Oriental - my comment was unprintable.



Paving stones with bark, a lot of left over river rock that had been stashed at the side of the house, some lavendar, festcue(?) along the fake stream, and other plants to blend in with the wild front garden of ferns and banana palm.  We manged to do the whole thing, while building up his compost with garden junk, for a small amount.  The neighbors kept stopping by - probably wanting to be part of the mud act when we were taking out the grass at the garden area.  Robert and I slept ten hours after the project was done, and are back on the road tomorrow, heading north again, singing along with Willie Nelson.



The best camp ever.......



Bridget and Dave had to leave and found out that their jeep would not  stay on while going downhill, so we followed them down to Huntington Lake. As most of the trip down to Hwy 99 is downhill, they had a challenge - then they found out it wouldn't stay on while stopped, so the trip got more exciting.   They sped off to Lodi while we camped at 6,800' with the rest of the hordes along the lake and decided to head back  up to the high country.  Florence Lake was all slabs of granite, great rushing waters along the road, and a flooded campsite. We had given a Berkeley couple a ride from the ranger station, and they managed to squeeze in with their packs were in awe at how different the landscape was from Lake Edison.  We looked at various campsites but were  not thrilled with mosquitos, lack of water, (close water) and went to our old campsite at the creek at Edison.  That lasted one night - more mosquitos, the creek having become a raging river with angry trout - I got a strike that shook my arm.  I don't want a fish that big!  My son commented something like one uses a knife to fit the fish in the pan - but you have to catch the monsters first.  They were not cooperating.  We moved camp to above the lake, with some grumbling - but were rewarded with fewer bugs and a view you could not buy for any amount of money.



Koa was in heaven, looking for squirrels and chipmunks, who caught on to his game right away.  The lake at this point is over a mile or so across to the creek where everyone seems to catch fish.  I kayaked over one morning  didn't find any bites, no matter what I threw in to intice a bite.



We unzip the tent - comfortable sleeping on the futon, and this is what we see when we are sipping our morning brew.



The wildflowers were just beginning to show - Indian paintbrush.  There was an astonishing wall of white azealeas at 8000' off the road, on the way down, and meadows were covered with blue lupines.  Magic time in the high country.



Cold Creek in full spate - one fisherman hung a worm on his hook and then added a marshmallow to make it float.  It worked and he was pulling in trout, who ate everything - strange wilderness fish.  Me, I cooked my marshmallows over the fire.  One year, a fisherman told me to use corn - but the trout ate anything I put in the lake - this year, they were fickle.  One day, salmon eggs, the next day, marshmallows.  Go figure.



Koa and one year old Molly, who showed up on our last day.  Molly was so fascinated with Koa, that she would bound up and introduce the leaping and bumping that is great dog play.  It was chase me, big boy and I will catch you.  He misses this sort of thing, but Molly pretty much wore him out.  Their play was like an energetic ballet - so why didn't they huff and puff with the altitude?



Bugs in paradise

Koa at Camp Cleveland, trying to see what the bear was reading.  We left the Clevelands, with plans to meet later this summer in Washington state for some exploration of the Olympic Peninsula.  Spent some time at Linda's, painting and orgainizing the removal of paintings and stored stuff from her house to be taken back to Az.  From Linda's to Vermilion Valley, where we have a cabin with the best view of the lake.  We hung my boat hammock in the pines, Koa wanders though the resort making friends with the other dogs, and we feel we are home.  We have been coming up here for some 20 years, to the 8000' level, either camping or staying in the cabins, fishing for elusive trout, and hating to leave.  We would come over from Hawaii, pick up our van from where  ever it had been left and explore the Sierras.  Finding this valley was a fluke as the road was unpaved, not even a proper forest road way back then, single lanes cut out of the side of the mountains.  Passing an oncoming car is enough to create heart attacks, but the trip is lovely, over Kaiser Pass at 10,000' and dropping down and up to Mono Hot springs, and then further up the Lake Edison.  We bought an apricot/berry pie, had a beer and settled in, to wait for Bridget and Dave to arrive the next day.



These strange red flowers bloom out of snow and are startling to see.  There is so much water and late snow melt up here, that these are still showing up.  The lake is almost full and with snow melt coming down from the higher elevations, filling faster than water can be let out of the dam.  It is magic seeing it like this as the last year we had to drive quite a ways on the beach to launch the kayaks. 



Biscuits and gravy for our first breakfast.  Dave and Bridget came up with their kayaks on the top of their jeep.  They stay in the tent platforms and eat with us as we have a kitchen.  Well, sort of - the dishes on the table are where Robert has to wash them as it turns out the sink in Cabin Four is not installed.  At least we can get water from the bathroom/.



The view from our cabin - a small pontoon ferry brings and delivers hikers from the John Muir trail, (left at the photo) twice a day.  The hikers coming off the trail seem sun blasted and ready for the incredible pies that are made at the small restaurant.  We kayaked out beyond the small island, investigating bays and tried to get back before the afternoon westerly hit.  We had gusts coming back - building muscles.



Bridget at the tent cabin above our area.  Koa sits at the end of  the building to keep an eye on B & D as well as us at our place.  It is hell for a herding dog to have his peeps separated.  I married B & D at Lake Powell quite a few years ago - we all stood on a rock offshore and had the Book of Common Prayer ceremony and we explored Lake Powell for their honeymoon.

Exploring one of the bays, developed with the rise of the lake level.



The creek that drops down from the lake at 9,180', called the Devil's Bathtub.  Robert and I climbed the trail when we were younger - and a difficult trail it is as it disappears a lot.  We got lost coming back one year as heavy snows had wiped out the trail, and we followed the creek to the shoreline and happily back to the resort.  The resort only has four cabins, several tent cabins and camp grounds for hiker, as well as a few places where small rvs can hook up.  The restaurant has outragous prices, but the pies are worth every penny, er, dollars.  There were fishermen all along the entrance to the lake, all day long, from the looks of their coolers, as they had heard there was trout.



Dave in the pareu that Linda bought on the beach in Bali.  He spent a few hours fishing the creek with the hordes, and then he and Bridget hit the afternoon winds to get to camp.  Need strong arms to paddle into the winds as we are all feeling that today.  This is a very quiet 4th of July up here, and we feel blessed to have a few more days here, fighting the mosquitos and flies.  Robert and I went for a hike along one of the high creeks this morning, and were chased back out as we were breathing bugs.  It is a real testament to how much we have loved and still love this place that we return often, despite the bugs in the morning and evening.  Gong to bed smelling like Off is something you get used to.