We have included a selection of one, sometimes two, photographs and some text from hikes undertaken but yet to be published. We try not make the error of judging this region to be one of the finest because we might end up eating our words for the umpteenth occasion. Jenni is far more reserved and intelligent in respect of this matter. However, I see and experience such incredible wonders that at times, I feel emotionally drained.
Following a week during which we hiked 6 days in a row, accumulated 10,200 vertical feet and walked forty-four miles, we felt good about sitting around lazily for the Saturday. Truth be told, by the afternoon, boredom began to set in. Strange feeling. Friday afternoon, every muscle ached, the feet were crying and the Sabbath could not arrive soon enough.
One of the reasons for the title relates to a couple of people who welcome us back to 'civilization' after a Hike-about trip.
Here are a few excerpts:
Wright Lake in the Desolation Wilderness.
Side-tracked on the way up to Thunder Mountain, Kirkwood.
Another steep trail to reach Marlette Lake, Nevada.
After 2.5 miles on the Mount Rose Trail; only another 8 miles to the conclusion.
Desolation Wilderness: Passing Twin Lakes and preferring a smaller body of water to the side. So much to choose from provided one climbs and climbs.
Coming down from Mount Rose Peak. Hard to believe so many of the scenes.
Our car developed an oil leak. It’s just what a person needs when traveling far from the familiarity of, I was going to say home, but that’s not true. Although I have never trained as a mechanic or have the aptitude for it, in my youth I had some experience. Unfortunately, I gleaned that knowledge on automobiles less sophisticated than modern day machines. To clarify, it was long after the demise of the horse-and-buggy although at times, it might not feel that way.
We approached an office of a repair facility, with face masks of course, and the guy behind the desk, unmasked, said he could take a look at it in 3 days. That was most useful. Meantime, each afternoon following a return from a hike, I checked the oil level. Each night and morning I lay on the ground under the car checking for the size of the leak. It became a routine. We then decided to take it for an oil change and obtain confirmation of the leak from the experts. Although they were not mechanics, we thought they would understand the nature of the problem and we would be guided on steps to take thereafter...(continues at end).
Tunnel Creek Trail overlooking Lake Tahoe from the north, Nevada.
Rock Lake, high above Carson City, Nevada.
Tamarack Lake on the way to Mount Rose. Tranquility at its 'highest'. (loved this scene.)
Didn't take much imagination to name this lake.
Islands in the Sky. The serenity was incredible, the hike tough.
Much of Carson City, Nevada State Capital from C-Mountain, a birthday early morning work-out.
Round Lake in Desolation Wilderness.
On the Ophir Trail, the large Washoe Lake alongside the famous 395 Highway comes into view.
Mono Lake, California.
Earlier that day, we arrived at trailhead parking which was awkward. In fact, the road to this point was narrow, often a single lane with potholes, which required careful driving. I parked on a slope and went onto follow our usual routine of stepping into boots and then preparing to hike. Jenni wasn’t next to me performing the same routine so I realized she had gone to relieve herself. These days, most bathrooms are closed because of the virus. Apparently, the bug sits under the toilet seat waiting for a customer. The sound of water flowing from one place into the bowl appears to stimulate it which often causes it to flow upstream and enter the respective orifice. (We’ve heard many aspects surrounding ol’ covid that this one is no less strange than others. We are told that the virus delights in attacking people at houses of religious practices while it detests riots and protests in the street. Who knows…actually it doesn’t seem like WHO really knows either.
Getting back to car. I went to check under the front for oil leaks. Sure enough, there was a large one which extended beyond the front of the car. It made sense because of the slope. The leak was annoying but what made it worse was not having a solution. A leak could only get worse—they don’t improve on their own. It was frustrating. I bent down to check the oil, always hoping it was from the previously parked vehicle. Unfortunately, it was a fresh flow and worse, it was a strong flow. I touched the liquid to confirm it as oil. The coloring looked about what I expected but it lacked the texture of oil. That was a good sign but puzzling. Hmm! What could it be?
I shouted to Jen to find out where she had been. She had positioned herself between the two car doors, opened to afford her privacy. As she was above the front of the car, her rather strong flow made its way toward the hood area. Aha! With my hand drenched in liquid, it all made sense.
Although that closes the incident, the story does not end there. Balance. In life, there is always balance. We cannot often see it or envisage it but nevertheless, it occurs. In this rather unimportant situation, see whether the 'balance' reached the scales.
We wrote about an incident, in our book, which occurred in Iceland. We were living in a tent as we hiked around the country. One night, instead of relieving myself outside the tent, we had developed a joint system of using shopping bags for the purpose, I emptied my bladder into what South Africans call, a Checkers (bag). Jenni, who was lying in her sleeping-bag, jumped up.
"What's wrong?" I asked .
'I'm wet,' she replied, from her position downstream from me.
"Oh, dear." I had failed to ensure the bag was without holes. We had a leak, in a manner of speaking.
Jenni waited all of 6 years to the day to return the favor. Balance?
More Mono Lake.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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