Discussion Topic |
|
This thread has been locked |
neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
|
|
|
Nov 10, 2013 - 05:29am PT
|
hey there say, mouse... wow, what a neat road trip...
looks like it was time well spent, too!
road trips are twice as fun, when you can also go visit, and
when the weather is well, ... :)
*say, are the dreamcatcher feathers, stuck? they are supposed to hang downward, but when i mail them, they sometimes get stuck on the frame
wrong, :O
was curious, so was just letting you know, :)
awwww, whose parrot is that?
:)
is that ron's ?
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2013 - 01:45am PT
|
That's Max, who lives in that box and squawks while Ron rocks.
Two really fine mounts.
I'm just gonna say that a lady who prides her work with making-up cadavers for open-casket viewing is an artist in much the same way as Ron.
Ron A. is one of the types known as auto-didactic. He instructs himself in that which interests him and enjoys both the experience of learning and the satisfaction of it. Abe Lincoln was an auto-didact. Ben Goode (Etiquette for Rednecks: Weddings, Funerals, and Picnics) is another one.
I'm trying to auto-didact my way into photograph-ph-phy.
I keep forgetting to check the auto-focus and manual focus settings and I lost a bunch of CLIMBING SHOTS today because of that, but I managed to keep a few.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2013 - 02:27am PT
|
First, though, on my way through So. Tahoe I came across an old filling station on US 50 that had these old in-process re-stored cars parked in the lot.
I got run off! It's plainly posted, as you can see, but the lot is wide open, there is an office which sells lubricants and some other things, but I was told by Squirrel at Strawberry STation that the guy's out of his mind.
He had a similar run-in.
He didn't have rocks thrown at him.
The kindness of the folks at Poor Red's BBQ in El Dorado made up for the rock-tossing idiot.
I didn't finish the photos from the road trip yet.
I took another while the weather's set fair.
I got to take a five-miler after six p.m. last evening along the north side of the Merced R. from the gov't warehouse (on Foresta at the lowest El Portal bridge) down to the bridges at the Ferguson Slide, below the South Fork.
The moon was a full quarter-moon, It had just come over the south ridge-tops, and lit my way beautifully. I fetched up at the slide at about 1:30. I'd stopped at a couple of spots, mainly to entertain my blond friends from Chico, but not for long, I was out for the enduro run, no water till the pavement ended, I told myself. That was a good carrot-on-a-stick maneuver, plus I wasn't tempted to try to take any pix, it being time-wasting with no tripod. And the beers took care of the thirst. And the river keeps you from feeling it's necessary to keep hydrated, plus it's late at night, etc-etc.
The sounds on the river last night--
better than the sights.
Walker has his head down
listening to the river
revealing his thoughts.
I would hear sounds AHEAD of me
bouncing off a cliff
Which were really sounds behind me
If you catch my dright.
I was very lucky to have gotten a ride WITHOUT USING MY THUMB OR ANY OTHER DIGIT, neebee...
There was a guy in an older Astro van who was kind enough to ASK ME if he could help as I stood around with my jaw slack and my eyes vacant, gazing up the river of FAST RETURN.
I was back at the car in a flash and I dashed to the upper Tunnel parking lot to await the sunrise in blissful slumber, lulled by DREAMCATCHER TWO, still here, not lost, looking as good as one might expect after six months in the sun and moon.
Thanks for the trinket, shaddokiddo.
Jeff.Jeff.Al.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2013 - 02:58am PT
|
I felt like I was in a book cover drawing.
This is a fine sunset view as well.
EC picnic area.
On the EC trail.
Fleeblast. BleeflaST.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2013 - 03:29am PT
|
Then there is no mountain then there is.
Oh, What's-your-name I call your name.
--Donovan
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2013 - 04:05am PT
|
I hauled three bottles along cuz I didn't want to go near the water at night, except at the Cranberry Launch Site, which has lots of tables on the beach.
It's the best I've had from Sierra Nevada brewers. It helped the reverie when walking.
The lack of light in the deep shadows is like the feeling I had driving the Tioga Road the other night in the early a.m. moonless dark. Go at the same speed, see nothing on either side, cuz there's nothing there to see.
You're at lack-of-light speed in this mode.
My blond friends helped more than they know.
They were just rent-a-friends, though.
Like cafeteria coffee and conversation with four lads about young enough to be my sons--they didn't know how to take that compliment until I explained I had two about forty and the fifty-five year-old guy said Gee, thanks.
These guys had their epic on the descent from Starr King the night before.
I met a young man named Josh in the C4 lot this morning, who had never been on a wall until yesterday. He lugged cameras and lenses along to photograph Mr. Jorgenson and his partner [name escape, sorry] on New Dawn.
Josh is from JT, which happen to be his initials, too, so he didn't know what to expect but got 'er done and even remembered to bring a headlamp, which the others had forgotten to do. DOIK!
More campfire epic fodder for those three guys.
"If you fail to plan, you plan to fail."--The Bird
Thanks for the jam, Ron!
[Click to View YouTube Video]
|
|
neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2013 - 09:13am PT
|
hey there say, mouse... just checking out the flames, here, again...
have some more stuff to do though, so can't wait for all the neat pics, this time... got as far as the climbing--thanks for the shares!
:( oh my, sorry about the rocks thrown at the mouse, :O
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2013 - 10:56am PT
|
Thanks, my estimable ol' ST neebee.
It was in broad daylight. This Tahoe Looney may not have insurance or the scratch to put these old hulks in a building.
He's probably constantly put under strain by people wandering in just like me to bother him.
He may or may not just like to appear strange, many of us do.
Fortunately, he throws like a strong girl, so it was no biggie!
I remember a line from Little Big Man, about how Little Horse offered to take care of Little Big Man in HIS teepee. And I recall another line from General Custer from the movie, too.
"However, this is a legal action,...and the women are under strict orders not to throw rocks at the men."--Mr. General Custer, sir
It's all Truckee River over the weir.
I remember when we visited Tahoe on vacation in the fifties we were shown the outlet of Lake Tahoe into the lower Truckee Canyon. It seems the Truckee River country and Tenaya Lake and its country are both memorials to California/Nevada tribal leaders!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Truckee_River
"There are many reasons people go crazy, my son. The white man cannot help his insanity, he's forced into it by his numbers."--Quynn the Indian
I found this. VERY interesting and QUITE right on.
http://soyourpartnerisaspergers.blogspot.com/2013/04/culture-or-neurology-aspergers-and-other.html
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 11, 2013 - 09:43pm PT
|
In a relative way, my brother.
When I came home all full of it
I warmed my buns upon the seat
Farted away and found relief
From clients' woes, my boss's grief:
Better than a cigarette
'Twas the best I ever let
So smell the softly farted magic smells
E-I-E-I-O.
--DG & the Pinks
Well, I haven't any fireplace. My knees ache after this week like criminy.
I've tried to weave a great geographic rect-angle
Like a design on a Pomo pee-pot
Talk about magic smells
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 12, 2013 - 12:06am PT
|
It was Veterans' Day, not Vets' Day.
Let's get this clarified once and for all, HORSE LOVERS!
All trails lead to a Main STreet, eventually.
"Let's went, Cisco!"
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 12, 2013 - 12:17am PT
|
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 13, 2013 - 01:01pm PT
|
Don't ruffle yer feathers.
"Selenity NOW! Senility, later, if ever..."
Get on yer own cloud and do a little moondream.
Try to become a whole person, not JUST A CLIMBER!
Remember when you were religious?
[Click to View YouTube Video]
And then you became irreligious/a snot?
And now you're back/still undecided/going-with-the-flow.
It's a circle, like in a net for dreams.
You're never sure if you were dreaming when you were asleep, is how it works, I THINK!
Nod to worry and a big grin for peace. :)
Where would we be with no pretty beads to worry for us? :(
Or feathers to fluff???????????????
???????????????????????????????????
Running away from problems, not meeting them like heroes, that's where.
These two vets can rest easy, having done their parts.
I really enjoyed watching the geese on the Merced yesterday.
I was reminded of fleet maneuvers, bringing to mind the heroic likes of Nelson, Horatio Hornblower, "Our Dick" Bolitho, and some of you swabs.
I drove from Briceburg Bridge/Bear Creek Bridge to the end of the road, whatever it's called, past McCabe Flats (very flat indeed).
It was a real Flames kind of cruise, very slow, very low.
I had just washed the car and it really looked like rain driving into the hills. I'm just twisted. Wash the car and HOPE FOR RAIN!
PRAYING has no effect, obviously.
Next time we'll take Geo LaF and a rifle.
Sacrifice is a big religious deal, right?
Hay, I would NEVER, EVER...
|
|
zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
|
|
|
Nov 13, 2013 - 04:48pm PT
|
Isn't this the thread about chess and basketball and bomber jackets.
|
|
neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
|
|
|
Nov 13, 2013 - 06:21pm PT
|
hey there, say, ... mouse... wow, this was very very nice...
liked the town folks, turning our the 'doings' and, with kids,
and even the older veterans, too...
loved all the deer and such...
and--the unruffled dream catcher, ;))
AND--the ruffled ducks...
you know:
boomer would be proud and happy for you--good job here...
*did not read or see everything yet--dial up, you know, :O
but i will be back... :)
|
|
zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
|
|
|
Nov 13, 2013 - 09:47pm PT
|
That Pulpit Rock photo is really great Mousie.
I know, preaching to the pulpit or whatever the phrase is.
Radio Gaga, Photographic Drivel.
Take your pick Frankie Boy, my loss ... you know the drill
I Shall be Released. I hope.
Derrick with no Dominoes?
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 13, 2013 - 10:03pm PT
|
Friends are better than gold in the bank.
For your kind words this is my thank.
I think.
The ghost of Highway 140 walks this beautiful, desolate place with a long white veil,
The bride of Las Go Rock and Mistress of Miles Creek,
What it is she will forever seek
Remains an expensive re-model of a previous owner's concept
Of how to deal with that last idiot's trash and mess...
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Sweet dreams are made of this
--Eurythmics/Sweet Dreams
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjlTKHFjG5g
Not to be confused with this community a bit further south.
http://www.ask.com/wiki/Rock_Haven,_California?o=2800&qsrc=999
further, too, this, FYFI.
http://geonames.usgs.gov/pls/gnispublic/f?p=gnispq:3:7928183300926341::NO::P3_FID:1659532
The name used to be “Rock Haven.”
It’s been KG’s lately; and whatever else it’s been called by various entrepreneurs who’ve owned the place in the past, it’s still the furthest place from Yosemite on 140 (that I know of—and I began traveling this road in 1961) that could legitimately be called an attempt at being a tourist trap.
Pllanada, out in the flats, is not in the tourist business, except for a gas station and a taco wagon and a mediocre drive-on-by. It’s main focus is agriculture and lowriding.
Being on Highway 140 is a two-edged sword, as business owners lucky to have survived the low spots in tourism (endemic to one-trick pony towns) might tell you. Many have just quit or been forced to quit by fires, federal shut downs, and hanta virus scares, not to mention hundred-year floods, rock slides, road construction, and various other historical events of a negative nature. Many current business owners have pretty much run through their savings after this last summer in Mariposa County, Tuolumne County, and the one on the Eastside, Lee Vining County.
It was a pipe dream (among many) of mine years ago to retire and go to the footies of the Sierra Nevada to spend the remainder of my days, maybe in a little personalized chateau/shack on the Chowchilla, or in a quiet friendly community like Greeley Hill or anyplace that has doves in the evening.
But not IN one of the towns on Highway 49, the small, quaint, idyllic places like San Andreas, El Dorado, or Moke Hill; or Sutter Creek, Jamestown or Coulterville. Maybe AROUND them, someplace, but not IN them. The kitschy, antique atmosphere is brought to you by dealers who probably see more income from internet sales, but I would not be surprised by some of the amounts that change hands in the shoppes over a simple set of handmade carpenter’s planes like the one my parents left to me--they picked them up in Le Grand, the dinky burg on the Santa Fe south of Pllanada, in 1961 and they were hung on the fireplace wall for years at home.
I can’t bring myself to hate this tourist-baiting. It seems to help the other businesses survive—the ice cream shoppes, the espresso sellers, and the crafts stores and the bars and restaurants whose owners buy into the Gold Rush gimmick, investing savings, loans, and their future as well, in what seems to be a “good bet.” Any business start-up is a bet, a gamble, a prayer, and many are a forlorn hope in the first place.
Like the Rock Haven.
It is for sale. There is a trailer of folks living there, but they are likely renters. I tried like hell not to bother anyone, parking as close/far as I figured was polite-in-a-stranger way.
As you can tell from the photos, the place is a fixer-upper. (It needs to be torched, is what it needs.)
It’s not “my ideel” as a refuge, even if it were whole and kept wind out, which it would not do in its present condition, nor rain, nor bugs, nor heat. You gotta respect the environment’s potential for discomfort and plan to deal with it, should you be interested in the lot, if not the buildings.
It’s on a busy thoroughfare, meaning big semis. It means folks parking in your yard to take photos of cattle and lichen-covered slate and oaks and highway litter. It means you may have to use ear plugs to get to sleep at night, because you’re trying to bed down less than a hundred feet off the highway’s center line!
THE PUMP STILL WORKS—a Craftsman product.
IT HASN’T BEEN TAGGED—yet.
THERE IS A GOOD SIDELINE IN KEYSTONE LIGHT CANS—easy pickin’s.
THE NEIGHBORS ARE THE PEACEFUL KINE—Black Angus.
THE NEAREST NEIGHBOR HAS WOOD—make a deal with him to watch his place/barter for fuel.
THE VIEW IS OBSCENELY GORGEOUS—Mt. Bullion and Mt. Ophir.
THERE IS CLIMBING NEXT DOOR—at Las Go Rock, just a mile downhill—bring beer, not water.
YOUR FRIENDS WILL HAVE NO EXCUSES FOR NOT STOPPING ON THEIR WAY TO THE PARK—what more could you ask for?
|
|
zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
|
|
|
Nov 13, 2013 - 10:23pm PT
|
Goin' down the road feelin' good.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 13, 2013 - 11:35pm PT
|
Thinking about food is a good way to spend your time if you are sitting at home.
You know, when we ordered up a dinner salad at the Four Seasons Restaurant in Yosemite Lodge, we shared a large bowl of crackers-in-plastic (refills available at no charge--can you believe it?) that was set out on the table.
There were Wheat Thins and Waverly Wafers as well as soda crackers and you'd have to be on the Lunatic Fringe not to take advantage of this bounty or, as some did, the names of the products themselves, q.v.
Being hungry takes a back seat for me anymore.
My psyche has never been so keenly aware of potential and I have never been so motivated to exploit its weird ways.
Chaos replaced by...the (relative) unknown.
Yesterday I drove to the end of Bull Creek Road, which leads downstream from Briceburg on the Merced River. At the junction is the parking lot for the picnic area, the Bear Creek Bridge, the Briceburg Bridge, and an old stone house with a derelict shack just uphill from it, which cannot be seen from the highway. Unless you stop, you’ll never know the shack there.
I spoke with a fellow-climber named “Dave,” who, after our limited conversation (I’m assuming here, in case anyone knows this dude and wants to speak up—he’s a heck of a good man, from what I seen and heard then) he’s the BLM guy on the spot. I spoke with him about 4:20, as I was leaving the area.
I recalled to him that Charlie Porter once lived in the stone house, and he said “I’ve heard of him.” How little our fame really means, because he had to think of it a bit. “I never drove any iron—I missed all that,” Dave said. “I wasn’t here.”
Charlie Porter sang a song
“Don’t need no noisy five-inch bong,
Just carry some of my Teetons along.”
But Cheech and Chong
Never drove a bong.
They drove a low-riding Chebby car.
I never met Mr. Porter, but he sounds like he was a good dude, a dedicated follower of bashin’, and an entrepreneur living on the edge of Yosemite, though he was far from retired in the early seventies. (I can’t tell you if Charlie ever placed a bashie, but I’m assuming he may have racked some on his walls—I realize that I should assume less and remember to ask more questions. Meh...)
http://www.ask.com/wiki/Charlie_Porter?o=2800&qsrc=999&ad=doubleDown&an=apn&ap=ask.com
This led us to a short re-hash of our own exploits and shenanigans, but he had work to accomplish and I had a bowl to smoke, so we parted company and went on our separate ways.
It took me over an hour to get out of the hole from the river and up to Mariposa. I got caught in the middle of a sunset.
“It was a good day to have died in the Merced Canyon, grandson. I’m hungry. Let’s go to Happy Burger. I love their sweet potato fries with mustard.”--Old Dodge Skins
I would not have had far to go to reach Paradise, had I fallen badly on the choss I chose to climb. There were all of four tents set up in the whole five miles. I saw one other car traveling the road. I could have lain for hours with no help.
Now I lay me down to die
No one here to hear me cry
The sound of water’s all that’s heard
By Passing Buck or Little Bird
It looked real easy
And it was
It was all munge-y
That’s becuz
It was really choss
Underneath
To you now I bequeath
These dying words.
Climbing is dangerous.
Climb at your own risk.
Twelve geese a-playing, eleven thousand Gray Pines, ten miles an hour, nine fingers fickling, eight feet of water (I doubt the river’s holes have much more water in them than that!), seven, six, five miles from nowhere, four does a-fleeing, three times I’d been there, two little, tiny, small-mouths are all I’ve ever caught there, and a Mouse with a dusty-ass car.
One thing Millis taught me while dining at the Four Seasons on salad and coffee was that salad is great when topped with crumbled Waverly Wafers, just as coffee is best when drunk with copious amounts of half-and-half, thereby supple-lamenting one's dirtbag diet.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 14, 2013 - 01:39am PT
|
One more "historic" photo and I'm off to bed.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 14, 2013 - 02:03am PT
|
[Click to View YouTube Video]Do you remember your first cigarette? I want to tell you, but let's have a smoke first, darling.
This would be the place to grow, were plants legal to grow anywhere.
There arises an immediate gun problem if it happened right now in our country.
Paradise squandered, right here in this canyon, if ya ask me.
It's no wonder Charle Porter came here to live out the winters.
But it's far from private, just not well-populated this time of year or in early spring.
I'll be posting on the Merced River Photography Plan thread tomorrow.
It's been sadly neglected here lately.
I think I may be channeling Pop Laval, but that's just one possibility.
I'll sleep on it.
|
|
|
SuperTopo on the Web
|
Let us know!