May 11 -- Grass Valley, CA

Well, what goes up must come down, I guess. This was a particularly frustrating and disappointing day, but ended on a high note.

During previous nights while camping in the woods, I gave very little thought to crawling out of my tent and walking to the bathroom when necessary, except, perhaps, to lament that it was cold, and I didn't want to leave the warmth of my sleeping bag. Last night, however, I was in bear country and had been warned repeatedly that they were "out there." Although the bathhouse was lighted, there were, of course, no lights between it and my campsite. All I had was a headlamp that cast a bright, but limited, glow at my feet. In fact, I made a point not to scan the horizon with it, for fear of what I might find (and so as not to disturb the other campers in the middle of the night). On my way back to my campsite, however, I lifted my head and looked over at a campsite across the road. My headlamp caught the orange glow of two beady eyes staring back at me. They were close to the ground, so they did not belong to a bear, but I had no idea what they might be attached to -- and didn't really want to know -- so I scampered back to my tent and hopped in. It was a bit unsettling. I normally try not to let my imagination run wild while sleeping outdoors. After all, I am, when sleeping, in a semiconscious state, and all that separates me from the wild animals in whose home I am sleeping, is a thin piece of fabric that comprises my tent. Last night, however, it took me awhile to go back to sleep. The river next to me was roaring so loudly that anything that might be investigating me would not be heard scampering around over the din of the rushing water.

Now back in the mountains, I awoke to a wet, soggy tent and trees dripping with moisture from the rain that came during the night. It wasn't much, but it was enough to dampen everything through and through. The dampness also made the cold air (32 degrees when I awoke) feel that much colder. As usual, I quickly (though not as quickly as when I'm in the warm desert) broke camp and made coffee. Breakfast would be a bowl of cereal (cold) and pop tarts.

Because I go to bed early and awaken early, I usually enjoy a good two hours in the morning exploring the park without other people. There's no other traffic on the road, and no one else in my space. I like that a lot. This morning, however, my timing was a little off. I set off about 8:00 am and decided to drive up the park road to the Giant Forest, wherein lies General Sherman, the biggest living Sequoia tree. On my way up the twisty-turny mountain road, I came around a horseshoe bend and on my right, on the other side of a low rock retaining wall, was the mug of black bear, munching on the flora and fauna. His/her face was only three feet from my passenger window, and he/she looked right at me, totally unconcerned with my sudden presence in a vehicle. I stopped the car a few yards up the road (when I could do so safely) and watched him/her for a few minutes before he/she ambled off into the woods. Because of the rock retaining wall, I never saw his/her full body -- only his/her head and back. Thus, I was not able to get a good photo. He/she was not in the mood apparently to mug for my camera. But I saw a bear!!!

A few miles up the road, I came upon road construction and a flag person, who told me that the (only) road was closed, and they would let me/us through only on the hour, every hour. It was 8:20 am, so I had to sit there for 45 minutes and wait for them to let me up the road. What a drag.

Once through the construction zone, I climbed up and up and up. At around 4500 feet, there was a light dusting of snow all over everything. What had been rain for me at the campground had been snow in the higher elevations. As I went higher, the snow became deeper, and a thick layer of ice had formed on the road. At 6000 feet, I was in a winter wonderland. A deep blanket of snow covered everything. I was also driving through a forest of giant sequoia trees. Although the ice and snow on the road made driving treacherous (particularly for this Florida girl who is unaccustomed to such driving conditions), I drove slowly with my mouth agape. I was in awe of the landscape. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. A giant forest covered in virgin white snow. Truly amazing.

When I reached the Giant Forest Museum (2 miles south of General Sherman), I gladly pulled in. The driving conditions were continuing to deteriorate, and my knuckles had turned white on the steering wheel. I ever so carefully made my way from the parking lot to the museum through a crust of ice that covered the ground, occasionally slipping and sliding, my arms pinwheeling to right myself.

Once inside this fine heated building, I discovered that it was 29 degrees outside, and there was a 20% chance of more snow. Even more disappointing was the fact that there was now a driving restriction on the main road -- chains or snow tires were mandatory from that point forward. I had neither, nor the experience to drive with them even if I had them. The ranger suggested that I walk a trail 2 miles to General Sherman, but the trail was hip deep in snow, and I have only tennis shoes to walk in. I was soooo disappointed. I could not even see the General.

The ranger was unsure when/if the road would open without restriction, so I decided to go back down the mountain to the visitor's center and re-group. Of course, I had to sit through the road closing at the construction zone again. Thus, it was nearly 11:30 by the time I got back down the mountain. At the visitor's center, it was sunny and bright and 53 degrees!

A ranger there suggested that I drive to the north entrance of the park by going back into the valley and driving north for an hour and a half. There was another large forest of sequoia trees up there, and the roads were all open and unrestricted. He even showed me a "shortcut" up a county road. Lesson learned: never, never, never trust a park ranger.

The shortcut was the narrowest (often one lane), most twisty-turny road I have ever been on. If I were prone to car sickness, this road would have had me retching out the window. Once I was on it, there were no intersecting roads, so I was stuck. I pressed on, but it was grueling. At the end, I once again began climbing into the mountains. Although the road was clear, I encountered snow again at 4500. It got heavier the higher I went. By the time I made it to the park entrance, the snow was several feet thick. The temperature was hovering at freezing again. The snow was deeper and more significant than it had been at the south entrance. I wondered why the ranger had sent my up here. The campgrounds were buried in snow, and I would have had to camp on the snow, which would have been cold, cold, cold. Needless, to say I was a little frustrated by the turn of events. There was fog that had descended on the park, as well, so visibility was minimal. Although the roads were open, I did not really want to explore the park under these conditions.

I have an aunt and uncle, whom I haven't seen in 15 years, living east of Sacramento, so I called them, and they invited me to come join them. Once I drove back down into the valley, it took me four and a half hours to reach them. Thus, it was a brutally long day of driving. My plan is to stay a day and head back to the parks. The general consensus was that the freak snow storm that had hit the parks was the last of the season and would be gone by Thursday. It is supposed to be 88 degrees in the parks by the end of the week. I would much rather explore when the sky is clear and the temp is reasonable.

I enjoyed visiting with my aunt and uncle during the evening, catching up on lost time. I will get to sleep in a bed again and have a shower -- both well worth the drive.