My internal alarm clock did not wake me in time to catch the sunrise at Mono Lake, but I still got to the shoreline in time for some nice early morning light… and to pass a bunch of photographers who had apparently caught the earliest rays of day and were off to find breakfast. This was just as well with me, because even though I love a good sunrise-glow photograph as much as the next person, I have an aversion to being elbow-to-elbow with 40 other photographers at a location. I know, I know, these images will be classics, but my heart always sinks just a little when I arrive somewhere for sunrise (see: Oxbow Bend at the Tetons, Delicate Arch in Arches, etc.) and see a line of tripods in the same damn spot. I guess it’s just that rebellious streak in me that wants to go somewhere else, where everyone else is not.

Nevertheless, I had a nice chat with some of the other photographers there, including Gary Hart (the photographer, not the politician) who was leading a workshop. It is a spectacular location for a workshop — there are so many interesting photographic possibilities in the combination of water, rock, light, waterfowl and sky.

As the sun rose higher, I headed back toward Lee Vining, grabbed a breakfast of coffee and a muffin from a cool little coffee shop, and hit the road again. I took the scenic June Lake loop and found some patches of fall foliage and walked along a peaceful lake shore in the shadows of the beautiful snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains. There is nothing quite like crisp autumn mountain air.

I arrived at the busy town of Bishop feeling quite hungry, and it’s a good thing, because I’d heard that Erick Schat’s Bakery was the place to go for lunch. It did not disappoint. I got a delicious and filling sandwich on some of the freshest bread I’ve ever eaten, plus some goodies to go.

I found a campsite for the night at Brown’s Town Campground near the south side of Bishop, and after such a big, late lunch, I was not feeling up for much of a dinner, but I did want to relax with a cup of tea and spend some time working on my perpetually-behind-the-times blog. So I found the Looney Bean Cafe, which is a great little place to hang out and enjoy a cuppa. Unfortunately, in the cafe that night there was a little bit of drama that hit me harder than I expected.

As I worked at my laptop, I realized at some point that an older lady had come in from the street, and that one of the barristas was helping her to a chair and attending to her, but it was all very quiet and I didn’t pay a lot of attention. Until the paramedics arrived. The lady had been having chest pains and symptoms of a heart attack. To most people (including myself), and in most situations, this may not have been terribly upsetting, but as they brought in the gurney and fixed an oxygen mask over the woman’s face to take her to the hospital, all of a sudden I found myself trying to stifle a sob. This was the first time since my mother passed away in 2008 that I’d seen someone taken on a gurney. Watching this episode, it hit me like a thunderbolt how close this was to the circumstances of my mother’s passing (she had a heart attack and went into cardiac arrest in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, but was revived long enough to have a month in the ICU before she passed away). I had my face turned to the wall so I don’t think anyone really saw me lose it, but I felt incredibly silly, and it took me a while to compose myself after that. Grief sometimes sneaks up on us when we least expect it, but that was definitely one of those moments that caught me completely off guard.

Not too long after that, it was time for the cafe to close for the night, so I headed back to the campground to settle in for the evening. As I was unloading some stuff from my car, two men with Russian accents walked by and said hello and commented on my tiny trailer, like almost everyone does. They asked some questions about it, and then things got a little weird. One of them asked how a couple would, um, perform, in such a small camper. I laughed it off with a pointed remark about my HUSBAND, but he apparently didn’t get it, because he offered to help me with any needs I might have in that department. Uh, no, buddy. Just no. I politely but firmly let him know that I had no needs with which he would be helping me. As the men walked away, the other man said, “You are a very nice person.” I replied, “Yes, but I’m not THAT nice.”

Suffice to say I slept with the doors locked that night. Just in case.

Bright and early in the morning, I left Lake Tahoe, and naturally, the weather was much improved from the day before. Such has been my luck with weather. I headed south on Route 89, and took a detour through Gardnerville because one of the mountain passes on 89 was closed due to snow. My original plan had been to visit Yosemite National Park next, so I had called the phone line for Yosemite’s road conditions to find out that Tioga Pass, the only route into the park from the east side, was closed due to snow. So, after much thought and map consultation, I decided to bypass Yosemite on this trip and just head down 395 through the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains as far as Bishop, an area I had not yet visited (I’ve been through the lower stretches of 395, near Lone Pine and the Alabama Hills, a couple of times before).

Along the way, I stopped and took some photos at an old abandoned ranch, with beautiful snowcapped mountains in the background. The ground was soft from the rain and snow of the day before, and I happened to not be wearing hiking boots, so I was choosing my footing carefully. However, I stepped in one area that appeared to be just a little sandy wash, only to have my foot immediately sink in to the point where the sand/mud covered my shoe and nearly sucked it off my foot! Is this what quicksand is like? I slopped my way back to the car, changed shoes, laughed at myself, and moved on.

One of the stops along the route that I’d been looking forward to was the mining ghost town of Bodie, about 13 miles off the highway. Bodie is one of the best preserved ghost towns in California, and the site is managed by the state park service. It’s a fairly twisty unpaved mountain road, but I’d been assured it is fine for a passenger car and didn’t require high clearance, so I headed up the road, with the trailer still attached.

About 9 miles up the road, the sky had gone totally gray, and sleety snowy stuff started falling, hard. Just as the ghost town buildings came into sight in the distance, I passed through a muddy, slippery patch on the road and realized this was not going to be a good idea. It was already 3:30 and the park closes at 5:00 pm, and looking at the sky, I had no faith that this weather was going to improve in any time to take photos. Not to mention that I didn’t love the idea of driving through this slippery stuff on an unpaved road, with the trailer. I found a wide spot in the road, turned around, and headed back to the highway. Bodie is at an elevation of well over 8,000 feet, and my car’s thermometer read 35 degrees up there, whereas at the highway it was 7,000 ft and 45 degrees. It’s amazing how a ten mile drive can result in such a dramatic difference in weather and conditions.

Disappointed but relieved to be off that road, I continued on to Mono Lake. The first viewpoint along the lake that I found was not the most scenic (the tufa formations were far from shore) and frankly, something in the area smelled pretty rank. I drove on and found the visitor center and figured out that the area I really wanted to see, South Tufa, was another 20 minutes away, so on I went. I got there in time to catch the late day light over the rock formations, and could finally see why photographers are so enthusiastic about the area. It is truly fascinating.

Here’s a teaser shot of Mono Lake from my evening shoot. I’m sure I’ll post more:

Once the light was gone, I found a room at the Murphey Motel in the town of Lee Vining (it was too late to search for a campsite) and ate dinner at Nicely’s, an old-school diner in town.