We awoke to a clear blue sky and a beautiful sunrise. Well when I say we awoke, we had spent probably half the night awake. We pulled into the Shandon rest stop just off the 46, about 10 miles outside of Paso Robles around sunset. Although quiet when we first arrived, as we bedded down for the night in the Basecamp, we were vaguely aware of other traffic coming and going. And then there was the trafffic that stayed. Those huge articulated lorries with the noisy generators that thrummed all night long. In the morning, we realized we looked a tad out of place.

Don’t mind us tucked in the corner!

Recent temperatures in Santa Clarita have been a regular 100F+ for a couple of months now. So our jaunt up to Morro Bay promised a welcome respite from the relentless summer heat. From my point of view, I was looking forward to a few days by the coast with sun, sea and sand. But as we approached the coast, we saw it. The cloud. Like a dense curtain of grimy cotton wool, it lurked ominously.

Darren rolled his eyes as I reached for my phone to check the weather forecast. ‘Partly cloudy’ it said. As we continued towards the coast, we were caught up in the heavy rolling fog as the cloud and the sea air inevitably intertwined. And there was no ‘partly’ about it.

Still, first on the agenda was a swim in the estuary. As I peered through the mist to the murky water, I once again questioned why I was doing this. Darren went to check on any particular swimming restrictions and was told to be careful of the jellyfish. “Don’t worry though, they’re not the stinging kind” she reassured. Previously undecided, it was at this point Darren opted for paddle boarding rather than swimming. Something about being able to look out for me better up there than in the water. Hmmm…

Wetsuited up and shivering, I approached the water’s edge warily. No sign of jellyfish. OK, here goes. Oh but first, there’s a serious underground garden of reeds to fight your way through, complete with unidentified bird poo scum floating on top.

Once beyond the reeds, it was face first into the water, and after the initial shock of cold abated, the exhilaration that I was actually open water swimming took over. Caveat… still not a swimmer, still a lot of splashing going on, a lot of stopping going on, and still not averse to reverting to doggy paddle at any moment.

But what made this swim super special was the wildlife. Did I mention the otters? California sea otters, of which a good percentage of the endangered population just happen to live in Morro Bay. Uber cute, they float on their backs with their paws stuck out of the water. They also hold hands with one another while taking a nap, so as not to drift too far. And so up popped an otter, like right where I was swimming. To say I was in my element was an understatement!

On the way back, I was happy at managing about 200 yards without stopping, and paused to get my breath back, casually treading water as Darren glided smoothly past on his SUP. “Behind you!” he commented. The subconscious danger of jellyfish jumped to the forefront of my mind and I turned around with trepidation. Only to see an inquisitive seal, his head just a few yards from mine, wondering what on earth was all that splashing about? Talk about up close and personal! Realizing it was nothing to get excited about, he gave a sigh, sunk back under the water, and with a swish of his flippers, he was off.

The US 395 Highway is such an epic journey, that combination of mile upon mile of mountain panorama together with the excitement that all roads lead to Mammoth, gives this road sign a prime place on our showcase wall, jostling with all the brewery signs.

Friday

First stop after a Friday night pick up from work, was Alabama Hills (impossible to say without an affected US Deep South drawl). Contrary to my pronunciation, Alabama Hills is just past Lone Pine in the Sierra foothills, California. We arrived just as it was getting dark, but still managed to bag a prime boondocking spot (you really can’t go too far wrong here!) tucked into one of the many rock formations.

Saturday

No more mice incidents to report this time in Alabama Hills (the previous time we were here, we had a little visitor in the middle of the night). The next morning we continued our journey north to Convict Lake for a spot of competitive paddle-boarding vs trail running (see The Convict Lake ‘Top Gear’ Challenge). Then what better way to cool off than trying out the local public swimming pool. Far removed from the crowded claustrophobic indoor pool of years past (think kids screeching & hollering, dive-bombing & splashing, and grimy plasters floating past), this pool was in the glorious outdoors – no screaming kids and no plasters, just a serene mountain backdrop.

This has surely got to be one of the most picturesque swimming pools in California.

As we rocked up to our reserved spot in the Old Shady Rest campground in Mammoth, we were surprised that it seemed to be already occupied. I readied myself for a fight, how dare someone take our spot!?! Darren hastily reached for his phone to check the booking and swiftly realized we were actually booked in there for the following night. Ahem, ok, quiet exit, stage left.

Not a problem for the Basecamp, we had planned on boondocking for a night anyway (just not this night). We set our sights on the nearby area around Hot Creek Springs.

The thing about pulling a trailer is that you’re paranoid about turning down a narrow trail only to find that it’s a dead end, with no turning circle or means to get back out again. Luckily, a combination of prior research, google earth and sending me out to check any potential such offending trails did the trick, and we ended up in a perfect spot overlooking the steaming river below.

Sunday

An early start had us backtracking to Mammoth and heading up to the lakes above the town. Undeterred by his performance on the SUP yesterday, Darren was ready to take on a couple more lakes (Horseshoe Lake and Lake Mary). But before any paddle-boarding could be done, the damn thing needed pumping up. For some reason I’m still trying to come to terms with, we have a hand pump. (I’m trying to make Darren see sense and order one of those pumps you can plug into the car and let that do the hard work for you). Anyway, in the meantime, we’re stuck with the hand pump, and have come to some reluctant arrangement of my contributing 100 pumps to the proceedings. So no sneaking off for me to do my own thing – at least not until I’d done my duty.

98… 99… 100. Done!

I left Darren to his own devices on the paddle-board, and kitted up for a run. Four years earlier, we’d done a half marathon in Mammoth, which rolls gently downhill for the first 8 miles or so. Probably the prettiest race I’ve done, and I regretted not being able to stop for pictures along the way. This time, I didn’t have to run the full 13.1 miles and I could dilly dally to my heart’s content.

Lost in my own thoughts and the beauty of the scenery around me, I was jolted back to the present by a fisherman calling up to me from the bank below. “Did you see the bear?” I did a double-take, “Huh?” “The bear” he exclaimed “not just one but a mother and two cubs – just moments ago – they stole my fish! They must have gone right past you.” Man, it’s times like this I wish I were more observant. I was tempted to double back and try to find them, then thought better of it.

I was disappointed at missing such an awesome wildlife spotting opportunity, but fantastic scenery aside, there were two other great advantages to this run. 1 – Mammoth Brewing at the bottom of the hill. And 2 – a free shuttle bus to take me back up the hill : )

This time when we arrived at the Old Shady Rest campground, there was no one in our spot. Funny that. Out came the bikes for a mini brewery tour. Although Darren had other ideas and took the long way round (seemed a very long way round). Mammoth Brewing and Black Doubt Brewing done, it was back to the campsite for steak on the bar-b-q and a cozy campfire.

Monday

It was time to brave the cool clear waters of June Lake. The thing about this triathlon training lark is that you don’t just have to be able to swim, you have to be able to swim in open water. One of the drivers behind even contemplating attempting this was to feel out of my comfort zone. Well this is about as out of my comfort zone as it gets.

Even I had to admit that the water looked quite inviting – the sunlight was glinting off the surface and the water was so very clear you could see way all the way down. However, despite Darren’s earnest suggestions that it reminded him of the Caribbean, I was more skeptically reminded of the turquoise glacial waters of Lake Louise in Canada. Long story short, even wet-suited up, complete with booties and wetsuit hood, it took me a l—o—n—g time to get in the water.

Finally in, initial shock over as the water seeped into my wetsuit, and having taken the plunge to fully immerse my face, I started to swim. Slowly of course – I’m still very much a beginner, and don’t get too far without resorting to doggy paddle. But the exhilaration of seeing the mountain peaks every time I took a breath, combined with being able to see all around in the water – including spotting fish, just blew me away. Happy days!

De-wetsuited and dried off, next up was a bike ride. The so-called June Lake loop. 25 miles might not sound so far but that thin mountain air comes into play again, not to mention the steep terrain, the wind and the heat. The long slow crawl up the 395 nearly finished me off, don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see the Basecamp.

The campsite in June Lake was right on the edge of town, entailing a pleasant lakeside walk to June Lake Brewing to round off the required checklist of eastern Sierras breweries.

Tuesday

July 4^th falling on a Wednesday gave us a most welcome extra long weekend. Instead of having to head home, we continued north to Mono Lake for, you guessed it, another paddle-boarding session. After wearing myself out with my dutiful 100 pumps, I figured I’d done my exercise for the day, and opted for a leisurely walk by the shoreline.

It was like looking out onto a natural infinity pool stretching to the horizon, watching Darren navigate the strange tufa columns rising haphazardly from the opaque waters. According to Darren, it was like paddling on a different planet. One with water obviously.

Contemplating where to head to for the remainder of the day, the relentless heat got the better of us. After brunch, we pointed the Basecamp in the direction of Yosemite, and climbed up Tioga Pass to 10,000 feet to escape the blast furnace conditions we’d been experiencing. Even stopped in for a Mr Whippy (probably don’t call it that here but you know what I mean) at the sleepy town of Lee Vining along the way.

We got lucky with a gorgeous camping spot at Junction campground.

All that remained for our last night was to relax by the river with a beer. Out came the travel guidebooks, and maybe another beer or two. No point in dwelling on the return trip home when we could be planning Operation Next Road Trip!