For us, like so many others, it seems to be a constant struggle to maintain a positive work life balance. (Admittedly, we do have the added bonus of Darren’s somewhat flexible work schedule and the three day weekend I get every fortnight.) One of our ways of coping is to make the most of when I have work travel commitments, by tagging on weekends that complement my movements, rather than making my work travel a burden. Our latest example of this was planning a trip that for me would end in Reno, Nevada, so I could fly from there direct to Seattle, leaving Darren (poor thing) with the lonely roadtrip home, albeit interspersed with an extra few days’ holiday.
Friday
The weekend started with a speedy getaway (as speedy as can be expected on a Friday afternoon). Direction north, destination for the night just somewhere along Highway 395 on the eastern side of the Sierras. Darren has become somewhat expert in finding random side roads along which there is no other traffic (indeed no other sign of human life, were it not for the electricity pylons). The combo of balmy evenings, late sunsets and truck camping (i.e. no tent to put up) make for extremely stress-free camping. Also, with just a tiny crescent moon, one of the best star-studded clear nights we have seen in a long time.
Saturday
An early start (when did we last NOT have an early start…?) and more road trip miles along the scenic 395, until we arrived at the trailhead for Parker Lake just off the June Lake Loop drive. We nimbly bagged the last feasible spot in the car park before the unfortunate latecomers were left with no other option than to litter the roadside like an abandoned scrapyard, causing future traffic chaos and no doubt some lost wing mirrors. We were pushed for time to do our planned hike to Parker Lake so we made it into a trail run instead. In fact, I speeded things up even more by forgetting (yet again, when will I learn?) to put mossie repellent on, meaning our time at the lake turnaround point was cut demonstrably short, amidst much yelling, cursing and slapping.
Next stop was the ghost town of Bodie. The big conversation piece on the way centred around my dilemma of whether I had actually been there before in a previous trip with my sister some 15+ years ago. Ever get that vague recollection, where you’re not even sure whether it’s your memory or someone else’s? When we arrived, I didn’t recognize it whatsoever. Turns out it was my parents who had previously visited Bodie, and my sister and I had been to a smaller, more typical one-lane cowboy and western style ghost town near Death Valley all those years ago.
Next on our list was Buckeye hot springs, an epic journey in and of itself, which merits its own separate post. Feeling invigorated and relaxed from our hot bath (maybe the beer helped too!), our last stop was a nearby narrow potholed lane leading to a deserted dead end, the expansive views and peace & quiet making it another great stop to rest our weary heads in the truck for the night.
Sunday
Following our early(!) morning dip in the hot springs, and a brief breakfast stop off the 395 with porridge and instant coffee, the road trip continued up to Baldwin Beach, near South Lake Tahoe. Cue separate kayaking post. Fueled up with a sneaky burger (surely we’d earned it after all that paddling!), next on our whistle stop tour was a bun fight for a car parking space at Eagle Falls trailhead, where we were due to leave the truck overnight and head off into the wilderness for a proper overnight backpacking camping trip. Parking space secured, our attention turned to the herculean effort of packing everything we may need for the night into two rucksacks.
Let me say this. I am not cut out for backpacking. I am small. I am weedy. I don’t like carrying heavy things. And I was more than a little puffed from the 12 miles or so of kayaking. Balance all of that with our penchant for the odd beer or two. This results in a crazy schizophrenic dilemma in your head. (“Take the beer”. “Leave it. Drop it. Step away from the beer…” “Take it. You know you want to”). A gallon of water in my rucksack didn’t help either.
Our bags finally packed, we narrowly missed being overtaken by a group of four year olds on the initial stretch. Not long after, a larger lady (I’m being polite) engaged us in conversation on the trail to ask where we were backpacking to. I could barely grunt a response but Darren cheerfully replied “oh, just up to the lake”. Her follow up question of “oh really? Are you just practicing for a proper trip?” did not go down too well with me. OK, so it was only a couple of miles hike to where we were planning on camping but when you’re weighed down like a packhorse, that is really not the point. A warning glance from Darren only just stopped me handing over my rucksack to her right there and then, with a petulant “See how you like it”.
Eagle lake, when we reached it, was such a welcome sight. And we beat the four year olds, who had remained hot on our trail all the way up.
When I first noticed Darren unlacing his hiking boots and removing his socks, I didn’t really bat an eyelid. It’s not out of character in any way for him to soak his feet in cold water. I was a little more disturbed when he donned his rucksack and headed for what looked like the narrowest part of the lake/emerging river to cross to the other side. “Erm, it’s this way” he muttered. No, no, no, this cannot be happening. I shook my head to dislodge the nightmare, but to no avail. I watched, horrified, as Darren gingerly edged his way across, the water rising above his knees. He hitched up the legs of his shorts as the water lapped higher and higher. Frantically, I started searching for other options. Dumping my backpack on a rock, I ran off in the opposite direction, oh yeah, I can move when I have to! And praise be, there IS a god! The proper path materialized in front of me, having been hidden behind some rocks. I’ve never been so relieved to find a path.
All that remained was for Darren to make the return journey through the river while I remained blissfully dry. He didn’t even mind the wasted double river crossing so much, as it provided some brief cooling respite from his post-kayak sunburn. (Me? I’d rather have hot legs). With the four year olds – and everyone else – long gone, we set up camp, and got stuck into the beer.
Monday
After a hearty camping breakfast, the return hike the next day was, it has to be said, a little lighter and combined with the downhill, so much easier.
Following a scenic drive round to the more remote north east shores of Lake Tahoe, we headed for ‘Secret Cove’ (really, how can a place be secret if it’s on the map as Secret Cove?). Maybe not secret, but it is somewhat elusive, and a proper hike to get down to. I thought we’d done our hiking for the day! However, this was well worth it, a pretty horseshoe-shaped cove with turquoise water, smooth rocks, and white sand. We found ourselves some shade under the generous canopy of the pine trees, munched on our tasty picnic lunch, and actually had some chill out time.
Of course, Darren doesn’t sit still for long. Out came the wetsuit so he could get a swim in, which was kind of ironic as this was an optional nudist beach. There’s everyone else getting their kit off, meanwhile Darren is putting extra layers on.
The last stop on the whistle stop Tahoe tour was Reno. Known as The Biggest Little City in the World. Don’t ask, seems very random to me. First impressions were a bit of a poor man’s Vegas: casinos galore but without the glitz and glamour, the sin and debauchery, the party til you drop atmosphere and the knowledge that What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas. Still, I reckoned that with an early flight to work the next day, that’s probably a good thing!
