Mammoth Revisited

Aspens and Mammoth Crest

That cold morning in Mammoth was to be my last in the town and environs till the next time I travel that way. I was up and out on the road before the rising sun had cleared the White Mountains to the east. The aspens had not yet blazed that blinding yellow and gold peculiar to them with the coming of Fall. The high ridges were still in shadow as I sat in my Explorer waiting for the sunlight to bathe them in reflected light. Setting up my tripod and positioning the camera became near impossible because of my shivering hands and body, but short stays in the heated cab of the Explorer let me overcome the cold and I managed to accomplish the normally simple task.

The picture was taken near the entry to Snowcreek Resort....the development that was built on that vast meadow swept by those howling winds mentioned in an earlier post. I believe it is the most beautiful and carefully planned of all the resort complexes in Mammoth. Our first townhome (I still remember the address...733) is now nestled among large aspen trees and mature foliage. We owned that home in the mid-nineties and it was exceptional....I still get misty-eyed when I see it. The second home, much smaller, and built some years after the other, is still remembered fondly, but it does not have the same place in my heart as 733. The reality is that second homes, while raising a family, prove more often than not to be difficult to use as first dreamed. Kids are in school much of the year, they have football practice in the summer, and work schedules and other day-to-day responsibilities leave little time to spend away as a family. The stays we had were often filled with chores and maintenance issues, and there is little break from cooking, cleaning up, washing clothes and the un-packing/packing up ritual.

From that morning photoshoot, I raced out of town, but not before stopping a Schat's for coffee and a roll, and headed up Mammoth Mountain to beat the 7:00 a.m. deadline for descending into the San Joaquin River Canyon...the site of Devil's Postpile and the beautiful San Joaquin River. The Ranger took my money and we talked a bit.....about the beautiful gold charm she wore (it had belonged to her mother), the weather, the road conditions ahead (there had been a surprise snow storm two days earlier). There had been no need to beat the deadline....there were no tourist crowds that required limiting access to the valley.

The San Joaquin River starts in the high country and flows to the West. The San Joaquin Valley is named after the River which used to water the flatlands, along with other Sierra rivers, and create vast waterways and wetlands before the land had been changed forever by the agricultural interests that now dominate the San Joaquin Valley. The river had always been one of our favorite fishing destinations. We ranged far up and down the current and always had success with dry and wet flies.

I did cast my fly line for awhile and caught and released several trout, but I spent more time walking the banks and taking photographs, and sitting in the shade writing in my journal. Forestry people were busy shutting the facilities down for the coming winter and the public restrooms were down to one outhouse, much to the consternation of the few visitors who had to line up some discreet distance from the door. The women seemed to be particularly aggravated about the situation.

I decided that I wanted to be over the Tioga Pass and in Yosemite Valley well before the end of the day, so I packed up and drove back to Mammoth. But first a visit to Hot Creek was necessary.

-continued-

The San Joaquin River