Trip Date: June 23, 2020
Find this SpotThis was just a quickie to bring a load of material up so that the next time we have a crew, meaning Bob, came up we would be ready to rock. I set up a time with Virlin in Red Bluff and off I went. I stopped off at Bruce’s trailer supply at Sylvan and Old Auburn to pay him for towing the trailer up and he gave me a cover, so we were done with that transaction. Although, now that I think about it, I mailed in the pink slip to DMV a month ago and haven’t heard a thing. Maybe one of their staff owns it now.
It had been hot and I was glad not to be making the journey up the valley in a wagon. It was 103 by the time I got to Red Bluff and was questioning why I didn’t leave earlier. Virlin was dwarfed by his corn as he picked some vege’s in the garden. I wouldn’t realize until later, they were for me. I pulled right up to the edge of his massive quonset hut, which allowed us to pull lumber from inside the structure, but, I was soaking wet by the time we were loaded with wood, and empty of $500. Fortunately, I brought a clean shirt to change in to.
I had Bruce’s son add 70 pounds to the air shocks on the truck and it seemed to carry the load just fine. The money was the limiting factor of my wood purchase, so I wasn’t pushing the capacity of the truck as I climbed up Highway 36 to the Lassen National Park Headquarters. Gassing up in Chester, I got held up in two construction zones, but still got up to the property by about 6:00. I was a little more at ease with the fence, and particularly the gate, as that has always been part of the image of having a place of our own. Seeing your name or the name of your property on the sign, or at least unlocking the gate and driving down the dirt road to your place. That has always been part of the equation, so doing that certainly had a sense of satisfaction. I didn’t trip on the fenceline, but rather at the greenness and the scented air having received some amount of rain before I arrived.
The new turn up alongside the cemetery, inside the new gate and fence line, seemed a lot more normal this time. It certainly is layed out the way it was envisioned, even if the actual, physical location is a hundred feet or so different and we needed a new road segment to make it work. But, once inside the S. Grasshopper gate, it seems natural to roll right up to the top without having another inner gate. Up top, I was excited and exhausted. It had already been a long day and I still had to consider sleeping arrangements and dinner.
The sky to the SouthEast was black, but everywhere else it was blue with very few puffy white clouds. I was definitely too tired to cook, but I had to deal with the tent. I didn’t want to sleep in the trailer, or even go inside for that matter, but one entire side of my tent was taped together from last time. When I was packing up last time, a baby lizard got in and I couldn’t scoop him out. In my efforts, I ripped another side, and then finally giving up getting him (or her) out, I ripped open another hole and ripped the tape apart so she could get out easily once I left, or get eaten.
Hence, the prospect of sleeping in a two-sided tent had to be evaluated, alongside erecting the new tent I had with me for the first time. For one night, I elected the extra ventilation. My bed was set up in no time, but the dark part of the sky was getting much bigger, and closer, and the wind was picking up. I needed to eat so I set upon a can of Apricots and some saltine crackers. I was washing it down with the first Storelli-Hart on the property. It seemed comfortable. I changed into my long pants and shoes and socks, grabbed my jacket and hat just in case, emptied what I needed out of the truck. By 7:00-ish, I was settling in, although the weather was increasingly unsettling.
The percentage of the Eastern sky that was dark and stormy was increasing significantly. My eyes were glued to the size, darkness, and proximity of the mass. The wind had picked up considerably and I was evaluating options of running away screaming, curling up in a ball on the floor of the trailer, sucking my thumb inside the truck, or putting my diaper on and sitting it out. I drank more wine and took a few pictures and decided to stay put on the kitchen deck. I put on some calming music and looked West from time to time to stare up at the huge clear blue sky. It began to rage.
The wind gusts were getting extreme. The wind blew pretty steadily at a good clip, then ramped up considerably at frequent intervals. I had to hang on to my red Solo cup for dear life and protect my wine bottle from toppling over. It was getting dark and the lighting was extremely contrasty. The sky was inky black to the East with lightning every few minutes. Almost no thunder and almost no vertical strikes; it was mostly cloud to cloud that blasted out a shock of light. Occasionally I would see a horizontal lightning bolt, and every once in a while I would see a massive vertical rod of light and power, blasting light over the entire sky. It was an extraordinary show.
Periodically, I would remember to turn West and be reminded of the slender crescent moon setting in the gorgeous blue green Western sky. It was so calm and tranquil out West, so clear and soothing. One turn of the head to the East and I was fearing for my safety. The darkness of the clouds was intimidating; the bursts of lightning both entertainingly awesome and terrifying. I was looking for fires, listening for the thunder, concerned about the blasts of wind. I played my entire “Killers” library and finished my bottle of Zin. The storm was moving North behind McDonald Peak and seemingly joining another front to the North. Together they hammered the Warner’s and points NE. The show continued for four hours until I couldn’t stay awake any more. I had to get some sleep to prepare for the day ahead.
I didn’t receive a drop of rain, yet I could smell the sweet sage on the winds from afar. The orange crescent moon set so peacefully in the West. The stars that at earlier were only visible to the West, were now screaming from every direction. The sky seemed extremely clear, perhaps having been dusted clean from the tremendous winds. The Milky Way was almost touchable. This night’s sky was one for the ages. Sleep came slowly having been filled with so much energy. It was still warm, even humid perhaps, but I was happy to relax knowing the storm had passed and ecstatic at being treated to such a spectacular show. The wine, the tunes, the sounds, smells, solitude. It was a great night.
I was up early because the stupid sun rose so early. The great part about being on top of a hill is also the worst part of being on top of a hill. It was calm, cool, and quiet. Coffee was good, poop was good, life was good. I got to emptying the truck and trying to organize the 2 x 6 by size, and allowing accessibility to everything. Of course, that lead to a lot of moving and shuffling and back and forth, but I think it is better now. I tried to imagine the water tanks and foundation, and gutters and such, and waged war on the string line… and lost.
I have hated this string line ever since I put it up. It never liked me and never really cooperated. It didn’t stay in a straight line and it didn’t stay level with the deck. It always seemed to be in the way, yet not serve its purpose. It got way more attention than it deserved and didn’t do a very good job of doing its job. Stupid string! I wanted to try to unbury the string line that ran off the deck to approximate the water tank location, as it had been covered by many of the loads of soil I brought up from below with the backhoe. As I pulled and tugged and it finally gave way, it flung a huge cloud of dust in my face.
Not wanting to back down from this renewed fight, I moved the cinder block it was tied to in hopes of straightening out the line to where it should be. Being the third block in the stack, I now had to move it again and move the two blocks below it. This still was not the right spot, so again, off with the top string block, move the two lower blocks, and now a third, and replace the top string block. Still not high enough. Remove the top string block, remove each lower block and set aside, move the bottom block to a new estimated position, restack three successive blocs, and replace top string block. Bloody hell. Good enough! This string reminds me of 30 years working for the State! The thought barely left my brain when I fell flat on my face having tripped on the bloody string now that it had been moved and elevated. Removing a fairly sizable patch of skin from my left shin, I retired to the medical tent.
After some cleaning and medication, I packed up the tent for the last time, setting aside the rain fly and the poles for possible re-purposing. It had served me well. I cleaned up the kitchen and residue that was coming back with me, had a couple breakfast beverages, had a good cleaning of body and wound, and headed out about 1:00. I took the straight route home on 395 to 80 in Reno. I stopped for a Covid meal at Macadonado’s in Reno, and left without my water. I regretted the oversight as I descended into the 102 degree valley. Fortunately, I didn’t have to take the wagon this trip.
Find this Spot
Solo Hart Hill Trip Photo Gallery
