Affirmation at 8,000 feet

The smoke was gone on Wednesday, but a whole day without electricity lay ahead. Some work was being done on our road and PG & E had to shut down the electric grid for most of the day. So we decided to drive up to Silver Lake in the Sierra's.
We took a lunch, the Corgi boys and off we drove . As we climbed in elevation it was evident that the smoke that plagued us early in the week was still there. It just hadn't come down into the valley and was sitting along the crest of the Sierras.
We finally pulled into the Kit Carson Resort to find that there were no public bathrooms open and that we would have to go back out to the highway to find one.
We parked and let the dogs out. They had a great time running around smelling the bear scents around the bear proof trash containers. We walked down to the lake. It was smoky to the west but looking toward the east we could see a mix of thunderheads and blue sky.

All I could smell was smoke. No Pine trees or clear mountain fragrances.
We continued back into the Silver Lake Campground and around the backside of the lake. We were looking for our neighbor, who was there for the day of fishing with a friend. We found our neighbor's car and walked along the beach until we found them.
Carl and Cutter were so surprised to see "D". They couldn't figure out why he was here and not at home but they were very excited to see him.
 He and his friend from the Bay Area had already caught 10 fish ,but they were releasing most of them.

 The smoke was heavy but it was still rather pretty at the water's edge. Lots of old pieces of wood and trees along the beach. The lake was quiet. There weren't many people around. Most of the cabins were closed up for the season.

We said goodbye and walked back to the car. On the walk back down the beach I took this shot looking west. The big cumulus clouds were beautiful. Some were still forming from the Rim Fire near Yosemite but there were so many more and some were filled with rain. I think they will bring rain to the mountains this week. That would be wonderful!

We drove back out to the highway. We had decided to go on up to Hope Valley and check out some campsites up there too.

As we drove past one of the big boulders that fill the Silver Lake campground... there he was.

 The official Camp Host.

A cute little chipmunk. He stood there as if he was a very important Chipmunk  and didn't seem too concerned that I was taking pictures of him. I'm pretty sure that he, or she, was an "alpha" chipmunk. There was a "don't mess with me." attitude. I felt lucky to get such a good picture of it. Usually they are running across the roads in hyper drive and you cannot shoot them clearly.
We drove by Kirkwood, where I first learned to ski, up thorough Carson Spur and over the pass. It's not as scary as it is in the Winter, when the snow is piled on the cliffs. I always hold my breath when I drive through the "spur". It's an avalanche area. This time of year there is no snow to avalanche but there are huge boulders that can tumble down... at any time.
We drove east toward beautiful Caples Lake...

 then over the pass (8,574 ft) and down past the smaller Red Lake, where I learned to ice fish and also learned that frozen lakes make sounds as you walk about on them.

 Finally, we reached Hope Valley.

Where we ate lunch and just sat looking at the blue sky and the wonderful clouds.

After lunch we drove into the Hope Valley Campground. There were actually wildflowers still blooming on the side of the road.

And birds that I haven't seen before.

And the beautiful Carson River running through it all.

And more wildflowers.

And, in the middle of all this beauty, a new season... changing color. A brilliance reflected in the river, a bright blush of orange, red and brown in the meadows, where the sky and air whisper "Winter's coming. Do you feel it?"
We filled our hearts with the beauty of the mountains and then, as all good things cannot last forever, we said goodbye to the valley called Hope.

To the rivers that run east instead of west and how they seems to meander equal to the land. No canyons, no rapids and dangerous pools, dropping into gorges... like an angry river of no return.
This river... here... is a quiet, zen like river that is at one with its surroundings.
A lesson not lost on me. A lesson I must learn.
It's good to find a place that settles you down, makes you pay attention in its own quiet way... and gives you... well...  hope.

Gold Is Where You Find It.

I made some cookies with the help of Cutter, kitchen dog extraordinaire.  The recipe is on the back of the package. I reduced the sugar, added some wheat germ and baked them. They were really good, if I do say so myself.
"Excellent" said the Prospector. Then, as if to make the whole day better, we went to look for GOLD.
The day was beautiful and cool. I can't tell you where we went, but we drove half way to a place were we could leave the car and then hiked to a dry river bed.

This is an old mining road that is filled with history. 

I always expect to see a ghost on a donkey coming toward us on the path. There is history here. It is in the wind and under the fallen leaves. It's a feeling... a connection with the past.
Then we come to "The place were the ferns grow". It is where one, small creek flows down into a bigger one.
Now, before the rains, there is no water. But an abundant amount of ferns tells us that there is a lot of moisture under the surface.

This is the time of the year to dig the bedrock, in the creek below. This is the time that comes before the rains and after the rattlers have gone back into their dens. Without water we have to carry buckets of dirt back with us or use a dry washer. Because we are quite far from the truck, it would be an huge effort to bring the equipment out here. The Prospector usually fills buckets and bring them back home on his ATV but today was different.Today he wanted to show me the new place that he has been digging.
I kind of knew where this place was but not the exact spot. These small claims are secrets. Areas of "don't ask, don't tell" and only shared with trustworthy friends... and (sometimes) wives. Prospectors are very closed mouth people when it comes to finding gold. They love to show you the nuggets but they will never tell you where they found them.
We turn and hike down  the hillside to the larger creek below. It's a tough climb down but the Prospector has made a trail, of sorts, that helps the descent. Finally we get to the creek and the beautiful BEDROCK. For more information  about why bedrock is so important in gold recovery take a look at this site. This guy really knows what he is talking about.
Even aside from the fact that gold is now at $1723.20 an ounce, it's beautiful and you can still find it sitting in the bottom of streams and rivers here in California. And, you get to be in some of the most lovely places on earth.

Bedrock is ancient. It's beautiful and it's not going anywhere. It's always in some beautiful place that makes me want to pitch a tent and live, as Thoreau said, "deliberately".

This is where the wild things live.

 Where bears and wildcats come to find water and solace with the creatures of the night.

Where rock and tree root tangle together for support.

And the mosses wait for the moisture of the first rains.

A Buckeye waits to become a tree,

And the only sound in the quiet stream bed is my husband's trowel scooping dirt and a red winged hawk over head.
We will never become rich doing this but the fun of looking for the gold and the beautiful peace of this place will bring us happiness beyond riches. As Robert Service wrote in one of  his poems .

"There's gold, and it's haunting and haunting; 
It's luring me on as of old; 
Yet it isn't the gold that I'm wanting 
So much as just finding the gold. 
It's the great, big, broad land 'way up yonder, 
It's the forests where silence has lease; 
It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder, 
It's the stillness that fills me with peace."