The Highs and the Lows of California

 I had a lot of time to think during the last two days of my road trip. I left Bishop in the morning after checking out of the hotel and filling up with gas, having gotten down to less than a quarter tank the night before at dusk. 

The High Sierra were beautiful in the morning sunlit. Morning is the best time for driving. The roads fill up as the day progresses is the general rule I've learned.

I stopped in Big Pine, which is barely civilization, for a homemade burrito at a roadside stand called Hugo's. I ate it at the picnic table and then walked maskless through the empty summer municipal campground, pondering the beauty of jagged ridge of the mountains, and also thinking through thoughts about the election, and my work project. 

I drove south on 395 through Lone Pine, which is also barely civilization. I craned my neck to look at the mountains, knowing that Mount Whitney is up there, but never knowing which one from that angle. Identification of peaks is often more difficult than people realize.

Then I cut east towards Death Valley and enterred the enormous national park from its backside, the California side, coming through Panamint Valley, then up over the ridge into the main valley. Signs along the road told me that a car permit was required for all visitors. The sign indicated that one should purchase one at Furnace Creek, which was the main visitor's center. There was also a station in Stovepipe Wells, which I came to first, coming from the west. I stopped there and bought the permit at the automatic kiosk in front of the shuttered station. I put my credi card in. It was thirty dollars. Resolving to be honest, I hit the purchase button. My card was authorized. The machine printed out a ticket with the "valid till" date of a week from my purchase. The instructions on the ticket said to put it on the dashboard face-up. So I did that.

About half hour later I see the great oasis of Furnace Creek and its surrounding campgrounds filling the desert floor with palm trees and other large vegetation. I parked in the parking lot and decided to walk around a bit, taking a break during what would be a long drive. 

Many people were in the parking lot. The visit center door was open but entrance was blocked by a makeshift plexiglass window behind which sat a female park ranger. She was giving out maps. I decided I wanted one, so when there was no one in line I came up the window, having put on my mask right before I did so.

"Do you have a park permit?" she said, with the tone that suggested she was sure the answer would be no, as she had seen me walk by the machine while approaching the window.

"Uh yes," I said. "It's on the dashboard of my car."

"Oh, well what kind ofpermit  did you get?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "The kind that cost thirty dollars."

With a look of resignation she handed me the map I wanted.