The Other Side of California

 Drove from Pleasanton to Bishop, California. Retraced my way over the Carquinez Strait, then along the base of the hills past the Sacramento Delta, then across the flat central valley into the industrial vineyard lands, then finally climbing up to solid ground at the little metropolis of the state capital. This time I whizzed through without stopping. It was joyful to drive up Highway 50 in the sunlight past Placerville, and into the narrowing gorge of the South fork of the American River.

I stopped at a river access in the national forest and consulting my road atlases in the sunlight under a thick organic wood picnic table half strewn with leaves, on a small bluff above the river. The sun was barely above the top of the mountains, the gorge being so narrow, and it being late in the year.

I could see I would have barely enough daylight to make my destination. I resolved to drive straight through without stopping the rest of way. This I did, coming down and seeing Tahoe again in the brilliant clear sunlight, shimmering blue amidst the mountains around it and with the sunlit snowcapped mountain ridge behind it. Traffic is heavy in Tahoe. I was surprised to see literally hundreds of people around the main lodge in South Tahoe on the California side. It looked like peak season in a normal year.

Then I came down the Kingsbury Grade from Tahoe, leaving behind the lovely snow, and descending into the lush sweet part of Nevada. Cutting through Gardnerville reaffirmed that the place is growing lby leaps of population. The traffic was intense. I barely got any relief until I was well out of town on 395, heading up into the hills.

It is a beautiful drive. Once you cross back into California the land becomes sparse and beauitful. A little hamlet of Walker, on a valley on the Upper Walker River, offers services. Bridgeport, several sparse valleys later, is a more sizeable town. 

As I drove I did a mental calculation based on the distance ahead, compared to the time of sunset in Bishop. I reckoned I might arrive in town just at the end of civil twilight, and with forty miles of fuel left int he tank. I'm happy to report I stuck the landing. The Sierra was a dark jagged edge against orange as enterred the town limits. I could still see the cows in the fields.