The town of Lone Pine, CA will never be the same. This happens all the time when Miss Razzle Dazzle and I venture out unchaperoned. Places are changed forever and so are we. (As an aside, she picked her own name. I said, Are you sure? She shut me down with her look. So, that’s the name. Blame not me.)
My drive from Marin to Mammoth Lakes to fetch Miss Razzle Dazzle at the airport was 6 hours of pure bliss. I laughed, I cried, I sang loudly to every song on the six CDs that have been in my CD player for the last several months. Note to self, time to change it up.
Because it’s how I operate these days, I had no expectations of this journey, but one: summit Mt. Whitney. So I’m not surprised by my sudden burst of tears when I rounded a bend to see Mono Lake for the first time.
Sweet, no? Everybody has heard of Lake Tahoe, but Mono Lake, Chicken Spring Lake…and holy arachnid…Alabama Hills. Who has heard of the Alabama Hills in California? Not us. So imagine our stupor when we drove through a boulder strewn landscape that looked as if pebbles were kicked up by Giants as they played a game of dodge ball.
And because Alabama Hills is worthy of two pictures…
I promise to weave these sights into a post that will for certain be full of gratitude. I am moved by the beauty of this planet in ways that really warrant a fully rested, fully present post.
I have a smidge of battery left so I must post before it evaporates. Which is what everything does here once off the peaks that cradle adorable and freaking sweltering Lone Pine. It is smokin’ hot here! Tomorrow is a day off. No ten miles at 11.500 feet. I am yours, your eyes are mine. I will tell you all about the voices I heard post-skunk detox, paint the picture of the eastern Sierras for you, and give you the low down on our first excursion to the Whitney Portal store.
And then I will tell you why the setting of this goal, the goal to climb Mt. Whitney in one day, gave me back my life.
Enjoy the pics, enjoy the evening, and know that as I blow a kiss to the tallest mountain in the continental US, I blow one to you as well. It’s a two-fer.
Till the morrow…