should never have allowed only a day for this one. White Mountain Peak, 14208 ft. (4331 meters). it was a choice between that and Mt. Whitney, 14500 ft. (4420 meters). not a clear choice, though a repeat of Whitney would have been nice. but with a 22 mile (36 km) round trip distance and 5500 ft. (1700 meter) elevation gain, doing it in one day is a brutal pre-dawn-to-after-dark excursion. that and it was a weekend, and probably one of the busiest weekends of the summer in the Sierras with the Perseids meteor shower showing up as well. Whitney can see 500 people on days like that, not to mention that one needs a permit to do the hike. no time to get to the National Forest office on Lone Pine to get one. so, a fine second-best choice. I'd been wanting to get up to the Bristlecone Pine Wilderness area since the early 1980's, so this was a perfect opportunity. north of Bristlecone is the Barcroft Station one of the UC high-altitude research stations situated on a shoulder of White Peak Mountain. it's possible to drive in about 30 miles to a locked gate below the research station at around 12000 ft. (3600 meters). unless you have special dispensation to have the gate key, you have to park there and do the seven miles in to the peak. otherwise, you could shave three miles off the round-trip distance. I might have made it if that had been the situation... so, no need to give the details except I missed by a mile and 800 vertical feet. right hip cramped. no cardio-vascular issues which was gratifying for the first 14,000-footer attempt in the last decade, and two years following the accident.

hitched a ride for last of the 12 miles with a woman who works at the research station. she couldn't bear to leave me hobbling in her dust trail.

then it was on to the Bristlecone Pine area to check out the trees. could barely walk around. back down to 8000 feet to sleep better, though it is 40 F warmer as well. the Perseids are nothing special, unfortunately. and so, cold stellar places left behind for the time being.

attenuated transitions, on the same route taken two months previous almost to the day. across the Central Valley, and the ascent of the Sierras. not too crowded for a Saturday around peak season. so much drier than two months ago. most creeks in Yosemite are dry washes. fill the 10 gallon bladder with water from the high-pressure spigot at the east end of the Tioga grade. fill the water bottles and the 2.5 gallon tank as well. and drink a good fill. cold, damn good water. courtesy the Donner Electric Company. there are two spigots, another man is filling a large bladder in the back of his SUV. when I'm done, a pickup pulls up, the guy mouthing "get outta the way!" to me as I get into the cab of my truck. contorting my mouth into a variety of shapes, without using any particular language or vocabulary, I then smile and slowly pull away, waving. on down the road, south on 395 past Mono Lake, being passed by cars moving at excess of 80 mph most of the time. going backwards whilst going forward. one sedan passes. I vaguely notice the occupants. fifteen minutes later a tableau reveals itself. several cars parked on either side of the road, and that same sedan flipped over in the median, a group of people milling around. the D200 records several shots as I pass, transcendant. to Bishop. from Bishop one heads a bit south then east into the White Mountains on a very steep and twisted paved road which ends up in the Deep Springs Valley passing the mythological Deep Springs College. about half-way to the College is the turn-off into the Bristlecone Pine Wilderness area. a 40-mile trek on a bad dirt road. to the locked gate. tooling along, following the principle that wash-board surfaces are best negotiated as such a speed where the tires only have contact with the wave peaks, not the troughs, you get a smooth ride. while filed at the back of mind, another maxim taught/learned during the School of Mines summer field camp -- "driving on a dirt road is like driving on ball bearings." suddenly that mushy feeling with handling. hmmm. slow down. damn. a flat. the fourth this summer. good thing yesterday I had replaced the previous spare which had a 3-inch slash from an unknown source. the current flat tire has a similar gash. changing it as fast as possible, damnation, get covered with the fine pale beige dust. twiLight somewhere shortly off, and another 25 miles to go before getting to the locked-gate/trailhead. I had to think hard whether to continue without a spare or turn around and get back to paved life. with a uncertain heart, I went ahead, trundling along at no more than 5 mph. well, at least it gives a nice view of the passing scenery. consequently, I didn't get to the gate until well after sunset. there were a couple other cars. there was a hard breeze blowing though with the air around 4% relative humidity, it didn't feel as cold as it actually was, but it was plunging fast. the daily fluctuation can easily be 40 degrees F (30 C). ground cloth (a heavy black plastic sheet), three back-packing sleeping pads, the wool poncho from Colombia, bivouac sack, down sleeping bag, sheet sack, pillow, down vest, and fleece jacket. after a quick dinner of re-heated pasta from the night before, I crawl in, leaving a small slit to watch the stars through. only just warm enough. over-tired from the drive and the altitude, stunned awake by the stellar intensity, hardly sleep, catching a few scattered Perseids. I've not seen stars like this in years. this particular location, aside from the modest amount of air pollution from the rest of California to the west, is as dark as can be found in the lower 48 states. that and being up at high altitude. the stars were not positioned as in a dome of sky. rather, they appeared without perspective, nor were they simply pasted, flat on a black background. they appeared full and with depth and an obvious shading of dark matter obscuring the center of the Milky Way. enough overall Light to see easily. I had the feeling of plunging forward into them, clearly manifest as a space, a cosmos that I was floating into, chill wind flushing any illusions of being on a planet. flying despite the gravity of the chunk of rock pressing against my back.

CocoaBear, Nancy, Loki, Naners. Loki is not standing on a platform. he's six-feet-two plus. at 14 years old going on 15. stringbean.