The California Coast

Trinidad, California

Here's a picture of our RV park. The redwoods are tall and thick.


We went to the Trinidad beach in the morning. The temperature never got much above 55 degrees F., but the fog finally cleared a little in the afternoon.


We drove to a kind of junky place in Eureka in the California. It was called King Salmon Avenue. We were struck by the work of a roadside artist. His (or her) website was rust.lust.com.

These were strange, large iron sculptures...covered with rust. The artist took off for the 4th of July.

In the afternoon we visited Patrick's Point State Park. We bought a little rock cod at a local fish market to cook for dinner. I'm rubbing it with sea salt and pepper and serving it with lemon and butter.

Patrick's Point had some nice views of the Pacific.

We saw this seal sleeping on a rock at Patrick's Point State Park.

The viewpoints require you to climb down steep paths. I stepped in a hole and fell again, but this time I didn't damage the camera. Mrs. Phred gave me an odd look as I climbed back to my feet. I begin to wonder if she has doubts about my competence.

At another point we saw sixty or eighty sleeping seals. A bald eagle was floating motionless on the strong updrafts at about 600 feet. Suddenly it folded its wings and dive bombed down to retrieve a fish.

Mrs. Phred wants to watch the Wimbledon finals in the morning. Personally, I've booked a fishing trip. This seal was in the marina where the boats go out.

Yes We Can!

Trinidad, California

President Obama took the time out to send me a personal E-mail today. Considering all he has on his plate, I'm impressed with his energy. I get more E-mail from him and the First Lady than anybody else. The last guy never talked to me. Here's what he said:

Robert --

This weekend, our family will join millions of others in celebrating America. We will enjoy the glow of fireworks, the taste of barbeque, and the company of good friends. As we all celebrate this weekend, let's also remember the remarkable story that led to this day.



Two hundred and thirty-three years ago, our nation was born when a courageous group of patriots pledged their lives, fortunes, and sacred honor to the proposition that all of us were created equal.



Our country began as a unique experiment in liberty -- a bold, evolving quest to achieve a more perfect union. And in every generation, another courageous group of patriots has taken us one step closer to fully realizing the dream our founders enshrined on that great day.

Today, all Americans have a hard-fought birthright to a freedom which enables each of us, no matter our views or background, to help set our nation's course. America's greatness has always depended on her citizens embracing that freedom -- and fulfilling the duty that comes with it.

As free people, we must each take the challenges and opportunities that face this nation as our own. As long as some Americans still must struggle, none of us can be fully content. And as America comes ever closer to achieving the perfect Union our founders dreamed, that triumph -- that pride -- belongs to all of us.

So today is a day to reflect on our independence, and the sacrifice of our troops standing in harm's way to preserve and protect it. It is a day to celebrate all that America is. And today is a time to aspire toward all we can still become.

With very best wishes,

President Barack Obama

July 4th, 2009

(I added the fireworks...They're from Tropea, Italy in May, 2007...I forget what they were celebrating)

Whoa! We can't go any further West

Trinidad, California

It took five hours to drive though the California Mountains from the Lassen National Park to the Pacific coast. The RVs V-10 was constantly wound up to about 4,000 RPM either braking or climbing though the mountains, generally following the Trinity River.

California is a garden of Eden,
a paradise to live in or see;
But believe it or not,
you won't find it so hot
If you ain't got the do re mi.
-Woody Guthrie

The Emerald Forest RV park is on the Pacific Coast. The temperature dropped forty degrees as we approached the coast. It's deliciously cool. The RV park is thick with redwoods. One stump, about eight feet in diameter, is sprouting a new tree. Redwoods are very hard to kill. Apparently the area was logged in the past. The new trees are very thick and tall. There are 650 of them in the twelve acre park.


Mrs. Phred was hoping that Andy Roddick was going to win the semi-finals against the Scottish player, Andy Murray, at Wimbledon today. I'm sure that the Queen of England was disappointed with the outcome, but that's the way the ball bounces. Princess Firecloud is happy, anyway. We're watching the reruns at 6PM Pacific time.

We're about 250 miles north of San Francisco on the coast in the middle of the Redwood forests. We want to visit San Francisco again...it's been 44 years. Maybe it's changed a little.

You can hear the seals bellow in some of the RV parks nearer to the ocean.

I read Hunter S. Thompson's first book, "Hell's Angels" in San Francisco. I sort of remember his diatribe about white trash with English origins rolling up to the Pacific beach in the 1930's with a feeling of being cheated and and sense of unsatisfied restlessness.

They still operate strict immigration stations here in California. It's very much like Europe before they became the European Union. They pull all the cars and RVs over and inspect your refrigerator before they let you in.

Bumpass Hell

Lassen Volcanic National Park

The Lassen Peak Smelowskia grows only one place in the world. We only have time for one hike and it comes down to a choice between looking for this Polish sounding flower on a hike though the meadows between three high mountain lakes and a hike called "Bumpass Hell".

"Bumpass Hell" has a lot of fumaroles and other volcanic features. There's a third hike though a desolate area that includes an impressive cinder cone that also looks interesting. Unfortunately, the Bumpass trail is still covered with snow and fallen boulders on July 2nd.

We do see a flock of Canadian geese and Mrs. Phred takes a two-mile hike around a pretty lake while I sit in the shade and read my book.

The road though the park is about 40 miles. It climbs to 8,511 feet. The major hike is to the top of Mt. Lassen. The parking lot indicates that many young Californians are up for the 3,000 foot climb to the top.

This log is about six feet in diameter. It's in an advanced state of decay, and, for all I know, it's been laying here 100 years. I count about 20 rings an inch and estimate its age as 700-800 years when it was toppled.

The device above is an extremely accurate GPS used to measure the drift of the continental plates.

Wildflowers and vista.

Another Lassen viewpoint.

So Mrs. Phred asked me today if my "bucket list" included visiting all the American National Parks. I was a little offended and told her that my National Park List included visiting all the American National Parks. They can't all be Glacier or Yellowstone, but they are all unique places of natural beauty.

Home is Where Our Wheels Are

Hat Creek RV Park, California

We rolled though Reno, Nevada, today and then headed up US 395 to the Lassen Volcanic National Park entrance in the middle of California . My little portable GPS took us twenty miles out of the way to the wrong Hat Creek RV Park. This is a shot from the back of the RV.

This is my bathroom. It's really nice to have my own so I don't get kicked out in the morning by Mrs. Phred.

We could see the housing bubble deflation coming so we sold our old historic home in downtown Tampa and started driving around. We carry our Weber grill in the Toyota trunk. I'm cooking a Porterhouse tonight. My apologies to my vegetarian friends. (Frisbeetarians believe that when you die, your soul gets stuck on the roof).

Changing your home location every two days or so means that you need to reconnect sewer, fresh water, cable and electricity. It takes about five minutes. Mrs. Phred is learning to do it in case I become incapacitated or totally inoperative.

To tow the Toyota you connect these arms and padlock the chains. There is a set of wires that make the Toyota lights blink in sync...We also have a gadget called a "Brake Buddy" that applies the Toyota brakes and sends radio signals to the RV. Mrs. Phred is learning to hook all this stuff up, just in case.

My favorite gadget is the self-leveling jacks. Push a button and whirr...you're level. We used to spend a long time driving up on yellow blocks with the last RV. Now we have a computer to do it.

The living room slide adds a lot of space to our home when we're parked.

I love the automatic satellite dish. The last RV was a pain in the keister . I had to spend a long time trying to point the dish to the right place when we moved. This one just whirrs and locks on.
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The Italian washer/dryer is a nice touch. We no longer save our quarters for the laundromat.

Mrs Phred is using the computer on the dinette.



Our bedroom. We make the bed every morning together. When you stop making the bed, it's a very bad sign.


I love this double door refrig. The door on our old RV had plastic hinges and the door kept falling off. This one has steel hinges and an icemaker.

Ever Had An Epiphany?

Carson City, Nevada

We’re parked across the street from a little casino. This morning we had breakfast there and looked at the slots and early morning players. One of our cable channels is very X-rated. You’d think they would let you ride a motorcycle here without a helmet, but they don’t.

We had our mail Fed-exed here for $54 (overnight guaranteed delivery from Florida). I paid a few doctor bills that have been following us since last winter and signed up for a new health care insurance policy to supplement our Medicare insurance. They gave us 13 choices. It’s all very complex. I’m glad I’m a sharp CPA and still have a few of my wits about me.

We dropped off the RV for an oil change and to repair the dash air-conditioner again. We had it fixed by a Fleetwood dealer in Las Vegas two weeks ago and the fix didn’t last until our taillights lost sight of Vegas.

After changing the oil on the Toyota and getting it washed, we got a call that the RV was ready. They found a solder joint with a hole that allowed the A/C coolant to leak out. The last repair was free under warranty, but we had to wait for two days and pay for a hotel. Sometimes it’s best to just pay someone who actually has an expertise on a specific problem. Free is not always best. It doesn’t help at all that Fleetwood is undergoing bankruptcy.

Because of taxes, cigarettes and gasoline are much cheaper in Nevada than California, so we are filling the RV tank again (the first time in three weeks) and stocking up on smokes before heading to the Lassen Volcanic National Park and Redwood Parks in California.

We met Steve last week in Bishop. He pays $850 to license his RV in California. We only pay $40 in Florida, but California is bankrupt again. Arnold Swartzenhegger, the Governator, is directing the State Controller to begin issuing IOUs instead of checks starting tomorrow. Once again the State is the bleeding edge, establishing trends that others will follow.

We lucked out and booked a reservation in Trinidad, California for the 4th of July weekend. It’s on the coast near the Redwood National Park. Maybe we’ll stay a little longer and revisit San Francisco. We haven’t been there since the Summer of Love. I bet it has changed a little in the last 42 years.

I remember walking on the Sausalito beach in the sunshine with Mrs. Phred and holding her hand. We had just driven over the Golden Gate bridge in my green TR4-A. I had a epiphany that life was never going to get any better than being 23, in San Francisco, in love. I was right.

It’s 3,500 miles from here to Anchorage. Will Mrs. Phred give the OK?

Attack of the Killer Chipmunks

June Lake, California

I'm feeding the chipmunks in our campsite bread and apple pieces. They scold each other, competing for the food supply. I get bored with the pictures of chipmunks and go back to reading my book. Suddenly, three of them run over my feet chasing each other. I scream and yell, "Holy #$%!" convinced that I'm being targeted by small crazed blood-sucking rabid rodents.

I fall out of the lawn chair. That's all right. Jimmy Carter made the news when he pounded a swimming rabbit with an oar, thinking he was under attack.

We find a place for lunch along a high stream in a Yosemite meadow.

Here are our friends, George and Danielle, with Mrs. Phred.

I think this is Tioga Lake, at about 9,500 feet. We visited a lot of lakes this week.

Hike to Parker Lake

Eastern Sierras, California

The trail head to Parker Lake starts at about 7,600 feet. The trail climbs two miles to Parker Lake at 8,350 feet.


Most of the elevation gain occurs in the first 1/2 mile. I'm surprised by the variety and abundance of wildflowers on the two mile trail.


The last 1/2 mile of the trail winds though thick forest along the stream that flows out of Lake Parker. We see trout swimming in the stream. They taught us about chiaroscuro in Humanities 101. You can see it in the darkened forest where the sun shines though to the stream.

The promised waterfall at Lake Parker is about two miles away so I have to zoom it. Now I can see that it's flowing though a snowbank.

The flowers and cool air make it feel like Spring. Spring comes late here and winter comes early. The meadows were probably deep in snow a few weeks ago.

This flower grows in damp places near the stream and lake.

On the first part of the hike you get a good view on Mono Lake ten miles away. You can see the relatively new black volcanic cinder cone island in the left part of the picture.

This is our first hike in over a year, since I injured my heel. I huff and puff a lot on the climb up. I have to stop frequently to catch my breath and let my heart stop pounding. Mrs. Phred carries the backpack and patiently stops every so often to allow me to catch up.

Back at camp, George and Danielle give us four of their trout. George cuts up potatoes and onions, adds some thyme and oil, then wraps the mixture in tinfoil for the grill. We eat and drink wine until late, trading stories. Danielle is French. They met in Naples in the mid-1960s when he was in the Navy.

Chilling Out

June Lake, California

We're at 7,600 feet in the Eastern Sierra mountains. There are dozens of high mountain lakes and gushing waterfalls nearby.


We're staying in a Forest Service campground with no water, sewer or electricity. The air is cool at night and during the day so we don't need air conditioning. In the morning, we crawl out from under all three of our blankets and give the RV a quick blast from the heater to warm things up.


Our friends from Sarasota, George and Danielle, are camping next door. George likes this area a lot. He's camped and fished here for many years. We have campfires every night and toast marsh mellows and eat S'mores.


We'll be here a full week when we Move on to Carson City, Nevada to try again to get the dashboard air-conditioner fixed. Somehow the coolant all leaked out before our tail lights saw the last of Las Vegas, where we had a ruptured coolant hose replaced.


Trout for dinner tonight. I extended my California fishing license another ten days.

Mrs. Phred and I are heading to Convict Lake this morning to see if we can catch more trout. George is taking us to a local restaurant that offers chicken livers and onions Sunday night.

Convict Lake was named after an incident in 1871, where a group of convicts escaped from prison in Carson City. A posse, led by Sheriff Robert Morrison, encountered the convicts near the head of what is now Convict Creek. Morrison was killed in the encounter, and Mount Morrison was named after him. The lake was also used for a backdrop in "Star Trek Insurrection".

Shaggy Dog Story

Bodie, California

As we drive up to Bodie we see a flock of sheep in a high Sierra meadow. I get out to take a picture and two white shaggy dogs detach themselves from the flock and run across the field barking at me. They stop at my feet and whine uncertainly, not sure whether to bark or have their ears scratched.


Bodie is a gold mining ghost town, high in the Sierras. It became a State Park in 1962. William S. Bodie discovered gold there in 1859, however he died in a storm that winter before he could cash in on his discovery.


One internet site says that, "Miners, gamblers and business continued to flood the area and by 1879, Bodie boasted a population of about 10,000 and 2,000 buildings. Before long the town supported some 30 gold mines, 65 saloons, numerous brothels, gambling halls, and opium dens, as well, as a number of legitimate businesses, including three newspapers, several churches, a couple of banks and a school. Every other building on the mile long main street was a saloon. Three breweries worked day and night, while whiskey was brought into town in 100 gallon barrels."

"A sea of sin, lashed by the tempests of lust and passion." - Reverend F.M. Warrington. 1881

About 95% of the wooden buildings burned to the ground in 1932, but many still stand in an arrested state of decay. The town was widely known for its lawlessness. One man in particular earned the sobriquet "Bad Man from Bodie", although records are confused about the actual identity of this individual.


By 1882, the boom was over and the population of Bodie began a swift decline. The last six residents of Bodie died before WWII. One man shot his wife. The other four killed the murderer. Then his ghost appeared to then one-by-one, shaking his fist. The last four all died quickly of mysterious diseases after seeing the apparition..


Park Rangers report frequent visits by the ghost of a heavyset Chinese woman. Another friendly ghost is a woman who appears to enjoy cooking Italian food.


I put the camera up to the gass of the windows of several buildings and snap pictures of old barrooms, bedrooms, pool tables, garaged flatbed trucks, and exercise equipment.

Mono Lake at Dawn

Lee Vining, California



This morning the sky was blue and the internet said that the wind on Mono Lake was zero, so I hustled on down to South Tufu at dawn while Mrs. Phred was still snoozing.


Conditions were a little off optimal, but the PIX were a lot better than the first time. There were three other freaks there snapping photos, including a Japanese lady with an expensive camera and tripod who was focused on the California gulls gobbling up the brine shrimp.

We went to June Lake and picked out our campsite for the next three nights with our friends George and Danielle from Sarasota.



We're surrounded by Aspen trees in our current campsite. Our automatic satellite dish is blocked so I dragged out the portable dish so Mrs. Phred can watch Wimbledon. There's a little hole where I can pick up the signal between the trees. I also program the receiver to record the 20 scheduled Wimbledon broadcasts. We won't have shore power electricity the next few days, but I think I can crank up the inverter and record and see it all on battery power.



We drove to Bodie in the afternoon to see a huge gold rush ghost town. It's a state park that the California Governator is closing down because of the budget shortfall. I tell Mrs. Phred that the rating agencies are about to do a doubledip downgrade on California's debt rating. She's pragmatic...she says, "You'd have to be crazy to load money to the State of California...who cares what the rating agencies think?"


It seems that we will spend two weeks in this amazing area and still not see everything, no matter how hard we work. We want to see the "Devil's Postpile", Mammoth Lake, May Lake and other local scenic attractions. So many things to see...so little time.

The Mother of All Parks

Yosemite National Park, California

We departed from Lee Vining at Mono Lake from a drive though the Sierras and Yosemite. Eventually we arrived at Yosemite Valley.



It was a summer day on a Sunday afternoon, so the park was clogged with campers, rock climbers, bicyclists and auto tourists like us.



Yosemite is considered to be the first of the National Parks and perhaps the first place on Earth set aside to be preserved for its natural beauty.



The valley has rivers, meadows and a profusion of high waterfalls. These are in full flow this time of year because of melting snow.



The native Indians are thought to have been responsible for the meadows. They burned off the brush and planted Black Oak and other agricultural species.



John Muir was very influential in promoting the establishment of the park. He was particularly outraged by sheep grazing in the area. He called sheep "hoofed locusts".



One wonders what John would have thought of all the roads, parking lots, buildings, lodges and tents we see today. I think that inevitably Yosemite will have to go to a pure shuttle bus system and banish the automobile.



We stop for lunch on a riverbank with a view of Bridal Veil falls. We feed this duck part of our sandwiches and watch the strange changes in the way the sheets of water descend.



We are planning to spend tonight here at Mono Lake and then head up to a campground at June Lake high in the Sierras. It 6,800 feet where we are so it's very cool during the day and cold at night. June lake temperatures will be near freezing at night. We don't expect phone service, but you never know.

The Fly-Eaters

Mono Lake, California

Conditions were not optimal for photography at Mono Lake today. You want blue skies and no wind so you can see reflections in the water.

Mono is thought to be 760,000 years old. It has no outflow so it has become hyper saline as water flows in from snow melt and evaporates. Nothing lives in the lake except tiny brine shrimp and alkali fly larvae. Each cubic foot of water contains about 500 brine shrimp and 4,000 fly larvae.



The strange limestone rock structures formed underwater because of the lake's high mineral content. They are called "Tufas". In 1941, Los Angeles diverted a significant portion of the lake's water supply, lowering the level of the lake significantly. As a result, many of the Tufas are now out of the water up on the lake shore. The water level has been stabilized now by a water sharing agreement. Mrs. Phred and I both notice the similarity between the Tufa structures and Gaudi's park in Barcelona. I think it and she says it. Maybe we have to much "together time" since we retired.
I want to reproduce the photo used by Pink Floyd. It's called "The Diver". Two of my t-shirts have this image. Basically you need to do a handstand, until the ripples subside. They recommend not swallowing any of the water. I'll use a solution of alcohol and vinegar to kill the fly larvae in my ear canals. Tomorrow we may hit the lake at dawn to see if conditions improve.

A main food staple of the Kutzadika'a Indians was the Alkali fly. The Yogut Indians called the Kutzadika'a "Monoache" which means "fly-eater" in Yogut. This was shortened to Mono by European settlers.

Trout Fishing in America (Part 2)

Lake Sabrina, California


We get up early because our boat reservation is at 7 AM. Lake Sabrina is about a mile long at an elevation of 10,000 feet. As you run up the mountain, the outside air temperature drops about 4 degrees F. for every thousand feet in elevation gain.


The fishing is disappointing. I only catch one trout again, but it's still a nice way to spend a morning.




Our friends from Sarasota, George and Danielle, are parked next to us when we return from our afternoon exploration of another nearby mountain canyon. We had talked of possibly meeting somewhere in this area, but it was easier than we thought it would be.

Trout Fishing in America (part 1)

Lake Sabrina, California

Our next door neighbors are Steve and Carol. Steve gives me some pointers about bait and tackle. Steve worked in the movie industry for a long time. Now he flies small airplanes and grows almonds and walnuts.

We run into Steve and Carol fishing up at Lake Sabrina. Both the Carols retreat to the small lodge to talk and drink wine. I catch a nice size trout immediately, but that's it for the day.


Today Mrs. Phred and I will rent a small boat and try again. This time I will remember to bring a knife and my camera. You need a knife to cut line and retie your rig.

Steve fished all day and ended up with a nice stringer of fish. He gave us some of his fish for dinner. We share some Sam Adam's beers and conversation in the evening.

The two bicyclists we met in the Texas desert have now reached San Diego. I get a comment from Susan (Guy's wife, Redding's mother) asking for pictures. I sent her six pictures by e-mail.