Laurabelle's Blog

Back in August (yeah, yeah, I know, I'm behind) my college friend Maggie and her other half, Louis, came to California for a hiking trip with Jeff and me. The destination was the Rae Lakes Loop in Kings Canyon National Park. Our permit reservation was for entrance on the Thursday before Labor Day, and we planned to take five days (exiting on Labor Day itself). We were doing the clockwise circuit, up Paradise Valley, around to the John Muir trail, past the namesake Rae Lakes on day three, over a 12,000-foot pass on the fourth day, and then back down to the trailhead. The entire loop is 46 miles.

We drove to the park on Wednesday and car-camped overnight; the campgrounds were almost deserted. The next morning it took us longer to get going than we wanted (I don't know why it always takes so long!), and we didn't quite make it to the trailhead by 9am, the deadline for picking up our reserved permits. As it turned out, our lateness didn't matter after all; the rangers were detained elsewhere so hikers were directed to self-register.

The first couple of miles were flat but relatively shadeless and over reflective sand; even in the morning we became hot. That phase did pass, and presently we entered shadier environs.

This weekend Jeff and I tried our hike to Sky High Lakes and Summit Lake a second time. I guess the third time will have to be the charm for this one.

We drove up to Yreka on Friday and got to the ranger station in Fort Jones just in time to get our campfire permit for the year. The lady who issued our permit mentioned that there might be snow on the trail, but we weren't sure her information was accurate or relevant to us (she was reporting information given by rangers and didn't seem familiar with the trail herself). We decided to proceed with the hike regardless.

We spent the night in a motel and got on the trail by about 9am on Saturday morning.

The trail was lovely and felt easier than it had last year, both because the temperature was more comfortable and because Jeff had new boots (and therefore complained less). The streams were deeper than last year but still passable; we encountered a few snow patches at medium elevations but nothing to worry about.

I am not generally a spontaneous person; I like to plan things out. Jeff and I had plans for this weekend (maybe not perfect plans, but plans nonetheless). As you might guess, our plans didn't exactly work out.

We had been planning to hike the Alder Creek Fall trail (starting at Wawona near Yosemite's south entrance). I worked a slightly short day on Saturday; Jeff picked me up, and we headed straight to Yosemite. The drive was excellent — nice traffic levels, and we saw no fewer than four large gliding birds that we thought were California Condors (I could be wrong — I don't remember seeing white on the bottom of the wings although I didn't get that good a look).

The plan was to stay the night in Wawona, then start on the trail on Sunday morning. It would be a two-day hike, in-and-out, camping at Alder Creek Falls. Unfortunately, what I hadn't planned for well enough was where we would stay the night on Saturday. I had sort of figured that would work itself out, I think; I guess I figured there wouldn't be many people there in the off-season. When we got there and realized that, gee, there were people there and we didn't have campground reservations, we panicked a little and decided to start hiking with the last of the sunlight and camp somewhere on the trail. Then when Jeff tried to fill out a wilderness permit (on paper from my organizer since they were out of actual forms), he noticed that the Alder Creek Trail was closed for controlled burns. Expletive!

This made me pretty mad at the park ranger who had responded to Jeff's query about hiking in the Wawona area that weekend, since she had not mentioned any controlled burns. I'm sure they plan these things in advance, and that's important information!

I tripped, fell, and skinned my knee on the way into work today. I also overstretched a muscle or something in my calf on the same leg. I’m not sure which is worse, the pain (and limping) of the strain or the embarrassment of the skinned knee. I’m twenty-mumble years old, and I thought my skinning days were long over.

A co-worker noted that the day could only go up from there, and he was right.

Jeff called my cell phone while I was on the bus coming home this evening. Guess where I’m not, he said. Where he wasn’t was at the station to catch his usual train. He was stuck at work and would be for a while. I offered to drive down to get him, and he said he’d let me know if he needed me to.

An hour later, I called him up again, and he agreed that I should start down to meet him. The next train was leaving in ten minutes; no chance to catch that one. I grabbed my knitting and headed toward the car.

In the garage, I pressed the unlock button on my key twice, to unlock all the doors. No flashy lights, no click of the locks. Crud. It was premature for the key battery to go out, I thought; we’ve only had this car for two months. I walked around to the driver’s side and stuck my key in the lock like a traditionalist. The door opened. Gear stowed, seatbelt fastened. I stuck the key in the lock and turned it; nothing. At this point I realized that all the normal blinkenlights, lighted panels, and other flashy doohickeys were completely dead. No stereo security system blinkenlight, no car alarm blinkenlight. No interior lights. No automagic locks. All electricity completely gone.

I went back outside (because there was no cell phone reception reception in the concrete garage) and called Jeff to tell him the bad news. Then I called the car dealership, whose parts-and-service department had just closed and whose voice mail was apparently already full, after about three minutes. Not helpful. I started looking through the manual and found information about checking the fuse boxes. I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I ran upstairs for a flashlight and checked the fuses.

No luck, of course. I didn’t check all the fuses, just the main ones — but I seriously doubt the fuse on the rear defogger circuit is going to cause the whole car to become unresponsive. I checked all the fuses I could see, and they were all fine. There was nothing else I could do.

Luckily, one of Jeff’s co-workers can give him a ride to the nearest BART station (which is not very near at all, actually). It’ll take him a while to get home, but at least he can get here.

I also have no idea how this could have happened. When we drove the car on Sunday it was fine. It sat in the garage for five days, and then it was dead. I’m going to call the dealership first thing tomorrow morning and see if I can get them to tow the car in tomorrow. It’s not going anywhere otherwise.

I guess this is what I get for buying an all-new, redesigned car. *sigh*