Summer 2019: Sierra Joy
Even in the middle of June, the air that sits low in Death Valley nights was hot. Each sweeping or sharp curve in the road turned up the temperature around Jenny, Genevieve and I as we sank into the late-evening abyss of the Valley. I was torn between making the miles we needed to be in Lone Pine in the morning and making sure that my sister got to see the most of what this supernatural landscape has to offer.
The heavy-lugged tires that Jenny wears so well whined through the tones as I looked for the campground entrance. It came much too fast. Through the rear-view mirror, I could see that there were five-miles of empty road, so I reversed us the two-hundred yards that I had overshot the turnout. Our campsite compatriots were mostly already tucked into their tents so, by red-lamp and moonlight, we set about building a camp. Every rustle of fabric or crunch of gravel felt like it was shaking the earth beneath our feet. Now at 2,000ft above sea level sucked the water from our lips— there is a constant in the Mojave which is incredibly hot and too little water. That night we slept under a rich Milky Way and dreamed about cooler nights to come.
This was the first morning that my little sister, Genevieve, spent with me in California. Over the rest of the week, she would kick her way through the desert and snowy mountains of the Eastern Sierra with Alex and me. It’s a special place in my book. She spent a lot of time laughing at us boys while we made true fools of ourselves.
We did our best to include her in our shenanigans. Naturally, I think she would probably tell you that she could have done without some of them. There were a couple of times I was preparing myself to be ripped limb for limb by my mom for letting Sis get hurt under my watch. Luckily, in her many clumsy tumbles, no serious injuries were incurred.
The three of us saw the ancient Bristlecone Pine forest above Bishop. We grinned ear to ear as pastel alpine sunsets painted the landscape. We scampered over mountain passes and laughed with hungry Pacific Crest Trail through hikers. We rock climbed in the Alabama Hills. Scaled Mt. Whitney by the Mountaineers Route. Enjoyed lots of Mexican. All told, we made a dense set of memories in the Eastern Sierras. As I left the other two for commitments in the PNW, I was beside myself that we had shared so many magic moments.
