RETIREMENT TRIP #6

        PRACTICING SHAKITI NA GAI       

             September 2015         

Glacier Lodge Road follows Big Pine Creek into the mountains.

 Last night was the lunar eclipse and a blood moon. Not another like it until 2033.  That’s 18 years away, so we could miss it!  Here in the desert where the sight should have been stupendous, we couldn’t see a thing.  There was a blanket of clouds covering the sky.  Of all places where night viewing should have been spectacular, we had none.

The clouds hadn’t left this morning, so it wasn’t just a teaser.  But it didn’t rain either.  At least not so far.

The Sierras rise majestically along Route #395.

Just exploring early this morning, we followed Glacier Lodge Road high up into the mountains.  It followed Big Pine Creek, flowing down from ice melt.  The road wound through an avalanche area that warned, “No Stopping and No Pedestrians.”  All the upper campgrounds in the area had already closed, but campers still occupied spots in the lower campground, even on a Monday in late September.

Hikers, setting off from the North Fork parking area, all wore long pants and heavy jackets.  Our car said 55 degrees.  Dressed in shorts for lower elevations, we hopped out only briefly to snap a few pictures.  Someone slept in a camper nearby, but all the horses from the Pack Train corral had been loaded on trailers and removed.

Onion Valley Road climbs high into
the backcountry.

South of Big Pine on Route #395, a pullout explained that the first road here in 1920 was actually an eight-foot wide concrete sidewalk.  Even before it was completed the residents felt it was inadequate.  I took a picture of the pay scale posted on the interpretive sign.  The foreman made pretty good money.  It just shows his education really paid off!

A butterfly lands on a wildflower
near the cliff edge.

In the background the mountains rose majestically.  We could see the steep drops where avalanches had left their mark.
Down in the valley the land was dry and strewn with volcanic black basalt.  It was also 80 degrees at 10:30 a.m.

Although Independence, population 669, was centered in the middle of a dry valley, the mountains on both sides rose sharply to impressive peaks.
“I guess they burn wood here,” said Andy, when we passed trailers and small homes with wood piles.

The county Court House and the Inyo County prison and a juvenile detention facility make this small town an important place.

Onion Valley Road winds and twists through rugged terrain. 

We took Onion Valley Road into the mountains since we had plenty of daylight ahead.  A creek, heavily lined with pine trees, indicated the presence of a good supply of water.

“That’s a good picture,’” said Andy, pulling over to an unprotected edge.

He was right, but I held my breath.  “The green makes a lovely contrast to all the rock.”

As I focused the picture, a butterfly, no more than half an inch across with wings spread, landed on the plant at my feet.  How delicate and fragile a creature in this land of harsh vastness!  Quickly I changed settings and snapped away.

The closer we drive to the campground, the more trees pop up.

Onion Valley Road kept going and climbing—actually above some of the adjoining peaks.  It continued to switchback along the creek bed deep into the canyon.  Suddenly it opened onto a meadow at 9,200 feet: Sequoia Kings Canyon Pack Train corral.  At least 25 cars filled the parking lot.  The California Big Horn Sheep Zoological Area and Muir Wilderness adjoined.  Nearby the Pacific Crest Trail cut through the mountains.  This was a major wilderness area and now we had blue sky to go with it.

Near the Onion Valley
Campground a stream gushes
down the mountainside.

We walked past the stream that pooled near the parking area and then strolled along the one-way drive through the campground.  Every slot was reserved, even the walk-in areas, and many were taken through October 6.  No wonder!  These were gorgeous campsites with pump water every few sites and clean outhouses.  “This is a major connection point for hikers,” said Andy, “and in the sun it’s actually hot.”

The car read 70 degrees, but it felt warmer than that.

An interpretive sign read, “Don’t underestimate the intelligence of an animal that can ride a motorcycle.”  Beneath it, bear-proof lockers stood ready for hiking and camping provisions.

At the Onion Valley Campground entrance at the Inyo National Forest facility, the sign-in fee said, “$18.00 per site, $5.00 per extra vehicle and $15.00 per three bundles of firewood.”  I guess camping fees have kept pace with motel costs.

At Manzanar 36 block houses like this one house more than
10,000 displaced Japanese-Americans during World War II.

Mary Austin lived here in Independence from 1868 to her death in 1934.  Then Independence had promise.  Now, since Los Angeles has purchased most of the water rights, many of the stores are vacant.

The simplistic interior of the block
house in 1942 shows the difficult
conditions that families faced.

Andy pulled into Manzanar.  Years ago I would have had no knowledge of this place.  In suburban Chicago in the 1960’s we didn’t learn about U.S. treatment of others during World War II.  We were the good guys; we practiced democracy.

I know differently now.  Manzanar and camps like it are America’s black eye.  

During three years of isolation,
the detainees create gardens
like this in the harsh climate.

We watched the 22-minute film in the Visitor Center and spent the rest of two hours driving the Auto Road.  A barracks from initial occupation in 1942 and another from 1945 illustrated daily life at Manzanar. The detention camp for more than 10,000 innocent Japanese-Americans was a travesty.  Many years ago when we had been here, there was almost nothing to remind us of what had been done in wartime in the name of “justice” and “safety.”  Now a moving memorial recorded the history and the truth.

Draped with paper cranes, the cemetery monument pays
tribute to the 150 innocent souls who died here.

Several of the blocks had stone-lined gardens that the Japanese detainees had constructed to make life more bearable.

The garden for barracks #34 included rocks that resembled a turtle and a crane, the symbols of longevity and vitality.

Six burials remain here at Manzanar of the 150 people who died here at the relocation center.  Nine others were removed by relatives after the war; most others were cremated.

One guard tower, rebuilt to illustrate the towers at each corner of the barbed-wire city, illustrates the major horror of Manzanar: imprisonment.

The entry sign stands starkly against
the gorgeous backdrop of mountains.

As former President Ronald Regan said, “We made a mistake.”  To help rectify the costly error, a sum of $20,000 was given to each of the 60,000 detainees who were still alive.  Initially 120,000 had been removed from their homes on the West Coast and imprisoned in ten internment camps across the country from California to Arkansas.

A guard station like this one at each corner of the complex
reminds visitors that life here was truly imprisonment.

We stopped at the Inter-Agency Visitor Center in Lone Pine.  At least 50 people looked at displays, browsed in the gift shop, and asked questions of the Forest Service employees.  Andy wanted information on the Alabama Hills; I checked the map for Garden Grove.

“We have a picture of Drew sitting on a split-rail fence here.  It’s in the scrapbook,” said Andy.  The split rail fence no longer exists and the picture must be from at least 30 years ago.

The Alabama Hills is the setting for
more than 400 movies.

After we had checked into the hotel in Lone Pine, we headed back out to explore the Alabama Hills, the site of more than 400 movies.

The granite here underwent chemical weathering after being uplifted 100 million years ago.

The area got its name when prospectors sympathetic to the Confederate cause named their mining claims after the Confederate warship that wreaked havoc during the Civil War.  The name stuck.

Here in this harsh environment many of the old Westerns
were filmed with stars like John Wyne.

Beginning in 1920, Hollywood filmmakers took an interest in the Alabama Hills.  Movie stars, such as tom Mix, Hop-along Cassidy, Gene Autry and The Long Ranger, all shot it out here with the outlaws. More recently Star Trek Generations, Gladiator, Iron Man and Django Unchained were filmed in the Alabama Hills.

Beauty surrounds visitors in this
land of harsh reality. Shakiti na gai.

Each October the community of Long Pine hosts the Lone Pine Film Festival and famous people return to the community as guest speakers and film aficionados.

What a place to stay! I sat at John Wayne’s desk in the Dow Villa Hotel and typed my story.

"Shakiti na gai," I thought to myself.  I had learned that at Manzanar.  It was the attitude of many detained Japanese, a stoic acceptance of fate.  Hemingway would have been proud of them.

I went back to my story.  "Shakiti na gai."  Right now, fate was kind.