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Published: November 12th 2008
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Lee
Lee's Frontier Liquor Store Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest,
17-10-2002.
I cycle back the few short miles to Lone Pine for breakfast with a gusty wind in my face, myself and all my gear covered in white/yellowish alkali sand, a leftover from my camping place last night, my ears still ringing with the coyote howls that circled my tent all night and the saddle of my bike slowly giving up on me - I've to remember to buy a new one in Lone Pine after breakfast.
Not that any of this means I am not enjoying myself....I love the outdoors here in the USA, I love this trip....as a matter of fact, I'm already hooked on it!
I leave Lone Pine cycling back north again several hours later, my belly full with a huge breakfast, a new saddle under my behind, new tyres and some more fishing tackle, all of that for free. Free from Lee, the owner of Lee's Frontier Liquor Store.
The bloke was so impressed by my cycle trip he never wanted no pay...thanks Lee I won't forget it.
The last whisky we shared before I set out is still burning hot in my belly while I chew on the fresh
Roadrunner
very common in California. jerky - a sort of dried and/or smoked meat - when I arrive at the turn-off, at highway nr. 168.
From here on it is gonna be serious work for me, all the way up for the next 25 miles or so.
I cycle higher and higher up a curving road, entering Inyo National Park. Surrounded by big pine trees, the smell of fresh forest stongly in my nostrils while the whisky is doing a negative number on my belly and big drops of sweat falling of the tip of my nose. Grey squirrels crossing the road in front of me...I ignore it all, I'm on a mission here.....I want, no need to reach BristleCone National Park...I realise that the whisky is not just affecting my belly but the gray mass inside my skull as well.
several hours later,
I've just passed a visitors centre which was totally abandoned, not a soul in sight just a bunch of squirrels that didn't seem very worried by my appraoch.
I'm starting to see the first of the trees I've come all the way out here for, the Bristle Cone Pines.
Short squatty trees with wide outstreched branches and roots exposed
Rodents
that circle around my tent at night due to soil depletion. They are supposed to be the oldest living things on earth and the weird but somehow fascinating energy that radiates out of their gnarled trunks is deeply impressive to my slightly intoxicated mind, whisky induced intoxication mixed by huge amount of natural bodily homemade chemicals like adraline, peptomine and dopamine. I'm completely out of it but I'm determent to get even higher to where the oldest of these trees are living their ancient lives.
The vistas around me of the Sierra Nevada and Owen's Valley are undiscirably magnificent and I'm slowly reaching my goal, Methuselah "The Forest Of The Ancients", where the real oldest Mommas are, and it is here I'll make my camp for the night.
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