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Lake Alpine
I still hadn't had the chance to charge my camera battery, so unfortunately, I didn't take any photos of this beautiful drive. I hit my first detour on Day Two of my journey. I was bound to hit at least one on a road trip of this length, but I didn’t expect it to come so early – or to be quite so enjoyable.
I spent my first night camped on the shore of Lake Alpine. It’s actually a reservoir formed by Alpine Dam on Silver Creek, but its unnatural origins take nothing about from its natural beauty. I awoke early, brought back into consciousness by the sound of birds calling in the trees outside my tent.
It was my intention to get up and run around the lake before another day of sitting in the car. I hadn’t considered that Lake Alpine sits at an elevation 7,350 feet above sea level. My house is four blocks from Asilomar State Beach. It’s one of the most beautiful coastlines that exists and I love living there, but it puts me at a serious disadvantage when at altitude. I made it about a mile before I had to stop, put my hands on my head, and suck air.
I ran, walked, and huffed and puffed for another two miles before I gave
up and went back to camp. By then, the sun was up and families were preparing their kayaks, fishing boats, and SUPs for a day of fun on the water. After the beach, lakes are my second-most favorite outdoor environment, and I almost convinced myself to stay for the whole day. But, filled with mountain water, the lake was a little too chilly for swimming, and I didn’t have my own water craft to play with.
By eleven, I had packed up camp and hit the road. My proposed route was to continue east on Highway 4. At its end, I’d get on SR-89 north to the Nevada state border. From there, US-395 would take me all the way to Reno. A big city like Reno wouldn’t normally be a destination on a trip like this, but I have a good friend who’s lived there for the past three years and I have yet to visit her family there (precisely because it’s Reno – although having now been, I have to say that it isn’t all that bad, particularly because of it’s proximity to other beautiful places).
If I had thought Highway 4 was fun to drive down
in the foothills, it was even more so up in the mountains. It narrowed to a single lane road – and I was the only one traveling on it that day. I went up and down and around sharp curves that doubled back on themselves. Both sides of the road were hemmed by thousands of trees: several species of pine, red fir, and juniper. Every so often, a small lake would appear through the trees where old men and young boys cast their lines and waited for a bite.
A short drive past Ebbett’s Pass (el. 8,736 ft/ 2,663 m), Noble Canyon opened up hundreds of feet below me, guarded by ancient volcanic peaks and large granite outcroppings. It was then that I first noticed the smoke.
The smoke got thicker as I continued my descent down into the valley, but I still couldn’t see any flames. I drove on. Finally, just outside of Markleeville, only about 6 miles from the 89 junction, a small sign blocked the road ahead of me. It read: ROAD CLOSED DUE TO FIRE.
I turned around and backtracked 30 miles to the closest civilization in Bear Valley (which on this road
Scenic Highway 4
Also known as the Alpine State Highway, it's one of my new favorite highways in the states. took just over an hour). There, I found out that the fire had started four days earlier from a lightning strike, and firefighters had yet been able to contain it. I also found out that to get to Reno, I’d have to backtrack another 45 miles to get to Angel’s Camp (9 miles further west from Vallecito, where I’d stopped at Natural Bridges the day before).
From there, I could take SR-49 and SR-88 to get to the other side of the fire. It would be a detour of over 100 miles to get to a spot six miles north of where I had been turned around. There were no other options.
So, I drove down out of the mountains and back into the golden California hills. I wasn’t too upset because I really liked driving on Highway 4 and this gave me the opportunity to see it facing west. Twice, I got to go up and over the Sierras, and it was beautiful the entire way. At no point did I ever look at the window and wish I was there already.
Almost seven hours later, I arrived at my friend Katie’s house. We played with her kids and caught up over dinner. I showered, used the internet, and was treated to pancakes in the morning.
On road trips, as in life, there will always be unexpected detours. All you can really do is sit back, relax, and enjoy the view. And, if you’re lucky, there’ll be a good friend – or a stack a pancakes – waiting for you at the end.
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