Down to Millerton Lake.

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Millerton Lake,
29-10-2002.

I've breakfast in the restaurant of the Wawona Hotel which is near the campground.
The hotel is elegance all over, a Victorian dining room in bright colors, a covered porch with old-fashioned deck chairs and the grounds surrounding the hotel are well taken care of with short cut bright green grass full ground squirrels and small birds.
I'm in the company of a middle-age couple from Baltimore who are on their pension and discovering their own country with the inevitable mobile home.
I'm not really surprised they insist on paying my bill. If I ever publish these travel stories in some unfathomable future I should dedicate them to all the people who have payed my beers, invited me for dinner, who encourage me from the open windows of passing cars, to all the people who have been so friendly and hospitable to me on this trip.

With breakfast over I realise my time is this magnificent national park, a naturalist's dream come true, is over.
It's only four miles up to the south entrance/exit and then mostly down,down and down cycling through dark green forests and passing through quiet small mining towns, towns whose histories go back all the way to the first gold rushes, to the time when people came from as far away as Europe full with hopes of getting rich quick and fast.
I presume for most of these people it must have been a big deception in the end.

The wind is getting chilly so I stop to put on my parka before continueing my cycling down through the forested foothills of the Sierra National Forest.
When finally I reach the Millerton Lake area I cycle through an area of low hills full with old Oak Trees, helm grass and weirdly shaped basalt rocks, squirrels and marmots.

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Photos

Big Pine Trees at...
Sierra National Forest.

Road Runner
Road runners aplenty on this trip.