I continued south from Mono. Thirty minutes later, I was in the Owens Basin. And it wasn’t Switzerland. It wasn’t green.

It looks like a lot of Arizona. The vegetation is just above that of the desert. Gone are the orchards. Gone is agriculture. Tourism is king in the Owens Valley now. LA has won.

I passed Lake Crowley. This was built in 1930. Before construction of the Long Valley Dam to make the lake, there was no reservoir above the intake of the LA aqueduct. It just took free-flowing Owens water. In wet years it took more than it needed, and often discharged excess to the ocean. Crowley Lake, however, allowed the system to store water for dry years, thus guaranteeing a stable supply.

Before too long I was at Big Pine, California. It’s called that because of a sequoia tree planted in honor of Teddy Roosevelt who passed through this remote part back in 1906. I imagine he passed through here to sew seeds of goodwill, in spite of the fact that it was his authorization of the LA aqueduct that forever doomed the Owens Valley to mere tourism. Anyway, the baby sequoia looks like a pine. Thus, Big Pine.

Here is 395’s intersection with CH 168. 168 goes east up the White Mountains. These White Mountains are not part of the Sierras. They are a small range separated from the Sierras by the Owens Valley. Its highest peak is over 14,000′. Lost and unknown mountains. Cool stuff.

From 168, at close to 8000′, runs north the Ancient Bristlecone Scenic Byway. It’s an unpaved forest service road that tops out close to 10,000′ in the Inyo National Forest on those White Mountains. Over 10 miles it leads you past enormous vistas of the 13,000′ and 14,000′ Sierras rising east of the Owens Valley, and epitomizes why I say National Forests may be America’s best kept secrets. On this cloudless day the sawtooth ridge of dark Sierra granite was capped with snow and glowed ultraviolet over all Creation. Here felt like Switzerland. The temperature was in the low 60’s, but that sun was strong.

Then, lo, the visitor center. I asked the lady working there why do the oldest trees in the world grow here and nowhere else. Her answer was interesting. Here the climate is always consistently harsh. Yet it is consistent. It is always cold. It is almost always sunny. Whatever snow does fall is just enough to keep the bristlecones alive. Nothing else can really grow here anyway.

There is probably more to the story. But, I thanked her for that point. Some workers at federal installations don’t know a whole lot. Some, however, do, and I do appreciate their insight. Of course, to mention my thoughts in relation to the Flood in Genesis 7 would have prompted her to look at me as if lobsters were coming out of my ears. I didn’t figure there was much point to broaching my ruminations.

No matter. It was time to take a walk to the Methuselah Grove… which I discovered would have been a three-hour round trip. No way I was going to do that. Burnout was hitting me again.

So, I walked for about an hour through the pines that were close by. They wouldn’t look much different than the actual Methuselah Grove itself. And, some of the dead ones may died at an age over 4,000 years anyway.

A big killer is erosion. That is, over thousands of years, the soil surrounding their roots erodes, and there is no means for those roots to soak in moisture. Thus the bristlecones die.

I took some cool photos. It was neat, I guess. But, it was getting close to six. I still had an hour drive down the mountain back to Big Pine, and had been driving and walking nonstop since 7am.

Beer sounded good. So did yet another hamburger. Though being fat destroyed my self-esteem mightily for years, at the moment of indulgence, when restraints are ignored, well, that was always something to look forward to, and helped keep this vicious cycle going.

But I figured I’d return here some day. One day I’d walk to that Methuselah Grove.

A little later, after procuring a cheap campsite at Big Pine, I indulged Mr. Tummy’s cravings. My Sierra Nevada Pale Ale went down like glacial heaven. So did the hamburger.

The weather was hot. But as soon as the sun went down, everything cooled. Another night in my van was great.

In the morning I would go back up 168 to Nevada. It connects to US 95. 95 would take me to Las Vegas, and then back to Sedona.

Good night.