The Prospect of Adventure
Well folks, it's been quite a while since our last epic adventure. This extended delay is almost entire the fault of my cousin Mark, who was "unavailable" last summer, due to his being in China. He was very busy; he had to eat lots of peach ice cream, and sometimes he had to play Bang! for positively hours. But I am not one to dwell on the past; no, I gaze boldly into the future!
Last Christmas, my Dad gave me a cool software package called "Topo!", from National Geographic. This nifty little system include USGS topographical maps for all of California.
[ Maps of other states are available, but as I don't live in other states, who cares what they look like? ] Imagine my delight at being able to view the finely crafted lines and symbols of local cartography! O! the joy. I quickly "zoomed in" on our favorite haunt, Pine Flat Lake, and "panned around" to "view the map". My keen eye soon fell upon a tiny dashed line, barely visible from years of neglect. This path, one "Bob's Flat Trail", led from Trimmer Spring Road which runs along the lake, north into the hills.
[ We had visited the start of this trail during a previous trip. ] While tracing this ancient track, I noticed a strange symbol, labeled with a single potent word: Prospect. The symbol was that of a crossed shovel and pickax; the universal symbol for mining operations. Clearly I had discovered some long-forgotten quarry, a veritable bonanza of lost wealth! This, this lode must be our destination. It was our fate; this was our hour.
So we rounded up the troops: Mark was at school, but would be down late Friday afternoon. Matthew was out of school for the week, as was Dave. Scott, sadly, was unavailable, as he had to drive Grandpa and Grandma down from Napa that day. Ethan, also, was not present; he was home in Oregon, doing I don't know, whatever they do in Oregon.
[ Probably smoking a doobie. ] So it was just me, Dave, Mark, and Matt.
As is our custom, we set out early(ish) Saturday morning, destined for our destiny. It was cloudy and sprinkling on the way up. We stopped at Kirkman's Point, above Pine Flat, to admire the view and fetch some snacks from the back of the car.
Onward we drove, until we reached the trail head. By now the sky had begun to clear, as we followed the trail above the road. I snapped this photo of Pine Flat Lake.
[ Astute readers will remember a similar photo taken from the same location. ]
By my keen outdoor tracking skills, I estimated that we would have roughly a three mile walk ahead of us. We crossed through a tender meadow, the tiny flowers caressing our ankles like so many gentle seahorses.
Onward we trekked, over hill and dale, until finally, we approached our coveted goal. We climbed a short rise and...
Well, shoot. Nothing. Evidently, a crossed shovel and pickax is the international symbol for an empty field. "Prospect" evidently signified the "prospect" of something being there, not its reality. "There might be something here!" But there wasn't; no abandoned mine, no rusting equipment, no piles of gold nuggets, cast aside in haste, no skeletal remains of the miners, who might have killed each other in a violent argument over claim rights. No. Here there was none of that, nothing; nothing, except, perhaps, beauty, and peace, and serenity.
We wandered around, still slightly hopeful of finding some trace, perhaps a literal shovel and pickax. Mark and Matt headed up the hill, while I followed a path around the side. I don't know what Dave was doing.
[ Probably smoking a fat bull. ] After following the narrow trail for a ways, I decided to head straight up the hill, to see if I could beat Mark and Matthew to the top, and "head them off at the pass." While climbing, my cellphone rang. It was Mark, calling from the top of the hill, wanting to know where I was. Apparently he first called my parents at home to get my number. Anyway, I told him I'd be up in a few minutes.
When I finally reached the top of the hill, Mark and Matt were sitting around. I don't know what they were doing before I got there.
[ Probably toasting the blueberry yum-yums. ] From the top of the hill we could see Pine Flat Lake as a blue glimmer in the distance.
We spotted Dave at the bottom of the hill and called out to him.
After a bit of a climb, Dave joined us in our fortress of solitude. After resting a bit, we decided to head back to the car. The sky, which had been clear, was beginning to get cloudy again. Dave and Matt left first, while Mark and I decided to check out the creek that ran alongside the hill, first.
We followed this creek down the hill, until we spotted this little feller:
The color Orange, it's Nature's way of saying, "Do Not Eat." This, boys and girls, is a salamander. A salamander is a fire elemental, borne of the primeval flames at the center of the Earth. Fabric woven from salamander wool is impervious to fire damage, and the creatures themselves are unharmed by heat. This guy seems rather laid back, as he glances up at the camera.
[ Perhaps he had been partaking of the Indiana hay. ] In the pond below, there were dozens of salamanders, swimming about fiery revelries.
Mark and I decided to take a "shortcut" back to the car, by cutting across some of the loops in the trail. Along the way, we got off the trail and couldn't find our way back. I had the GPS, so we were in no danger of getting lost. When we finally arrived, we were about 500 ft. up the road from where we started, and at the top of a cliff. Dave and Matt said that, even though they started back about fifteen minutes before us, they had just arrived at the car. They got lost, too.
[ Lost in the hubbly bubbly, probably. ] As soon as we were all back at the car, it started pouring rain. We all piled in, and assuaged our disappointment with candy and soda.
We waited for the rain to stop, so we could film some bike-riding, orc-slaying Gandalf action. Almost as soon as we finished carrying all the costumes and props up the hill, it started to rain again. We rigged up a makeshift cover for our vital supplies, but figured that the rain would make the actual scenes more dramatic. It did, but we also got really wet.
After we finished filming, we decided to go home. The rain showed no signs of stopping, so there really wasn't much we could do. So that's our grand adventure, and all we have to show for it is some shots of me riding a bike. An awesome bike.