Spot a scooter

Everyday I see at least one scooter on the road. No, not the kiddies’ bare-bone ones.
Actual motorized 2 wheelers like vespas. In downtown.

Iam excited. There needs to be more.

Have they been around always but I am noticing them only now?

I don’t know.

Zooming past, well, actually just sharing the road with the cars.
Along with the occasional biker, these days are cool.

I hold my reservations to the motorbikes. Possibly am even prejudiced. There is something brutish about the average motor-biker.
The slickest of them are yet bulky, invariably either perfectly fit or hefty people with a mean look.
In their smiles, they still seem better off at a distance. This is in spite of knowing a die-hard biker very well.

With the way the gas prices are shooting, it makes sense to ride motorbikes, eh scooters or even bikes.

Economical that is smart, sensible choices.

Especially in downtown.

The freeways can be rash; I would like to see them in smaller roads too.

Accepted this is California, the roads here are wide, and everyone owns a car, and this is not Europe to mind the old narrow streets.

I guess that's why it is a refreshing sight to spot a two-wheeler.

Sensibility over grandiose.

Definitely more charming than a Hummer, for instance.

Halloween, already ?

I’m not a Harry Porter fan.

Apart from the good it did to Rowling, the only person to become a billionaire by writing children's books, in fact I’m bewilded what the sudden fascination to fantasy is all about.

Did watch a couple of porter movies too.

But nah, haven’t got any more interested.Till now that is.

Nor does Halloween interest me.

Boo! Hoo!!
Scared??
Spooky?
Eww! Don’t bother me!

Apart from the treats, Halloween is not exactly an enjoyable day.

Yea, people dressing up, kids in their costumes are all watchable. But not exactly something to look forward to, or get excited about.

Things might just about change though. I’m so very keen now. Not in it’s entirely, but definitely in a couple of characters and in the story line too. Harry potter’s that is.

Cos that’s the theme this time.

I actually said yes to participate in this years Halloween. It’s a big deal in my workplace. The planning and execution is elaborate, the enthusiasm overflows and yea, I’ve jumped in too.

Yoo-hoo!!

I've gotta read the books, got to seee the movies.

Sure, it’s too early for Halloween, but what the heck!

I am excited. I think I'll enjoy it too.

The human touch

This is so much about being individualistic.
To each person his own.
I make my decisions. I live my life. In my terms. If I mess up, it’s my problem.
Half the world lives like that.
Kids pick it from their parents. That’s’ the way to live, but more so because they don’t have a choice, I think.
What are my choices?
Not that anything is wrong with that.
After all, it is your life, and eventually you alone are accountable to your life.
Where is the family? Somewhere, someplace. Even if they live within a mile of each other, the distance seems so far. Grandparents make no bones of the nuisance grandkids can be. So, it is rationed visits, rationed hugs.
There is the no warmth, no closeness felt and shared without reason. Just like that is a non-issue .except in mutually decided days of the year - like
Thanksgiving, Christmas, and a few other.oh, I love my family.
You lead your way, I will lead mine.
What’s wrong with that?
No, nothing!
After all ayn rand was right too about objectivity.
I don’t think there's anything wrong with that, except that people like me who come form a different planet, are astounded by the matter-of-fact aloofness. And the precise measure of distancing people, irrespective of who they are.
Movies, book and soaps reflect a different perspective though. People yearning for love from their family, lessons taught about valuing people not things. Use things, not people. Not the other way around. All normal values, any where in the world. The basics of human living.
That a surprise why?
Beneath the exteriors, aren’t we all the same? Emotions, longings, need to identify with, to belong, and to be loved and accepted uncondiontally?
I have been thinking of this lately.
Beats me still.

Recently I dined with a fairly big group and my dining experiences where we shared the food, gave me a subtle shift.

I have never been a big fan of Tortellini with its creamy sauce, but dining at San Francisco’s Buca di Beppo sure changes that. Someone else had ordered that. Or the 9 layer Lasagna for that matter (I cannot accept any lasagna as good, since the one I make comes out soooo bad. booo hoo!)

Someone else had ordered that too.

Generally too cheesy, too saucy, too Italian for me. I try to pair it with forkful of salads.
But this time the Lasagna was simply yummy. This is the only place where I can have meatballs and spaghetti without burying them in parmesan cheese or Pepper.
We chatted, and started with freshly made warm garlic bread with vinegar and olive oil, and went family style lunching. ordering large portions and sharing across the table.
This was a wee bit of surprise for me. Yes, this is a family style old Italian restraunta, and this is the way to eat here. Still.
I know all the people in my group for at least a year. I lunched a zillion times together.
Even shared home cooked food.
Yet.
Don’t know why.
The sharing of food, of simply sharing out of the same dish somehow gave me a surprisingly closeness. Couple of them mentioned it too.

What a nice way to have a meal. I think, apart from the great food, everyone likes it for the family experience it gives, simply sitting together and
Sharing food.
Yum.
And chatting
The restraunt was not serving any spinach at all due to the E. coli bacteria scare.
What if it’s well cooked, that should kill the bacteria?
Someone said, sure, it’ll kill the taste too!

The interesting feature of these restraunats is the old home-like setting and hangings on the walls.
With so many photographs occupying every inch of the wall, I simply had to crane my neck to see them better.
Most are harmless old pictures of life in supposedly southern Italy or the US. Kids with their families, boys with their bikes and cars. Women in the
50's swimwear, bright smiles. Families dining together, celebrity dining, and a few prominently placed naughty ones.
Among the chains, Olive Garden and The Old Spaghetti Factory are other favorites, but the experience here is the best.

We went lunching to another fine dining place for a birthday - frank fats.
Great food from Peking, Szechuan, sanghai and Cantonese cooking. Another nice to place to dine in with a big group. This time, all twelve of us
ordered different dishes and shared. We passed on plates, piling some of all the different dishes on our own.
Even the Ma Po tofu tasted good to me. We shared long beans, mango ginger chicken, scallops & shrimps with garlic minus the spinach again, honey walnut prawns among others. Sipping green tea all the while. I asked for the roast duck noodle.
Does sharing food get us together?
Is it just me, or just moments like these bring us closer?
We even shared the birthday ginger ice cream. Small pieces of freshly sliced ginger in creamy ice cream.
Sounds yucky, but tastes yummy. Really.
I think irrespective of what our societies do, and they way our lives are being driven, basic human contact does give us simple pleasure. Not fun. But happiness. The difference between the two is can be so deceiving at times. But not at times like these.

We are people who struggle to look beyond our noses for our happiness, yet that is where it is.

Look, look

Knowledge will not always take the place of simple observation - Arnold Lobel.

Eternity ?

I walk into the elevator, nod to the people already in.
Yes, I know them. People I work with.
There’s interesting talk inside, a bright – good morning,
A compliment – nice skirt, a smile,
A witty remark, smart repartee, a juicy gossip - hey, you know Clara’s broke up yesterday.
I wish the elevator took longer to reach.
And yet at times, just silence.
No conversations, no small talk all the way to the 16th floor.
Silence.
Checking the floor numbers.
Seems like an eternity. Anywhere else but here.
Enclosed and no place to go, although there are people I know in with me.
The door opens, I dart out.
That seemed like eternity.

The last leg - Bodie, Ancient Bristlecone Forest, Buttermilk country

We woke up leisurely the next morning. Had to pay for the firewood. Six dollars.rammaged through wallet, counted all the quarters and cents, had only
five. And a twenty. Should be just put in the five?
Or the twenty?
Maybe the $20, and take another two stacks.
Rummaged through bags, finally got the dollar.
We ate muffins, noodles and had tea.packed up, the next destination was buttermilk country, just spend an hour or two, and then we'll be on our way.
Buttermilk country is popular for bouldering, rock climbing and off-road. Its at the base of the eastern sierras, the best part was the drive that
gives a fantastic view of Owens valley and the white mountains, the high-desert landscape, Mount Humphreys, Mount Tom and the Eastern Sierra
Mountains. It got its name from the fact that a dairy, known among miners for its buttermilk, was once located along this route.
This place appeals to all abilities of climbers, has a diverse range of rock types and climbing styles, and all in driving distances.
So, off we went.
I was a bit reluctant as usual.
Of the sports and recreational activities, rock climbing appeals the least to me.
What’s the fun of climbing a rock? And scrapping a knee? Some fun that.
Anyway, we went since Dharma enjoys it, and Rebecca seems to climb without fear effortlessly. I thought I'll give it a shot too.
The dirt road takes us to the area; we drove 3 miles almost to the end and parked, and walked up to a group of easy looking rocks. I felt better.
The sign said that green flags marked areas that to being restored, so off-limits for now.
We drove away to a spot, and Dharma disappeared by the time Rebecca and I got out of the car.
I looked in all directions, and we shouted out to him.
No reply.
He looked down from the top of a pile. How did you climb? Why didn’t you reply back?
He was too excited to reply.
Rebecca did a neat climb, and I stumbled along. Not bad I had to admit. These rocks are definitely worth climbing.
No more stops we decided, now straight back home. Drove a couple of miles, a sign said Indian tacos. Its almost lunch time, lets get some. So, we drove into a smaller street and finally saw a home with the same sign.
Native American tacos and Indian fried bread - basically thick fried bread with minced meat, lettuce, tomatoes, red onions and sour cream. Homemade
It tasted really good. We ate some on the way. We drove into Bishop, we noticed the tri-county fair tents, the parking was a bit too far from the tents, so decided to skip that.
No more stops, I said.
A vista point, the freeway sign said. So, off we went. Grand view of the mountains and the valley, benches put for visitors, and a couple of boards with some details of the mountains. With gang graffiti sprayed in black.
Idiots. Thoughtless idiots.
Can they find some other place to announce their insane presence?
No more stops, I said again.
Dharma suggested the Inyo craters. It’s on the way.
Oh, sure I said.
The Inyo craters or mono-Inyo craters are a group of volcanic craters; the mammoth scenic loop takes us there. A short mile hike through pine trees brings us to the craters. There are no signs or boards about the craters. When were they formed and noticed? How big are they?
The carters are small, of course much smaller than the Ubehebe Crater in Death Valley which is the biggest. Trees have grown in the edges and even within the carter, a pool of green water at the bottom.
Hump, I grumbled about the lack of information about the craters.
No wonder many people don’t visit such places. What’s the point of taking a diversion form their travel, hiking a mile in the forest, and just seeing a hole in the ground with green water? And no information of its existence?
Anyway, we drove on till our next stop back on 395 to the day area again. Splashed in the river one more time. The trash cans were full and overflowing with the long weekend visitors’ trash.
We had spent almost an hour there, no more stops, we said again.
But stop we did.
Again by the river, parked the car, and again fought the shrubs and plants to find a way down.
A neat quite place with not a soul around. Splashed around in the cool waters, and drove on.
No more stops.
Back home, content with the trip. A weekend well spent.

LaborDay Weekend - Bodie, Ancient Bristlecone Forest, Buttermilk country

After visiting the state park, the road sign said 13 miles to Lee Viking - very rough road.

Should it be back the same way we came 3 miles on rough road, or 13 on very rough road?

Of course, we took the very rough. The rough road seemed not-too-rough, so the very rough maybe be just about rough. What’s the point of an SUV anyway?

Indeed the road wasn’t bad at all - dirt road, but wide enough, and plain. Plain not smooth. That was the rough part.

We passed by cars braving the road.

Stopped after the while to let the tire pressure low.

Rebecca has dozed off by then, and we managed to get lost. The directions led to a ranch with fiercely barking dogs, and then a road that seem to go

for ever. We could see 395 running parallel far away. So, weren’t back about 2 miles and then took another route. The sun was setting, and we wanted to

Set up camp before dark. Mono lake as usual looks splendid and serene. It looked wider to me than I remembered. 40 feet below its original level, it

Waters Los Angeles. Stopped by for coffee and air for the wheels. Decided to set up camp before hunting dinner.

Bishop is at 4000 odd feet elevation, and further Big pine is at 7000 odd feet, while the bristlecone forest is at 10,000 feet.

Ideally it is good to acclimatize at a slightly lower altitude before moving to higher ground.

Actually that would be a sensible thing to do.

Of course we weren’t so concerned.

We drove past Bishop, bright lights, and shops. Galen and Barbara Rowell's Mountain light gallery on the main street. Wasn’t Bishop a small town that

Friends of ours who had earlier lived complained about. Didn’t look small to me, there's a big casino, signs of parks and campgrounds, hotels and shops.

Signs of the tri-county fair. We even spotted the fairgrounds, small tents all shut down for the night.

Nah, we want to go to the mountains. Hoping we would get an empty spot.

The bristlecone forest is high on the White Mountains off 168 easts from Big Pine which is about 15 miles from Bishop. The difference is in the

Elevation. But then who cares with the destination being so close?

We noted a county campground board, but decided to check the White Mountains first.

Stopped off the turn for the visitor information center with a Hugh American flag.

Rebecca woke up, and soon we drove off.

No services for the next 57 miles the sign warned. We crossed the road that diverts to 75 miles off to Death Valley. Taken that road 3 years back, but

is still just as exciting.

Harsh weather places that you need to be overly cautious about as you travel. Fuel, food, importantly water.

We drove with an occasional car in the opposite direction in the canyon. A part of it is very steep - steep canyon that is. Most trees looked like small

Shrubs or even dwarfed trees.

I was concerned about the temperature drop and the dreaded winds I had read about. Didn’t want to wake up in a windy tent in the high mountains.

We drove in silence in the dark. The moon was up and bright, highlighting the canyon walls. Rebecca was unusually quite. Dharma mentioned acute

Mountain sickness that he had read about in the visitor's center. I wondered if the darkness around and the shadow of the canyons and the trees in the

Moonlight bothered her.

We reached the 10,000 ft elevation but seemed to drive forever. Where did the 3 campgrounds go? Where they unmarked to discourage too much traffic?

We drove back and located the Grandview campsite. This was supposed to be the best. When we wake up, the bristle cone would be right there facing us in

the sunrise.

It was hard to figure if there was an available spot in the campsites. Were the stumps marking the sites? Should there be numbered spots? We stopped at

at least 3 stops in confusion and looped back to the entrance. Dharma got out to check on foot, and Rebecca was just happy to get out of her car seat.

She moved to the drivers seat and promptly threw up and cried. In the silence of the place, her cries were magnified loud and clear through the night air.

We decided this was just not right, and drove down immediately. I sat with Rebecca making her talk. Forget camping, let’s check in a hotel, and get her

to recover and comfortable, forget camping. We drove to all the hotels and motels we could see on Bishop. No luck. All rooms booked for the tricounty

fair. The family campgrounds in Big Pine were crowded and revolting. We stopped by the casino parking lot, the camping guide said try the county

Campgrounds further to Bishop, and so off went back and mercifully found it just the place we wanted.

Already the altitude difference was great.

This is a big campsite with fewer compspot, so each spot was spacious and just right. We pitched the tent, and went to sleep. Streams of water was

running closely. The sounds lulling us to sleep.

We woke up early, Rebecca in good spirits. The White Mountains seemed tall and hugh right in front. Everyone else seemed to be part of the southern

California Ford Broncho club. hugh RVs, tough looking men and women, with a hint of a smile and their mean machines.

We made tea, took our time sipping it with marmalade sandwiches and packed back the tent.

No more rush.

Let’s just relax and keep a steady pace. No rush.

The plan was to drive to the ancient cove, hike a short one, and come back to the lower altitude.

No hanging around at 10,000 ft.

In the bright morning light, the drive seemed altogether different. We were relaxed and refreshed keeping a close watch on Rebecca. Any sign of

Difference in her behavior, and we would call off the hike.

Mercifully she was happy and chirpy as usual.

What a great relief. Children can be a nuisance with their energy levels, yet it is a million times better than an unusual quietness. The silence can be

deafening, the mind fears the unspeakable.

The sun was bright, and day was brilliant. Deep blue skies, white brilliant clouds, the air clean and the breeze and temperature just right.

Wow, is that wonderful or what. Just for a slice of sheer perfection in the mountains.

I shot a prayer of gratefulness. For the simple pleasures of living. For the health to travel and to enjoy the incredible.

We stopped by the picnic area, there was piñon , duglous fir and bristle cone trees all over. Beautiful spot, finished lunch, and decided to go for a 1

mile self-discovering nature trail.

Another car stopped by, and a boy, maybe 12 years old darted out. He spotted a cactus plant in excitement and shouted for us to see it too. over

Enthusiastic brat I thought, I couldn’t see his parents anywhere.

We put back out stuff, and started the nature trail. It is a challenge to keep Rebecca on the trail; her excitement takes her off to collect grass,

Stone, leaf, branch. The soil is dry and loose; the terrain is rough yet almost fragile. A short walk brings us to the open mountain facing the sierras.

far away, yet imposing and majestic. A little snow on top.

Miles away from home, ten thousand feet high up; it’s a great place to be.

We walked by reading the posted information on the native plants and interesting fact, passing another cactus, and then the Mormon tree plant. The

tea plant has bright green straight thin pipe like leaves, and looks like a bunch of green threads tied at the bottom. I picked a tiny bit and smelled

it, wonderful aroma. idea for a smoothing cuppa. Guess what the puiate Indians drank the tea since it could cure colds, rheumatism and kidney problems.

Whoa!

Wise natives knew its usage well.

Another was the pinecone, the Indians roasted them so it was eerier to break, and you needed to break open the cone, to remove the seeds 9 or nut. The

cone is hard, and has somewhat sharp edges; I have a whole new respect for the pine nut now.

and then comes the boy eagerly asking ' Have you seen the beaver tail cacti?

Oh, so this is a cactus seeker I thought.

How shallow first impressions can be.

He walked with a HP digital camera around his neck, his father carrying a bulky hogen tripod, and a contax camera. Started with, have you seen?

Beaver tail anywhere?'

What?

Beavertail cactus - you know the stems are flat resembling the tail of a beaver, that's why it’s called so. Have you seen any?

Nope, have you?

He went on rapidly about the two we had in fact seen earlier.

We chatted for a while on the native plants, the weather, and survival classes in France. About growing up in Netherlands with British English and

American accents, the French castles.

in these places, you should always wear shirts with full sleeves, and full pants, and a hat. the UV rays are very strong, and you can be bit by a

Scorpion. If you are in the middle of a desert, and don’t have water, then cactus can save you. Just cut the stem, and drink the liquid. you will live.

Oh, there are poisonous cacti in Death Valley, don’t touch them.

If you don’t know whether a cactus is poisonous or not, dig a shallow hole on the ground, cut the stem, and pour the liquid inside the hole. leave it

like that till the next day, the water will distill, and you can drink that.

Phew!

Interesting kid.

Very friendly. He showed me his pet hamster pictures.

It’s always a pleasure to meet kids like that. The world in their radar, confident and curious instead of the burdens of peer pressure and video

games.

We read and noticed Indian rice grass, Mormon tea, Utah junipers, piñon and firs, wrapped up the walk, and drove to Schulman grove. Dr. Edmund

Schulman discovered the bristle cone pines east of the Sierra Nevada, and the grove with he oldest bristle cone is given his name. These are the oldest

living trees on earth. The trees survive in the poorly nourished, alkaline soil with a minimum of moisture. In fact, the trees longevity is linked to

these inhospitable conditions. The younger trees have softer tissues, and may not live as long as the older ones. The forest is eroding away instead of

decaying. The 4,723 year-old Methuselah tree is the oldest. The biblical Methuselah lived only 900 plus years, and was the oldest man on earth.

40 centuries. Phew!

The trees live in harsh surroundings. High mountains, lots of snow, winds at high speeds, and they are fragile and irreplaceable.

We chose to hike the 4.5 mile trail, and the initial mile was the steepest.

A couple of young boys ran the trail, leaving their parents behind. We crossed each other every time either they or we took stopped for a while. Apart

from them, there are 2 more couples we met or saw on the way. No one else in the vast forest.

The first 2 miles were okay, till Dharma noticed slight discomfort in his knee. Since the trail was narrow, and the mountainside was steep, we didn’t

want to let Rebecca down. went slow the nest mile, and then let her down the last mile and a half. She walked with excitement.

The trees are twisted, exposing their roots and stem, standing in dignity as time passes still living, their shape polished by winds, snow and sand.

The soil is very dry, the views spectacular.

as we hiked, the scenery was wonderful, across us, the sierras looked shorter, although they stand more than 2000 ft higher. looked to the valley far

way, was that a dry lake there?

Away from the maddening crowd.

You need to be there to experience that.

high up in the White Mountains, it does have a kinda spooky feel, inspite of the clear sky and the wonderful weather.

We made out way back to the car, satisfied to finish the hike. Dharma's knee was aching a bit more, it was almost 5 o'clock, and we drove off to camp.

filled the tank at Bishop, and decided to camp in the mountains further west instead. 4000 ft was still warmer than the 10,000 odds.

The tall trees campground was closed, we wondered if we would have to drive back all the way again. Mercifully the next one was a small and still

mostly unoccupied. We quickly set u-p the tent, and started the charcoal fire starter.

Struggled to get the fire going, the paper caught on, but the charcoal was still stubborn. It was getting dark.

Waited, watched and tried everything, no avail.

Our neighbor campers proved very helpful. When dharma went over to ask them if firewood was available anywhere closely, the man came over leaving his

dinner immediately. The cut the wood pieces with his small axe into smaller twig sizes, rolled newspapers, placed the small pieces over, and lit. Whoa!

That was quick, the fire was roaring high in minutes. His wife came over, and we chatted for a while.

Thanks to him, we grilled our stuff.

Small mercies that make a difference.

I had emptied the veggies in my refrigerator, so we had grilled asparagus, zucchinis, tomatoes, white onions, corn

along with the marinated lamb.

Sleep was easy as we were totally tired.

September 11th

I know I haven't completed my Labor Day travel yarn. But then it is already September 11th.
I choose to ignore the date as if it is nothing.
Five years have gone by, and I can still remember it is it was yesterday. I had just woken up, when our maid came rushing home without buying the milk that morning. My mom and she switched were watching the TV news, as I walked in, I glanced at the screen, showing the towers in flames. I thought it was some movie running.
Cheap shot I thought.
Over ambitious simulation of some amateur film maker.
What are you watching? I asked.
This is news, its happening!
Cannot be.
How could it?

Now, I think you now?
Is the US immune to the wars?
While the world burns in ethic violence, ethnic cleaning, intense hatred and such, how can another nation, particularly on ein prominence escape.
When pictures of the suspects came up, I wished it wasn’t true, fearing the backlash the religion will face.
Innocence facing the wrath of ignorant radicals.
Not again.
Yet this also will pass.
The pain is too raw and too wide spread to simply ignore, yet this will be another blimp in mindless hatred history soon.
When will man stop hating another?
Will it ever be perfect?
Wishful indeed.
I wish it were just a cheap movie.

Pictures - Bodie, Ancient Bristlecone Forest, Buttermilk country

Bodie, Ancient Bristlecone Forest, Buttermilk country

The long weekend comes, oh how we look forward to it!
As usual we planed the places we wanted to visit and wanted to leave on Friday night, come back by Monday evening.

Packed our stuff, read the maps, checked the weather, re-checked our stuff.
Still the camera bag wasn’t ready Dharma's various cameras and his lenses and their million accessories, what about the tent, sleeping bag, should we take the chairs too?

What the heck!

This weekend pleasure trip not a business drill.

Let’s slow down.

We’ll pack slow, relax, enjoy.

So, we packed our stuff leisurely and slept of. Slept as long as we could. Till Rebecca got up, and wouldn’t lie down nay more.

And off we went.

We started well, and drove on 50, got a glimpse of Lake Tahoe high up, hmm not very blue right now.

395 is a scenic route. It looks beautiful every time we travel by.
We stopped by the river for a short break; let Rebecca play a little, snacks and stuff.
Parked on the shoulder, and walked down to the river. Searched for a safe route down, finally walked by the shrubs and made out way.
The water was cold as ever. Kicked off our shoes, splashed the water, had our snacks, and lazed around.
Spent 2 hrs there instead of 20 minutes.
So far so good.
The weather was cool and just perfect. Next stop was for lunch at a day use area by the Walker River. We have stopped here almost 3 years back, and I can remember the place as if I visited it yesterday.
Dharma went to the river, and I was just getting Rebecca out, and she punked.
Again.
Cleaned her, distracted her with the squirrels , the chirping birds and the pine cones.
She seemed okay, we sat down for lunch, and yet another splash in the river.
Beautiful day and we set out to look for a campground.

We have wanted to visit Bodie every time we have traveled 395, but just haven’t been able to. Next time, we'll make it.

This time, we hadn’t planned Bodie, and yet as we approached 167 on 395, we made the turn.

Worthwhile.

Bodie is a ghost town - the largest presently that flourished when gold and silver was found in the mountains. In its hey days, the population was close to 10,000.
This is the year 1878. William S. Body found gold here in 1859. The mining camp grew slowly from 1860 to the mid-1870s
and then declined after the lure was somewhere else, several fires, World War I, and finally the fire of 1932, and that was the last straw indeed.

Today, about 150 well preserved buildings remain (about 5% of the original) thanks to the efforts of the state park. This was a large town, no city by its day’s standards.

There is the Methodist Church, saloon, school firehouse, Bodie hotel, several homes all frozen in time.

And the empty mines.

Too bad the firehouse had clogs and bad maintence issues and couldn’t save much.

All of them are in arrested decay - preserved but no restoration will be done -as they were after the fire, as the residents left them.

Homes have the wallpapers peeling away, beds, dressing tables, dining tables, kitchen with the utensils still in place. The Carriages and tool boxes are still intact. With layers and layers of dust. The materials are slowly tearing away and fading.

As you walk by each home, it is as if you are indeed visiting a home that has current residents. The current poor shape seems to diminish, and it’s like you can actually imagine life thriving among the deterioration.

You can walk into some homes, others are locked, yet you can peep through the windows to look in.

Interesting to see the sizes of homes then.
Small.
Much smaller to an average American home today.

so, we walked past homes that had the only best green garden in the town, home to the town sheriff's father, home of the family that ran stagecoaches, home of the man who brought lumber to the town.

Yet well decorated and well equipped.

The saloon, bars and shops are well stocked and still have the merchandise on the shelves. pool tables waiting for the putt.

In spite of the harsh weather, high on the sierras, the treeless terrain is dry - summers are punishingly hot, winters bring good amount of snow, gold and silver brought people here.

I can imagine dance halls, saloons and the church with folks gaily going about their lives.

This was a bad town too.
'Goodbye God, we are going to Bodie' - the prayer of a little girl wrote says it all. Legend has it that she prayed as she learned her family is moving to Bodie.
Crime thrived here just as any place where gold was discovered. Stagecoach holdups and murders.

The Wild West.

Bodie state park is more different than what I had read and imagined about. This is bigger and in better shape.

The best way to visit is to spend 2 to 4 hours.
Slow down.
Think and let the surroundings take you to a different time in the same place, listen and see.
It is worth the while.

spicy pistachios

spices - chipotle sauce, lemon baked with the shells on.
To eat, break open the shell and eat the kernel.
what's the point ?
the spices are on the shell, the kernels are plain.
lick the shell and then eat the nut ???
eww!