When all was said and done, my best laid plans were scrapped 3 hours into the journey due to snow closures in the high mountain passes leading to Yosemite from the Eastern Sierras. Flashing closed signs warned me before I got to Bishop.
A quick call to Caltrans or an internet check could have saved me from the world's longest route to Yosemite by way of Mohave. But I was in a hurry to split and the getaway car was packed and…So I sat and pondered my predicament. The landscape lent itself to deep thought and calculation.
But in the end my first day on the road was wild and precious.
I drove through mile after mile of desert. Skirting across the boundries of many national forests. Off I went down tiny roads where for hours I didn't pass another car. They wound their way deep into the heart of sequoia country, past blue lakes, and tiny streams, then deposited me at the base of a great valley of grapes.
In the middle of places I had never heard of. Beside cluster after beautiful cluster of PINK. Without a soul around.
And finally I found my way here.
To a thick stand of pine and fir outside my room. A steak dinner, a warm bed, a balcony where I could watch the moon, and dig into my pile of books.
Until my head began to nod.