Right on time, at the early hour of 10:00, we left Bishop, CA to drive through the Owens Valley area along the eastern side of the Sierras. We stopped in Lone Pine to gape at soaring Mount Wnitney. Many years ago, Papa had climbed that mountain, starting in Lone Pine and concluding his hike in Tulare. Now I can see why that eight day expedition still stands out as one of his important accomplishments! For many years he saved the boots he climbed in. Finally age and mold got the best of them. I am sure I was the one who insisted we toss them, but I did draw one boot first - the drawing is hanging in our kitchen.
The visitor's center models and maps gave me a better understanding of the Mono Lake, Mammoth Lakes, Mount Whitney, and entire Inyo areas. What wonders we have seen!
Today was a day of contrasts - from the broad valley to magnificent hills that abruptly spit us out into the flat town of Bakersfield. The temperature was consistant.....HOT. Tonight our dashboard display showed 87 at 7:17. 100 when we drove into town. I have enjoyed feeling warm, but now Los Osos is looking good.
Meanwhile Papa has totally corrupted me. For lunch we ate hot dogs from a convenience store we found right in the middle of nowhere. Then tonight in Bakersfield, we ate Basque food again. Not. The big difference in tonight's Basque restaurant and one we visited several days ago is that tonight the restaurant was packed. For the life of me I can't figure why. Yes, they serve family style, but there any resemblance to Basque ends. I think Basque has become an excuse to sloppily serve an odd assortment of greasy diner-type food. Again, Papa was in heaven. Hid did later agree that our waitress' style was rather like throwing paint at a fence. She brought bowls of soup, bread, beans, a dish of hot sauce for the beans, salad, nasty spaghetti, blah green beans, soggy french fries, and tongue. Most folks also ordered an entre. Not me. My ice cream and decaf were good. And so was our wine. In any case, dinner did provide an interesting adventure.
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