Illking
Well-Known Member
- First Name
- Jason
- Joined
- Nov 10, 2021
- Threads
- 38
- Messages
- 277
- Reaction score
- 1,099
- Location
- Los Angeles
- Vehicle(s)
- 2022 Ford Ranger XL
- Thread starter
- #1
My wife and daughter left me for a week to go on a girls trip, and the house felt way too quiet and pretty damn lonely. So I did the only thing that made sense: I called out of work Friday, loaded up the truck, and hit the road Thursday night. Just me and my 11-year-old dog, Scout.
We headed up to Lone Pine an area we’ve camped many times before, Alabama Hills. I hadn’t been there since before COVID, and it turns out the place had been overwhelmed by people shitting everywhere, so they closed off all the good spots and made them day-use only. The rest of the available spots were already taken, likely by digital nomads clinging to their Star link tucked away in their sprinters and trailers.
We drove just outside the boundary and found a two-track that was overgrown and didn’t look like it had been traveled in quite a while. I followed it in the dark until it dead-ended at a stone-ring fire pit. Perfect. We’d camp here tonight.
I fired up the Howl R1, snapped together my ICECO cot, threw down a Mexican blanket, and lay down to face the universe. I shut off the fire, and then the Milky Way and stars really came alive. I had never cowboy camped before, and it was awesome. The weather was perfect, no bugs, just the endless expanse of the cosmos keeping me up. It’s a lot to think about before bed.
I finally got tired of feeling small and fell asleep. I woke up to an amazing view of Mt. Whitney, the highest point in the contiguous United States, which I had summited about eight years ago. I made a quick coffee, had a few bites of overnight oats from the fridge, and breaking camp was quick work.
We headed to a nearby abandoned mine I had always wanted to check out, the Reward Mine. It’s big enough that you can drive your truck about half a mile into it. I’d seen a few YouTube videos.. you know the ones, with dramatic trailer music and everyone referring to anything they do as an “expedition.” Based on those, I expected the road to be rougher and the mine to be some terrifyingly deep maze.
It wasn’t bad at all. The road was rough for about a quarter mile, but since I was feeling lazy and knew I was getting right back on the highway, I didn’t bother airing down. The truck climbed right up to the mine entrance easily. We drove straight into the mine, and it was really neat. We followed the main corridor all the way back to the open “room” wide enough to turn around in, did a little exploring on foot, then headed back out.
Next stop was Little Lakes Valley for a mellow, senior-dog-appropriate 5 mile hike and to say hello to the alpine lake resident brookies. The trailhead was quite busy, but the trail itself wasn’t too bad, and one of the furthest lakes being our destination helped us lose the crowd. We found a nice bank near the inlet of the lake, and the fish were all over. We fished the 10k elevation lake for a few hours, then made our way back to the truck, stopping by some of the meadow streams to poke around for trout.
I had spotted a place on the map that I wanted to check out for camping on Lake Gregory in the June Lake Loop. Lots of dispersed camping right on the lake. Well, it was no secret. Every lakeside spot was taken, and some had groups of 5–10 RTT rigs. The sun was fading, and I did not have the energy to go find a new area, so we found a spot tucked uphill from the lake. It was actually really pretty, with some beautiful rock features and a nice established fire ring.
I set up my new Kelty Caboose tent and got camp established, planning to stay for two nights. I was so tired from the hike that I stopped for a burger at a small mountain cafe, Tom’s Place, knowing I wouldn’t have the energy to fix dinner over the fire. With dinner already digesting, we settled right in for bed after a little stargazing.
The moment I closed my eyes, the group camping closest to me fired up the karaoke machine, and they did not let up for quite some time. It was loud as hell, they were terrible singers, and at first I got pretty pissed. I was about to go tell them to knock it off and lecture them on how they needed to listen to the frogs and enjoy nature. Then I took a minute and realized I was so tired I’d be asleep in no time. So I brushed it off and dozed into a deep sleep as they sang and drank late into the night, likely waking up to some hospital grade hangovers.
Scout and I slept great, with one midnight pee break to check and make sure the stars were still there. After an easy breakfast and coffee fix, we headed to a nearby trailhead to hike to another lake for more trout fishing. It was great. I got into a bunch of rainbows and browns all over the lake, including some exciting close-quarter fishing at the inlet creek.
I was so content with the successful fishing and hiking that I decided I was going to break camp and head back to LA. As I was making my way back, I noticed a Sprinter van packing up at the most primo and secluded spot I had clocked on the lake. I quickly broke down my camp, stuffed it all in the bed, and snagged the spot.
It was perfect. The karaoke club was too hungover to party, and I was far enough away not to be bothered anyway. I spent the whole afternoon just wading around my own bay, cooking some pollo asado, and drinking in the views. I used my new @Wolfbox MF200 and realized I had been maintaining camp fires wrong my whole life, a few puffs from the lowest setting kept me from singeing my eyebrows huffing into a fire to breath life back into it. Seriously this thing is awesome for keeping the fire alive and the tent and truck tidy. After a few beers and a bundle of wood burnt I finally went to bed to the sweet sound of frogs croaking.
The next morning I took a small detour on my way home through some fire roads and 4x4 trails in the Mammoth area, taking note of future camp locations. I found an epic trail with an amazing view, and it led me right back to the 395.
Back in Bishop, I stopped for gas and a hot pastrami sandwich at Schatt’s Bakery, then continued toward home. Once past Lone Pine, I pulled off to check out some old charcoal kilns, but being so close to the freeway, they had been pretty badly preserved and barely resembled kilns anymore. I made one more stop at a quirky sculpture garden in Olancha, and that was the end of the trip.
It was some quality time spent with my dog, reflecting on everything from the little brook trout’s fiery painted fins to the overwhelming depth of the night sky. Some much needed alone time followed by some much needed family time once the girls got home from their trip.
We headed up to Lone Pine an area we’ve camped many times before, Alabama Hills. I hadn’t been there since before COVID, and it turns out the place had been overwhelmed by people shitting everywhere, so they closed off all the good spots and made them day-use only. The rest of the available spots were already taken, likely by digital nomads clinging to their Star link tucked away in their sprinters and trailers.
We drove just outside the boundary and found a two-track that was overgrown and didn’t look like it had been traveled in quite a while. I followed it in the dark until it dead-ended at a stone-ring fire pit. Perfect. We’d camp here tonight.
I fired up the Howl R1, snapped together my ICECO cot, threw down a Mexican blanket, and lay down to face the universe. I shut off the fire, and then the Milky Way and stars really came alive. I had never cowboy camped before, and it was awesome. The weather was perfect, no bugs, just the endless expanse of the cosmos keeping me up. It’s a lot to think about before bed.
I finally got tired of feeling small and fell asleep. I woke up to an amazing view of Mt. Whitney, the highest point in the contiguous United States, which I had summited about eight years ago. I made a quick coffee, had a few bites of overnight oats from the fridge, and breaking camp was quick work.
We headed to a nearby abandoned mine I had always wanted to check out, the Reward Mine. It’s big enough that you can drive your truck about half a mile into it. I’d seen a few YouTube videos.. you know the ones, with dramatic trailer music and everyone referring to anything they do as an “expedition.” Based on those, I expected the road to be rougher and the mine to be some terrifyingly deep maze.
It wasn’t bad at all. The road was rough for about a quarter mile, but since I was feeling lazy and knew I was getting right back on the highway, I didn’t bother airing down. The truck climbed right up to the mine entrance easily. We drove straight into the mine, and it was really neat. We followed the main corridor all the way back to the open “room” wide enough to turn around in, did a little exploring on foot, then headed back out.
Next stop was Little Lakes Valley for a mellow, senior-dog-appropriate 5 mile hike and to say hello to the alpine lake resident brookies. The trailhead was quite busy, but the trail itself wasn’t too bad, and one of the furthest lakes being our destination helped us lose the crowd. We found a nice bank near the inlet of the lake, and the fish were all over. We fished the 10k elevation lake for a few hours, then made our way back to the truck, stopping by some of the meadow streams to poke around for trout.
I had spotted a place on the map that I wanted to check out for camping on Lake Gregory in the June Lake Loop. Lots of dispersed camping right on the lake. Well, it was no secret. Every lakeside spot was taken, and some had groups of 5–10 RTT rigs. The sun was fading, and I did not have the energy to go find a new area, so we found a spot tucked uphill from the lake. It was actually really pretty, with some beautiful rock features and a nice established fire ring.
I set up my new Kelty Caboose tent and got camp established, planning to stay for two nights. I was so tired from the hike that I stopped for a burger at a small mountain cafe, Tom’s Place, knowing I wouldn’t have the energy to fix dinner over the fire. With dinner already digesting, we settled right in for bed after a little stargazing.
The moment I closed my eyes, the group camping closest to me fired up the karaoke machine, and they did not let up for quite some time. It was loud as hell, they were terrible singers, and at first I got pretty pissed. I was about to go tell them to knock it off and lecture them on how they needed to listen to the frogs and enjoy nature. Then I took a minute and realized I was so tired I’d be asleep in no time. So I brushed it off and dozed into a deep sleep as they sang and drank late into the night, likely waking up to some hospital grade hangovers.
Scout and I slept great, with one midnight pee break to check and make sure the stars were still there. After an easy breakfast and coffee fix, we headed to a nearby trailhead to hike to another lake for more trout fishing. It was great. I got into a bunch of rainbows and browns all over the lake, including some exciting close-quarter fishing at the inlet creek.
I was so content with the successful fishing and hiking that I decided I was going to break camp and head back to LA. As I was making my way back, I noticed a Sprinter van packing up at the most primo and secluded spot I had clocked on the lake. I quickly broke down my camp, stuffed it all in the bed, and snagged the spot.
It was perfect. The karaoke club was too hungover to party, and I was far enough away not to be bothered anyway. I spent the whole afternoon just wading around my own bay, cooking some pollo asado, and drinking in the views. I used my new @Wolfbox MF200 and realized I had been maintaining camp fires wrong my whole life, a few puffs from the lowest setting kept me from singeing my eyebrows huffing into a fire to breath life back into it. Seriously this thing is awesome for keeping the fire alive and the tent and truck tidy. After a few beers and a bundle of wood burnt I finally went to bed to the sweet sound of frogs croaking.
The next morning I took a small detour on my way home through some fire roads and 4x4 trails in the Mammoth area, taking note of future camp locations. I found an epic trail with an amazing view, and it led me right back to the 395.
Back in Bishop, I stopped for gas and a hot pastrami sandwich at Schatt’s Bakery, then continued toward home. Once past Lone Pine, I pulled off to check out some old charcoal kilns, but being so close to the freeway, they had been pretty badly preserved and barely resembled kilns anymore. I made one more stop at a quirky sculpture garden in Olancha, and that was the end of the trip.
It was some quality time spent with my dog, reflecting on everything from the little brook trout’s fiery painted fins to the overwhelming depth of the night sky. Some much needed alone time followed by some much needed family time once the girls got home from their trip.
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