A Blog of Personal Thoughts

Spring at 5,000 Feet

April 2024

Spring at 5,000 feet is different. It’s nine degrees one night. It’s 62 degrees one day a week later. Snow fell yesterday night and today it’s all gone. We have no daffodils, lilac buds, or even dandelions yet. I think of dandelions as the first spring flower. I love their rich, full yellow color. To look at them is like looking at the sun without damaging my eyes. As a child, I picked them for my mother, only to find out they did not last the day. Such a beautiful flower on this weed.

What happens in spring at this altitude or in the northern clime of Alaska? Snow, more sun, the fluctuation between warm and cold temperatures. The awakening of the earth. The passing over of the sandhill cranes as they fly from California to their nesting grounds in northern Alaska. They pass over Lakeview on their way to a short stop in Gustavus, Alaska. Deer grazing in our side yard in Lakeview.

A pair of sandhill cranes strolling through Camas Valley. When on the ground or doing a flyover, they have a beautiful, distinctive, rattling bugle call.

I stood three feet from this little fellow. Was he hoping I’d throw him some food since the grass was still unavailable?

The neighbor’s house protected eleven deer from the cold south wind blowing steadily at 30 miles per hour. We had many twigs all over the lawn, but the grass is turning green. (Yes, he was having his house re-roofed.)

Every day Robert and I drove thirteen miles into Camas Valley. We passed the ski hill, now closed, and down into the valley for our daily walk of a few miles through the valley. We parked at the Sno-Park and crossed the main road that goes to Winnemucca, Nevada. When we were here for almost a year, thanks to COVID, we walked and sometimes I cross-country skied. That late winter and early spring was not so windy and we got up into the mountains. This year, the drifts were too deep to drive to high altitudes. We had to be happy with Camas Valley every day.

Guano Valley, another 50 miles to the east, has a different climate. It’s where Robert’s grandfather ranged his sheep and cattle. Several years ago, the Barry Reservoir was practically a mere puddle. Those atmospheric rivers that devastated parts of California was a recent blessing to Lake County, a high mountain desert. We were in a drought, but now have some water. The Barry Reservoir was small, but now it’s its 18 or 30 miles long and winds through the valleys it fills. What makes it a reservoir and not a lake? To control the water, some rancher put in a small dam. I’d rather it be Barry Lake, but in any event, I like this long body of water.

Without a doubt, Guano Valley is one of my favorite places of all the traveling I’ve done. I picture living out there in the old ranch house with its cistern working. No, now it’s falling down. I could go there and camp for a week or three. Take plenty of water and enough food.

Part of the Barry Reservoir. We parked here and walked down to the shore.

Explore the desert floor on foot. Look at the stars at night without any ambient light from anywhere. Bend over to see small desert flowers in March bloom. Live with no electricity, phone, or internet. What an adventure in 2024! I’ve thought of that for years and longed to do it. I wonder if I ever will.

A small desert flower in mid-March.