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March 19, 2010

Signs of Spring

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February 17, 2010

Back in the Saddle

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Craig Ainley


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Ken McKee



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Tony Rabb


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Earl McKee & Plenty Valentine

Continue reading "Back in the Saddle" »

February 16, 2010

Reflections at Railroad

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June 4, 2009

Weaning

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Gathering Field
Greasy Creek

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Greasy Cove
Lake Kaweah

Robbin got a couple of pictures last weekend when we went up the hill to feed the calves in Greasy.

March 12, 2009

The Top

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Sulphur Ridge from Railroad Spring



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Alta Peak (elephant) and the Great Western Divide

November 29, 2008

Spanish Flats

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January 10, 2006

Snow Stacked High on the Elephant's Back

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Alta Peak, Sequoia National Park
May 11, 2005

Robbin & I need to get up to Sulphur, where this photograph was taken, for some snow pictures of this year's Sierras.

Known as the �the elephant� to locals and residents of Three Rivers, I must have a dozen poems inspired by the snow on Alta Peak. It�s difficult not to lose and find myself in this view for an hour or two, all part of the magic of landmarks triggering memories, histories and an enriched sense of place.

Perhaps the mid-1960s when working for Bill DeCarteret as a packer out of Wolverton and Mineral King was the most idyllic time of my life. A 12-14 hour round trip, we would supply Bearpaw Meadow, an outpost for backpackers, by mule string once a week with eggs, bacon, bread, canned goods, etc. After the snow melted, we'd cross the elephant�s legs towards Buck Creek Canyon. It was not unusual for me to sleep in the saddle on the way back once the mules were lined-out for the Wolverton corrals, near Giant Forest.

Then beyond Bearpaw is Tamarack and Hamiltion Lakes and that portion of the High Sierra Trail to Kaweah Gap tunneled through granite - to get packed mules through, straight-off sheer and sharp left when you hit daylight. On the other side of the rocky notch of the Great Western Divide, a series of shallow lakes down the Big Arroyo to the Five Lakes Basin � where one day Ron Paregien and I caught some awfully big Rainbows at Lost Lake with a spinning rod, bobber, tapered leader and a dry fly. Crystal-clear water growing green near the bottom you could not see, we watched the big lunkers rise from twenty feet to hit the bobber and head back down before turning to hit the fly. Or the morning he and I shoveled snow off Blackrock Pass to get our stock and separate parties over, reminding of the thunderstorm of one my earliest cowboy poems.

Down the Big Arroyo towards the Kern River lies the Chagoopa Plateau, like riding across the surface of another planet around Sky Parlor Meadow, a magical, mystical place that was hell for hunting horses.

The Hot Springs at the Kern, Funston Meadow, more camps and friends recalled it seems I can�t forget.

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