An interlude in the Plumas

 We got away from our cell phones and computers for a few days. Went up to the Spanish Ridge area above Quincy. Slogged up to Silver Lake in about 5 inches of snow after the V.V. wasn't safe to drive further. First we relied on the truck tracks of other intrepid wanderers but after awhile it was just us trudging up the trackless snow-covered dirt road. It was beautiful and worth the haul to feel healthy and alive up there with no other humans anywhere near.

 We camped by the side of the road that circles Bucks Lake and were able to ski the next day on a north-west shaded road that follows the lake line. Again, no one around and just fits and spits of light rain until we returned when all hell broke lose with the skies and Michael seemed to have food poisoning and we weathered a long night with me deep in worry. In the morning he was well and we headed back the way we had come and got this shot of the lake from the deserted but more built up side of the lake.

 We headed home down along Hwy 70 in the treacherous Feather River Canyon. We stopped for a stroll when there was a break in the rain to wander up roaring Rock Creek. While we waited in the VV we saw a number of long strings of railroad cars go by on the trellis overhead...many seemed to be oil tankers, a very frightening and dangerous prospect if there is ever an accident.

 The earth has loved this rain and it was good to see a California newt out enjoying it. The drought hasn't gone away and neither have our health concerns but we've had a respite, a chance to feel a cleansing of spirit and a deep soak of what we need for whatever comes next.