The car is packed, the tank full of gas. We’ve got music and “The Everything Store” on Audible to listen to.  I run through my mental check list as Dave starts the engine…Cell phones, charging cord, auxiliary cord, water, lunch, handicapped placard, sunglasses. I think we’re ready. If we don’t have something, we’ll stop and buy it. I giggle as I look over my shoulder to make sure the garage door is closed as we both remember a text from our neighbor a few years ago asking if we’d left home yet. “Yes”, I texted back. “6 hours ago why?” Quick return, “Your garage door is open.” That’s what happens when you get excited to hit the road and get out and go. With Dave wearing a long sleeve shirt and me in summer-weight short sleeves, it’s just possible we may be able to agree on keeping the AC on.

Truckee is 561 miles from San Diego, via US 395, about a ten hour drive if traffic and weather co-operate. Dave could do it all in one day, but since I don’t like sitting that long, we break it up by staying in Bishop over night. The on-ramp to I-5 North takes us onto an eight lane highway which transports thousands of people 24 hours a day. San Diego is, after all, the eighth largest city in the United States, a fact that is both good and bad.

It takes two hours of freeway mentality to get through the nasty Riverside interchange, skirt San Bernardino, wind up the Cajon Pass, to the turn-off for US 395—one of our favorite roads. My dream is to someday take every turn-off from Olancha to the Nevada border, and see where they go. The numbing drive finally gets us to Kramer Junction where we start enjoying ourselves…get gas, chocolate chip cookies at the Roadhouse Restaurant, pit stop for us and the dogs.

The vast Mojave Desert stretches around us now with Joshua Trees, cholla cactus and cresosote bushes plus lots of creatures we can’t see. About four hours from home, the southern end of the Sierra mountains come into view. We watch the stark, jagged, rocky ridge grow in height as we speed north at 75-80 miles an hour, leapfrogging 18 wheelers on long stretches of two lane road.

Aah…395. Probably our favorite road in the world. As a teenager, I could recite the names of towns heading north on the way to skiing at Mammoth. Olancha, Lone Pine, Indepence, Big Pine, Bishop. But even more interesting are the uninhabited places most people see only as names on maps. Coso Petroglyphs with 100,000 rock paintings up to 10,000 years old.   Alabama Hills, a filming site for dozens of western movies and television shows. Manzanar, the first wartime internment camp that imprisoned over 11,000 Japanese Americans—a sobering landmark. Owens River, which fed into the Owens Lake that has been dry since about 1913 when businessmen diverted the water to the Los Angeles Aqueduct. It’s incredible that only 135 miles separate Mt Whitney from Badwater in Death Valley, the highest and lowest points in the continental United States. A book published in 1991 is still my favorite go-to resource for this highway—”California’s Eastern Sierra, A Visitor’s Guide.”

eastern-sierra-book-cover

Every time we drive through Lone Pine, I relive my two backpacking trips up Mt Whitney—in my first year of college with an ex-boyfriend, and then with friends during medical school. In my minds eye I see “Grandma Whitney,” Hulda Crooks, the woman from Loma Linda, California, who climbed Mt Whitney 23 times between the ages of 65 and 91. I was 12 years old  the first time she made the ascent and she was one of my heroes as every year she repeated the climb.

We hurry on, trying to stay at 75 miles per hour, hoping not to attract the attention of the CHP that patrols the back side of the Sierras. Our destination is Bishop, where we choose to stay overnight on every trip to Truckee, solely so we can have sushi at Yamatani Japanese Restaurant and Sushi Bar. I know what you’re saying…raw fish in Bishop? Why would anyone do that? Well, because it’s one of the best sushi restaurants in California. Robbie Tani will tell you they get the same fresh fish from all over the world that you’d get in Los Angeles or San Francisco…airplanes are the answer.

While sipping on our drinks we pull up the towns north of us on our weather apps. We’ve known all week that we’re heading into a big storm, several feet of snow are expected in the Sierras over the next few days. Dave’s 4-Runner has four-wheel drive, all-terrain tires and we carry chains. We have food in an ice chest and warm clothes. In two hundred miles tomorrow, we will cross five mountain passes, the highest being Conway Summit at 8,138 ft. Over the years we’ve driven this stretch of road as slow as 35 mph for hours in 4 wheel-drive on unplowed roads several times. It can be nerve-wracking but also other-earthly and serene, in the silence only heard with heavy snow falls. I usually have a tight grip on the door, hoping we won’t slide.

Snow on Highway 395The next morning snow starts falling south of Mammoth. An hour after leaving, Dave slows and shifts into 4-wheel drive. Soon we are grateful to be crawling along behind a snow-plow. Passing through Lee Vining we have cell reception long enough to see that I-80 is now closed in both directions, effectively blocking traffic from Reno to Sacramento. This is a major problem. Maybe not for us on this trip—but certainly for the 30,000 vehicles that are reported to travel over the Donner pass every day.  (Interstate 80 Annual Average Daily Traffic (AADT) from Interstate-Guide.com) Our best hope to get to Truckee now is to sneak in via US 50 and go along thet eastern shore of Lake Tahoe.

As we creep along, Dave and I do a little time-warp travel to the winter of 1846-47, the winter the Reed and Donner families took a shortcut through the desert on their way to California. Jacob Donner was a well-to-do, sixty-year old man when he left Missouri with his family, household belongings and covered wagons.

Dave and I are in our sixties, and that’s where the similarities stop. Starting from Springfield, Illinois, they had about 120 days to cover 2,200 miles of trails with covered wagons, which translates into nearly twenty miles a day. At times they had to take the wheels off their wagons and pull them up steep trails. Reaching the eastern Sierras near Truckee meadows (current-day Reno) late in the season, they were doomed by an early start to winter and an eventual snow accumulation of 22 feet. Only 48 of the 87 people survived that winter. The Donner Party, Donner Lake, Donner Pass, Donner Summit—all appelations memorializing the tragedy that befell Jacob Donner and Joseph Reed’s families.

Today we routinely travel 550 miles in ten hours. Weather predictions aid our planning. When slowed by snow, we put our car in 4-wheel drive and slow down to 25-30 miles an hour. Hundreds of 18-wheeler trucks transport goods over the Donner Summit. We don’t take this trip lightly. 170 years after the Donner Party, we know Mother Nature can still have the upper hand.

By the way, check out my Reference page for other outdoor resources.