As Sarah mentioned in the last blog, Mt. Whitney was sort of the final big item on our list of stuff to do this summer. We’d actually scored one more set of permits in the Sierra, but they had been sort of a backup plan in case Whitney hadn’t panned out. As it was, however, we’d had so many good days of climbing, that we really didn’t feel too excited to turn around and do another long pack-in, plus there was a forest fire in our next region that was creating smoky skies. Instead, we decided it would be a great time to find a place to swim and chill out for a few days before making the long drive from California to Indiana to see our family and make final preparations for our trip across the pond.
Before leaving the Whitney area, though, we made an important stop at Manzanar, the former Japanese Internment Camp. Most of us probably know about this unfortunate part of our country’s history, in which we relocated and imprisoned (let’s not mince words…our government admitted its mistake years ago) Japanese American citizens living on the coast in desolate middle-of-nowhere internment camps after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Stuck in the middle of the desert, 10,000 people were forced to call Manzanar their home from 1942-45, a few months after the end of the war. Keep in mind, that’s 10,000 people sharing one square mile of desert. Although moved in response to irrational fears of collaborating with the enemy, not a single Japanese American intern was ever convicted of conspiring with Japan. The people gave up their possessions, homes, businesses, and communities—most never returning—in exchange for tar paper and plank barracks (often housing multiple families) that offered minimal protection from dust or cold.  After the war (and a Supreme Court order), prisoners left with $25 and one-way bus tickets. The visitor’s center does a great job of focusing on the people who lived in Manzanar through videos, photos, and written accounts. In today’s culture of fear-based argument and dehumanizing people for nearly any perceived difference, I wish everyone could spend an hour at Manzanar.
Lake Tahoe was our locale of choice for some R and R after a summer of pushing our bodies. I’d never actually been there, except to drive through on the way to climb at Lover’s Leap a couple of years ago, so I wasn’t sure what to expect but was really ready for a swim! We were a little shocked, though, at just how crowded it was when we got into town—luckily, it was Sunday, and the week was much quieter. The City Campground is quite a dump—they planned to build new bathrooms next month, which was absolutely irrelevant to us. So it was that I managed to poop everywhere in Tahoe (Les Schwab, a State Park bathroom, Safeway, and a Ford dealership in Nevada) except the place we called home! Anyway, we spent the next few days sun-bathing and reading beside the crystal blue water, taking brief but refreshing swims in the cold water, and generally living a blissfully slothful existence. We had planned to move to Lover’s Leap at the end of the week, but Craggin’s battery officially kicked the bucket on the morning we wanted to leave (thus, the pooping in Nevada), so we ended up just moving to that side of the lake and learning to stand-up paddleboard (super fun!) before heading east on the long road to Indiana.
Here are the greatest hits and observations…also known as just enough to keep us sane through 30 hours of straight, 4-lane nothing:
- Detouring to Ft. Collins, CO to see our great friends, Ryan and Leslie Morrison, their adorable daughter Clara, and our old 4-legged pal Wylie. The mark of good friends is being able to pick up right where you left off as if it hadn’t been way too long, and we were so lucky to share a ton of laughs with them last week.
- Summitting our 6th state high point (2nd via car) at Panorama Point, Nebraska (5,429 ft.) Unlike the highpoint of Iowa that we summitted a few years ago, you can see over the corn at this one.
- Nebraska sucks…in fact it might be the one thing Meat Loaf would not do for love.
- If Nebraska is not that one thing, then McDonald’s chicken tenders are.
- Stumbling onto (not into…or out of) a wonderful lunch at a winery in Kickapoo, IL.
- Pulling into the Mathews’ driveway way too long after leaving Nebraska.
The past week, we’ve had a great time with our family in Indiana (including a fun barbecue, impromptu chin-up competition spanning 3 generations, baking pasties, tennis matches, and a memorable Scattergories contest), trying to figure out how our niece and nephew seem to grow up when we can’t seem to do the same, and transitioning from van life to backpacker life as we make final preparations to fly out on Wednesday—next stop Slovenia! If you are really tired of reading about climbing, stick with us because we’re about to go Rick Steves on y’all…
I agree on the interment, I would like Togo there sometime.