We did it.

Davis Airporter shows up in 15 minutes.

Off to Norway. Etc.


Here is the latest addition to the Peterson family:

River Lee Peterson:


8-something pounds

Probably long

Born Friday, July 31, I believe pretty early in the morning

I don’t have his vitals at hand, as you can see; I shall acquire, and append.

In the meantime, here he is with his darling mama, Alexis.

alexis and river

Alexis and John (brother Jay’s son, for those who may not know) were high school sweethearts at South High in Redondo Beach. They’ve been together about 14 years now. They have always been crazy in love, it is plain to see–as I wish all couples were.  They have a massive network of friends, enjoy life at full throttle, are funny and bright, and will make very, very loving parents.

Sometimes, it’s just right. This is one of those times.

I can hardly wait to watch the show.

A couple other pics…

Here’s John, surrounded by Alexis’ huge bevy of bridesmaids at their wedding about three years ago, on the cliff above Bluff Cove:

wedding party better

And here is one I’ve always loved of them (there are so many):


And for the record, I managed to get a call into John the day after River was born. We were in Yosemite and connectivity and logistics were challenging. At the time of my call, I was sitting beside…. yes!…. a river–the Dana fork of the Tuolumne, as a matter of fact–which made me smile.


August 3, 2015

I’d whine about how much I hate packing for trips but: 1) it would be insufferably, annoyingly, spoiled-bratty of me; and 2) I don’t have time.


I will just say…. it’s challenging to find the room for all that we might need for hiking in the upper latitudes (Norway) and high altitudes (Swiss Alps). Down? Soft shells? Rain pants and parkas? Thermals? Never mind boots and poles and other standard gear. Weather reports are calling for rain and cold temps, after all. And then… room for the stuff we might need for evening dining, say, in a couple of the more sophisticated European capitals.

The bumming around stuff is easier, but still….   whine.

Okay, I gotta do this thing.

Buh Bye Yosemite

August 2, 2015

Go home day. Always sad. Leaves them (me) wanting more (always). I figure part of my melancholy related to my inability to hike much this year and this sense that I am missing too much. Truly, this is a jab to the heart.

Okay, so that was icky, but we cut our trip short anyway because we’re leaving in two days on a really big trip, so no time to be too sad.

Some last day traditional pics…

Me ‘n P on the stoop of our cabin:


The smaller-than-usual Frame contingent: John, Dean, Matthew, Maita, Jim and Peter (no Matalon-Frames this year for a variety of reasons: Ben out of country, Maia living in D.C., and Monica tweaked her knee and couldn’t walk):


Before departing, Peter and I decided on YET MORE GIN RUMMY (I’m tellling you, the kid’s hooked). But who could blame us…


On the road by about 11:30. Parting shots of the meadow:

A close up of Lembert…


A far away of Lembert….


Cloud over Pothole…


Then, stopped at the Priest Station for lunch…


Opted for the Old Priest Grade…with a view across the canyon of the New Priest Grade…


In spite of lots of rain in the Sierra this summer, Don Pedro’s still scarily low…


But here’s something to smile about…. our first Bernie bumper sticker…


(From Costa Mesa, no less…)

Got home around 4:30.. four hours on the road, plus an hour stop. Worth every hip-compressing, legs-restless, butt-tiring second.

I put myself on rest mode today. The John Frames took off up the road for Bennettville–old mining settlement just beyond the Tioga gate–and hiked a few miles up the lake-dotted canyon behind it…and had a great acclimation day. They said they really loved the area and were thankful for the suggestion (we’d gone there last year).

Jim and Peter took off for a long hike with a leg of new territory (route described below).

I went here… the Dana Fork of the T, just a couple hundred yards from the cabin, if that.


… and basically plunked against that rock on the far left for part of the day and against the one on the far right for the other part.

My view of Lembert Dome (right peak) and points beyond:


Or, if I was looking up:


But mostly I read, or did this:


Just be’d happy.

At the first drops, I bailed however (several hours later). Timed it quite well, I must say, because shortly after getting back to the cabin, it did this:


Shot through screen door, lest I get soaked. Of course you can’t see the rain and hail, but it was spectacular. The hail balls collected in every imaginable space (no pictures because I was just too mesmerized to move). The thunder was deafening and exciting.

I assumed everyone out on their respective trails was getting doused, but it turns out the storm was very localized. Like, very localized…just in the environs around the tent cabins and a bit into the meadow. Rivulets were everywhere throughout the camp; everything got deeply soaked and saturated. It was a very cool thing for thirsty, dry soil and brittle plants.

It lasted several hours.

And it was gloriously dramatic.

Peter and Jim came back while it was still happening, quite shocked, but they’d spent their day in warm sunshine and dryness. They started at the Cathedral Peak trailhead, hiked up to Cathedral pass (about 4 miles), traversed Long Meadow (virgin territory for them, about 3.5 miles), arrived at Sunrise High Sierra Camp and ate lunch, then hiked down to Tenaya Lake (another 5 miles).  Here are a few pictures Jim took:

Peter, at the pass, Cathedral Peak in background:


Here’s Peter hiking out ahead–the usual, he’s a very fast hiker.


And here’s Long Meadow:


Great days had by all.

Evening was a marathon of card games–many of which were violent–with all of us in the lodge. I’d forgotten how much I love Hearts (not one of the violent ones). We ate with a friendly but very obnoxious retired fellow from San Diego who was anxious about a nine day guided trip he was about to embark on the following day. Such are many of the HSC hikers–slightly older folks, but typically their hearts and mountain sensibilities are all in the right place.

Peter and I ended the night with yet another 3-game set of gin rummy… another ten hands in the record books. At this point, I am beginning to lag way behind. He is enjoying this immensely.