Florence Lake trip reports
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This trip was to Florence Lake (the Jackass Meadows campground) in the Sierra National Forest. This campground features beautiful alpine lakes, hiking, fishing, and cool night air. There are also pit toilets.
The campground is located approximately 80 miles east of Fresno off of State Highway 168.
The cost is $12 / night. The culinary theme is 'food from your own ethnic heritage'.
Sierra National Forest Campgrounds
Directions from Fresno / Clovis
The ranger will call up to Edison / Florence lakes and let you know which campsites are open.
"Vermillion Campground" at Edison Lake has running water, pit toilets, and multiple glacial lakes a short hike away. This campsite is not usually filled. If this one is full, a good second choice is the "Jackass Meadow Campground" at Florence Lake. This campsite has pit toilets but no water, and is rarely filled on weekends. (This is where the CCC stayed on this trip.)
Despite well-intentioned dreams of leaving Cupertino at 9am, I got Beethoven onto the road at 11:30, and headed south towards Gilroy. There was NO garlic festival traffic (yay!), and the trip over Pacheco pass went smoothly. Didn't stop at Casa del Fruta for a flipped cup of coffee, though I recommend the experience to anyone.
Cross the central valley, with an eye over my shoulder hoping that my bird wouldn't overheat. It was HOT out there. Spaulding panted, but didn't wilt. As we headed up Tollhouse Road out of Clovis, I started assuring Spaulding that it would get cooler soon. Just to make sure he was okay, though, I stopped at a rest area and sprinkled my squawking bird with water. He glared at me, but wasn't panting as much.
The ride through the foothills was hot and fairly uninteresting. Things started getting prettier and cooler by the time I hit Shaver Lake. Twenty-odd miles later I turned off at Huntington Lake, intending to stop at the ranger station to look for those who had preceded me.
Just pulling out of the station was a white loaf with shocking teal bumpers and a pop-up roof. I tooted, and then tooted again, and then pulled over. Hail-and-well-met to Dr. Gene and his cute daughter Katy, coming out of Fresno on their first CCC outing. Gene gushed about the road to Florence Lake, and offered to allow me to go ahead of his '67 up the hill. I stopped to put up a large CCC sign, and then headed uphill.
I was driving on a 2-lane modern road that gently ascended into the mountains. I'd heard a lot about this road... Cut from the granite, The Million-Dollar-a-Mile road, no guardrail and certain death to one side, single lane. Was I on the wrong road, or had it been incredibly overhyped? After about 10 minutes, there was a 'road closed' gate (opened), and the road narrowed and started to show its true colors. It climbed through hairpins and switchbacks up to 9100 feet, and then dropped and climbed again. The road's reputation was well-deserved. The drive was spectacular. The van drove beautifully.
At one point, I pulled off right onto a granite ledge and took some photos of Beethoven amongst boulders and ancient trees. He looked very at-home in the alpine environment. In the background, granite peaks held mini-glaciers in their arms.
I finally arrived at Jackass Meadow campground at 5pm, and parked at an open spot near the Baumann's van. A little later Gene & Katy puttered in, and set up a beautiful, fringed bus tent just as the afternoon sprinkling began. We set up, built a fire, ate, and drank. Then we slept.
At 2am, Dan arrived with the Ernests. I heard a knock-knock-knocking upon my Vanagon door, and a tentative voice asking "Ron, is that you?" I turned on the light, and Spaulding looked annoyed to have his sleep so interrupted. A very tired-looking Dan Greening crawled under the curtain into the bus. Again, we slept.
We awoke at the improbable hour of 10 the next morning, and emerged in time to see everyone else set off for the lake. Joe, Patty, and Mackie had slept in as well, so we brunched with them, and finally hiked out in time to see the rest of the folks coming down the granite towards us. We crossed there on the rock face, under a cloudy sky, with the downward group giving tips and advice to the ascendant group.
We topped the
rock and looked down onto the deep blue of Florence Lake. The noon ferry was
heading out across the lake towards the John Muir trail, but otherwise the
surface was undisturbed. Mackie rolled pinecones down the smooth stone slope,
and we took some pictures before picking our way down to the lake.
We came to the water, shucked out shoes, rolled up our pants, and waded in. Near shore, the water was only cool, and very refreshing. We sat there, talking, skipping stones, and chasing a garter snake, for about 2 hours. Dan soaked his shirt in the lake (rinsing off some coffee stains), and then let it air-dry on a log. An occasional boat would slowly motor by, sending small waves clapping against the rocks.
Finally we headed back towards camp. Dan detoured to the peak (where he'd left a coffee mug), and the rest of us took the low route over the low stone mountain. As we headed down the other side, we heard Dan yelling. We yelled back. He yelled again, and we hooted and whistled, the noice echoing a second later from the far cliffs.
When we finally saw him, he was signalling for us to join him. "A ... Rattle ... Snake!" he yelled. Cool!
I got there first, by virtue of not having a small kid in tow. Joe & co. joined us just as the rattle disappeared under a large rock. Luckily, we were able to walk around and see the entire 5' length of the snake stretched out under the rock. Since I thought Mackie should know what a rattler sounds like, I gently poked the snake with Mackie's walking stick, and was rewarded (as I jumped back) with a very serious SH-SH-SH-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh. Mackie looked impressed, and the timber rattler had coiled into striking position. We didn't poke him again.
Soon after returning, some of us headed off to visit the small village and boat launch on the lake. We went cross-country, along the base of the dam. We jumped across the spillway, climbed a ladder, walked across a gangway, and climbed some rocks. We ducked down under trees, crossed brambles, and Dan got stuck chimneying down a crack in a boulder. We walked along dirt inspection roads and wondered how Joe's syncro would manage. Finally, we arrived at the little dock store, and we were very, very thirsty. Luckily, they had some very, very cold drinks. Many ice teas met their death on that afternoon, in the shade by the marge of Lake Florence.
Walking back to the camp, pea-sized hail fell from the sky. Looking across the valley, we could see the sky filled with hail, each piece glinting like a crystal in the sun that slipped through the clouds. We got back to camp just in time to nap, read, and play cards through the heavy afternoon shower.
Our ethnic dinner that night was delicious, with grilled cheese sandwiches (with arugula) from Dan, heritage tomatoes from Ron, a thick broth-like very spicy drink from Joe, curried chicken from Patty, and thick grilled bratworst and sauerkraut from Mike and Betty. We drank german wine and beer. Yum.
On Sunday
morning at 11, we headed out. At one point, all three Vanagons pulled out
onto the granite and lined up. Joe's (red), mine (white), and Mike's (blue),
tilted at a jaunty angle on the sloped rock face. We took many photos. (Watch
for them soon on vanagon.com!)
It was an amazing trip. Peaceful, beautiful, and relaxing. I know that the CCC will have to return there soon for a long 3-day weekend.
To say the least, my daughter Katy, my '67 Popper and I had a superb first outing with the CCC. I have never met a nicer, more open-minded bunch 'o Vanagon drivers in my life. I know...I don't have coolant and stuff, and Joe, Patti and Mackie & Ron and Dan loaned me hand-held CBs to shout "Car coming!" on an as-needed basis. They even let us LEAD, (Katy said it's because we were the most likely to malfunction...) so we had a real neat time -- By the way, the three Vanagons following us were red, white and blue...
I have learned a good deal about campfires...apparently I need a 'command-type' lounge chair in order to be a better witness to the goings-on. I'm off to Radio Shack for a CB as well--magnet mount, I think. Or... perhaps I can split and load my regular radio antenna? Who knows, I'm just a wholistic espresso person with enough tools to be quite dangerous.
Betty took all of my money. And poor little Katy's too. Then she lost it to Joe. And Katy starts college in several weeks...I'll have to loan her my old books.
I have never had a better time in my 16 happy '67 VW-goin' years!
Gene Poole and Katy--Fresno
