Happenings

The summer trips my family takes are always met with great anticipation-especially if it involves a visit to Mammoth Lakes, California…my all time favorite place to be! One of the reasons I enjoy this trip so much is that I am give nthe chance to take my children on some of the same adventures I went on as a child. However, while exposign them to my own memorable experiences, I inadvertantly create new ones for them in the process.

That was what happened warm summer afternoon as we ventured out on a hike. Our original plan was to follow a familiar trail that runs just below Old Mammoth Rock.

“Mike,” I hollered up the trail, “let’s just go around this bend and stop-I don’t want the kids to get too tired.”

“Oh Mommy,” Carrie whined, “Can’t we walk all the way to there…” she asked pointing far across the meadow that lay below us.

“I don’t know Carrie,” Mike replied, “It’s awfully far.”

“Peeeeeez,” three year old Christopher chimed in.

With much hesitation, we relented and agreed to hik the entire 3 mile trail down the mountain and across the meadow below.

Our hike was fairly quiet as Carrie took the lead along the dusty trail. I followed a short ways behind her holding Christopher’s hand so he wouldn’t wander off the trail and Mike walked beside us. Suddenly from up ahead, Carrie turned and chattered, “Hey look! A horse!”

“No there’s not, Carrie,” I answered condescendingly, “Horses don’t come up here on this trail, it’s too narrow!”

“Uh-huh Mommy! I saw a horse!”

I rolled my eyes, not believing a word she said and tried to catch up with her to show her just how wrong she was. As Christopher and I emerged from the trees to where Carrie stood we were greeted by the shock of our lives! As it turned out, it was not just A horse on the trail-it was A hundred horses clampering up the trail in front of us! As luck would have it, we had stumbled upon an old fashioned horse drive.

We had to step off of the trail to allow the ginormous herd of horses to pass. While waiting, we sat on a giant boulder just watching the 100 horses make their way from their winter home in Independence, California to their summer home in mammoth Lakes. We’ve never seen that many horses at once…what a moment to remember!

Students:  This week I would like you to focus on writing a QUALITY comment to this blog. I am seeing too many comments where the only thing you have to say to the writer is “I liked it.” or “That was really good but you need flashy vocab” (there is so much more to writing than flashy vocab!) Think about what a teacher or another adult would say to the writer about the piece…please respond to this piece with a QUALITY comment in which you:

1.  Tell the writer at least one specific thing that you liked or you believe is a strength about the piece (besides flashy vocab!)

2.  Give the writer at least one suggestion for improvement…every writer has room to grow, but they won’t know what to do unless you tell them!

S-M-A-C-K went the fish as it flew through the air. WHAT? That just doesn’t sound right does it? But I am here to tell you that’s exactly how it went…with some human intervention of course!

It all occurred one lazy summer afternoon on the banks of Lake Beorge in Mammoth Lakes, CA. Our family had been fishing for nary an hour when the first fish of the day was caught (sadly, it was not by me). Jan, my grandad’s friend, had hooked a small fish and quickly reeled it in though the water that lapped the edges of the lake. The slimy, scaly fish glistened in the sunlight as it lay flopping in the shallow water.

“Jan, I think he’s too small. YOu’d better throw him back,” my grandad whispered sheepishly to her.

With that, Jan knelt over to firmly grasp the tiny fish in order to degouge the hook from his throat. ONce hte hook was removed she reached back with the fish in hand to hurl him towards the lake with the might of a Louisville slugger. Only her aim was not that of a first rate picther…and instead of landing gently into the lake he flew through the air and…S-M-A-C-K…right up against a tree!

Our day of fishing didn’t end there however when the poor little fish had met an untimely death as he flew
into the tree. He lay there floating lifelessly in the water at the tree’s feet while our fishing rods darted back and forth from the center of the lake HOPING to catch another.

And finally we did…but sadly…once again it wasn’t I who saw the tip of the fishing pole dancing in the breeze to tell me that there was a bit. “Oooohhhh! I’ve got another fantastic fish!” Jan squeeled.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t kill this one,” I muttered under mybreath. Jan quickly and quietly reeled in her line whiel the rest of us watch with baited (no pun intended) breath to see if this would be the big catch of the day. At last we began to see a ripple in the water to indicate that the fish was near and the…flip, flip, flop…we were disappointed once again to see a bitty baby fish floppin on the shores of the lake. His eyes looked sadly up at us crying “Please, I don’t want to die!”

“Drats!” Jan garbled, “He’s too small too…I guess I’ll have to throw him back as well.”

With that-Jan knelt over to firmly grasp the tiny fish in order to degouge the hook from his throat. ONce hte hook was removed she reached back with the fish in hand to hurl him towards the lake with the might of a Louisville slugger. The fish flew gracefully past the trees towards the cool blue waters of the lake. “Phew!” I chorgled, “Looks like this one made it!”

No sooner had I uttered the wrods than a giant white gull flew sneakily from the tree tops screaming “Lunch, lunch, lunch…”, scooped down towards the water and swallowed our bitty baby fish in one gulp!

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, “Time for our fishing poles to say goodbye! Killing 2 baby fish in one day is QUITE enough for me!”

It has been said to me many a time that a little boy and a puddle are just like magnets and will eventually attract. I suppose I should have remembered that, and even thought twice, before I took my son on a hike…along a cold mountain creek!

It all began last June late in the afternoon. My family and I were on our yearly pilgrimage to Mammoth Lakes, CA and were truly enjoying the beauty of the mountains. Having come to Mammoth Lakes for many years (since I was younger than my own children) I was very familiar with the area. or rather very familiar with certain features of the area. There were however many hikes and adventures I had never been on. It was for this reason that we decided this year, to take a hike or two into unchartered territory (at least for us anyway). And that is just what we did. This late afternoon, we were going to take the treacherous hike back to T.J. and Barrett Lakes.

We began our journey by driving up the winding mountain road towards the lakes basin and parked our car in the lot near Lake George. After tying our jackets around our waists and tightening up our hiking boots we began what appeared to be an easy hike around Lake George to the trail head. Easy on the body anyway-not so easy on an eight year old boy when he saw the rushing creek up ahead. “Oooooo…look at the water! How are we going to get across it?” Christopher asked excitedly.

Inside I was groaning for I knew just what he wanted to do..he wanted to walk through the cold creek. I’m sure at the moment that would be quite fun for him, it would however make the rest of the hike unbearable for the rest of use because we would have to listen to him complain about his wet boots. “We’ll find a way, don’t worry…” I answered firmly.

“Oh, I’m not worried!” he replied sheepishly.

Thankfully, as we approached the creek, which ran about 3 inches deep, my husband was able to create a path of small boulders for us to step on. Success! “Yes!” I thought to myself “One catastrophe averted!”

Our family of 4 continued on our way up the mountain side towards T.J. and Barret Lakes. It was most certainly not an easy climb, although not so difficult that we turned back however. Once we arrived at the lakes we spent a short while sitting beside the clear water’s edge sipping on cool water bottled to reenergize ourselves and watching the fish swim in the lakes. It was one of the most beautiful sites I have ever seen.

After we were well rested we decided not to return to our car via the trail, but instead chose to follow the creek downstream to the lake and then walk alongside the lake back to our vehicle. We were getting hungry, and it was close to dinnertime so we figured this would get us home sooner. MISTAKE #1!

As we began walking downhill, we came upon several LARGE snow drifts that had not melted yet in the summer sun. They were sloppy, slushy snow drifts that our feet sunk into with each step we took. It was inevitable…with conditions like this our feet were bound and determined to get wet. Yet we forged on…determined to finish our adventure in the manner of true outdoorsmen, after all…who needed a trail to follow? MISTAKE #2!

Now, anyone who has spent time near melting snow drifts knows that underneath what appears to be a solid piece of snow likes dripping water and tiny streams of runoff. And anyone who has been near dripping water and runoff in the mountains knows that only one thing can be created in such a situation…MUD!

I should add at this moment that we were all getting rather tired-the hike down the hill was much more difficult than the hike up the trail and we found ourselves slipping and sliding with each step we took. Finally though, we emerged at the edge of the lake next to a tiny abandoned cabin with a huge snow drift next to it…that was just perfect for sliding down! MISTAKE #3!

So, as tired as they were, Carrie & Christopher summoned up the energy to plop their bottoms onto the icy drift and slide down the hill (thank goodness they avoided the mud puddle at the bottom of the drift-boy would THAT have been messy!). As soon as they reached the bottom they both bounded for the side of the lake where we could see a trail that would lead us back to the car. SPLAT! “What was that?” I asked as I heard a slopping sucking sound. When I looked over my shoulder I could see my Christopher pulling his boot out of what appeared to be about 4 inches of mud. Even the bottom of his jeans were muddy. “Ugh!” I groaned. He however simply smiled at me and yelled “COOL!”. I didn’t say anything…just rolled my eyes and began walking ahead of the kids on the trail…MISTAKE #4!

I should have stayed beside them. I should have guided them along the trail. I should have said something about the mud and how we needed to keep his boots dry. But I didn’t…like I said…mistake #4. As we rounded the bend toward the end of the trail we once again approached the same rushing creek. Now remember…I’m walking ahead of the kids, they are tired and lagging behind quite a bit, but I knew they were safe and couldn’t get lost on a trail that was so simple and close to the car.

Once I came nearer to the creek, I carefully stepped onto the same small boulders that my husband had laid out as I crossed the creek. I carefully made my way across so that my boots wouldn’t get wet. And then I kept walking…leaving the kids behind. A few short minutes later Mike & I realized that we hadn’t heard anything form the kids so we quickly glanced back to make sure they were okay. Once I saw them, I wanted to scream…and I did, “Christopher! Stay out of the creek!” But I was too late. I stood in horror as I watched my little guy traipsing back and forth through the creek splashing water from here to kingdom-come! Water was spraying everywhere-I just knew he was going to be drenched!

I rapidly darted down the dusty path back towards the creek to put a stop to this behavior, afterall, now his boots would be wet (and hiking boots take FOREVER to dry out), his socks would be drenched, his jeans would be sopping, and I just knew he would complain all the way back to our cabin. “Christopher! What in the world are you doing! Get out of there…that water is too cold…your going to get sopping wet! Why in teh world are you walking through the water like that?”

Once again…the sheepish grin…”My boots were dirty. I thought you’d want me to wash them before I got in the van.”

I had to hold back a giggle on that one…instead I managed to look at him condescendingly and calmly say “Christopher…next time…STAY OUT OF THE CREEK!”

Little boys and puddles…little boys and creeks…a true magnetic attraction!

photo credit: patrick dentler

Now, students, please post a quality comment on this week’s entry. Remember to tell the author what you liked about the piece (maybe it was a powerful line, a personal connection, flashy vocab, the picture the story painted for you, author’s crafting tools, etc.). After you tell the author something good about the piece, let them know what area you think they could improve and HOW they can do that (remember EVERY author has room for improvement). Finally, let the author know what you would like from them next…do you have any questions about this piece? Would you like to hear more stories like this one? What can this writer do for you as their reader?