Best Camping Trip Ever Part 1: The Arse Crack of Dawn

I always get asked about how I want to spend my weekends while I'm here. My U.S. friends are invariably concerned that I'm not lonely and that I'm having fun, and are incredibly generous and selfless with their time, and their willingness to share it with me.


Both years I've toyed with the idea of doing some hiking in either one of the many State or National Parks within striking distance. Somehow, work has always prevailed and besides, it's not quite as much fun exploring on my own.


I've visited Yosemite before, and while it's astoundingly gobsmacking, it's over 4 hours away, so there would be a limit as to how much new stuff I could see in a weekend visit. Big Basin State Park, about an hour away, appealed to me, but the Skyline to Sea walk is an overnighter and so not great as a solo venture. Sean and I visited Henry Cowell Redwood State Park last year.


When I told Val and Mike about my park aspirations, Mike recommended Sequoia National Park (south of Yosemite), saying that he'd wanted to take Val for a while. He told tales of tall trees, and meadows with bears gamboling therein. We all got enthused about the possibility of an overnight camping trip, until Val remembered she'd signed on for a weekend climbing course. Then, while we were walking on East Cliff Drive last Wednesday night, Val got a call that made her smile: her course had been cancelled!

GAME ON!!


If you replace "cake" with "camping" in the below pictures, courtesy once again of Allie Brosh at Hyperbole and a Half, you get the idea as to our level of excitement:

Never mind that we had a mere two days in which to plan our somewhat impromptu venture. Luckily, we were in the hands of Mike, who is a man after my own heart when it comes to organisation. Before you could say "sleeping bag", emailed lists were flying to and fro, gear was hired, meals were planned, shopping lists were made, weather reports checked, routes and distances confirmed, and we were golden. Mike even researched the best diners in Fresno for breakfast, a worthwhile undertaking:


"I've found what should be a good diner (http://www.irenescafe.com/) (83 google reviews, 4/5 star average ... was much better than the 1/5 star Denny's where somebody complained about a hooker in the parking lot)"


In Australia, one refers to an early start as "getting up at sparrow's fart" . According to Wiktionary, this has the folk etymology of being the time of day when the birds (including sparrows) first wake up, and presumably fart.

In discussing the necessary 5am Saturday morning departure time for the trip, Mike introduced me to the American equivalent. He stated we would be getting on the road,

"At the arse-crack of dawn".

(Sorry folks, no photos on that one).

I love cross-cultural exchange of colloquialisms.


Accordingly, the arse-crack of dawn on Saturday (= 3:45am) saw me hauling myself from my bed, throwing everything from pillows to par-boiled spaghetti into the truck, and heading over to Val and Mike's, where more serious packing ensued (viz-a-viz, everything that was not my food and clothes, which would be pretty much all the gear).


At 5:30am we were on the road, and following a much-appreciated and highly tactful early morning U.S. driving lesson, with particular reference to Stop signs (see "Driving Miss Natalie"), and a slight misunderstanding on my part invoking the more scenic route to Watsonville, we were on our way. By 8:30am we were in Fresno, and three stomachs were audibly growling, despite bananas en route.


I remembered Fresno as being a somewhat "meh" city and the last main stop en route to the parks. But Mike's research paid off as we encountered the prettier side of the city, with lovely avenues, gracious homes, and the best diner in town. Bagels, steak and homemade granola were all appreciatively ingested (and I finally found out that "lox" is smoked salmon!), before Val took the wheel for the last 90 minutes of driving.

Flat plains gave way to "oak savanna", the predominant Californian natural vegetation. We slowly started climbing.

We knew we were getting close when Smokey Bear started issuing warnings:

"Remember, only YOU can prevent forest fires!"

Three Rivers is the last town before the park. We stopped to watch some intrepid white-water rafters:

One lot got stuck on a rock, but they made it off okay:

And then, at 11:00am, we made it to the entrance of the park. Hurrah!

I had to ask Val to reverse back so I could bring you this exclusive shot. Back seat photographers......

And just to make sure you know you're here, there's another sign. But you can't have too many photos of signs telling you that you've arrived at cool places.

Just inside the park, we encountered these incredible flowers. Mike and Val explained that they are related to yukka plants, and that they take 20 years to flower. Then they flower on a single day. I can't remember the name (I'll edit it in if Mike or Val remind me), but they are just stunning.

Before long, we arrived at our campsite, Buckeye Flat (black arrow):

Buckeye Flat doesn't take bookings for weekends; it's first-come, best served for the campsites. Hence the Arse-Crack-of-Dawn start.

The joint was pretty jiving, and the spaces Mike had initially thought might be good were taken. But on our second loop around the site, we found the PERFECT location. When we went and registered with the "camp hostess", she expressed her amazement that no-one else had taken Site 18, because it was the best one.

There were no arguments whatsoever from this posse of happy campers!

It was private, yet still in direct line of sight of the (flushing) toilets (important if you're my bladder at night), it had sun and shade, and it was right by the river.

You can see how private it is - the car is parked well above the camping space below:

The brown cupboard is a bear-proof locker. Bears have an amazing sense of smell, and they have to be destroyed if they start eating human food and becoming a nusiance. So all the food, plus anything that smells like food (i.e. most toiletories) have to be put into the locker. Exciting, huh?

We also had our own picnic table and fire pit:

Val is all stoked because we got Campsite Penthouse, overlooking the river:

Pretty river! We were tempted to swim, but it was a tad cold:

We pitched the tent in the shady section:

I was a VERY happy camper!

Val gets the job done - all our stuff in the bear-proof locker!

And then we took stuff OUT of the bear-proof locker, and enjoyed lunch at Campsite Penthouse. We'd brought sandwiches and they tasted amazing eating them out in the open air, listening to the rushing river and enjoying the sunshine.

Val contemplates a Caramello Koala and whether to eat the head or the toes first: 

That's right, as the locker sign says: immediately store all food, THEN have fun (there had been a couple of bear sightings at our campsite, as well as a rattlesnake!):

Val checks out the tent. Here was I, thinking we'd be topping and tailing in a tiny, stifling little number. Clearly I underestimated Val and Mike. Instead, we were living it up in this huge tent that was large enough to stand up in. It took all of our sleeping bags and there was still loads of space left over for our gear and to manouver around each other (excellent for nocturnal bathroom wanderings).

Stay tuned for our hiking adventures - if you think these photos are good, hang on to your hats, people, because they're going to get even better.