Ascent of Mt. Whitney, 1972

So after Yosemite, we drove on east and south to the Owens Valley and the town of Lone Pine, at the eastern foot of Mt. Whitney, highest peak in the contiguous US. We climbed it via the popular Mt. Whitney Trail, tenting over-night a little more than half-way up. It was the highest we have been, 14,505 feet, until Nepal, and, so far as we can remember, the only significant summit we ever reached together. Not that we didn't try others, but that's a different story....

East Face of Mt. Whitney, from Whitney Portal; note the
two Needles to the left of the summit peak

First day on the trail, resting

Vicki; note nice green crusher hat

Looking back toward Owens Valley; I think we camped near
the lake

Looking toward the summit

Typical terrain; the sky seemed to turn a darker blue at the
highest elevations

Looking west into Sequoia National Park

Now on the top-side, walking toward the Needles and the
summit

Past the two Needles

Vicki on the summit

And me, with attractive red hat

Yosemite Falls Trail, 1972

So it came to pass that in June of 1972, we embarked on our second summer-long western US road trip. Our first had been in 1970, from Miami to Boston, where I was to be a graduate student, then up to Maine and beyond in New Brunswick, then west through Canada, re-entering the States at International Falls, and then seeing much of the US West. I saw my first "real" mountains when we got to the Tetons in Wyoming, and my interest in mountains and mountaineering was born. Fortunately, Vicki has always shared, even encouraged, that interest. Anyhow, it grew, and by the spring of 1972, we were hoping to become serious backpackers and climber. We read all of Colin Fletcher and Mountaineering: the Freedom of the Hills and Royal Robbins, and Orrin Bonney, and were trying to learn the elements of "clean" climbing then emanating from Ventura, California. Our plan was to drive our camper from Columbus, Ohio, where we now lived, to the Tetons, and for me to do the week-long mountaineering school, then to backpack and climb there and all over everywhere else within reach. Maybe even the remote Wind River Mountains, which we had heard of but not seen. Alas, when we got to Jenny Lake in later June, the Tetons were still buried in snow, and, rather than hang around for weeks and wait for it to melt, we heeded the advice of no less than Glenn Exum and headed for the Yosemite climbing school in sunny California. Indeed, we spent much of the rest of the summer camping, backpacking, and climbing, and the next several posts will convey some of the high-lights.

Yes, these are all nearly forty year-old pix from my on-going (never-ending?) digitization project, but, hey, mountains and scenery don't really change all that much in four decades.

En route to the Tetons

Our rig at Jenny Lake campground, a couple years before anavalanche off
Teewinot wrecked what has always been one of our favorite places; the rig
was a 1968 Dodge van, with camper interior and a fiberglass roof, which we
had bought in Miami in 1970

On Yosemite Creek, novice backpackers; we parked the van near Tuolomne
Meadows and then hiked down to Yosemite Valley, via...

Yosemite Creek, and...

Yosemite Falls

The Aesthete; hey, I was a philosophy student; red was a very in color that season
(seriously)

You can see the switch-backs of the Falls trail in the
shadow to the left; it was a miserable descent, in
100 degree heat; anyhow, we tented for a week at
Camp IV, seeing the Valley sights, and then headed
back up to Tuolomne via bus for mountaineering school

Thus; me on a practice climb above Tenaya Lake; the
climbing was clean, but climbers, duh, were only
beginning to think about wearing helmets...

Penelope's First Super Bowl; And A Digression...Or Two

As a pre-toddler, Penelope's screen-time is
rather severely limited, so I doubt she'll see
much of XLVI. But on Super Bowl eve, she
did display her hereditary loyalty to the
Dolphins, courtesy of Grand Aunt Carole
and cousin Lexi. 

Carole happily reminded me of Rebecca's old Dolphins jersey,
a family favorite. This would have been Xmas, 1974, as the
Dolphins were headed to their fourth consecutive Super Bowl
appearance. Alas, Oakland knocked them off, and the
Dolphins' consecutive appearance record stands at three.

Hereditary because for several decades our Dad (Carole and
mine) was scorekeeper at the Orange Bowl. As a kid, I got
to see a lot of football games, usually cheap seats or
"complimentary" (he knew everybody that worked there),
occasionally on the sidelines, or even the pressbox,
including the Dolphins' first regular season game and local
hero Joe Auer's 95 yard run back of the opening kick-off
against KC. (The season went down-hill from there). But I
digress. Above is a shot I took in December, 1972, a play-off
game against the Browns. You can see Earl Morrall throwing
an out-pattern to the diminuitive Howard Twilley, with Norm
Evans and Hall of Famer Larry Little protecting. The Browns
led for much of the game, but Morrall pulled it out in the
closing drive.  

And the Perfect Season continued, to Pittsburgh, and then a
victory over the Redskins in VII. Few now remember that it
was Earl Morrall who quarterbacked the Dolphins most of
that season. Starter Bob Griese went down in the 2nd quarter
of the fifth game, a broken leg administered by the Chargers'
estimable Deacon Jones. Griese did not return until the 2nd
half of of the AFC championship game against Pittsburgh, but
then showed why he was starter and another Hall of Famer.
All of which is to explain my antipathy for the Pats, who
threatened to eclipse the Perfect Season back in 2007-2008,
but were thwarted by these same Giants in the 2008 Super
Bowl. I still dislike the Pats. Go Giants!

OK, not everyone in the family is a fan; here Penelope sports
some new "sweet pea" head-gear from grandma; Penelope
knows what to do when the camera is on...

PS 21-17 Giants! Yes!

California Quotidian, III

Our routine changed January 3rd, when Vicki had knee-replacement surgery at Stanford Hospital. She had been troubled by her left knee for several years (despite doing the Everest, Abel Tasman, Milford, Routeburn, Mont Blanc, and many other treks), and a variety of consultations convinced her that knee replacement was the way to go. As it turned out, only a partial replacement was needed. The operation was deemed a success, and she returned home the Saturday following her Tuesday surgery. Her recuperation and rehabilitation are going exceedingly well. She is already back to walking half a mile a day or more!

Penelope and her parents were in Florida, visiting her other grand-dad, immediately following the surgery, but soon returned to find grandma sleeping a bit more than usual and with a strange apparatus (the ice-water circulating machine) wrapped around her leg. But things have gone quite well. Both my wards are excellent, the baby and the surgery patient. Vicki was able to care for herself mostly and threw down her crutches within a few days of coming home. Penelope is a bit less self-sufficient but is amply entertaining, now nine months old, clapping, waving, feeding herself all kinds of solids, and perhaps within just a few weeks of walking. We have even been able to make her laugh, once or twice. Formerly, I thought she was perhaps humor-challenged, but I have since come to understand that she just has a very discriminating sense of humor. The same thing won't work twice, even the same day. Tough audience.

My two wards: a recuperating Vicki sings "Itsy Bitsy Spider"
to Penelope

January has been entertaining as well, watching the mean-spirited clowns who constitute the Republican presidential race and its "debates." Spend, Mitt, spend! Spend it all! And then there were the NFL play-offs. I had really hoped to see Tebow and Brady humiliated on consecutive weekends, but I guess I will have to wait. I am rooting for the Giants, again, as in the 2008 Super Bowl, despite their undeserved win against my adopted 49ers. And the weather is finally moderating. Camellias are blooming all over town.

And when not otherwise occupied, I continue digitizing the 87 gazillion 35mm slides of our earlier life. I think I have done about 30 gazillion now, but still have to get to the boxes of prints. One of the more interesting--to me--slide specimens is below. Tentatively entitled "At the edge of the abyss...".

Us in the Jardin du Luxembourg, Paris, August, 1986; we
think this interesting pose was captured by Vicki's sister
Linda or possibly her husband Joey; Vicki had just finished
her MBA and had been accepted into the credit class at
Republic Bank in Dallas, the beginning of a promising
banking career (I so enjoyed telling people I was married to
an SMU coed); we were celebrating with a month-long
European vacation; a year later, I had been through SMU's
death penalty year, with much personal education in crisis
communications, athletics, and governance, and the hiring
of a new university president; after the months-long credit
class, Vicki went to the personal banking department; but
by this time, the S&L crisis, the real estate crisis, and
the oil crisis, were all hitting Dallas; "work-out" became the
productive part of the bank; then it bought another large
but troubled bank; and then itself failed; Vicki sat at the
same desk in the same department of three different banks
through that year; 1987 was not our best year, but it
all turned out well, for us, and certainly was memorable...

And no doubt there will be more newly digitized travel slides to share from yesteryear. Meanwhile, in California,

We abide...

Happy New Year in San Francisco

We spent the New Year's weekend in San Francisco, mostly revisiting old favorites, acquiring a few new ones, eating well, viewing the harbor fireworks, and resting up.

Amazing how this place has had its ups and downs; we like

seeing the vintage clothing stores, the Goodwill, all the

tourists our age or older; the clever T-shirt aphorisms, etc.

For a small donation you can take a picture of this "vintage"

van

After a nice Italian dinner in Cow Hollow, we returned to the

hotel, rested up, and then embarked on our long walk along

the Embarcadero to the Ferry Building; here, the baker at

Boudin's does his thing

A seasonally-ornamented rig in the harbor

near Fisherman's Wharf

The moon nearly colliding with Coit Tower

And our goal for the evening, and the weekend, the SF harbor

fireworks, one of the best anywhere; Happy New Year, all!

Rebecca had taken us to see one of these several years ago,

when she lived in SF; it has become one of our favorites

As long as you don't mind wading into and waiting among a

boisterous but good-natured crowd of 200,000, in the harbor

chill, right at the Ferry Building (south-side quay), it's a

pretty good show; the best fireworks we have seen

And, as you can see on the Ferry Building

clock, it's all over by 12:20; unfortunately,

public transportation shuts down in the vicinity

of the fireworks, so it's a long trudge back to

the hotel

Next afternoon, after lunch at Alioto's, we walked along among

the many sights; here, a seagull adds a splash of color to the

bow of the USS Pampanito, with The Rock in the background;

we toured the Pampanito in 1990, with the girls, on our first

summer tour in the Milennium Falcon...

Alcatraz; it was a beautiful day

In the (free) amusement museum, the Musee Mecanique, on

or near Pier 44, a collection of working old amusement park/

arcade machines, scores of them, plus a history of such parks;

Vicki scored a respectable 190 on Skeeball

Ah, the good old days...

Obligatory street scene, near Lombard

Obligatory bridge scene

And, for something new, we drove out to the Presidio; here, a

part of the National Cemetery there

And finally, on the way back home, Rebecca's

old apartment building on Divisadero at

Haight; thanks for a great weekend, Rebecca

and Jeremy...

Tour Du Mont Blanc, 4

And now, the exciting conclusion of "Tour Du Mont Blanc":

On the Bovine variant, the ugly city of Martigny, far, far below

Along the trail to Bovine; all through our trek, the alpine
wildflowers were everywhere, particularly the alpine azaleas
(alas, Vicki had the camera that day)

It gets to be a long story here; after Bovine, and en route 

to the Col de la Forclaz, it started raining; heavy rain; we

made it to the campground at the Col de la Forclaz, where a 

French couple from Lyons we had been leap-frogging

 (nyuk, nyuk, nuyk) helped us tent and shared their hot 

water (for our backapacka dinner); the next morning, with 

heavy rain predicted the next several days, they helped us 

find the train back to France, and then on to Les Houches, 

where we dried out in a nice little hotel; the next morning
we breakfasted on our bilberries and other goodies; we
would run into our Lyons friends another time, days later
and return the favors; "kindness of strangers" is truly one
of the best parts of travel

Back in the Valley of Chamonix; so from Les Houches we
trained back to the campground in Chamonix, established
a camp there and deposited our stuff, and rode back up
the valley to cover some of the ground we had missed; at
this point, we were beginning to ask ourselves "wait a
second, isn't this supposed to be a vacation?!"

The Great White Mountain

Chamonix from Plan Praz;  piecing together parts we had
missed, we rode up to La Flegere and walked to Plan Praz;
and then rode the cable-car up to Brevent; we left the great
descent from Brevent to Les Houches for another year...

From Brevent, parapentes sailing by

Spice girl: back in Chamonix, just in time for the Saturday marche

Poulet roti..the best; well, Costco's is pretty 

good, too

A Saturday afternoon repast at our favorite, Camping de
L'ile des Barrats    

Vicki waits for the bus while I do a bit more shooting and
shopping

Tenting area at Camping de L'ile des Barrats

Last minute shopping completed

And, after an hour's bus ride, we are back at the airport in 

Geneva, repacking, awaiting our flight back to Montana...