The principal places we visited in California were in the mountains, but our route from one to another always returned us to the lower, flat land where the fruit is grown. April isn't a major harvesting time of year, although we did see at least one property collecting late citrus fruit. Along other stretches of the highway we were treated to the scent of blossom. Because there was not much fresh produce most of the roadside stalls were closed. This combined with little advance notice and inadequate parking space for Gregory, our large vehicle, generally foiled our desire to sample local delicacies.
Our chance came when we were waiting to turn right. We could see a large sign advertising “Oranges $1 per bag”. A table behind the sign was loaded with big bags of fruit. We managed to pull off the road and Bill ran across to make the purchase. It was, of course, too good to be true. The $1 bags were on the ground behind the table and only contained 3 small oranges. The big bags of juicy fruit were $8, but that still wasn't a bad deal.
A neighbouring stall offered large boxes of strawberries for $5, which was an even better bargain. We are pleased to confirm that California produces very nice oranges and strawberries.
Another consequence of going up and down in the mountains was that the vibrations in Gregory's steering wheel while we went downhill were getting slightly stronger. We determined to consult a mechanic.
Driving from Yosemite towards Lake Tahoe we passed a sign informing us that we were entering Calaveras County. Those familiar with Mark Twain's writing will recognise that name from his short story, The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. Our route took us through Angels Camp, not a large town but the only incorporated city in the county, where the association with Mark Twain is referred to a number of times. It has a visitor center where we stopped, briefly discussed the moral characters of the main Jumping Frog protagonists and asked where we could get repairs for Gregory.
We did find a mechanic, who diagnosed broken or distorted brake rotors. Unfortunately he could not work on them for several days. Angels Camp seemed pleasant, but there was nothing terribly exciting to do or see there. The mechanic promised us that nothing awful was likely to happen and the brakes would continue to function adequately for a while yet. So we moved on.
The terrain did not become particularly mountainous as we drove North, but we steadily gained altitude until we were above the snow line once more.
We don't think there had been any recent snowfalls. We didn't see any slush on the tarmac and the snow ploughs were unemployed.
Sierra scenery.
Although the roads were nice and clear, the places off the road where we were hoping to spend the night were still under snow and often gated shut. It looked as though we would have to push on to South Lake Tahoe, when we drove past a cleared space beside the road. It turned out to be a parking lot for hunters and fishermen and even had a primitive toilet block. There were no signs forbidding overnight parking, so we had a place to stay.
The parking area had been very deliberately cleared of snow.
Later that evening two motor bikes turned into our haven. Cops? Are we not allowed to park here? Then a cheerful voice, “They're Canadians.” The speaker had seen Gregory's British Columbian license plate. Both cyclists were properly Canadian and, as we had been earlier, looking for a campsite. We had a friendly chat, and then our new neighbours pitched their tent on a level-ish patch of snow. It would have been an invitation to hypothermia in a regular tent, but Canadians have had lots of experience of dealing with cold and snow.
South Lake Tahoe looked like a large enough town to have a brakes repairer, and after a few enquiries we located one that could address the problem “tomorrow”.
We looked up local campgrounds. Horror – the commercial campground truly wanted $150 per night. But there are several state parks in the region. They will have more reasonable tariffs. Indeed they do – when they are open. According to Wikipedia, Lake Tahoe is at an altitude of 6,225 ft (1,897 m) and the surrounding sierras were still mostly covered in snow. So the campgrounds were mostly covered in snow and therefore closed. There was one that appeared to be open, but the Internet intelligence was misleading. The campground 'office' was in the adjacent hotel, where we could get a room for $90. That's better than $150.
Sierra Nevada slopes adjacent to Lake Tahoe.
Secure in the knowledge that we would have somewhere for the night we drove a leisurely circuit of the lake. In his travel writings, Mark Twain admires the beauty of Alpine lakes, but asserts that none of them is as delightful as Lake Tahoe. We won't get into an international row over which is the world's prettiest lake, but Lake Tahoe has to be amongst the leaders.
At one of our stops along the way we noticed this mobile notice board:
Would you put your hand under the cover to filch something from this vehicle?
During the day we did more research on accommodation options and finally settled on the Motel 6 in South Lake Tahoe for $47. Motel 6 is a nationwide chain or franchise of inexpensive motels. We were unsure whether there would be room to park our big motor home, but this establishment had lots of space. The unit was clean and comfortable, and of course we did not have to walk across a campground to get to the shower. There were no cooking facilities in the unit, and since we were splurging on accommodation we splurged on our evening meal as well and went to a nearby Mexican Restaurant.
Next morning we dropped off Gregory at the workshop and set off to spend a day seeking amusement in South Lake Tahoe. We found a T-Mobile shop and were able to reconnect our tablet to cyberspace. The workings of T-Mobile's on-line plan renewal had utterly defeated us. We successfully negotiated the local bus service. For we seniors it was only $1 per ride. We admired the lake again, from its Southern end:
The local library provided free Internet and whispered conversation with a most interesting lady.
We were interrupted at one point by the mechanic, who required us to authorise replacement of the calipers as well as the rotors.
At the end of the day the repair cost us more than $1,000, but at least we could be certain that our brakes were in tip top order.
For no extra charge Bill got a stern lecture on how to drive on mountain roads. He had generally been using low gear if there was a 'steep hill' sign, but otherwise driving Gregory in the same way as a car. This was BAD. Always control downhill speed with the gears, and if cars form a queue behind us because we are travelling at only 25mph, well that's too bad. Ford got a bad review for the design of the brakes as well.
The lesson was learned, and the rest of the trip was driven with much more care on downhill roads.
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