Sonora Pass is the second highest highway overpass in the Sierra Nevada. It’s also the last one on my list. Yum and I have traversed highways 120 4 88 50 80 70 and now 108. More red ink for our map of California! (we have a map on our wall at home with red ink tracing all the major roads we’ve traveled together)

First we stopped at Kennedy Meadow Resort. It’s a nice little place tucked away in a corner not far from the main road. There is a general store, a restaurant, a bar and many cabins and campsites by the river. About 15 minutes walk up the trail and over the hill is the huge meadow. The river flows alongside the meadow, and looks to be PERFECT for fly fishing. The water was a little high this trip, but in about four weeks it should be JUST RIGHT! I’ll be back.

Yum and I explored this area for a few hours and then continued our journey up highway 108, ever closer to Sonora Pass. Lightning arced across the sky and thunder BOOMED and echoed across the canyons and mountaintops. It began to rain pretty hard. The road became narrower and windier, and the rain turned to snow. Snow! This close to June? Yes.

It’s always amazing to me how unique and distinguishable the environment changes as I drive one of these highway overpasses. In the central valley it’s flat and hot and you mostly just see weeds and cows and farms. As you get close to the foothills of the Sierras the terrain becomes rocky and flat plateaus scatter the landscape among the plentiful oak trees and black volcanic rocks. As you climb higher you begin to see more pine trees and less oak trees. At around 5,000 feet it’s almost all pine trees and the weeds are long gone. At about 8,000 feet the trees are starting to thin out a bit and that beautiful high Sierra granite can be blinding in places. Above 8,000 feet is my favorite part of the mountains–up here it’s quieter and there are less people and the scenery is the most spectacular. On the way down the eastern side of the Sierras–no matter where it is, it’s extremely steep and jagged–there is a noticeable absence of trees and vegetation in general. As it flattens out again I’m in the high desert, and it’s hot and dry and dusty and… desert-y. And that’s pretty much how each highway goes, from west to east. And I love every inch of it.

So then. Once in the eastern Sierras Yum and I turned north on highway 395. After a quick detour on highway 89 we reached highway 50, where we drove down to Placerville and stopped at the Red Hawk Casino. Yum found $20 on the ground and was so excited she peed her pants. OK, not really. But she was super excited. She’s so cute! I love that little Yum =)

And then we went home.

Click here for pictures from our trip!

Tuesday night was our last night and I wanted a nice dinner. Well, and I wanted to do some gambling.

We drove to Reno and had a fantabulous meal at Louis’ Basque Corner, a stone’s throw from the Silver Legacy. This is the second time we’ve eaten there and both times have been awesome. You see, Yum’s grandfather was full-on Basque. And Yum loves her some good ol’ Basque food, particularly lamb. And this joint in Reno has the best lamb of all the Basque restaurants we’ve been to over the last two years.

After dinner we went to my favorite casino, the Silver Legacy. We played some slots and called it a night.

On the way home it started to snow really bad. They stopped us in Verdi, just after Boomtown and Cabela’s.

“Road’s closed,” the CalTrans worker told us. “It’s a whiteout. Multiple accidents. A semi jack-knifed and cars are piled up. No idea when it will be open.”

Shit. This is bad. We have to leave tomorrow. We have to get out of the Sierras. I have to work on Thursday! I can’t be stuck in Reno, waiting for this storm to pass. We turned around and started driving back to Reno, weighing our options.

We spent the next 2 hours at Boomtown playing craps and more slots. We decided to try one more time before heading back to Reno (to use Yum’s employee discount at the Marriott).

This time we were able to convince the guy at the chain control checkpoint to let us through. We promised that we weren’t trying to get over Donner Summit, we’re just going to Truckee.

There were times when we had to drive under 10 miles an hour, the blizzard was so bad, but we finally made it back to the cabin. And the next morning it was a blue-bird day, sunny and warm(er). The roads were plowed, highway 80 was open, and we drove home to Vacaville easily.

No pics this time, but I do have a short movie of some howlin’ wind.

Today on highway 80 traffic was backed up for miles. Why? Because there were two deer on the side of the hill next to the highway. What. The. Fuck. This would never happen in SoCal. In SoCal there could be blood on the asphalt and an overturned SUV on the freeway and people would still be zooming by at 80 miles an hour.

Last night when I was driving home in cruise control at 72 mph in the wide open lane next to the fast lane. Speed limit 65 mph. In my mirrors I watch a guy pass me by, change to my lane, annnnnnd… slow down, forcing me to brake. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? In SoCal you could get shot for such behavior.

All my life, growing up in NorCal, I’ve heard about how bad the traffic is and how terrible the drivers are in SoCal. You know what? It’s the other way around.

I’ll take good ol’ SoCal drivers over NorCal drivers ANY day.

Last Wednesday morning we loaded up the Yaris and left Vacaville along the road to fun.

We drove up 80 and 99 to highway 70. Then we drove all the way up the Feather River canyon on highway 70 to where it intersects with 89. Then we drove along 89, made a quick stop to hike down to Indian Falls, then drove through Indian Valley to the 147 junction, and then to Lake Almanor.

Ahhh, Lake Almanor. The best place in northern California to watch raptors swoop and hunt. Bald Eagles and Osprey can be seen snatching trout in their talons. Or so I’ve been told–didn’t see any this trip. Bald Eagles, that is.

We camped on the northern shore, just a few miles from the city of Chester. Our campsite was *right* on the shoreline. We angled the entrance of our tent to have a beautiful view of Mt Lassen in the morning. Thank you North Shore campground, your facilities are top-notch.

After setting up our tent and sleeping stuffs we drove into Chester for a snack. Chester is the land that time forgot. There are no corporate entities in this town, save for a Chevron and Union 76 gas station. No McDonalds, no WalMart. From all appearances this place hasn’t changed since the ’50s–and that’s a good thing. Chester is one of those quaint little mountain towns where little things like community and helping your neighbor are still important.

Yum and I had a burger and a shake at the Pine Shack Frosty on the main strip. Dee-lish. Then I took Yum to my favorite fishing spot near the intersection of highways 32 and 36.

Yum must have caught 20 fish–way more than I did. I fly fished the entire time. I knocked ‘em dead with my dry flies. There was a nice hatch going on, and I was busy slapping my line down on the water and catching nice rainbows–whooping and hollering with every trout I caught. We kept a couple for dinner.

So, Yum decides that she’s just going to throw the fish on the coals to cook them. What? Are you crazy? You’re going to ruin the fish, Yum! I wanted to say that, anyway. I’ll just keep my mouth shut, and when she ruins the fish she’ll learn her lesson and I’ll get to smile and cook them in aluminum foil next time.

But a funny thing happened–the fish came out perfect. Yum lifted those trout off the coals and peeled the crispy skin/scales back off the meat and revealed perfectly cooked and seasoned trout. Crow, oops, I mean trout, never tasted so good.

And now I beg Yum to cook our fish her way. Good ol’ Yum =) But I digress…

After dinner we made S’mores. Yum has never had S’mores! Yum doesn’t know the goodness of S’mores! Poor Yum. All those wasted years…

In the morning we broke camp and headed into town. We had some coffee at a nice little place and checked our email on the free wifi. Then we headed over to the Kopper Kettle for some breakfast. Then we drove back to upper Deer Creek for some more fishing. Yum knocked ‘em dead, catching a lot of fish. We kept 3 for dinner–3 big, beautiful rainbow trout.

We took 32 back to Chico. I felt a little homesick as we drove through my old stomping grounds. Ahhh, Chico… good times, good memories.

No trip through Chico is complete without a stop at Burger Hut. And then, sadly, we drove home.

And so here we are, the end of my post. And here are the pictures from our trip =)

Determined to not let this happen again, Yum and I set out yesterday to catch some fish.

First we drove up highway 80 to Auburn, where we turned onto highway 49 and drove over to Coloma. We parked at the Sutter’s Mill area and took lots of pictures. I mean, we fished a lot. No luck. Not even a bite. So we left.

We drove down to the confluence of the American River near Auburn and fished near the bridges. I caught two huge trout, one of them was 15 inches (we ate both tonight).

Yum didn’t catch any fish, but smiled and laughed and had a blast. It makes me happy to see my Yum in her Teva sandals and cargo pants, taking pictures of pine trees and smiling from ear to ear.

Today we went fishing again, this time to Silver Fork. We drove up highway 50 and took Silver Fork road, just past Kyburz. We parked and camped at the Haytown Posse’s old Memorial Day weekend camping spots along the river. Nobody was up there today. Maybe it’s because the US Forest Service went in and blocked off all the OHV areas–nobody can get off the main road, not unless you have a dirt bike. But I digress.

I did some fly fishing and managed to catch a little 6 incher, which I threw back. Yum was skunked again, but like yesterday didn’t care. She smiled and laughed and took pictures. She got her line snagged in the river more than once and just shrugged it off. All that mattered to her was that we were in the mountains together. That’s all that mattered to me, too.

I sure do like living on the road to fun. Last year this wouldn’t have happened. This year we’re 60-90 minutes away from cold Sierra mountain streams and fishing and pine trees and mountains and fun.

And it just wouldn’t be a teebiss-approved adventure without photos, so here they are!

When I got older, highway 80 was the road we took to No (Reno). “I wanna go to No, dude!” Dave or Scott would say, in a drunken stupor at 2 in the morning. Reno meant gambling and drinking and hotels and skiing and more stories to make and tell and retell.

When I moved to Chico, 80 was the highway I took when I was going home. Home, meaning *back* to Chico. Because for the short 3 years that I lived there, Chico felt more like home than any other place I’ve ever lived. And highway 80 meant that I was leaving the Bayarrhea, and that always feels good.

Highway 80 still means the road to fun. It means that Yum and I are off on another adventure. Walt’s cabin, Truckee, Lake Tahoe. Now I live in Vacaville, and I’m a stone’s throw from highway 80. It means that I’m now less than an hour’s drive up highway 80 to Scott and the boys in Roseville.

I take 80 every day to work. While I’m driving I think of all the fun times and good memories that highway 80 reminds me of. I’m thankful that I’m so lucky, that I get to live in such a great place. I arrive at work feeling peaceful and happy.

Thirty six years of driving highway 80 and I still get excited–every time. Because finally, I *live* on the road to fun.