In order to try to save some miles of drive time on old Nell I decided to cut across laterally in a northerly direction towards Bass Lake, on the outskirts of Yosemite. It looked easy. It looked safe. I could do this. I knew it was a two-lane all the way there. I knew it was going to involve a few hairpins. Once again, all that was an understatement. Thank God above that the roads were not crowded (once I got into it I realized why!) There were more than a few times I thought I was not going to be able to negotiate the hairpin or switchback I was on. NO amount of down-shifting was going to save my brakes from overheating. NOTHING was going to keep the engine from overheating. I was doubly convinced of it. But...we made it. Nell came through again. After swearing I would never put her through that kind of sadistic exercise again and apologizing profusely we let her come to rest in a sublime campground on the banks of Bass Lake, California.
Perhaps 20 or 25 miles from the southern entrance to Yosemite, Bass Lake is a picturesque garden-scape. Not exactly unpopulated or unadorned by human attempts to “dress her up”, it’s still a great place to set up a base camp for Yosemite if you can’t get into the park itself to camp. The winding and twisting road that encircles most of the lake is a great bike ride and you’ll get your exercise fix on it while trying not to wreck gazing and gawking at the sights. There are fine restaurants here. there’s a post office here. There are ladies’ shops catering to camp-chic attire. There are three marinas.
The place was featured in a few “camping” movies. It’s the idyllic, prototypical summer camp of your memory that most of us never went to...actually. In and of itself it is a great destination with everything you could possibly want all in one place. We even had a trail head in our campground. Diane, me, and the dogs hiked it one misty evening. We climbed up and up while hugging the mountain side for a good 2-3 miles, stopping to check out this bird, or that scat. Flowers framed the path. Now and then a rare blossom we had not seen before caught our attention. The dogs, again, were thrilled to be along. We get such a kick out of seeing them so happy. They are not unlike us one bit in their thirst for adventure.
This is dry camping, though. No water, no electricity, though there is a dump nearby. We stay occasionally in RV camps so that we can give our generator a rest while at dry camps like this. The next few weeks were going to be dry and so full-amenities Wishon Village served that conserving interest for us.