A world of old rocks
We arrived at night to the empty streets of Lone Pine. Cold and with the guts making weird sounds, we stopped at Pizza Factory across the Dow Hotel.
This was the hotel where John Wayne, Errol Flynn, and Robert Mitchum slept when Lone Pine was a movie production hub. Good that Hollywood came here, because thanks to this the small town of the eastern Sierra became the "birthplace of the western films" - and the city got a reason to have a film museum, the Museum of Western Film History.
After a delicious pizza, we drove south and got a campsite in Boulder Creek RV Park. In our dusty overnight spot, we ended lying flat and wrapped with blankets on the picnic table. A bottle of red wine nearby. We were ready for the show that put the Milky Way over the sleepy campground.
The sunrise found us in "the world of rocks". Laying at the base of the mountains, gnarled and weathered boulders everywhere. What a mess of stones created mother nature in this place.
The highest mountain seen from Alabama Hills - License our images here. |
So, this is the famous Alabama Hills, the praised magnet for explorers, climbers, dreamers, and the RV crowd.
The "Alabama" came from gold seekers of the 19th century. These admirers of the Confederates named the place for the CSS Alabama, even if this rugged beauty has nothing to do with navy warfare.
Above us, Mount Whitney and its gang of peaks looked like ancient sentinels. Whitney is the tallest piece of rock in the lowest 48. It's the roof of the High Sierra.
Alabama Hills is ancient ground. Here Hephaestus got crazy burning colorful recipes of brown, orange, and grey. Good taste, because the colors look good against the white background of the mountains.
Later, dinosaurs called the place home. But this happened in the times before the mountains grew up, so all was green and not dusty and yellow as the place looks today.
The dryness came later, when the rain was gone because of the rocky barrier of the High Sierra. Pines and the junipers gave way to prickly pears and cottontop cactuses. Big transformation for Alabama Hills and the whole floor of the Owen Valley.
On the human side, the Paiute Indians lived here until the ranchers kicked them out from their lands. Blood, death, exile. Humanity won, right? Some say that a Paiute camp was raided in Alabama Hills. We didn't find it.
The 20th century brought the movies and the other "stars". Mountains, boulders, ravines, and arches became cheap sets for Hollywood films.
Tourists and photographers followed them. And some jerks also came and still come to Alabama Hills. These are those folks that leave behind a trail of trash wherever they go.
Scrambling over the boulders, we heard whispers of epochs long gone. The arches, like ancient magical doorways, reminded us of the resilience of the earth and the fleeting nature of humans. And when we thought that we were not alone in this lonely garden of rocks, we realized that our only companion was the whistling wind.
At nightfall, dark skies pierced again by the shiniest stars. And quiet, like they always were, the silent stones stood with us.