Part one of this narrative got the intrepid MM and me to the foothills of the Sierras, en route to a lodge at Sequoia called, strangely enough, Sequoia Lodge. Upon seeing the sign commanding us to use chains, I obediently pulled over so that we could crawl in the slush and get our rig set up. However, a dude with a truck pulled over (lots of dudes with trucks  around here, and they are always ready to pull over and be helpful.  So manly!) and told us we wouldn’t need them, that the warmth of the day and the just-plowed road would be fine to drive on.  And it was, even when I had to brake for a coyote, who nonchalantly stepped in front of the car. He watched us go as we pulled away. Nature!

I will never, ever forget the drive. It was scene after scene of lacy, white, delicate, soft. The Fleet Foxes accompanied our journey, which enhanced this remarkable feeling of being pulled into a fairy tale.

I know! Ridiculous! Careful now, I’m about to actually spout lyrics.

Wanderers this morning came by
Where did they go
Graceful in the morning light
To banner fair
To follow you softly
In the cold mountain air

By the way all these pics and videos (and more) are on a flickr photoset if you want to see them all at your leisure.

[direct link to video]

[direct link to video] In the video above, you might be able to hear me say uh oh as we pass a park ranger. I thought he might ding us for not wearing our chains, but no.

Later that day, we went snoeshowing. After a rocky start, we found our rhythm and followed tracks far into the woods. Molly made Cornish pastys, which we stood and ate while listening to a stream burble somewhere below us. We were atop feet and feet and feet of snow.

[direct link to video] You can hear that satisfying snowcrunch as I tromp along. It started to snow just as we returned, and snowed and snowed and snowed.

[direct link to video] This is the view outside our room. If you look carefully, you can see it really coming down.

We’ll skip description of the distinctly unfine meal that night. It was amusing, however, to see that the ski instructor that we saw in the woods earlier in the day was now our waiter. The Lodge is pretty great; it’s new construction but it has enough wood and rock and ersatz Indian details to feel like Americana at its best.

The next morning, the car digout was quite entertaining. I lacked any proper scraping tools, so I made do with a saint encased in a block of lucite. I call him St. Otto (since he lives in my car) and I’m grateful to Violet for gifting him to me!

Chain-putting-on-ing is dirty work and quite tricky. I was told that there are more modern materials and methods these days, but not around here, honey. I do feel proud that we got ‘er done.

We have already made plans for going back in May. Sequoia rules, or haven’t I made that clear? Uh oh here come some more lyrics!

In the quivering forest
Where the shivering dog rests
Our good grandfather
Built a wooden nest
And the river got frozen
And the home got snowed in
And the yellow moon glowed bright
Till the morning light