
I was fortunate enough to spend the last two weekends in the snowy foothills of the Sierra Nevada. The economically depressed former gold rush counties are home to some of my favorite California scenery. From east to west along Highways 120, 4, 108, 88, and 50 and north to south along 49 sleepy towns with names like Auburn, Grass Valley, Arnold, Murphy, Groveland, Angels, Twain Harte, Sutter Creek, Jamestown, Columbia, and Sonora share a common history and current fate. Today most folks, including myself, only know these places by name as they drive by on their way to more "exciting places" such as Yosemite, Tahoe, and the great national forests of the majestic Sierra Nevada.

Sadly on my last two visits to this region of California I did not get any closer to knowing more about these towns. I merely passed them by while traveling on Highway 4. But what I did notice for the first time was the amazing greenery of the foothills during the winter. Having visited the region countless times in the last spring, summer, and fall I have only seen the brown hills covered in sprawling green oaks and sprinkled with boulder. On this visit the world had been turned upside down. The oaks were bare and the hills were lush with green grasses and swollen seasonal streams.
The beauty of the green California foothills was merely a feather in my cap. The real treasure was hiking and camping in the snow. First at
Lake Alpine and this weekend at
Calaveras Big Trees State Park. The beauty and the mystery of a snow covered forest is incomparable. The intensity of snow camping can also be a humbling experience. My first night in a snow cave it snowed two feet and I found myself buried inside. The extreme environment makes simple tasks like going to take a piss or making safe drinking water difficult and time consuming. By the same token, when the snowfall subsided, I found myself and ten students camping alone in a beautiful state park because no one else was brave enough to stand up to the elements.
Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow.
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