Had another one of those memorable trips that I’m seemingly know for. But, again, for not the desired reasons. Sean and I left Friday for the cabin, braving rain and winds. After a quick stop at Bass Pro Shops, it was up into the Sierra Nevada foothills.
The first warning sign was a dusting of snow on the hills around Sonora. Sonora, elevation 1,785 feet.
Second warning sign: three to four inches of snow on the ground at the Soulsbyville turnoff.
Sure enough, we were greeted by a pile of snow at the entrance to the cabin driveway (courtesy the snow plow), and the driveway itself was coated with a foot of snow. While it’s great to see the coming year’s water accumulating so fast, that fluffy white stuff sure gains weight the more you shovel it.
Finally, with a path carved to the garage, we parked the car and start to unpack.
Then I turned on the water to the cabin. More correctly, I tried to turn on the water to the cabin. And…nothing. Not a drop. So, somewhere between the water main and the cabin, the pipe was frozen. Seems that is something that happens when the temperatures hover in the mid 20s. Gave the wave off to my sister and her family, who were to join us the next day. And, as much as I would have liked to ensconce myself in the warm cabin, with hot cocoa, a roaring fire, movies to watch and books to read, all the while watching flakes of snow float to the ground, it wasn’t going to happen without water.
We decided to spend the night and head home the next day.
The third warning sign that our decision was probably a good one: another six inches of snow fell during the night to greet us Saturday morning.
A whirlwind trip, to be certain.