Waking to the aroma of pine is certainly a signal for a desert boy that he is sleeping in the hills. After packing the car, in itself a major undertaking with the trappings of an infant on board, we turned to the north. Traveling through the pines of the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains and past the supremely beautiful Mono Lake.
Between Bridgeport and the Gardnerville area we decided we needed a break. Rosalind thought the time was right for a meal and Sarah and I needed to stretch our legs. Sarah and Rosalind settled on a sunny block of granite as I walked closer to the stream and found a comfortable spot with a pine needle bed for a seat and a slab of cool granite for the upright portion of a recliner. Resting in the shade of a pine the noise of a squirrel caught my ear. Looking in the general direction it appeared there were actually two squirrels chasing one another about. Turning away I didn't give it more thought for a few minutes. When one of the rodents came closer I saw it was a chipmunk. It turned out, however, that the chasing was being done, not by a squirrel but by a short-tailed weasel. Upon discovering their space had been invaded the weasel gave up on chasing the chipmunk and both disappeared. Moments later the weasel was back. Cautious about what to make of this biped intruder the weasel situated itself just over the edge of the gentle rise and poked just enough of eyes and ears up to get a good look at me.
Stopping in for a quick dose of Johnny Carino's we had a bite of lunch in Reno on the way north. The obligatory stop at the Apple Store came at the same time as our lunch stop. As we knew already the new iMac is a beautiful machine and the keyboard is awesome as well.
Then it was on to Borders. Why I'm stopping in Borders on a vacation takes a little explaining. It comes down to being in search of a book. The library was going to deliver it some time ago but hasn't gotten their copy yet. I have an older edition of the book but need the latest (it's a Nolo book on forming non-profit corporations). Several stops so far have been unproductive. I know I can get one from Powells but that's a few days away yet. So I stop in Borders and look at the business management shelf where it should be. No dice. I check the computer and see the familiar "should be in store" on the listing. Twice more a careful examination of the business management and startup sections comes up empty. Racking up another failed search I head for the door and notice, in the real estate oversize section, a copy of the book. Avoiding the temptation to start dancing in the store (and leaving all those customers unscarred at the same time) I make my purchase and my escape.
North of Reno 395 drifts back into California. Miss Rosalind determines that the time has arrived for dinner while we make our way north. We make a stop in the small town of Doyle and while Sarah and Rosalind tend to the dinner arrangements I check out the general store and hotel. A small building on the north end of town I peruse the local paper and check out the bulletin board with it's familiar collection of local happenings and everything from odds-and-ends for sale to houses for sale. After Rosalind's feeding we were once again on the road north.
Arriving in Susanville we checked in at the Best Western Trailside Inn and looked through the in-room information about local attractions. The Bizz Johnson Trail seemed to fit the bill for an evening stroll. With the sun setting we walked along the banks of the Susan River with several other folks out walking dogs and evening bicycle rides. We returned to the hotel for some delivery pizza and a comfortable night at the Inn.