Convict Lake part B

We stopped at Bishop, to load up on supplies from Schatz's Bakery.  This was the first European baker I had ever been to.  I won't bother trying to explain it here, but if you have been there, you know.

I noticed the towns south of Bishop seemed to come every half hour or so.  30-40 miles apart, just about the distance of a day's ride on a horse.  When you get to Bishop, you have been looking left at a tall, forbidding, primitive and sharp range of mountains for more than a hundred miles.  There was still quite a bit of snow on the peaks, reaching down into the valleys that see little sun for the steepness of the slopes.  Just outside of Bishop, the 395 takes a westerly course towards Mill Pond before turning North by Northwest to Mammoth, Mono Lake and beyond.

Boris took me to Convict Lake.  When we drove up the access road I took my first look at Laurel Mountain, something I have spent a lot of time looking at since that first drive.  He said he liked it there because it was like a little piece of Yosemite placed right here on the eastern side of the Sierra.  Yosemite?  I had heard of it and knew it was the home of El Capitan, something my climber friend Jimmy had told me about a few years prior. 

Now, once you have seen Convict Lake, you never forget it.  The lake is a mile long, and half a mile wide at it's widest.  It is 90 feet deep.  It usually has a brisk wind blowing across it, that comes from the towering peaks that surround it on three sides.  It is a deep dark blue green, reflecting the mountains that surround it.  A small creek, Convict Creek, flows out of its eastern side, and it is along this creek that many of the camp sites are placed. 

We camped in spot 61, one of my favorite spots to this day because of its privacy.  There is a short but steep trail down to the creek.  Alex fell down that steep slope, backwards, after enjoying much of what Jack Daniels has to offer.  He landed on a sapling after one head over heels tumble, and that little aspen might have prevented a broken bone or two.  We marveled at the thin little tree the next day, wondering how it could ever hold the weight of a falling man.  But it did, and Alex is still here to tell you about it.