I’m back early from my trip to the Sierra and White Mountains. As it turned out, I snuck over the Sierra before they became nevada the very next day, closing highways 120, 108 and 4 (for the winter most likely). It wasn’t just the high passes; there were locked gates at low elevation — which denied me access to where I wanted to go.
For unplanned reasons, I had descended from the exquisite snow-frosted White Mountains (below), and headed north a few hours towards Yosemite, only to discover that there was no entry to be found there or northwards. With some regret I turned homewards through traffic-infested South Lake Tahoe.
I would rather have stayed up in the White Mountains, but alas it was not to be. Still, it was a stunning treat. I was the sole visitor for 25 miles of high-altitude driving as seen below (those are my tracks). Never have I seen the White Mountains in such accessible frosty splendor. I also got stuck at 11,000' in deep snow and ice, and had to jack up my Cayenne to gouge out ice and snow so as to place rocks under wheels to get unstuck, which exhausted me and tore up my favorite gloves. Better than walking 30 miles back anyway, and when you’re at 11,000' and no one is likely for days, and it’s well below freezing, the reality lens a single-minded focus and energy to one’s efforts. Live and learn. But how I wish I were back there, it was so still and beautiful.