Day Fourteen - Reno to Fremont

Since today's drive from Reno to Fremont, California didn't threaten to be nearly as long and taxing as the past few, Mary Frances and I managed to not set an alarm clock and wake up when we damned well felt like it, which turned out to be about 8:30.  What with packing, getting downstairs, checking out and getting our car back from the valet, it was 9:30 when we wandered south toward Truckee.

Finally, a day trip under 7 hours duration.  And some lovely scenery.

Sometimes things that start out irritating you end up being your best experiences.  After leaving Reno behind us and crossing the California state line, we followed the twists and turns of Interstate 80 looking for breakfast.  We were prepared to ignore the exit for Historic Truckee, save for a small sign suggesting California Welcome Center.  So we exited, expecting what you'd find in other places, a concrete and steel building right off the ramp, with rest rooms, vending machines and brochures.  Instead, another sign suggesting we continue toward Historic Truckee.  By the time we reached the middle of the small town, we spotted a little building that looked like an old railroad station, with a sign that revealed itself as the Welcome Center.  It was tiny, but had the requisite brochures, and a pleasant proprietress who explained that our destination was in Alameda County, which had produced no brochures, at least not among those available there.

So we headed up the street in the direction back to Route 80, when we saw this sign:

A very pleasant place to eat in Historic Truckee.

Once we had figured out the most complicated parking meter system in the continental United States, wherein you have to insert coins or credit cards or certified checks drawn on the US Treasury and cosigned by the Assistant Secretary, and run back to your car to place the receipt on the dash, we climbed the steps to Marty's and enjoyed a superb breakfast, although thirteen bucks for two eggs, bacon and toast should guarantee superbness.  Truckee, it turns out, is also Yuppee.

We had two waitresses, and one of them asked us about our origin and destination.  She suggested we ignore Interstate 80 for a while, and instead opt for Historic Route 40, which would get us back on our course eventually, but without wasting the opportunity for some genuine sightseeing.  All we can say to the pleasant person with the Peace earrings is, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You.

Donner Lake, near the beginning of Historic Route 40.

The Donner Pass

The byway she suggested is known in American history as the Donner Pass.  For the next fifteen miles or so we saw some of the most spectacular scenery, and felt some of the most empathy for our pioneer forebears, as one can imagine.

The horizontal line across the steep mountainside above Donner Lake is the
railroad.  Think of the courage of thosewho built it, and drive their engines across it.

Donner Lake, from halfway up the pass that made history.

And three-quarters.

The point on the drive where we reach the level of the railroad.

This plaque tells the story of several families who set out together from Council
Bluffs, Iowa (where we were one week ago) to reach California.  All of them
succeeded, despite fifteen out of seventeen of the men riding ahead for help,
then enlisting in the Mexican War, leaving just two of the men to bring all the women
and children across the pass in dead of winter.  No plaque mentions the Donner Party
itself; no doubt explaining the issue of cannibalism on a National Park plaque
presents problems.

A look back at the winding trail that got us here, and Donner Lake in the distance.

The vista point near the summit of Donner Pass, slightly higher than the railroad.

This plaque about the Donner Summit Bridge is actually well below the summit.

 Soon Historic Route 40 rejoins Interstate 80, and our headlong rush from one venue to another begins again, but we are so thankful for that hour away from the main road, where we could see incredible scenery, feel so much history, and appreciate that a waitress in Truckee was kind enough to steer us in the right direction.

What's the most common bush in California?  No doubt it's Oleander:

Oleander lines pretty much every major highway in California.

It's a great choice for a highway liner, since it's pretty, it won't climb utility poles and strangle trees like kudzu, and it won't be eaten by animals or humans since it's poisonous as hell.

We could just duct tape a camera to the dash and set it to snap every ten
seconds.  Eight out of ten shots would feature oleander.

 Prevailing westerlies?  Driving down Interstate 680 east of San Francisco Bay, all the conifers alongside the highway are slanted eastward.

There are much better examples of the phenomenon than this, but
our camera, and our camera skills, left us with this one example.

The golden hills of California, a ridge of yellow grass that runs the length of the
east side of San Francisco Bay.  We aren't certain the yellow is normal or
simply due to the lack of rainfall.

Soon after, we checked into the DoubleTree in Fremont (actually Newark) for a welcome two night stay.

Palm Trees!  Picture taken from the window of a very fine Mexican Restaurant,
whose name is different from the one our GPS listed, and which I can't remember,
but which served great genuine cuisine and extraordinary margaritas.

 What really makes this trip fun:

Mary Frances, with good food and excellent drink.

Tomorrow we get to see Holly (Coolidge) Pardel and her husband; she is like a third daughter to us.  Then perhaps some local sights.  We'll know tomorrow, and you'll know shortly thereafter.

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