Family and Friends

We retrace our winding journey to the southwest entrance of Kings Canyon National Park. It seems faster - and steeper - on the way out. Gradually, the colours come back. Wildflowers and a flowering bush known as red bud crowd the narrow and often bumpy road. We make our way to Three Rivers for the night, then head for Bakersfield. That's where Debra did much of her growing up. That's where her family lives. George and Shirley Ashby open the door to their well-kept bungalow and invite us in. They're in their 70s now, and smiling in spite of health issues that are mostly connected with breathing. We settle into the living room and they begin sharing stories of their travels in the mountains when Debra was young. And their travels in Europe. George tells the story of a conversation in Ireland, where he divulged that Bakersfield gets about four inches of rain a year. In Ireland, his fellow travellers say, we get that in a day.
George and Shirley also share their encyclopedic knowledge of plants. Any meagre description can prompt a name. And when they get stumped, Shirley gets up to consult a guidebook. She takes us for a tour through a backyard that's green and remarkably cool, given that it's 90 degrees. In early April. Debra tells me it doesn't just get hot in Bakersfield, it gets @#$@! hot. We harvest snow peas that, like me, will wither once the real summer arrives. I'll be glad to be on the coast. Just before we leave, George hands me a five-dollar bill - Canadian, from their trip to Vancouver a few years back - that's occupied a place of honour (I assume) in his wallet ever since.

Then, it's up to Richard's place in the mountains. Richard and Debra have been friends forever. The kind of friends who always have a gentle verbal jab for each other. They've traveled together and the memories sustain them during the many months when they don't see each other at all. Richard is a judge - supposedly retired but busier than ever - who specializes in finding cheap flights and then figuring out what he'll do when he arrives wherever. His home sits on a bluff hundreds of feet (this IS America) above the highway into Bakersfield, 20 miles to the west. The view is astounding.


We spend the night, then head for the poppies of Antelope Valley the next morning. We're fortified by Richard's newest easy-bake breakfast. A can of peaches - syrup and all - doused with a box of cake mix and baked. Betty Crocker would be proud.