Havertapes and Apple Hill

It's October.  Fall has come to the Truckee Meadows, though here in Nevada the blue of mostly-cloudless sky contrasts with bright sunshine and temperatures rise to comfortable levels by mid-day.  One could consider it still summertime.  There are unmistakable cues, however, that fall is being ushered in.  Early morning air is cool, even nippy.  Garden vegetables have passed their peak of productivity though there are still tomatoes on the vines in my backyard raised boxes, a few green beans, one little crook neck squash.  Bush cucumbers are in bloom as are the marigolds.  Those two didn't get the memo about the need to bloom in mid-summer.  Not only did the marigolds not come up in the planters and bloom on schedule, though so carefully planted among edibles as a deterrent to pests, a few specimens are now tall and awash with blossoms...in the pathways between the boxes!

It was just such an Indian summer-like fall when friends, the Havertapes, invited me and my two kids to join them and their three for a trek to Apple Hill, located about an hour outside Sacramento, in Placerville, CA.  We piled into Jack and MaryJo's VW bus, kids and adults dressed for a summer's day of fun in T-tops, shorts and sandals.

The scenery along our drive was spectacular, with foliage color changes unfolding as far as our eyes could see.  Apple Hill refers to an area comprised of 55 ranchers, a group spawned from the plight of 16 pear farmers who had been hit some 36 years ago by a terrible pear blight.  In a fight to survive, they formed an association and together, reasoned that with the rich soil all around and a longer growing season than Washington, they could compete in the market by growing apples.  Marketing strategies included inviting the public to tour the area, drive from farm to farm, and be entertained in a variety of ways including good old fashioned fun for kids and adults alike.  Everything that could be made to eat from apples was also readily available, as well as recipes and cooking demonstrations.  We had a great time playing and eating.

It was late afternoon when we started the trip home.  It wasn't a long drive.  We'd all be home by dinnertime.  The skies clouded over.  The temperature cooled.  It happened quickly and unexpectedly.  By the time we neared Donnor Pass, we found ourselves in the middle of a raging snow storm, a real blizzard.  The Pass was closed for a time.  The kids were excited by the sight of snow and quickly hopped out to see if it would pack for snow balls and a little action.  Three adults quickly herded the five back into the vehicle.  Consider that those old VW buses only produced inside heat when the vehicle was moving.  Parked there on the top of the Sierras, even with the engine and the heater running, we were all freezing!  Everyone was hungry.  We sat there atop the mountain into the night.  Once the plows had made a pass, Caltrans opened the road but only to those with chains, snow tires, and such.  VW buses were never meant to drive through snow in such depths as were quickly accumulating all around us.

Poor Jack.  I felt so bad for him that night.  He had chains but had great difficulty getting them put on.  Again and again, he would leave the driver's seat inside and lay in the snow beside the tires, a light summer shirt, shorts, and sandals his only protection from the wet and the cold, trying to get those blasted chains to work.  I mean, really!  Frozen fingers!  Chains that didn't seem the right size!  Darker than dark all around! Then, at last--success!  I don't know how he did it, considering the extreme conditions and our unpreparedness for such.  Slowly, we were allowed to join those who had chosen not to return to Placerville or go on to Sacramento to wait out the storm, in a brave and slow creep down the mountain into Reno.

Years later, each time I prepared to make my once-a-month drive over Donnor to Oakland for my scheduled time at the organ in the Temple, I always packed the trunk with food and water, blankets, jumper cables, and chains plus enough cash to pay a Caltrans staffer to put the chains on at the top and take them off at the bottom.  In my almost-four-year assignment in Oakland, I had to ask for their assistance only once.  Lesson learned, and...memories of friends...all a part of who I am.