After enjoying a leisurely Christmas morning in Bakersfield, we packed the Avalanche fit to burst and headed up the mountain to Mariposa. Little did we know we would be regretting our decision to pass on the four-wheel-drive option....
Just outside of Coarsegold it began to snow, HARD. I wasn't too terribly concerned until we began the downward descent into Oakhurst. The grade started to resemble a large white slip-n-slide with cars slipping at odd angles and our own vehicle's tires skidding in unnatural directions (at which I would scream at Joel, "turn TOWARD the skid!!!!!"). Thankfully, we made it down the mountain mostly on prayers and a steady crawl at 5 mph, and I called Dad, asking him if he thought Vons (the only store apparently open on Christmas) might possibly carry chains. He didn't think so, but said there was no precipitation happening in Bootjack, and that we had probably just gone through the worst of it. We decided to press on, with the understanding that if it got too scary, we'd turn back around and find a motel room in Oakhurst.
Fortunately, we made it to the Davis residence, with only slightly shaken nerves, mostly from the red-neck trucks riding our bumper and flashing brights at us for crawling down the grades (pooey on them, we were more concerned with saving our asses from plummeting down the snowy cliffs than in making good time...)
It did make for incredible snow play, however. We trekked to Fish Camp one afternoon to play in the snow. Julia had been to the snow once last year, but I don't think she remembered it. She was not convinced sledding was a good past-time, and so preferred to sit and eat the snow, occasionally mounding it into a "snow-man."
