Our Four Wheel Camper

After our journey around Mount Shasta we drove south to Shasta Lake and set up camp on the north shore of the Sacramento River Arm at Beehive Camp.

Sunset at Shasta Lake.

The location of our camp. Conditions were not as damp as they appear because the lake was not at full pool.

The emerald blue waters of Shasta Lake and a small campfire made a relaxing scene.

We didn't have any wood but a blazing fire was provided by my iPad. The app even supplied the crackling sounds of wood burning but without the smoke. I downloaded the app to use as a joke on this trip but found it kind of cool and might actually use it again.

Dawn at our Shasta Lake camp.

We drove into the town of Shasta Lake for breakfast and then decided to visit the Shasta Dam.

This photo was hanging above the water fountain near the restrooms at the visitor center.

After watching a movie in the theater we walked across the dam. Leaving Shasta Dam we drove north on Interstate 5 and then east of the Gilman Road along the McCloud Arm of Shasta Lake.

Every national forest we entered this summer warned of the dangers of marijuana farms. Two years ago we were warned by a ranger to not even drive into a certain area of his district. Ten years ago we were warned by officers from two different agencies to stay far away from the U.S./Mexico border.

This sign made it very clear that we weren't going to loop north back to interstate on the Fender Ferry Road.

At the McCloud Bridge we met a young man named Josh who, with his wife, was stranded on this remote road with a dead battery. I was surprised to find someone without jumper cables so far off the beaten path until a man and his son walked up and told me a story about an amazing rescue that had just been concluded. The man and his son had been kayaking on the McCloud Arm of Shasta Lake and had come ashore to explore an old mining camp.

While exploring the camp the son fell into a 20 foot deep shaft. The father seeing Josh's truck ran to the road for help. They gathered all the rope from the kayaks, tied them together but did not have enough length to reach the boy without falling in themselves.

After a moment of thought Josh walked back to his truck grabbed his jumper cables, split them in half and tied them onto the rope. They now had enough length to reach the boy without falling in themselves. The son was pulled from the shaft with only scratches, a ripped fingernail and torn t-shirt. In the excitement of rescue the rope and jumper cables slid down into the shaft. No one was too concerned about losing the equipment until Josh went to start his truck ten minutes later. About 20 minutes after that I arrived and heard the story. (None of the participants wanted to have their photo taken.)

We drove on toward Monday Flat. One of several bridges across Salt Creek.

Another bridge across Salt Creek. The vegetation was very lush along the stream bed.

While making our way to Monday Flat we saw the red letters BH painted on trees at every intersection with an arrow pointing the way. We decided to follow the arrows to BH.

BH turned out to be the site of Bully Hill mine and smelter. We did not drive around the sign although there was evidence that many had done so. Being one who likes to visit historical sites it was hard to resist.

We walked down a short ungated side road to these ruins.

The remains of these two vehicles rested in a shallow pit.

More ruins. A Google search satisfied my curiosity about Bully Hill when I returned home.

Our quest for BH caused us to drive past our original destination so we doubled back. Shortly after our arrival at Monday Flat a forest service patrol boat landed near our position. I was out of the truck taking photographs but jumped back in and drove over to the officers to say hello. After offering them a cold beverage from our refrigerator they offered to write me a citation for not wearing my seat belt during the 100 yard drive over to their location.

Sunset at Monday Flat.

Another deep water camp with a Four Wheel Camper.

The next morning the honking of a flock Canadian Geese woke us from our slumber.

Finding our way back through all the intersections to County Road 27 was simple, we just looked for the red BH arrows and reversed the direction.

At one intersection my passenger had a difficult time locating the red BH. She scanned the area for about 30 seconds and pronounced that there were no markings at this intersection. I asked her if she was certain, whereupon she emphatically stated that we should drive on because there were no red BH's anywhere in sight. My passenger than asked why I was taking a photograph. A second later the fog lifted and we continued on our way.

Crossing Squaw Creek just north of Chirpchatter Campground.

The drive south to Highway 299 was long and curvy and honestly, after a while, a little boring. We crossed the Pit River on a high bridge near the afterbay weir for Pit River Dam #7 and reached the 299 about 20 minutes later.