INto the hills

It looked like our run of good weather had come to an end. Cooler temperatures rolled in, and the rain started falling. With the desert sunshine behind us, it felt like the right time to hit the road again. This time, heading for the hills.

Alabama Hills, to be exact.

The drive was long. Rolling grey clouds hung low over the mountains, and the road twisted gently as we made our way north. We passed tiny towns, dusty gas stations, and wide-open stretches that felt like movie sets. As we later learned, many of them actually were.

By the time we reached Lone Pine, it was time to grab a much needed coffee. As we were waiting, I headed out briefly to take a few photos.

The rain had eased, well for now anyway.

Then the wind hit.

It was so windy—like standing in front of one of those giant industrial blowers they use on movie sets. I could barely stay on my feet.

We managed to find a couple of spots to pull over and take some photos, but boy oh boy was it wild. We braved the gusts just long enough to snap a lone motorbike rider powering through the chaos. How he managed to stay upright is beyond me.

Then we noticed the rain was making a comeback. The wind was clearly pushing a storm our way, and we watched as the hills in the distance slowly disappeared into mist. That was our cue.

We jumped back in the car and continued north, heading for Bishop.

What a surprise that place turned out to be.

The town was unexpectedly beautiful, quiet streets framed by snow-capped peaks, everything washed clean by the rain. It had this calm, grounded energy, like a proper mountain town. After checking in to our accommodation, it hit us: we were starving. (Okay, maybe it was the belly rumbles that hit first.)

Right across the road: Holy Smoke Texas BBQ.
Perfect. That’ll do us.

Full bellies, tired legs, and cold noses—time to hit the sheets.

Belinda Van Zanen