Day 4- Lone Pine, CA
Today was their day, with very little attention to my wants and needs. Yeah, sure, I got my regular morning treats and food, Don took me for a rather interesting walk through the RV Park's maintenance area, and I got my usual massages and petting. But they eventually boarded the truck without me and ran off to the local Movie Museum. It seems that back in the early part of the last century (way before I was born) the people in Hollywood spent a lot of time here making movies, mostly shoot-em-up cowboy flicks where the hero gets to kiss his horse at the end (no, not the horse's end). So, of course, they had to build a museum to handle all the artifacts of that age, and Geri and Don had to go see it. They reported that they found it entertaining and fun, though they couldn't really remember ever having seen most of the films that were featured in the museum.
After lunch, they had scheduled a tour of the Alabama Hills, where most of the movie filming took place. They invited me to join them, but I was a bit hesitant due to the warmth of the day; understand, at my age, my comfort is of some importance to me. But I accompanied them out the the truck, and when they set up the ramp for me to enter my private accommodations, I politely demurred. Instead, I went to the side door of the truck's cab, indicating that unless I go in the air-conditioned interior, I ain't riding. These guys are easy touches; I got my wish immediately, and off we went.
The ride through the hills was scenic but bumpy, and I didn't get to see a lot from my location behind the seats in the cab. But they were doing a lot of oohing and aawing over the spectacular piles of rocks that we were moving through, and sounded as though they were really enjoying it. When we finally got free of the rock piles and back to civilization in Lone Pine, they found a park for me to trot around in and do a little rolling, for which I was thankful. Don had to stop and spend a few minutes at the grave of the victims of the 1872 earthquake, which he says was the most powerful in California's recorded history; glad we weren't here for that.
Back at the rig, I got my dinner and post-dinner treats; then they took off for a feast at a local restaurant that has a reputation for being the finest in the Owens Valley. They returned a couple of hours later, groaning in pleasure from the results of their dinner. Geri had ordered the grilled salmon salad, which turned out to be more salmon than salad, perfectly prepared, moist and meaty. Don had a house salad with a Roquefort cheese dressing for a starter, and he had to ask the waitress what cheese was used, it was so good. She knew it to be Maytag cheese, the company that had purchased the recipe for blue cheese from the Langlois Blue Cheese Company in Langlois, Oregon, where Don had spent many childhood summers, and had hated the taste of their product. Does that indicate that he's matured a little? Who knows. His entree was Golden Trout, sauteed in butter, a treat that he never gets at home. His trout had seen many summers, and was of a very appreciable size, but tender and delicious. They both had some leavings boxed to return to the rig. So, here I am, reporting on the delicacies that my human compatriots shovel into their maws, while I am asked to be satisfied with the same old stuff on a daily basis; I could complain, but it's really not worth it. I like what they feed me, it's obviously good for me, and I get a lot of treats to go with it. Hardly worth complaining about.
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