Pool Party

One weekend in April, my friend Inez and I drove up the Grapevine, turned off toward Lake Isabella on the old Weedpatch Highway and headed up into the precipitous canyon where the Kern River tumbles down in a grand spill from 12,800 feet to 400 feet in only 140 miles.

Five of California’s six bio-regions (lacking only the coastal redwood forests) surround the river’s free-fall. Adding to the area’s delights, nine thermal springs line the riverbanks. Many are closed to the public or are in remote areas, but we stopped at one that not only is open to the public, but recently has been restored by a nonprofit group called Friends of the Hot Springs.

The trail to Miracle Hot Springs is a 200-yard ramble from the day parking lot for Hobo Campground, just off California 178 on the Old Kern River Canyon Road, four miles before reaching Lake Isabella. Inez stayed in the car, enjoying the bird song emanating from the aspens, the pure mountain air and the gentle clamor of the river. Huge boulders surround and cup the springs, which sparkle up out of the ground at a scorching 140 degrees. One concrete-lipped pool spills into another; the last and coolest hangs over the edge of the tree-lined river. I basked in it until I turned lobster pink, then clambered down into a shallow pool in the 40-degree river with only one high-pitched yelp. Above me, in one of the hot pools, three older women took turns pouring buckets of water over one another.

Minutes later we drove around the eastern shore of Lake Isabella and up into Kernville, where, at 2,700 feet, the sun is said to shine 300 days a year, the air is fresh and views of mountains, rivers and forests stretch off at every angle. We checked into the lovely Whispering Pines Lodge, just out of town.

Most of the generous rooms (doubles run $99-$159) have river-view decks, high pitched pine ceilings with fans, gas fireplaces and very large bathrooms with phones, massage showerheads and double sinks. Though the decor veers toward kitsch, I’ve stayed in $400 rooms that had fewer amenities. Moreover, the price of the room includes a sumptuous breakfast of delights such as broccoli quiche, homemade sour-cherry coffeecake, bacon, eggs and fresh fruit.

From our deck, the water glinted silver through the trees lining the riverbanks. A few rafts floated by, then several kayaks. I took a quick jog up the road, which was fringed with wildflowers. To the right, a pasture spotted with brown and white cows swooped up a steep slope. A little farther on, to the left, the dark pools of a fish hatchery sheltered golden trout. Tours are given there daily.

That night we ate at Cheyenne’s Stage Stop. Billie Holiday played on the sound system, old tools adorned the walls, and the helpings of barbecued chops, tri-tip and mushrooms sizzling with garlic were enormous. “We ATE!” said Inez after our cheesecake.

The next morning we wanted to experience the extolled convergence of five bio-systems: Great Basin Sage, Mojave Desert, Coastal Chaparral, Sierran Forest and Great Valley Grasslands.

As we drove up-canyon, within a few miles the familiar high Sierran landscape materialized: granite peaks, a rushing river, the dark shadows of pines along the ridges. Up at the very peak of the canyon, the pines grew gigantic. We pulled over to pay homage to a giant of a sequoia. Descending back down into the canyon, we saw the definite line where the Sierra pine system ended and the dark olive green of the Great Basin one began. A few thousand feet farther down, a dusty mauve chaparral replaced Great Basin, and lower still, grasslands and a native riparian forest bordered the riverbanks.

We had lunch in Kernville along a boardwalk backed by storefronts built around three sides of a pretty little park. Linda’s Ice Cream and Sub provided root beer floats and a spinach salad.

Upriver we had seen raftloads of people bouncing down the rapids. Inez thought it looked dreadful; I was keen to try it.

So that afternoon, while Inez dozed in the sunshine on our deck at the motel, I took to the river. I chose Whitewater Voyages out of the many river-rafting companies in town because I liked the look of their brochure. Their safety talk by the riverside scared me half to death. I had visions of being “strained” through trees or having my ankle snapped by a stone. But once on the water, captain of my very own paddle cat and under the guidance of my capable river guide, Dave Churchill, I was soon as happy as a duck.

He taught me about looking for the funnel of water through rocks, of spinning into an eddy, of choosing your line through a rapid, and of paddling like mad when you hit the waves after a plunge. We floated past an eagle’s nest, perched right next to a row of the mud nests of tree swallows that dipped down low over our tiny boats. After roaring down “Big Daddy,” we swooped downriver toward a Class 3 rapids where the water does some tricky stuff.

Dave reminded me to use the river’s power, not to fight it. I lightened my grip, pointed my little craft down the chute, roared between two boulders, swirled around into the eddy and turne back around with a giant grin.

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Budget for Two

Gas: $25.71

Whispering Pines

Lodge, 2 nights: 215.60

Lunch, El Pueblo: 19.33

Dinner, Cheyenne’s Stage Stop: 34.88

Lunch, Linda’s Ice Cream and Sub: 8.19

1/2-day kayaking, 1 person: 73.00

FINAL TAB: $376.71

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Whispering Pines Lodge, 13745 Sierra Way, Kernville, CA 93238; tel. (877) 241-4100.