We received a tip from a fellow camper at Kennedy Meadows to bypass our original camping destination (which, at that point had fluctuated between several campgrounds randomly chosen from a guidebook) and instead head to Bishop Park Campground, along the Bishop Creek. I don’t claim to be a genius, but there is one thing I’ve learned from my travels: if someone gives you a tip or recommendation while on the road, it’s usually a good idea to take it. Things like word-of-mouth fishing holes, hole-in-the-wall diners, and secluded campgrounds all fall under the category of: it would be stupid to at least not go and have a look.
With Lake Isabella still lingering in our minds, we figured we had nothing to lose–a benefit of having no plans/agendas/or reservations.
But first, we had to drive through desert terrain on Highway 395
I guess you could say we drove through towns, although, at times the definition of “town” became questionable. In the desert, it’s hard to tell sometimes if items/towns/rubbage in the middle of nowhere are still in use, or if they have been sitting perfectly preserved for decades.
At the visitor’s center, located at the intersection of where 395 meets the road into Death Valley, you can purchase backcountry passes to climb Mt. Whitney. Or, if you are like us, you can enjoy the view of Mt. Whitney from the shady picnic grounds.
Continuing north on HWY 395: Every gas station served several functions: gas, convenience store, housing, chicken coop, small farm, and potential pony rides.
Several hours later, we reached the turn-off for Rte 168 in Bishop.
I didn’t realize we would be heading into the mountains…
About 45 minutes and 15 miles of winding roads later, we reached Bishop Park Campground. Luck was on our side, as we snagged the last available campsite, camp #13
We set up camp on the soft sands right along Bishop Creek. The sound of the rushing water was what we woke up to and fell asleep to every night. Pretty amazing for $23 a night.
Once the tent had been pitched, and our gear had been stowed in bear lockers, we decided to try our hand at fishing. Bishop Creek supposedly is teeming with brown trout.
We tried our best to find the fish — went upstream, went downstream, gauged the current, crossed fallen trees, tried to find the calm, dark, spots of water where we were sure the trout lay lurking.
Several hours later, we had given up and moved on to another location: the nearby North Lake
(We were equally unlucky, but we sure did enjoy the magnificent view)
Near the turnoff for North lake is a calmer part of Bishop Creek. We could SEE the trout here with our own two eyes, taunting us, daring us to toss in our line only so they could swim towards it, then swim away.
Needless to say, we didn’t eat fish for dinner.
Instead, we cooked (fishless) campfire (ok, gas grill) chili while we watched the sun slip behind the clouds, and turn the sky pink and orange.
When night fell, the nearby camp of frat boys on a retreat of some sort started to sing in harmony with one another – a strange, yet haunting, melody accompanied by the crackling of the fire, and the sound of water rushing over the rocks in the nearby creek. Miles away from civilization, nestled in the mountains of a place I never imagined existed, that was our entertainment for the evening.
SLEEP
Bishop Park Campground – ($23/night. There are upper and lower sites–the upper sites are close to where they sell wood, and many RVs tend to be here. The lower sites are closer to the highway, and are right along the river. Flush toilets cleaned regularly. Firewood available on site for $8. Bear lockers. Vehicles must be parked in separate lot, so in some ways the lower sites are walk-in.As far as I know, reservations are only accepted for group campsites).
EAT
Best bet is to bring your own food, but if you’re stuck, Bishop is about a 15 mile drive from camp. Even closer is the Bishop Creek Resort, near Lake Sabrina, several miles from camp.
With our grand plans thwarted due to weather reports indicating rain (conspiracy), we had to improvise. The car had long-since been packed, all we needed was an inspiring destination. After consulting several maps, and exchanging several terse words with one another, we decided to head towards Lake Isabella in the Southern Sequoia area. According to my camping guidebook (which I am now starting to distrust), camping was plentiful and fish were jumping. Seemed like an ideal place to spend Memorial Day weekend, and a just reward for two spontaneous adventurers (cough) such as ourselves.
From SF to Lake Isabella is about a 5-6 hour drive? I can hardly remember. It felt like an extremely long, uneventful, and painful drive.
About 3am, or some time in those whereabouts, we pulled into Lake Isabella…and drove around and around and around trying to find a camping spot, many of which were no reservation sites. All looked as if they were spilling out at the seams. Around and round we went, trying to remain positive, scoping out cute chalet-style restaurants to visit during the trip. We tried unsuccessfully to pump ourselves up, “yeah, this place looks, um…really…yeah…it probably is beautiful in the daytime…yeah…big lake…” It didn’t work. The more loops we made around the lake, the more I disliked the place.
Needing a bathroom break, we finally settled on Camp 9, where the guidebook said we would find flush toilets and lake views. Instead…how can I describe this…Camp 9 reminded me of a post-apocalyptic refugee camp on par with Mad Max or Waterworld. No trees, just barren, grassy fields set up in marshy land next to the water. The campsites were literally right next to one another — a strip of asphalt with “lakeside view,” housing maybe 25-30 RVs, touching nose to nose, sprinkled intermittently with a few tents who were illegally camped there. At least it was quiet in this part of camp.
Not so much at the other circle/loop of campsites nearby, where we discovered 3 available spots, all right next to each other, but at least on a plot of (dead) grass. There were maybe 50+ campsites clustered in a loop here, with maybe 2 or 3 feet separation from one another. At 3 am, approximately 90% of the people (who apparently all arrived in an SUV or 4WD truck) were still awake, with bright lights shining from their truck headlights focused on the camp/party sites, and plentiful bud lite being passed among bros.
Sliding precariously halfway down a hill was a singular, wobbly port-a-potty. (ONE flush toilet for entire campground existed high on the hill away from the water. Bring a flashlight if you use it at night–there were no lights). One port-a-potty for 50+ drunk dudes. That was a deal breaker. It didn’t take long for us to weigh our options of staying the night, waking up next day, and moving to a better camp, or driving all night until we found a suitable camp.
And so we drove. And we never looked back.
Out of sheer proximity, randomness, and a little bit of luck, we stumbled upon Kennedy Meadows ($17/night, pit toilets, water pump) in the Dome Land wilderness of Sequoia National Forest/Inyo National Forest. By the time we arrived, we were able to catch the sun rising through the trees–just enough light to set up camp, and not enough light to be daunted by the horrible fly-laden pit toilets.
We slept through the morning and into the early afternoon under some very lovely trees.
Camp Kennedy
You can hike and swim and fish here (the kern river flows right by camp). It is also the starting or ending point for PCT hikers, of which we saw a few. We, however, chose to do absolutely nothing. Instead, we spent the day cooking on a portable grill
Grilled Chicken Offal
reading under this awesome tree (welcome shade in 80-90 degree daytime heat)
afternoon at Kennedy Meadows
and generally just relaxing, eating good food, drinking lime bud lites, talking, and enjoying the view
view from camp
We stayed at site #10, btw. — in my opinion site 10, and the sites surrounding it were the best in the loop. They are close, but not too close, to the horrible pit toilets with the dead fly carpet. It’s also close to one of the camp’s water pumps, none of which were working at the end of May (you can find water at the General Store up the road).
While we could still hear and see neighbors, each camp had quite a bit of land and trees between sites, so there was some sense of privacy, and of “getting away from it all.”
In a million years, I would have never thought to camp this deep into no-man’s land. Yet, somehow a community of people have discovered this place, and have chosen to settle here. Apparently, this place has long-since been a site for camping, fishing and hunting. To get here, you travel from desert scrub, up over and beside a canyon, through what we called “barren wasteland” (a bunch of burned trees), to the meadow. How did people ever think to find this place, so perfectly hidden from the rest of the world?
Not only that, but build a monument to ice cream
ice cream!
Ice cream seems like a popular treat in these parts, as every one of the 3 stores in this 10-15 mile area have signs advertising ice cold ice cream. The shop near this ice cream memorial scared me — was it open, was it closed? All I know is that there was an “ice cream” sign outside of what looked to be someone’s house. An old bearded guy with busted baseball cap sat picking his teeth near the door. We drove on. But if you want gas, they also seem to sell that. Ice cream and gas. Nice combo.
you can get a couple gallons with your ice cream
Furthest up the road from the camp is Grumpy Bear’s Restaurant and Tavern (2C-10 Kennedy Meadows Rd. Inyokern, CA), where we decided to stop for firewood.
In the driveway, while taking pictures of this
someone's home
I noticed off in the distance, a 10 or 11-yr old African American boy, dressed in a tshirt 3x too big, walking through the fields with a 3 or 4 yr old white kid on his back. I don’t know what about the sight of those 2 struck me as being so odd, except that the memory of those kids, so out of place, has stuck with me.
We went inside Grumpy’s, obviously out of place ourselves. This place must have been built in the late 1960s, and never ever changed since (looks like the events calendar at Grumpy Bears was updated last in 2005–probably has not changed since either). On the left side, is the worlds smallest gift shop/supply store, where I’m pretty sure you can buy an assortment of products from 1970s that have yet to see the light of day. On the right was a more lively atmosphere — the tavern with a bar, pool tables, and quite a few locals. We were eventually greeted by a hostess, who asked if we were interested in trying their bbq (‘It’s real good”), and told us that their closing time was “whenever everyone decided to leave.” She was really friendly. A good vibe. We considered eating there, hanging with the locals and all that, but instead we returned to camp.
on the road
watched the sunset by the river–apparently a decent fishing hole,
watching the sun set
And ate some chili-lime marinated chicken by the nice fire, which we fed for hours and hours, not wanting it to ever die.
sitting by the campfire
No idea what we talked about for so long, but really, being outdoors, sitting by the campfire with bellies full of grilled chicken, there is a certain satisfaction that exceeds words. And so we sat together, enjoying the fire, and that feeling, as long as we could.
SLEEP
Camp 9, Lake Isabella — ($17, night, 100 campsites at first come, first serve basis. 3 flush toilets and multiple porta-potties service the campsites, many of which are RV-only. Not recommended, even the ones with lake view. There’s no shade, and campsites are extremely close together)
Kennedy Meadows ($17/night, west of Hwy 395, in the Southern Sierra range. There are several nearby camps, including Fish Creek. Click for more info.)
EAT
Grumpy Bear’s Restaurant and Tavern (2c-10 Kennedy Meadows Road, $10 BBQ/American pub food, beer, pool table, ice cream–pretty much the only place besides the General Store to get a hot meal)
SHOP
General Store (up the road from Kennedy Meadow Campground–this is kind of the hub of the meadows — you can get a bite to eat, fishing gear, books, water, beer, pick up mail, tshirts, etc. a little bit of everything)
SEE
Lake Isabella (340miles/5hrs south of San Francisco–the website says its California’s best-kept secret. There is nothing secret about this place. Keep driving, not recommended)
brown bag travel 