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Another year has come and gone. I don’t use the normal calendar to measure a year, I use my yearly trip to my “Nirvana To The North” as my annual ending point of the year. Because as soon as it is over we kick into overdrive with school, sports, and work, after having been recharged by the magic that is the High Sierras.
This year our vacation time was cut short by two factors, an early starting school year and my daughter’s return from her Sister City trip to Australia. Thank God my son’s All Star Baseball stint was short or we might not have been able to go at all. Not that I wanted them to lose, but if I don’t get my yearly fix of “Nirvana” I would be more of a raving lunatic than I normally am and I don’t think any of us want to go there.
As I have chronicled in the past, this magical place is located in the Eastern High Sierras on the edge of a lake where we are surrounded by nature. The environment alone lends itself to relaxation, which is why I love being there. If you want to do something, you can. If you feel like sitting like a vegetable and soaking in the view like I do, you can do that as well, and for hours at a time without feeling guilty. Sorry, but that’s just the type of turnip I am.
There was, of course, the mandatory trips to Mammoth for lunch. We usually go to Grumpy’s Sports Bar and Grill which has, in addition to decent food, plenty of games to keep the kids occupied while the food is being prepared. This is always a plus, as any parent on vacation will tell you. Once you have left the complimentary crayons and color-in placemat stage, unless there is some other type of pre-mealtime diversion, waiting for your food can seem like an eternity.
That is unless you are dining at the jewel of the Eastern Sierras, Matt “Tioga” Toomey’s Whoa Nellie Deli. Not only does your food come fast it is the best food, bar none, in the area. The menu sports some very unique dishes such as Lobster Taquitos, Buffalo Meatloaf, New Zealand Rack of Lamb, and an Ahi Burger. The last two entries were on the “specials” menu, which is always changing with new delicacies.
One of the things that make this restaurant different from the rest is that it is located in a mini mart of a Mobil gas station. In fact, most of the locals and regulars don’t even call it by its proper name they just call it the “Mobil Station” which to new people to the area can sound kind of weird. You usually don’t equate petrol products with fine dining, but here at the Eastern entrance to Yosemite National Park, Tioga Pass, they do.
While there is inside dining available most people prefer to dine at one of the numerous tables al fresco with an intoxicating view of Mono Lake. Not only do you have spectacular food and a view, they have mastered something that most fine dining establishments have not, speed. You get your food fast. Considering the multitudes of people that descend on this place nightly it is an amazing feat.
When we arrived at 7:00 on Saturday night the place was packed and we still got our food faster than at most restaurants I have been to. With extra little bonuses like live music on Thursday nights, Whoa Nellie’s Deli shows no sign of stopping soon. So if you find yourself anywhere near Tioga Pass, do yourself a favor and drop in and taste Matt’s cuisine.
I don’t know about you, but whenever we go on vacation there are always a couple of instances that stick out in your mind long after the vacation is over. This year’s entry into the Vacation Hall of Fame deals with fathers and the indigenous wildlife of the Sierras.
The day of our arrival we went with my parents, Mr. Dunn and Martha or Ron and Diane, they are known by many names, to the Whoa Nellie Deli. It is about twenty minutes away from the cabin and requires driving around Grant Lake, along a winding road. My father and I have driven this road every year of our lives since getting our driver’s licenses. Day or night we usually do it above the speed limit.
That was until a fateful night a couple of years ago when my father, on his way back from the Whoa Nellie Deli, had a chance encounter with a deer. Usually when my father and a deer meet it is during hunting season, but on this night they met at 40 miles an hour on the road next to Grant Lake. While the deer’s outcome was the same, unfortunately the damage to my dad’s truck was about four times more expensive than a deer-hunting license and he didn’t get to keep the meat.
So now every time my father drives this familiar piece of highway it is done below the speed limit and if somebody else is driving, read ME, they are warned every 50 feet about the ghost deer that may appear out of nowhere in front of your car. This was repeated on the way back from the restaurant as well. I chalked this up to his one instance and his being over cautious, as any son would do. I mean it only happened once in sixty years of driving this road. What are the chances of it happening again to someone in the same family? I figured about the same as two people in the same family winning the lottery.
So a few days later, after my parents had left, we were making the same trek back to Whoa Nellie Deli when out of nowhere, you guessed it, out sprang a deer directly in front of us. Luckily, as I was driving, the words of my father rang in my ears, so my speed was slower than usual and my eyes were darting back in forth watching for these evil beasts. We had been trying to spot a deer since we arrived and almost ended up with one as a hood ornament. Deer are stupid. Sure they may be cute, but they are stupid.
Unfortunately, so are some people who think they are fishermen. During my years, this year marks my 50th anniversary of going to the cabin, I have seen a lot of them and lived with the two best fishermen on the lake, my grandmother and my dad. So when I tell you that this year I saw the dumbest person I have ever seen with a fishing pole in his hands, I know from which I speak.
Directly off of our dock is one, if not the hottest, fishing spots on the lake, so we are used to people anchoring in front of it. This provides an eagle eye view of what’s going on in their boats. On one particular day, while I was being a turnip, a father and son, obviously novice fishermen based on the newness of their dingy sized boat and the equipment they were using, had an incredible stroke of luck, well sort of.
During their brief time out fishing, not more than an hour, the son hooked what was easily a 6 to 7 pound trout. There are fishermen who have been fishing the lake for years trying to catch a fish that big, but to know avail. What was even more amazing is that these two didn’t even have a net and the son managed to get it in the boat without one. That should have been the end of the story, but unfortunately for the boy, dad got involved.
For some bizarre reason once the fish was in the boat and had stopped moving dad decided that the fish was dead and therefore no good. So without the benefit of a net he decided to put it back in the water in an effort to revive it. Of course, the fish was slippery, and dad lost him in the water. He then tried to use one of the oars to, well I don’t know what he was trying to do.
By the time he asked if he could borrow a net from me I knew it was too late but I loaned it to him anyway. They drove in circles for over a half hour while dad was doing his best impression of Captain Ahab searching for Moby Dick before finally giving up and returning the net. The son was clearly very disappointed and it was then that I offered up two valuable pieces of fishing advise in my limited arsenal of fishing knowledge. Always take a net and when you get a fish that big never let him see water again until he is restrained securely.
Another year, another lesson learned.
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