Yelowstone 2018-4

Searching for the Old West

Having vanquished my foe, I put the day’s plan into action.

Alabama Hills

For several years, I have been reading about the Alabama Hills; a movie shooting location from the early days of Hollywood. The “ranch” has served duty in some of my favorite movies; Westerns of course, but also other genre.  Humphrey Bogart made his breakout role in High Sierra as what else, a holed-up gangster.  Cary Grant, Victor McLachlan and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. saved the British Raj in director Howard Hawks’ Gunga Din. And Spencer Tracy meted out one-armed justice against bigots Robert Ryan, Lee Marvin, Ernest Borgnine and Anne Frances in Bad Day at Black Rock. And there are countless others.  If you have any interest in film history, you should to a little research to discover which of your favorite movies were filmed here.

You will automatically recognize the terrain.  It lies between the town of Lone Pine the and the Sierra Nevada tors.  The best way to describe it is other worldly.  Although most of the movies filmed on the site were Westerns, the odd shaped boulders look as if they were rock monsters suspended in time, awaiting the wave of a magic wand to bring them to life. Alas, there are no remnants of sets constructed for filming.  There are a series of interconnected dirt roads which are accessible to anyone.  I would recommend a higher clearance vehicle, like a SUV.  But even mini-vans and sedans can handle most of the roads.  Access is easy. Exit Lone Pine heading west on Whitney Portal Road; then right onto Movie Road.  After that, follow which ever track suits you. When finished, return to town by whatever route you like.

 

Alabama Hills

I have one more goal associated with my visit to Lone Pine, a visit to the Museum of Western Film History. This moderate sized but nicely done tribute to the films shot in the Alabama Hills is located at the Southern end of town on the west side of U.S 395.  It is easy to spot, they have made the façade of the building look like a 1930’s era movie house, complete with marquis.  The museum contains artifacts form movies shot here from the early days right up to modern megahits like Iron Man and the Star Wars franchise. But its most important function is as the epicenter of the Lone Pine Film Festival occurring every fall.  The duration of your visit to the museum is dependent on your knowledge of the material.  The less familiar you are, the more time you will spend reading display cards. I breezed through in about an hour.

                            

Having completed my self-assigned workload, I decided to take a short trip north on U.S. 395 to Bishop to indulge in Schat’s Bakery.  I knew I would acquiesce to the morning rush if I waited until tomorrow. Bishop is about fifty miles north of Lone Pine. It is a much larger town whose primary revenue comes from tourism, fishing and hunting.  It is a jumping off point for the ski areas farther north.  Schat’s bakery is famous among U.S. 395 travelers for its German themed pastries and confections

I selected a slice of chocolate cake, and as it seemed that it might enhance the epicurean experience, I asked if they had ice cream. The gentleman assisting me, speaking with a pronounced European accent said no but informed me that they were installing a gelato machine this summer.  I left it at that and ordered a bottle of milk to accompany my cake.  Anyone who believes gelato is a reasonable substitute for ice cream demonstrates anti-American leanings. I enjoyed my cake and drove back to Lone Pine occasionally checking the rear-view mirror to see if I had picked up an FBI tail after my visit with Herr Schat.

When I returned to my motel room, I discovered another visitor dragging its belly across the carpet. This time it was a black spider, and fresh off my victory against the cricket, I felled it in one deft move.  I don’t know if it was a black widow but it sure had the body configuration.  I was not inclined to maneuver it onto its back to see if it had the red hourglass on the underside of its abdomen.  “Kill ‘em all and let God sort it out”, that’s my motto.”  The killing blow left little evidence for species identification.

That night, I awoke feeling as if something was crawling along my leg.  I jumped out of bed, turned on the light and thrashed the bed clothes.  I found no evidence of bug presence.  But as I fell into an uneasy sleep, my thoughts were that it might be time to reassess my fondness for kitsch motels and look to something of a higher standard.