My Hike in the Sierra
I took a hike in the Sierra the other day — a trek that propelled me back into my parents’ past.
My guides were Connie Popelish and Michael Olwyler — who likely know more about the history and topography of that part of the Sierra surrounding North Fork in Madera County than anyone else alive. After all, they’ve lived and worked there for decades. Connie was an archeologist for the Sierra National Forest — Michael was a ranger in the Ansel Adams Wilderness.
They also helped found the North Fork History Group — which has collected thousands of old photos and documents about life and times in that area.
Connie and Michael had kindly volunteered to take me to an area my dad had told me about more than 60 years ago. Dad and Mom had lived and worked in North Fork after they got married in the 1930’s. Decades later — long after they’d moved back to Fresno — Dad told me about a book he had read when he was much younger.
It was Stewart Edward White’s “The Cabin” — printed in 1911. White wrote about the adventures he and his wife “Billy”– she liked being called that — had when they built their cabin a few miles above North Fork in 1905.
Dad told me — when I was about 10 years old and not really listening to anything he had to say — that he had gone to the cabin’s site after reading the book. I remember he told me it was amazing to read about the site — and then be able to go see it.
Well, I forgot about that conversation until a couple of years ago — when I began volunteering — and creating reports — for the Madera County Historical Society. Research for those reports led me to North Fork — where I meet Connie and Michael. They knew all about White — and “The Cabin” — and offered to take me to the site.
Of course, I accepted — and so there I was, this past Thursday morning — the last day of August — riding in the front seat of their SUV. They had told me it was going to be a bumpy ride, up those narrow dirt mountain roads — which were full of potholes and big rocks. And they were right.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the devastation that had been caused by the giant Creek Fire that had scorched so much of the Sierra in 2020. That fire had started miles away — near Shaver Lake — on Labor Day weekend. It wound up burning almost 400,000 acres. Hundreds of people had to be rescued by helicopter after evacuation orders had been issued for many communities — including North Fork, Bass Lake, Shaver and Huntington lakes, and much more.
I had not realized the fire had reached the area we were in above North Fork — which was 30 miles from Shaver.
We kept climbing up narrow roads for miles until we stopped at an historic site. 
It was where the Roush family had built a cabin more than 100 years ago — and family members still use it for a vacation retreat. Somehow, the cabin has escaped vandals — likely because it’s so difficult to find. The ground in front of it is granite — and off to the side flows Whiskey Creek. There’s an outhouse in back.
We left that cabin and continued our climb to White’s cabin site. Finally, Michael stopped our vehicle and said, “This is it.” I could see no sign of any clearing where the White cabin had been. We started walking through brush and limbs — and found an old, old sign put up decades ago by the Forest Service to commemorate the White cabin site.
Most of the printing had faded, but if you looked closely, you could make out the words. “Beyond this sign lies the remains of the old White’s cabin described in the book The Cabin by Stewart Edward White. Please help protect this area.”
The sign had been allowed to disintegrate. And so had the cabin.
We walked toward the cabin — or, more accurately, toward what remained of it. We all had seen the photos White had taken of his cabin. One of them is on the right.
Unfortunately, all that’s left now are the stones White used to build his fireplace. And they’ve all fallen to the ground, as you can see on the left, below.
The Whites used their cabin each summer for several years, and he wrote beautifully about life in the meadow during that time — the solitude, the horseback trips they took through the Sierra, and the people they met — both from the Forest Reserve (as it was known then) and from the nearby Peckinpah sawmill. They seemingly led an idyllic life.
But then, in 1908, they left the cabin for good. No one bothered to maintain it in the years after their departure. Harsh winters caused considerable damage, both from snow and from trees that were knocked down, onto the structure.
And finally — in the late 1930’s — the remains of the cabin were intentionally burned to remove potential fuel if a fire started in the forest. Yes, those years of neglect finally took their toll. No one had thought to save the cabin White had made famous.
I walked up to and around the stones from that fireplace. I wondered what shape the cabin had been in in the early 1930’s when Dad had made his way there. And here I was — 90 years later — retracing his footsteps. It was emotional.
We took our pictures, hiked back to our SUV, and drove even higher — stopping at the magnificent Whiskey Falls. Dad had mentioned the falls to me, and White had written about them. He and his wife often walked the half-mile or so from their cabin to those falls, where they took their showers. White had taken a photo of those falls, and they looked, on this Thursday, exactly the same as they did more than 100 years ago.
Connie and Michael had bought sandwiches for our lunch — along with a tasty potato salad Connie had made. We set up chairs in front of the falls and devoured every morsel. We talked about White’s legacy — about North Fork history — and about the desperate need for young people to take an interest in preserving all of it.
By then, it was mid-afternoon — and time to leave. We drove — slowly — down the mountain and made our way back to North Fork. It had been a wonderful outing –one that had given me a real-life look at what I had only “book-learned” before. Being in the Sierra on that gorgeous Thursday afternoon — and experiencing what those magnificent mountains have to offer — was priceless. And, of course, part of what made it all so magical was walking in Dad’s footsteps, so many years after he had made that same trip. 
Connie and Michael, you made all that happen for me. You are special people, indeed.