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jla_watchtowerAt the border of the Sequoia National Forest, not more than twenty kilometers north of Lake Isabella and five miles east of the Isabella Tulle reservation, lies Clearwater Commune. It's a perfect gateway to the National Park's camping and hiking grounds, or to the opportunities for sport fishing.
Built on the site of a Gold Rush ghost town, the buildings have been slowly restored to their historical appearance by the residents, looking very much like the set for an old Western. Many of the buildings, despite their exterior, have undergone a change in use. While the one-room schoolhouse is still used as such, and a hotel serves as a bed and breakfast for guests, the church is now a communal dining hall, the saloon converted into a town hall, the former sheriff's office now acts as artist studio space. The town's center is a cluster of pine trees with a pit for bonfires. The four hundred acres around it are cropland and groves, much of it substance farming for the residents, anything leftover sold to markets across the country to cover the maintenance costs. Several sheds and hastily-built shelters dot these fields. The charred retains of one barn can be seen to the north while another barn sits at the south end.
The homes are modest one-and-two room affairs made of wood, and unlike the old-fashioned look of the town's utility buildings, they're colored brightly. A few of the more artistic have taken to painting murals on the sides. Prayer flags fly from some porches. Most have a window box of herbs or flowers. The people who live in the houses are equally colorful and simple. Both sexes are dressed in dungarees, sarongs, or cast-off clothing, some of it more patches than original cloth. Hair is usually long and a little scraggly. Since it's high summer, some of the less modest wear very little at all. It's not uncommon to see nearly naked young children running loose. Everyone seems to be working on some task or another.
The jeep approaching the bridge that crosses the river that borders the Commune is not full of the usual tourists, however. Since she can't drive, Aurora sits shotgun, giving directions.
Built on the site of a Gold Rush ghost town, the buildings have been slowly restored to their historical appearance by the residents, looking very much like the set for an old Western. Many of the buildings, despite their exterior, have undergone a change in use. While the one-room schoolhouse is still used as such, and a hotel serves as a bed and breakfast for guests, the church is now a communal dining hall, the saloon converted into a town hall, the former sheriff's office now acts as artist studio space. The town's center is a cluster of pine trees with a pit for bonfires. The four hundred acres around it are cropland and groves, much of it substance farming for the residents, anything leftover sold to markets across the country to cover the maintenance costs. Several sheds and hastily-built shelters dot these fields. The charred retains of one barn can be seen to the north while another barn sits at the south end.
The homes are modest one-and-two room affairs made of wood, and unlike the old-fashioned look of the town's utility buildings, they're colored brightly. A few of the more artistic have taken to painting murals on the sides. Prayer flags fly from some porches. Most have a window box of herbs or flowers. The people who live in the houses are equally colorful and simple. Both sexes are dressed in dungarees, sarongs, or cast-off clothing, some of it more patches than original cloth. Hair is usually long and a little scraggly. Since it's high summer, some of the less modest wear very little at all. It's not uncommon to see nearly naked young children running loose. Everyone seems to be working on some task or another.
The jeep approaching the bridge that crosses the river that borders the Commune is not full of the usual tourists, however. Since she can't drive, Aurora sits shotgun, giving directions.
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