2007-05-23, WednesdayArrived at Yosemite Lakes Campground at 17:00. We both feel tired from six hours of sleep and stress from hurridly packing and planning after completing our finals the day before. To my surprise, I found campsite #52 vacant. Lanna and I stayed at this site about four years ago, and we found it quiet--being at the end of the campground road--and scenic. The site sits on the top of an overlook, with the hill dropping about seventy feet on three sides to a river below. The sandy area for tents lies underneath what might be a mature Valley Oak. It's most likely one of the biggest lots at Yosemite Lakes. The campground lies five miles west of the Highway 120 entrance, about 30 minutes from the Valley.
The trip to Yosemite took us down a few wrong turns. We felt confusion driving through Angel's Camp, wondering whether to continue on Highway 4 (we drove in from 99) or to follow Highway 49. We chose Highway 4, then discovered 20 minutes later that we had taken a wrong turn. In Sonora, we again felt confusion about which way to go and took the right path, second-guessed ourselves and double-backed, then corrected our mistake. Google Maps directed us up Old Priest Grade road--only 1.8 miles, narrower, and steeper grade than the Highway 120 route, which offers a milder grade for larger vehicles. The Old Priest Grade road offers an inside lane going up the hill--I think I'll take this route in the future, and take the Highway 120 downhill, also an inside lane, on the return.
Upon arriving at Yosemite Lakes we took another wrong turn (did I mention we felt tired?) and ended up at the RV check-in. At least there we discovered the ice cream for sale and the complimentary sports equipment. Quickly setting up our tent, Dawn napped for about one hour.
Around 19:00 we entered Yosemite Valley and parked at the Yosemite Lodge to have dinner. We hurridly ate, drove to the Yosemite Store parking lot, and walked the short distance to the Theatre. We arrived during the intermission and entered without payment. The show was "Sarah Hawkins Contemplates a Fourth Marriage: Stories of a Pioneer Woman," a monologue featuring Connie Stetson. From the handout: My first husband, the only one of the three I ever learned to love, died of snake bite after four years of marriage; my second, may he roast in hell, drowned, dead drunk in the mud of a street two years after; and my third was blown up in a steamboat after only a year. So if I should marry Apple Abbott, I calculate he should last about six months." Striding across frontier America, she has known starvation, loneliness, disease, manual labor, the loss of children, bleak deserts, and general abuse. In all, she is still sharp of eye and tongue, with an earthy humor and a hard-fought independenc. Sarah is now in Yosemite Valley, and invites you over this evening to tell of her wagon train trek and adventures in the gold fields of California. Sarah Hawkins is a fictional character, but her story is true, a crazy-quilt of real life incidents, funny and tragic, stitched together from the diaries and other accounts of pioneer women who managed to cross 2,400 hazardous miles of the Overland Trail from the early 1840's through the late 1860's. Generally the women survived the rigors of the trail better than the men, as feisty Sarah Hawkins will be quick to tell you. About the Performer: Connie Stetson's starring roles include Gypsy, The Unsinkable Molly Brown, The Importance of Being Earnest, Misallience, among others. She was with the Los Angeles premier improvisational ensemble, "The Groundlings" for several years.
After the show we walked back to the car among dimly lit walkways, under a blanket of bright stars eclipsed by a brilliant half-moon. The drive from Yosemite Village to our campsite takes about one hour. We arrived and went promptly to bed.
2007-05-24, ThursdayThe alarm went off at 6:30--but neither of us felt obliged to pay it much attention. At 10:00, we arose, Dawn first due to hunger. I felt cozy and would have liked to stay in the tent all day long relaxing. We walked the quarter-mile up the steep grade to the showers only to discover that PG&E had disconneted electricity and power--from 8-12! Ugh. My hair, being thin and long, always looks like it's gotten the worst end of a fight each morning, sticking this way and that, up and down. We decided to stop at a restroom in the Village and fix things up as best we might.
We arrived at the Village a little after 12 due to a 15-minute wait outside the Highway 120 gate. That wait gave us pause--the crowds of Memorial Day weekend between 10:30-5PM are brutal. We resolved to arise early and avoid them as best we might.
The mid-day weather was bright, hot (80F), and dusty. I wet-shaved without soap, having left it back in the tent, and combed my unwashed hair. What a scruffy sight! We walked over to the Sports Store to look at wide-brimmed hats and sunglasses, but only ended up purchasing Deet and a product that claimed to remove itching from mosquito bites. I purchased a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread from the Store, and Dawn purchased a Lost Arrow sandwich--turkey, cheese, and cranberry sauce (light on the sauce)--from Degnan's Deli. We also had the pleasure of trying Honest Tea's Pomegranate Goji Berry tea.
We decided to stroll up to Mirror Lake--a lake that fills with the seasonal waters from the mountains, then dries up by summer. We found the waters flowing at a swift pace, and the lake full. Taking off my shoes and socks and rolling up my pants, I waded into the frigid mountain-fed lake. It took about five minutes for my feet to adjust, or numb, I'm not sure which. After that I waded from sandbar to sandbar, then across to the other side of the small lake, getting my pants wet in the process. I decided to wade back across what seemed to be shallow, but then turned out to be deep, getting wet up to my waist, gritting my teeth at the chill. Dawn decided to join me, and we waded together. Around us crowds of small children submerged themselves fully in the frigid water, along with tourists from all corners of the earth. Dawn and I dried ourselves, then walked around the loop trail and back to the bus stop. Getting off the bus at the Store, we walked to Degnan's and purchased Pomegranate and Blueberry Honest Ade and Fig Newtons. We strolled over to Lower Yosemite Falls, seeing two black-tailed deer on the way. The Lower Falls looked like a stream of flowing white hair, waving back and forth in the winds, streams of water bursting outward from hidden features of the sheer granite face. The spray reached us with the wind, and the roar of the current flowing past made it difficult to speak clearly. We wondered which of the cliffs John Muir had attempted to get close to the Falls to see the
moonbow. Traveling back down the trail, we arrived at the Yosemite Lodge, where we browsed the shops and settled down for dinner--hot soup, cold sandwich, and a parfait dessert.
We returned to the car to collect our things, deposited it again in the Store parking lot, and walked to the theatre for the John Muir performance by Tom Stetson. From the program: "Actor Lee Stetson shares John Muir's exciting and memorable experiences in two different weely presentations. Depending upon the night you attend, you'll feel like you are with Muir as he ries an avalanche down one of the Valley's 3,000 foot canyons, conducts a dangerous interview with a curious Black Bear, or climbs up the 500 foot ice cone at the base of the upper Yosemite Fall. You amy also join him around the campifer while he shares his amazing adventures. These witty accounts of Muir's remarkable life led him to his sprited defense of wild places. About the Performer: Lee Stetson has performed the role of John Muir in Yosemite National Park for the past twenty-five years. Stetson has written these performances directly from Muir's own writings. Conversations with a Tramp: A moving performance detaliing Muir's 25 year battle to save Yosemite's beautiful Hetch Hetchy Valley. Drawn from Muir's articles, letters and unpublished journals, it also includes tales of his adventures, including the amazing story of climbing a 100-foot fir tree in a wind storm. This is vintage Muir--very funny, warm-hearted, yet capabel of a towening rage in defense of his beloved Yosemite. "Tramp" will capture your heart in 90 minutes.
Two things of the show caught my interest--the first, the political nature of the piece spoken through the desparate and crestfallen voice of Stetson's Muir--I've heard these opinion oratory pieces in person from people in the past, and never paid them much mind because they usually deal with topics I'm not interested in--but this time, something clicked in my head, and I thought, I'd like to know more. The second, Muir's description of his love of discovering favorite lines in the works he read. And third--ok, one more, Muir's condemnation of tourists who stay in the lobbies of the Yosemite hotels, who like to "hike" (a loathsome word, to Muir) instead of stroll. I saw Mr. Stetson perform his Campfire Muir performance a few years ago, and it's just as good.
After the show we returned to camp, showered, and went to sleep.
2007-05-25, FridayWoke up at 7AM, showered, shaved, left camp and arrived at Ahwahnee for breakfast at 9AM. We met Frank the busser and caught up with David the waiter who we met in December. David's father worked for JPL, his son is a physicist starting his career with the JPL; he's left his second wife, but has met a new girl; he hurt his knee and hasn't recovered. After breakfast we toured the hotel, noticing a private party of rangers off the Great Hall. I walked up to the second floor for the first time, walking up the spiral staircase outside the eastern patio to the third floor, where we took the elevator down. In the gift shop I met a man behind the counter who told us how he enjoys running to the top of Nevada Falls and can make it to the top in 1:05. x_x I think he realized after a minute or two that not everyone can run as fast as he can! We walked out to the south and sat in a cozy alcove in the middle of the bridge, then continued and walked past the cabins. Returning to the car, we drove to the Day Use parking lot and stashed it away. We took the bus to the Happy Isles stop, then got out and proceeded along the trail to the top of Vernal Falls. I started out slow, plodding up and down the grades to warm up my muscles. By the time we reached the Vernal Falls lower bridge, I had sweat all over my face. We took a picture, then continued up the grade toward the top along the Mist Trail. It starts out easy, then gradually gets steeper. I counted roughly 550 granite steps. The spray from the Falls buffeted the steps, sending streams of water cascading down the slope, forming pools in depressions. Vivid rainbows arced in the sunlight and the mist as the roaring Merced River plunged hundreds of feet (~five seconds) from top to bottom. Step, step, step--I kept counting. As we neared the top, the grade became steeper, until each step raised us about one foot. We reached the top, triumphant, heart-pounding, sweat mixed with spray, and relaxed, enjoying the view and the Silver Apron and Emerald Pool. I noticed a White-Headed Woodpecker flitting from tree to tree in search of a tasty meal. Dawn and I saw Nevada Falls in person for the first time as we continued up the trail, a towering drop of over five hundred feet. We recalled how a person slipped and fell off the bridge above us just last Saturday, and how the newspaper reported the body was never found. We decided not to go back via the Mist Trail based on my previous trips, and to save Nevada Falls for another day. We headed up John Muir Trail west, passing incredible views of Nevada Falls and unknown wildflowers. On the way up, two small boys and their family passed us, warning us that there were "5,000 switchbacks" to go. We laughed--how naive we were at that point! We ascended to Clarks Point, passing a breathtaking view of Vernal Falls from above, then descended back toward the bridge. After slipping on the thin layer of gravel several times, I remembered the proper way to descend was to put more weight on my heels. After this point I had no troubles descending. The downward slope pounded our joints much harder than the uphill climb. A string of a dozen trail mules passed us going uphill. We reached the bottom and refilled our water bottles, then trudged back to Happy Isles. It took us 1:05 to reach the top of Vernal Falls, then another 2:30 to return via John Muir trail. I felt all right physically, though my legs felt sore and I felt a soreness in my stomach as I drove later in the day. After Happy Isles, we rested, and made the acquaintance of a long-term employee of the Park who told us of a way to scramble up to a hidden trail. It sounds like a video game, but he said that if you get to the second sign on the trail (the Rock Piles sign), then scramble upward, you can't help but hit the old trail that was left unrepaired after a rockslide. He said the views there are the only ones where you can see many of the falls simultaneously. We thanked him, then went to the Village Store and purchased a few sweets and rested. We then decided to drive to Glacier Point. We made it about five miles into the 16 mile trip before Dawn's nerves gave out. We turned back and saved it for another day. We had supper at the Yosemite Lodge, then attended the showing of Ron Kauk's film about rock-climbing and environmentalism. Returning to camp after quiet hours, we noticed our new neighbors up drinking and playing their radio and playing cribbage. The dogs began howling loudly as we unpacked. Lovely. Around 11PM the party broke up and they went to bed.
2007-05-26, SaturdayRolled out of bed at 8AM. Showers took longer than normal due to the larger Memorial Day weekend crowd. We left the campsite around 10:20AM, after eating peanut-butter sandwiches and fig newtons. We reached the gate and waited nine and one-half minutes to get through--less than I expected. On the way to the Valley, we drove slowly due to the large traffic volume. We noticed a broken-down CruiseAmerica RV blocking the highway on the opposite side of the road--no shoulder, going uphill, traffic streaming steadily in both directions; a major arterial block. We reached the Valley in perhaps 10-15 minutes longer than normal. I felt surprise at the lack of the millions of people I expected--the numbers of people we saw corresponded to what the author of
yosemitefun.com wrote--lots, but not overwhelming--unless you drive by car! Tourism seems to bring out the worst in humanity. Our first objective, after saturating ourselves with sunblock, was to ride the bus to Curry Village and rent a raft. "We're leaving in just a minute" said the female bus driver at stop number two, as she smiled and took a drag on her cigarette. Departing the bus, we walked to the raft rental, filled the form, got our vests, stashed our stuff (after losing $0.50 figuring out how the rental locker with the broken door worked...err...didn't work), listened to the overview, and we were off--dragging our heavy raft to the beach. An employee helped us into the river, where we paddled in circles for a while figuring out how to effectively paddle the raft in the slow current. With spirits high we floated for an hour under bridges, past beaches, downed trees, and campgrounds, over sandbars, and finally arriving at the Sentinel Beach. We loved it, and began thinking through how to get out on the water closer to home. On the bus ride back to Curry Village, our bus driver pointed out all the tourists' mistakes--double parking, parking illegally, parking with their car butt into the oncoming traffic, attempting to park on the bike trail, drifting into the right line--a sea of tourists all competing for the opportunity to capture the majesty of Yosemite. "Here comes the ranger" our bus driver remarked, as a bike ranger approached some of the illegally parked vehicles we had passed. Our bus driver noted that no one really lives in the Valley--you only live there as long as you are employed. As you gain seniority, you get the opportunity to live in the Valley longer than just the summer. One woman, she remarked, probably will die here--though she still needs to keep working. It meshes with the conversation Dawn and I had on Friday with the night security guy going into the recycling job--he left, but came back to Yosemite because he couldn't stay away.
After returning our vest and retrieving our stash, we walked down the road to the Valley stables. There we petted the horses, stroking their noses and manes. The owners had trimmed some of the horse manes to two-inches, leaving a mohawk look, while other horses had their full manes. We noticed a group of white-helmeted people preparing to take a ride. The prices range from $50 per person for a two-hour ride to $100+ for a four-hour and full-day rides. They also offer overnight rides, guides, freight, and so forth, I assume for overnight rides to other stables in the Yosemite National Park.
After the stables we walked back to Curry Village and explored the Mountaineering Shop and the Store, the Lodge and the cafeteria. We found the Pizza Shack and ordered a black olive pizza. The line was long and the pizza mediocre. The most interesting thing about the experience was the jingle the order notification devices made as orders were ready.
Leaving Curry Village around 4:30PM, we discovered the true impact of the tourist influx--many of them had discovered the public transit system. It took three buses to get everyone from Curry Village to the Day Use Parking and then to stop #4, the Village Store. We hopped on the third bus and stood for the short trip. We passed lines of cars beginning to stream out of the Valley--I've never felt so happy to use public transport. On the way a woman pointed out rafters to her husband and exclaimed she wanted to do that tomorrow. We talked about our positive experience and another gentleman asked about taking children, which we told him he could as long as she's over 50 pounds. Despite being packed in like sardines, the attitude of our fellow travelers was light and positive.
Walking to Degnan's Deli for coffee at 4:40PM, we discovered that the coffee pots were empty. Flipping up the cover on the top of the industrial coffee maker, I noticed a switch saying Start. Pulling out the metal filter-holders revealed a fresh filter and grounds. After discussing with Dawn I walked over to the cashier, buried behind a line of 15 people and offered to start the coffee-making process, informing her of everything we had discovered. Never have I seen such a smile of relief on her face as she watched us press the start button on the coffee machine! She thanked us again as we checked out, and we joked about how there was only 20 minutes until closing. Before I left I jotted down the menu, since the DNC doesn't seem to publish it on the Internet anywhere.
We walked next door to the Ansel Adams gallery, looking at all of the beautiful art pieces--glazed stoneware, a striking postcard of a smiling Georgia O'Keefe, children's books, jewelry, photography, original Silver Gelatin prints of Ansel Adams worth $28,000, napkin ring holders, bookmarks, beautiful wood work with the mysterious label "Made in Montana", and so forth. We left without purchasing anything, and decided to walk into Cook's Meadow.
There we saw red-winged blackbirds, Brewers Blackbirds, an American Dipper, milkweed, bracken fern, and Acorn Woodpeckers. We made our way to the Yosemite Lodge, past a private dinner buffet for the
Hausner School, where we wandered into the Gift Shop, where I bought a pair of sunglasses. We then purchased a bowl of butter-pecan and chocolate ice cream, which we ate while watching children play in the Lodge amphitheater. We walked back through the meadows, then to the parking lot where we put on warmer clothing for the evening movie in Curry Village.
Arriving there at 8:30PM, we watched a movie on the Mariposa Grove--by the same bus driver I had several years ago when I visited the Mariposa Grove! It was the same schpiel he gave then. Afterward, we drove to the Village Store and purchased a few foodstuffs, ate in the car, then headed back to the tent. Our neighbors from last are still up playing cribbage and drinking, their dog Tucker barking as we arrived...only one more night!
2007-05-27, SundayWoke up at 7:30AM to the sound of our neighbors. Showered, shaved, packed up our campsite and left by 09:00AM. Split a peanut-butter sandwich and a chocolate bar for breakfast. The drive to the Valley floor took no longer than normal, and the ascension out of the Valley to Wawona was uneventful. Spirits were high as we sang songs and made jokes.
At the Wawona Store, we parked and purchased coffee, then took a horse and buggy ride to the Wawona Hotel and back across the covered bridge. Burrl, the driver, remembered Lanna and me after some discussion from a few years back. "Tell her I'm still going in circles," he said, "and to write." Wawona, according to Burll, a Ranger celebrating his 30th year, means "Hoot of the owl," though according to a film we saw on Saturday night at Curry Village, Dawn says it meant "Big Trees." After the ride, we took a Park shuttle ride to the Mariposa Grove.
There we quickly passed through the store, ate two Clif bars, refilled our water bottles, then began hiking up the trail. We stopped at the Grizzly Giant tree, the Tunnel tree, the Faithful Couple, the Clothespin tree, the Museum at the top, and then the Fallen Tunnel tree, the Galen Clark tree, and the Telescope tree. Between the Faithful Couple and the museum we noticed a tree not getting enough attention so Dawn gave it a big hug, though her arms barely even wrapped a fraction of the way around it. We both loved the hike to the top. Though the incline proved strenuous, the views took our breath away. Returning to the bottom, we noticed the tram ride to the top costs $16/person for adults.
We caught the shuttle back to the Wawona Store, then drove south out of the Park to Oakhurst, where we stopped at the El Cid mexican restaurant and enjoyed a fast and tasty dinner. As we ate, a five-year old girl with two pink circles painted on her cheeks saw us through the glass partition and played peek-a-book with us. Fun. We decided to take Highway 49 north to Mariposa, then Highway 140 west to Merced, where we caught Highway 99 north back home. The journey home from the Store took about five hours, including dinner. Exhausted, we left our things and went straight to bed!
