Yosemite HO!

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Not long after we moved to Orange County in 1998, I longed to visit Yosemite. While tantalizingly close, the premise of carting one (and then two) little girls in diapers around Half Dome pushed this excursion far down our agenda of to-dos. Well, this year, I realized those little toddlers are now 11 and 8. And I was on the precipice of turning 40. Yosemite would wait no longer.

Not only did we go to Yosemite this year, we did it in style. We booked reservations at the Grand Lodge...the Ahwahnee which has graced Yosemite Valley since the 1920s. After seeing a TV program on it years ago, Lori and I romanticized about staying there. Pricey? You bet. Worth it? Absolutely.

In the relatively last-minute scramble to do something memorable for my 40th, we decided to check on availability at the Ahwahnee. Renowned for its year-long waiting list, we thought it was a shot in the dark. Lo and behold, the Yosemite Gods smiled favorably upon us and granted us a room upon calling a mere week and a half before our visit. And on Memorial Day weekend, no less!

Day One: The Drive Up
We set out on Saturday the 23rd for what was touted to be a 6 to 6.5-hour drive. And, fortunately, we had relatively smooth sailing for a holiday weekend. We stopped in Fresno on the way up for lunch and were making really good time. No major accidents or stoppages to speak of. That stopped after lunch.

North of Fresno, the highway diminishes to two lanes as you make your way into the land surrounding Yosemite. Along that road, there are really only two towns that we could see. About five miles out of the first one, Coarsegold, traffic simply stopped. No way around it and nothing else to do but grin, crane your neck and try not to let the setback ruin your mood. Turns out, the "Big Antique Fair" was going on in Coarsegold...a discovery we made after about 40 minutes of inchworming our way North. Needless to say, the only revenue the Antique Fair collected from us that day was a few pearls of wisdom that fell silently through gritted teeth.

Getting to the entrance of the park about 30 minutes later, we were immersed in the overwhelming scent of pine. $20 got us a week-long parking pass and we turned left toward the Valley. It was still nearly 20 miles to go once we were inside the park...a winding trip that saw us climb about 2,000 feet in elevation and the ladies' stomachs plummet in turn.


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As you get further into the park, the trees all increase in density and majesty. Truly inspiring, but nothing really prepared us for the "Tunnel View". There is a tunnel bored through the side of a mountain about 3/4 of the way to the Valley. Upon exiting the mile-long orifice, you are greeted by a truly otherworldly vista. The granite edifices carved by glaciers thousands of years ago suddenly erupt into view and Bridal Veil falls casts an ethereal plume as it plunges Earthward to your left. It literally causes an impossible-to-stop gasp and grip of the steering wheel. It was unlike anything we've ever seen before. Since we had lost so much time on the way up and were anxious to check into the hotel in time for our evening dinner reservations, we didn't stop to join the throngs of parked rubberneckers, but did manage to grab some photos of the miraculous view.

Into The Valley
I serendipitously saw a show on Yosemite the week before our visit that claimed the Yosemite Valley represents only 5% of the area that comprises Yosemite National Park but 95% of its tourist traffic. Upon entering it, it's evident why.

At this point, I choose to communicate the conclusion I reached upon leaving the park on Monday. Confronted with trying to describe the spectacle of everything we saw, it just really isn't possible. There are hundreds of words that capture fragments of the views and emotions they evoked. Inspiring. Beautiful. Jaw-dropping. Mystical. The only one that seems to capture it for me is humbling. All the other words concatenate beneath that. I've never seen anything like the Valley.


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The sense of humbling comes from the realization that you're at the base of a chasm carved by glaciers and tectonic forces over the course of tens of thousands of years. And yet, there is a sense that you're somehow transported to the immediate aftermath of the process. The fact that waterfalls cascade around you off dozens of sheer granite cliffs makes you feel like the last glacier egressed only hours before you, leaving cold spray bleeding in its wake. Yet, everything is verdant and alive and pristine. The entire Valley is an amazing juxtaposition of incredible planetary brute force and sublime natural healing and rebirth.

Just humbling.

The mile or two drive into the Valley back to the hotel took nearly 30 to 40 minutes itself as tour buses and cars full of families scrounging for roadside parking spots kept the pace snail-like. The only relief was the myriad breathtaking views at every point on the visual clock around you. Nine o'clock, Yosemite Falls casting prismatic rainbows along its 2,000-foot plunge. One o'clock, a gathering of a hundred or so people congregating for after-wedding photos at a historic chapel along the road. Three o'clock, a beautiful fawn bravely eyeing a small groups of awe-struck tourists. Each hundred yards of road seemed to unveil something more stunning. A sun-dappled glade, a white-capped river, a stand of 400 foot-tall trees. Simply incredible.

We finally reached the Ahwahnee and were grateful to learn that we could park at the hotel itself. Valley maps made it unclear whether or not we would have to park in a central lot and take a shuttle there. We checked in, let the valet take our bags and park the car...happy to be out of it for the first extended stretch in practically seven hours.

The Ahwahnee
The Ahwahnee is everything it's cracked up to be. Immediately upon entering, there was a sense of its history pervasive in everything you saw. The decor, the details and ambiance all hailed to a distant time. (Yes, 80 years isn't distant by many standards, but for us, it felt legendary.)


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Checking into the room, it was interesting how small everything seemed. The doorframes seemed proportioned for people to whom growing to six feet seemed generationally implausible. The foyers, halls and rooms all appeared to preserve much of the original detailing and nuances of its original design. Right down to the hand-filled wooden ice chests in each wing of guest rooms. The biggest thing in our room was the enormous picture window. Through it, we saw the imposing granite edifice that serves as a backdrop to the hotel. Between us and the mountain was a thick stripe of trees standing sentinel over the Valley. Through them, we could actually see a small waterfall to our right, maybe four hundred yards away. Its relative trickle paled in comparison to the burgeoning plume of spray we could see from another falls probably a quarter of a mile down to our left. To be honest, my sense of distance and dimension are most likely wholly unreliable. Such is the disorienting scale and enormity of everything around you.

We took a brief walk around the grounds and into a darkening copse of trees just beyond the parking lot. Upon entering a clearing, we saw the last fading remnants of an orange sunset reflecting off the sheer face of Half Dome. We also discovered mosquitoes of Jurassic proportions. Some big enough they could probably lift Emelie off the ground if given the opportunity to get a lasting hold.

We scrambled back to the hotel as night descended around us, accelerated by the eclipsing mountains that embrace the Valley. The main restaurant in the hotel requires patrons to dress semi-formally. My ladies donned dresses while I put on a shirt and sportcoat. It was actually nice to get dressed up. The spectacle of the dining room, with its 24 foot-high beamed ceiling and towering picture windows framing trees and glades outside, justified the extra effort.

Our reservations were for 5:45. Food was good, not great. I got almost equal enjoyment reading the menu as I did eating the food. I had the "sustainable pork roast." Most of the other dishes enumerated all the tree-hugging ways in which they were grown, bred or nurtured. Funny thing is, they all still died so I could eat them. I guess it's not the destination, but the journey, eh? :) All that said, the ambiance was splendid, the girls looked wonderful, and I even had some birthday apple pie.


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After dinner, we wandered the grand halls of the hotel, changed clothes and then went out back to sit along the broad manicured lawn that stands between the hotel and the dark unknown. The stars came out as Emelie and Sydney befriended a few kids that invited them to games of hide-and-seek and tag in the cooling evening air.

We returned to our rooms and the beckoning beds at about 9:30pm, anxious to sleep before the coming day's adventures.

Day Two: Adventure Awaits
Sunday morning came quickly. A light breakfast in the room, suntan lotion, bug spray and we were off by 8am. We mapped our destinations for the day and headed over to the shuttle pickup. There's a pretty efficient bus system that serves the Valley. About 16 stops dot the circuitous route. We went to Yosemite Falls first.

Yosemite Falls
Yosemite Falls cascades down two main levels, the aptly-named Upper and Lower Falls. When we got off at the shuttle stop and headed right into the trees, we couldn't actually see the falls, although you sensed its presence. Groomed trails meandered through the spired trees that towered cathedral-like overhead. There weren't a lot of people out that morning yet and the four of us enjoyed even the simplest details: the scent of pine, the quaint wooden bridges along the footpaths, the bubbling trickle of the streams next to us. The girls scouted for their treasured walking sticks. Within about 10 minutes, we gradually became aware of the call of the falls, clearly audible for the first time. Our pace picked up with anticipation.

After crossing between some enormous boulders, we traversed one grand wooden bridge that spans some white water. I found myself looking at the white water to my left and then following it back to the right and literally having my breath taken away from the source of the surge and spray: the falls. Mist immediately coated my glasses and hair and I couldn't help but laugh like a seven year-old. The girls had already run ahead to marvel and point while I got the camera out to shoot the first of four dozen pics.


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The air was almost bristling with energy, both from the natural aura of the falls and the emotion of the people collected there in giddy awe. It was truly amazing. We took a lot of pictures in all kinds of groupings. People were effusive in their willingness to take family photos and we were more than amiable to return the favor. Really, for a moment there beneath the falls, it was as if everyone felt diminished in significance and also equalized in our humanity. Again, humbled is the best word. It was if you had no choice but to just smile at each other -- at yourself -- and realize, in the grand scheme of things, that your life and death were wholly inconsequential but also something to be cherished in the same fleeting moment. Like the water falling inexorably Earthward around you.

Vernal Falls
We spent about 90 minutes at Yosemite Falls and then decided to proceed to the opposite corner of the Valley and Vernal Falls. The map indicated that this would be a little more rigorous of a trail. We found out pretty rapidly just how rigorous it would be. It was about 10:30 by the time we hit the base of the trail and the throngs of people were really starting to amass. As we began the arduous ascent up the trail, it started feeling like the Camelback Mountain climb back in Phoenix when you're nose-to-butt so often with the people in front of you.

I have to say, the girls were unbelievably rugged and undeterred by anything the trail had to offer. We made frequent stops along the bottom half to make sure they weren't in any distress. You never know what the altitude will do to you, so we forced them (and ourselves) to drink plenty of water. About half way up, we came to a large wooden bridge that crosses back over the river that originates at the Falls. Great photo opportunity and time to ooh and ahh. We stopped by some rocks to rest a bit and get some food in us.

The final 40% of the trail or so we equivocated to the rock staircase that Frodo, Sam and Golum climb in Mordor. I think it was Emelie who first said it reminded her of Lord of the Rings, which absolutely cracked me up with its appropriateness. The trail became a series of never-ending granite steps, winding back and forth to an invisible vantage point overhead. The roar of the falls grew in intensity with each step and soon the Mist Trail revealed the origin of its name. A drenching spray engulfed us near the top and made the steps treacherously slick. Crossing between sun and shadow caused huge dips in temperature and your body's ability to fend off the shivers. The girls, with their beloved walking sticks in hand, just forged ahead undaunted. Really, I've never seen them so determined. I told Emelie later just how proud I was of her and hoped that she could channel that same fortitude in everything she does.


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About 10 minutes from the actual top of the falls, the trail turned into a dark corner under a shadowing cliff above. The protest of Emelie and Lori's chattering teeth was impossible to veto. We decided to head back down after absorbing the spectacle of the falls from probably 100 yards away. It was magnificent.

Heading back down, you began to cope with the mist-slick stairs, your absolutely drenched clothing, and the shift in muscle groups being called to action. Understand that the trail isn't always really safe looking. If you paused too long to contemplate it, your parental paranoia would grab hold of you and you'd want to clutch your babies to your chest and wait for AirEvac to come get you. The girls seemed unfazed, God bless them, and as long as I kept the pace relatively slow and steady, they were fine. No tumbles, trips or blood-curdling plunges over the edge this day.

Upon reaching the half-way point back down, we splayed out onto some huge boulders that edged the river, letting the sun dry our clothes and warm our bones. It was here that I got some good pictures of the birds that enchanted us the entire trip. What we thought were blue jays were actually called stellar jays. Their iridescent blue wings could be seen here and there the whole day and I was happy to grab a few shots of one that shared the warming sun next to me.

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Another 30 minutes or so and we returned to the base of the trail. At the shuttle stop, we were reminded just how really packed the Valley was. The line for the bus was probably five busloads deep and there was no way we were going to spend an hour simply waiting for a ride. So we ventured off to find food and some place to rest.

Curry Village and back to the hotel
It was always interesting to me that you could be so close to throngs of people and then, after walking a few hundred yards, be immersed in silence so rapidly. It was like the walls of the Valley have a dampening effect. A way to swallow the susurrus of human activity, leaving you with nothing but the soothing companionship of the sound of your boots on pine needles and dirt.

We soon found ourselves at Curry Village which introduces a little bit of civilization in the Valley. A post office, some restaurants, and shops. We set down at the pizza place and began the hour-long wait for food. Really, just a ton of people there spoiled a little bit of the ambiance, but our tired bodies couldn't muster much resistance. After pizza and some ice cream and we headed back to the Ahwahnee.

After determining that the shuttle system was still too overburdened, the Daniel Boone in me plotted a course through the wilderness. We soon found ourselves in a quiet glade that paralleled a calm river. It immediately became my favorite place in the universe. The sun waned in intensity as the girls honed their stone-skipping skills. I've long claimed that my favorite sounds include birdsong, wind through trees and moving water. I got all three in ample plenitude. I only wish I could have had another day to return to this spot and simply lounged on the banks of that river for countless lazy hours.

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Admittedly, my Daniel Boone navigational skills weren't razor sharp, forcing us to ford a small river that drenched our boots and socks. (Got a little flack for that decision.) Pushing back through a stand of dark trees en route to the hotel, we discovered several more trailheads tucked off the beaten path and realized just how much more there was (and is) to see. Sydney had to do a little impromptu buttplunge into a small stream to mark the occasion. :)

Exhausted, we ended the day with hot showers and room service.

Starshow
Well, technically, the day didn't end there. One of my favorite memories happened in the middle of the night. Our room was a little stuffy. At about 1 or 2am, I awoke to hear Sydney shuffling in the darkness. She was looking for a bottle of water. I got up to crack the window. Pulling the blinds open a bit, I was taken aback by what I saw. Fully pulling the curtains up, I stunned Sydney (and then Lori) with the spectacle of the fiery blaze of stars overhead, all centered around the Big Dipper which was perfectly framed in our window. It's almost impossible to describe. The stars were brilliant, but the huge granite cliff beneath them was a totally obsidian void. It was as if someone ripped the bottom half of the sky away like a piece of paper, leaving empty black nothingness there. The towering clifftops described a ragged line between Earth and heaven. The Big Dipper was angled downward as if poised to ladle ice cold water from the Valley. It was absolutely amazing. I tried every long exposure shutter setting on the camera to capture a photo of the view, but to no avail. It was as if the ethereal sight was ordained to be captured only in memory and not committed to physical form.

Day Three: Departure
Monday morning came far too quickly. Breakfast in the room, some final photos of the Ahwhanee grounds and then a pensive drive back out of the Valley. It was impossible to soak it all in. Too huge. Too deep. Too timeless.

Our intent was to visit the Mariposa Grove sequoia on the way out. However, we soon discovered that it was still very much Memorial Day weekend. Parking was totally full and, confronted with probably a two-hour delay to the day, we opted to head back early. It ended up being a smart decision since we beat the majority of vacation traffic back to Orange County, but it was kind of a disappointing, rushed farewell to Yosemite. Like lovers separated too early.

As evidenced by all the reflective flowery language in which this blog is drenched, Yosemite inspired me to bigger thoughts. To grander perspectives. I know it has had enduring impact on all of us. For me personally, it reminded me of my total irrelevance in the cosmos. I discovered long ago that that is the most comforting sensation possible for me.

I yearn to return to Yosemite and immerse myself in that oblivion for as long as I possibly can.

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