It's My Way or the Highway

We finished up Chuck's portion of our California trip, which involved his participation in the USATF Masters National Track and Field Championships. His club, Greater Philadelphia Track Club, posted an impressive 97 points earned by eight team members. I enjoyed watching the events, and I enjoyed hanging out with everyone. It would have been lovely had I not had to work, but I did spend 16 hours in the hotel room working away at transcription for 2 days. Still, from my window I could see palm trees, a maid came every day to make the beds and clean the room, and I ate in restaurants every night. In fact, we had a fantastic meal at Ernesto's in Sacramento one night, and the following night, the born-and-bred Irishman on the club suggested we visit a true Irish pub downtown. There was great music, beer and food, and I very much enjoyed listening to the guys tell tales of the track. The track and field culture has so many similarities to the hiking world, and I had as good a time hanging with them as I do sitting around a campfire with my friends at the end of a good day of hiking.

And now that we have the track and field events done, we've arrived at MY portion of the trip. I've enticed Kong into the great outdoors, and we are now settled in Yosemite National Park. It's not exactly wilderness where we are. We're staying in a swank little wooden cabin at Curry Village. It's actually referred to a as a "tent", but aside from some plastic drop cloth type material tossed over the plywood frame of a neat little 10 x 12 hut, it really isn't a tent. We have a double bed and two twin beds here, a wooden floor, electricity, a real screen door, tiny dresser, and even a heater, which I seriously doubt we'll need. Even Kong had to admit that it's "not bad." I think the place looks like a summer camp on steroids, and he says he feels a bit like a carney on the road.

But let's go back to the beginning. We left Sacramento this morning and enjoyed a another scenic California road trip. The countryside was every farmer's dream. We passed vineyards, fruit orchards, and strawberry fields. After about 2 hours, the Sierras began to rise up from the valley, and I became more and more excited. We stopped in Groveland to have lunch at the Iron Door Saloon, the oldest saloon still operating in California. The inside looked like something from a John Wayne movie, and I immediately noticed that the ceiling was fairly covered with crumpled dollar bills. There were probably enough of them up there to buy a few rounds in a packed house. Our server explained that the bills have tacks stuck through them, then a quarter is placed over the tack, and the bill is folded over the quarter. The saloon patron then tosses the bill at the ceiling. If it sticks, the happy marksman gains an invitation to the dollar party. I neglected to ask him what went on at the party, as at about that point, someone came into the bar to announce that there was a forest fire just up the road. Fire trucks screamed down the main street, and nearly everyone rushed to the front door to watch. Things must be pretty slow in Groveland. Apparently, the fire wasn't much of a threat, and we were able to finish our lunches. We each had deliciously fresh salads, and I'm quite sure that salads were not on the menu back in the 1850s when the Iron Door first swung open.

We continued on to Yosemite, arriving not long after. We nearly missed the sign, and did an illegal maneuver to get an obligatory photo. We then stopped to pick the brain of a ranger at the info station just beyond the entrance. He suggested hikes for us, and told us to stop at the Merced Grove of Sequoia just 4 miles down the road. I had heard that this was a rather unimpressive grove, but I was thoroughly impressed. We had the trail nearly to ourselves, and enjoyed a 3 mile round trip through a mostly redwood forest. Just as I began to wonder if I would be able to tell the difference between a redwood and a sequoia, I saw the first big tree. There was no doubt that this was a sequoia! The tree was massive! There were several others in the area, and I stood in awe. If these trees are smaller than the ones we will see in the Mariposa Grove tomorrow, I just may cry at the sight of them.

It was well worth having that quiet time to ourselves, because once we got back on the road headed toward Yosemite Valley, things began to get crowded. I was in the middle of reading aloud from my Yosemite Road Guide when I looked up and suddenly, there was Half Dome in the distance. I felt as if I had spotted a celebrity, someone I had seen many times in photos, magazines and on t.v., but never dreamed to see in person. In fact, I once met Orlando Bloom at a roadside rest stop in Oklahoma, and I wasn't nearly as excited as I was when I saw Half Dome. And while the Orlando Bloom story may be interesting, I'll keep that for another time and stay focused on Yosemite.

When I saw Half Dome, I stopped for a second, blinked, not sure that I had actually seen it. It looked like a painting or photograph, far distant, real but too perfect to be real. I yelled, "Oh, my God! Pull over! Somehow, pull over!" Apparently, the passengers in about 20 other cars had just had similar experiences, and they also veered into the small turnoff to take photographs. Kong could not find a place to park, but kept the car running and sweetly told me that I could get out to take a photo. And he didn't even drive away and leave me behind! I snapped one photo, but really just wanted to look at the scene. A young couple asked me to take a photo of them with Half Dome in the distance. They handed me a very heavy, very professional type camera, and were pleased with the result. By that time, Kong had squeezed into an actual parking spot and joined me, I didn't bother to ask anyone to take our photo. I just stood and stared while I felt my heart beating.

But this was the beginning of the crowds. We finally made it to Yosemite Valley, along with thousands of other people, all funneled into the same few parking lots, cramming into the shuttle buses, and trying to pack every view into their cameras at every opportunity. It was just a bit overwhelming for me. My head was twisting in every direction as El Capitan came into view, and then Bridal Veil Falls, and around another bend, Yosemite Falls, still gushing from the spring thaws as it rushed over the cliffs above and into the 90 degree heat of the valley. We passed meadows, negotiated around crowds of people and cars stopped in awkward slips of space next to the road. We found our way to Curry Village, checked in and wandered around in the general vicinity of where we thought our cabin-tent might be. We read signs and asked for help. Someone spied us with our bags and a map in hand and offered to help. It felt exactly like the first day of sleep-away camp.

When we found our little refuge, Kong seemed pleased enough to issue an approving grunt. This was one of my biggest fears. I had been certain that three days in a rustic abode would be the end of our marriage. I can endure a few whining comments, but not endless, monotonous, repetitive complaints. He had whined about a particularly death-defying stretch of highway 120, a narrow road which climbs into the Sierra, slithering its way along rocks and keeping only a tenuous grasp on the moutainside. I found it unbelievably beautiful, and I was on the cliffside of the drive. I said to Kong, "Oh, please. Just drive. I'm the one looking straight down the mountain." To which he replied, "So, you think only your side of the car is going to plummet over the edge?" It's good that he can maintain his sense of humor when he's stressed.

With the perilous drive completed, and Kong's approval of the lodging, I can relax and enjoy the rest of our time here. This evening we took the free shuttle around the Yosemite Valley. I gasped as though I were an asthmatic. Every glimpse between trees, every turn with a meadow view, every opening in the vista revealed breathtaking sites.

Now, if only all of these people would go home! Each shuttle but the last at nearly 9:00 p.m. was jammed with people. The free shuttles are fantastic, don't get me wrong. I would truly hate to try to move my car and park it here. It's just too congested. But the shuttles are uncomfortably reminiscent of SEPTA buses during rush hour. We hopped on and off crowded buses, making a round of the Valley, stopping at the visitor center, and then returning to Curry Village to try to get something to eat. It was no good. The Curry Village food court was packed. I thought of Dorney Park on July 4th. There were not enough sticky tables to go around. We decided to forego a 6:30 dinner and let the crowds thin out. And then we decided to take the shuttle back to the furthest dining area in the Valley. We rode to Yosemite Lodge where the crowds were much more manageable. In fact, we found that the Yosemite Lounge was nearly empty, which was probably due to the fact that no one under 21 could enter, and the menu was limited. But it was perfect for us. We had sandwiches and beer, and enjoyed the quiet. As did a little squirrel who came into the dining room and walked under the tables looking for scraps. I found it amusing that small rodents are allowed in the lounge, but not children. I actually agree with the policy. I like kids just fine, but it was time for a break from all the noise. I think we've found a chill spot for our time in Yosemite.

Tomorrow we'll visit the big trees in Mariposa, and spend the day hiking and enjoying time away from the Valley crowds. After that, a day in the high country is in order, and Thursday we will take on the valley from a different perspective on Glacoer Point.That will also be the day we move to the Ahwanee! There's still more to come!