ADVENTURE 20: (Water)Falling in with the Crowds (Yosemite NP)

When I was about 15, I went to work at Yosemite National Park. It changed me forever. Nature had carved its own sculpture, and I was part of it, not the other way around. – Robert Redford

Monday, 1 August 2022, Wawona, Yosemite NP

Last week, I enjoyed my visit to two parks I had barely seen before, rushing through them in 2012 (Crater Lake) and 1994 (Redwood) - and found myself smitten by their beauty. I then explored a park I'd never seen (Lassen Volcanic), enchanted by its offerings. Now I prepared to re-discover Yosemite - along with Yellowstone, perhaps the most revered of the National Parks. I had visited it two or three times in the 80s, but the years had faded my memories - of Hetch Hetchy Valley, white-water rafting, and glorious waterfalls - leaving only the reminders in my digital photo archives.

The cot in my tent cabin was comfortable, and I awoke only once all night. Clouds kept the temperature from dropping, thankfully - since I had kicked off the blanket in my sleep. Once I arose, it took two trips to the car to cart my suitcase, carry-on, and bags of food. Yosemite prohibits anyone from leaving food in their vehicles OR their tent cabin (to avoid attracting bears), so all food goes into the metal locker outside your cabin. Just past 7:00, I lined up at the cafeteria.

After several days of hard hiking, I anticipated a less strenuous day for my signature Yosemite experience. But what would it be? At one point, I'd considered a yoga class (a new experience for me), but the price tag of $250 for a half-day event had me rethink that. Wait - they offer art classes here! Now THAT would suit me well - low-stress, and maybe pick up a new skill. (I could sketch like Ron!)

After breakfast and checking out, I headed to the bus stop - along with throngs of others. Parking comes at a premium in the valley (which explains the requirement for entry permits), but a free shuttle bus runs regularly the whole day. I took it two stops to Happy Isles Nature and Art Center, headquarters for the artistically inclined. When they opened at 9:00, the helper there apologized. "I'm sorry, but they've cancelled all adult art classes for the week."

Any other options? She said I could schedule a private lesson through the Yosemite Conservancy, so I took out my phone. Uh oh, Internet in the valley is currently down - can't connect to anything The helper gave me a phone number, but it rang and rang and rang every time I tried it.

I held one last option in reserve. The park village of Wawona - where I would stay tonight - hosted the only known golf course (nine holes) in a National Park. I've never played a round of golf without windmills or volcanoes! But were they open, since Wawona had temporarily evacuated a week or two ago? Their website didn't say, and calls to the phone number got a notice that "the mailbox is full."

So what's my experience for the park? Well, Yosemite is famed for its waterfalls, so if I could hike to multiple falls...

and as fate would have it, Happy Isles was adjacent to the Mist Trail, which takes you to Vernal Falls and connects to Nevada Falls. (So much for a less-strenuous day...) It also happens to attract hordes of hikers. I started up quickly, hoping to stay ahead of the crowd that had just arrived on the shuttle.

It didn't matter. Any spring in my step got overwhelmed by the autumn in my legs, and people of all ages zipped by.

As one family passed, I noticed Dad had a pack filled with six water bottles in external pockets, two pairs of retractable walking sticks (in addition to the pair he used), and likely food stuffed inside the pack. Mom and Daughter walked beside him, carrying nothing. (Don't get any ideas, Sue!)

The trail (paved at the start) immediately sloped uphill. It wasn't as steep as yesterday's hike, but steep enough to slow me down, if not most others. It followed the creek as the water crashed down through a boulder-strewn bed.

A half-mile in, it crossed the creek, the bridge packed with people taking selfies. Many hikers quit at the bridge, never seeing the falls.

The trail continued on a steep trajectory, with the creek well below. As I slogged up the trail, four lumbering young men carting pickaxes, shovels, spades, and a chainsaw scampered past me.

Trail crew! They quickly out-distanced the other hikers.

A few minutes later, here came another man in the same garb - an older man carrying a spade. I matched his pace for a few minutes, eager to hear his story. "What work are you doing up there today?"

"Heck," he replied, "I'm just exercising."

"One of your compatriots up there <pant> was hauling a chain saw..."

"Yeah, he's a showoff."

"I counted four of them <wheeze>, blasting up the trail."

"They're young. I'm too old to be embarrassed by not keeping up with them."

"How long <gasp> have you been doing this?"

"Twenty-one years. Heck, my knees are shot, my Achilles are gone, but I'm still having fun!"

I had to fall back to conserve my energy. After around a mile, the trail morphed into a stone staircase.

This new challenge took me to views of the falls, dropping a hundred feet or more into the mass of boulders.

As I looked at it - and saw the line of hikers inching their way up an uneven staircase carved out of stone - I realized I had taken this hike before. A few details of that 40-years-past hike came back.

I'm sure it didn't tax me as much back then!

I did recall that on my previous hike, mists from the falls spread as far as the trail. Being mid-summer now, water flow had dropped significantly, confining the mists to the boulders next to the creek. The view (and the roar) still impressed me, making the effort worthwhile.

I'd not seen crowds like this in a National Park since Cade's Cove in Great Smoky Mountains in April. Now, as the trail grew steeper (more so than Cinder Cone in Lassen), the trail clogged as it climbed to the top of the falls. Hikers heading up stepped to the side to let people descending pass by. (If they were like me, they appreciated the chance to catch their breath.) Groups would stop for obligatory selfies with the falls behind them.

Progress was slow.

Speaking of photography: I lost my lens cover a few days ago, in Redwood NSP. The clerk at Best Buy suggested I could order one on-line; until then, I would need a temporary solution. Engineer to the rescue - put a sock on it! For days it had received scant notice, but now that I hiked in crowds, many people commented on it.

I just mentioned that it wasn't a Canon-approved fix.

With each step up the stone steps, I dreaded coming down this same route. Still I climbed, along with other hikers. After an eternity, the trail finally reached the top, opening on a flat area atop Vernal Falls. People spread out, having picnics on the rocks, lingering at streamside, sunning themselves. Looking down, I could see the string of hikers still wending their way up.

I've survived this far, let's keep heading toward Nevada Falls. It couldn't possibly be as bad as that last grind, right? Leaving the falls crest, the trail again climbed, gaining more elevation - though not as steeply as the Vernal Steps. Soon I passed the trail maintenance crew, working to keep this thoroughfare intact.

Finally I reached the trail junction at Clark Point. Decision time: I'd done 1.9 miles; Nevada Falls (you cold see it in the distance) would take another 1.2.

Do I press on, or start picking my way downhill? Up? Down? I finally compromised: I'd start up, but bail if the trail devolved into stone steps or the like, I'd bail.

I needn't have fretted. Though the trail did sport a few switchbacks, the slope eased significantly. The surface quickly changed from rock to dirt, making the walk less onerous. Views toward the falls showed that I had gained most of the needed elevation, with little left to climb.

After 2.5 hours, I finally reached the top of Nevada Falls.

Happily I dropped my pack and rested, watching other hikers pass by. Across the creek, a sign marked the direction to Half Dome, another 4 miles away. Hmmm... even if I'd started at sunrise, I'd have looked at another 3 hours or so to reach it, followed by hiking back on exhausted legs. I guess, barring some truly hard-core training (or doing an overnight backpack), Half Dome will not make it to my bucket list. I'll have to leave it to 6-year-olds.

The return to Clark Point passed uneventfully. At the trail junction, I made a promising discovery. Turning right would take me back down the dreaded stairs of Mist Trail; turning left would lead me down John Muir Trail - a stock trail (used by horses and llamas), so it would not have steps. It rejoined the Mist Trail at the bridge near the trailhead, at the cost of an extra quarter-mile of hiking. What a deal - if I could trust it.

The trail lived up to my hopes. Yes, it started with a series of steep switchbacks - far preferable to stone steps! - before easing up. I enjoyed the trek down. Twice people passed me jogging down the trail - more power to 'em! I haven't moved that fast on a hike since my college days.

Back at the road, I caught the shuttle to the center of Yosemite Valley. First stop: the Visitor Center, to get my passport stamp and ask about the Conservancy. They told me to check Yosemite.org, but their Internet was still down. They suggested trying the deli next door, but I still could make no connection. So much for asking them about a private lesson for tomorrow.

I still had time to explore, so I opted for another of the park's iconic waterfalls - Lower Yosemite Falls. An easy (flat, paved) trail led up through trees along a dry creek bed - not a good portent. When I reached the bridge, though, a spindly late-season ribbon of water cascaded down the cliff into a field of boulders.

I could see people that had scrambled further up the boulder field, so I picked a path and started up myself. That lasted only a couple of minutes before I returned to my senses, seeing very little benefit to proceeding.

On my way back to the village, I noticed a cluster of people standing beside the trail, pointing and looking into the woods. Wildlife sighting? Yes - a deer with antlers!

I recalled my previous trip, spying a doe resting in the shade - always a great feeling. (Unless it's a Rambo Bambi, eating the roses in my garden.)

Time to quit the valley. On my drive to the highway, I ran into a traffic jam: a herd of deer in the meadow caused both lanes of traffic to stop and gawk. Finally got on Wawona Road heading south. One more required stop: Tunnel View,

THE iconic shot of Yosemite Valley. A sign at the pullout said that this view greeted the first people of European descent - a band of soldiers chasing Native American raiders in 1851 during the Mariposa War - to see the valley.

I considered taking a detour up Glacier Point Rd. I remember from my 80s trips the incredible view at road's end.

Alas, my losing streak continued - they had closed the road until next year. Nothing left to keep me from speeding to Wawona.

History: in 1864, President Lincoln preserved Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove, transferring them to the state of California for use as a park. Wawona - adjacent to the Mariposa Grove - became the entrance to Yosemite, a stage stop for travelers coming to see the wonders of the land. In 1879, the first building of the Wawona Hotel opened, followed by several more in the next four decades.

The hotel is now known as the largest Victorian hotel complex in a National Park, one of the few left in the United States.

My first view of it reminded me of resorts built during the Chautauqua movement, several whitewashed buildings placed among trees above a meadow. Porches and verandas wrapped around the six buildings, with bunting on the railings and Adirondack chairs on the decks enticing visitors to sit for a spell. Fixtures from 1917 light the lobby; the rooms have no telephones or televisions; and common restrooms and shower rooms are around the back.

As I retrieved my bags from the car, I noticed a line of workers in matching blue or brown shirts crossing the hotel grounds and lining up at a catering tent. They must be firefighters battling the nearby blazes, I thought.

Close - later one told me that instead of providing a 'pound of cure', they worked on the 'ounce of prevention' side, cutting down dead trees to remove fuel to keep fires from starting in the first place.

A laid-back feeling permeated the hotel. I ate dinner in the hotel's elegant dining room, looking out at the hotel grounds. Afterwards, I finally hooked to the Internet. The hotel advertised Wi-Fi in the lobby (not reaching the rooms); the truth leaned more to 'Wi-Fi in parts of the lobby'. I found a sweet spot in the sun room, and finally sent an email to the Conservancy. I rated my chances of still scoring an art lesson as slim...