National Park Tour - Bryce Canyon - Thursday 5/31/07

Today was my last day of play! I ate the last of my sugary cereals—Cocoa Krispies, my least favorite.

I drove down into Springdale and used my last shower token. It was so nice to have clean hair. I noticed too that my body didn’t stink as bad as it did at the beginning of the trip. I wondered if all the exercise had flushed out most of the stink toxins I accummulated during my very unhealthy spring semester days.

From Springdale I was off to Bryce. I drove through Zion and the amazing 1.1 mile long tunnel built in the 1920s. The east side of the park was amazing as always.

I was not prepared for what followed. The Utah countryside up on highway 89 was gorgeous! To me it was perfect. I enjoyed every mile of the drive. There were many for sale signs and I fantasized as I looked around about retiring out there someday.

Just before Bryce I drove through another park called Red Canyon that was beautiful. I was bummed I didn’t have time to stop and look around. From the road I could see a Visitor Center, a campground, and one of the nicest bike paths I have ever seen.

Past Red Canyon I began to see signs for ATV rides, plane rides, horse rides, helicopter rides, rodeos, etc. Never a dull moment if you have a family to entertain and a little extra jingle in your pocket!

Finally at the entrance to Bryce I found myself in the middle of Ponderosa Pines! I had no idea the park was so high; 7,000 to 9,000 ft. I got out of my car and inhaled deeply. It smelled fabulous.

I was new to this park and had no idea where to go and so I got on the shuttle and rode it to the furthest stop, called Bryce Point. From there I hiked downhill into the canyon. I gathered from my park newsletter that Bryce was known for two things; dark night skies and rock formations called hoodoos. I was not going to stick around long enough for the night skies today, and so decided to get up close and personal with the hoodoos.

My opinion was that the hoodoos were best appreciated up close. To me they got lost in the busy-ness of the panoramic landscape, but were quite interesting when viewed as individuals.

I hiked down, down, down to the peek-a-boo loop trail, passing wheezing hikers as they trudged their way up. After watching enough of them, I vowed to find another way back up and out of the hoodoo. It turned out peek-a-boo was a horse trail. I thought they should re-name it peek-a-poo because of all the road apples. It was a warm day, but I was glad to be wearing pants because the many horse hooves had ground the trail into dust so fine it was like ash that puffed up my newly showered leg at every step.

It was a nice hike, with lots of vistas. The sun popped in and out of the puffy white afternoon thunderclouds that had started to gather. I took the trail from peek-a-boo to a formation called queen’s court, and from there up to Sunrise Point. I noticed they cleverly named their lookout points after the sunrise and the sunset to let you know the time of day each view looks best.

From Sunrise Point I walked back to the Visitor Center and planned to hike to a place called Mossy Cave on my way out of the park. However, when I drove down there the road to the trailhead was not obvious to me and I decided I was too tired to hunt for it and so I continued on home.

On the drive home I soaked up the views of the Utah country, listened to some of my guys (George, Toby, Kenny, Dierks, Keith, etc.) on CD, and pondered roadkill.

Why is it that when a rabbit gets hit and ground into the pavement, there is almost always a solitary ear that sticks up rebelliously, waving as cars drive by, as if it refuses to concede defeat? I also wondered why it is almost always just one ear, and not two.

Once I made it back to camp, I started to cook dinner. I was fantasizing about a leftover turkey melt on my delicious sheepherder bread from Schat’s. I opened my ice chest and my heart sank. The sheepherder bread had slid into the ice water and gotten soggy. What a waste. So I changed my menu to breakfast for dinner. I unwrapped the bacon I bought a few days earlier in Hurricane and couldn’t help but be a little bit disappointed with it after the fabulous bacon I got (and already ate) from Bishop. I made do with it and also had scrambled eggs with cheese.

Tonight the moon is close to full, and, inspired by the Bryce astronomy tour that I’m missing, I decided to take a walk in the moonlight to Lava Point to take in the view. I was walking and walking alone in the dark and began to realize that Lava Point is much further than I remembered. I start to think about mountain lions and how no one has been attacked in Zion yet, but maybe no one has been foolish to walk so far from camp alone in the dark before either. I felt mildly secure in the thought that I could probably beat one off with the big silver maglight I was carrying, but that is an adventure I did not want to have.

Since the thought of lion attacks just made me nervous and not scared, I kept going. When I reached Lava Point, I took in the view, attempted a picture, and then scurried back to camp. I decided I needed a partner and a better camera for those types of excursions.

I zipped myself into my tent and noticed that my throat was a little sore. I hoped it was just from campfire smoke, but my intuition said “uh, oh.” Good thing I am leaving tomorrow. The camp full of noisy boys had quieted down to a dull roar and I decided it was time for bed. Tomorrow I have a long drive to my parents’ house for a short visit, and then the day after, another long drive to Chico to get ready for work.

To recap, it has been an amazing adventure. I should hang out with myself more often. I always get to do what I want, and since I am a happy camper, never have to deal with trying to cheer up a crabby camper. It got a bit lonesome at times, but knowing I will be sharing my stories and pictures with friends and family later helped.

I am now in fantastic shape. My senses of taste and sound have sharpened, to the point where the crinkling plastic sound of my little sugary cereals in the morning hurts my ears!

I’ve also been given clearer insight into what’s important and what’s not. Living out of my little car for a week was much easier than I thought it would be, and also much more fulfilling than some other things I’ve tried. I hope I will be able to make these “put things in perspective” trips a more regular occurrence. It was great practice living my life in the present, having faith and trust in God, and savoring every moment of my life as it unfolds.

National Park Tour - Zion Narrows - Wednesday 5/30/07

I opened my eyes and thought “This is it!” It’s a day I’ve been waiting for for a little over two years. I’m finally going to hike the Narrows.

I felt a bit nervous. I couldn’t find where the Zion Adventure Company had moved to and was almost convinced that I needed their special gear or else my stuff would get ruined and/or I would die of hypothermia.

However, I got a late start. I slept in to nurse a dehydration headache from the day before, and then had to de-bone and put away last night’s turkey. So I told myself I would just have to tough it up and make do with the gear I brought with me rather than waste time hunting down the rental shop.

Turns out I did not have to worry. Once on the shuttle, I chatted with an older couple (who had the gear) and learned that the Virgin River was near record low. It looked like a creek in many places, in contrast to the raging torrent of muddy water from two years ago. My confidence began to rise.

I eagerly anticipated the last stop as we moved through Zion Canyon. Good old Temple of Sinawava. When we arrived I hopped off and bounded up the Riverside Walk trail.

On the way up there was a male mule deer with new fuzzy antlers and a wild turkey with her chickie. Though tempted, I did not stop to try to get a picture. I was so close to my goal I could taste it.

At the end of the road I zipped the bottoms off my hiking pants to turn them into hiking shorts and took to the river. I wasn’t the only one. Very old to very young were negotiating their way upstream. People wore everything—I saw bare feet, water socks, river sandals, tennis shoes, hiking boots (like mine), and the fancy river boots I wanted to rent. The day was hot and the water was perfectly cool. My only regret is that I did not wear a bikini and board shorts!

The first part of the hike was the rockiest. This is where they speak of walking on “slimy bowling balls.” To me it was the hardest part. The water was relatively deep, about to my thigh, and fast moving. I was also new to hiking up rivers and was still getting used to using my walking stick. It is useful as an underwater eye looking for rocks and gauging water depth and as third leg to help me balance while crossing swift water. Once we made it past the rocks, about 15 minutes upstream, it was a pleasant hike from then on.

The whole hike was amazing. The first highlight we saw was a small waterfall sliding down the canyon wall into the river. Not long after the waterfall, rocks were replaced with white sand, and the river pooled and flowed quietly by in turquoise hues. It became the perfect place to swim and I began to pine for my suit, but I was still on a mission. I was in the Narrows, but my goal was to get to the postcard shot where the canyon walls were a mere 22 ft apart.

I savored every step of the walk at this point, and couldn’t help but smile. People hiking back downstream smiled back. The canyon got more magnificent with every step. I moved in and out of the river, enjoying the cool water on my legs when I got in and then the warm sun as I got out.

Finally, the walls began to close in. The river was completely shaded now, and I was using my walking stick to try to see underwater again. The turquoise pools turned jade green. Looking at them I got the same feeling of perfection at work that I get sometimes when I go to Disneyland.

To my right I saw a very enticing, extra narrow slot canyon. It’s narrower than the canyon I’m in and I almost detour. I figured it must be the one they call the Subway, which means I am close to completing my mission, so I saved the detour for the trip back.

The canyon continued to get narrower and I was in awe. I ran my hands along the smooth and polished walls that felt (and looked) like bumpy glass. I smiled at another human aspect of the hike, because it was here that people for some reason decided to decorate the wall with a dozen muddy handprints. I took a picture.

I looked straight up and saw that the sky had shrunk into a lightning bolt of cobalt blue above. Finally, the canyon opened up again and so I turned around. There it was! My postcard shot. After two years, I made it and what a sight. I stood on the pristine white sand in the middle of turquoise and emerald hued water and took my pictures, this time pining for a better camera with a wide angle lens. I am also dying for a swim, but both will have to wait for a return visit. Maybe that one will also be the backpacking top-down trip with a friend. But for now I was living the dream and feeling completely happy.

I headed downstream until I was out of the other hikers’ postcard shots and ate lunch. Then I made a beeline for the Subway.

The Subway was fun. I got to do a bit of scrambling, and the canyon was awesome. When I made it to the waterfall, I turned around.

Downstream I got to reassure other hikers struggling through the rocky section that it gets much better and they should keep going.

Once I got back out of the canyon, I noticed the wall where people deposited their walking sticks. So on perfect days like today, anyone with a decent pair of shoes on could just grab a stick and hike up the Narrows on a whim.

I put the bottoms back on my pants, traded my soggy socks and boots for some flip flops, and cruised back down the River Walk trail. What a glorious hike. I ranked it up in my top two favorites, along with Panamint City. My friends the deer and turkey were munching whatever it is that they munch on side by side this time, and so I stopped to take a picture. Then on my drive back I saw a grouse and its chickie on the road, but they disappeared before I could get a picture.

Once back at camp, I enjoyed a turkey sandwich and some leftover stuffing for dinner while my dutch oven worked on a cherry crunch dessert. Yum.

National Park Tour - Zion Park - Tuesday 5/29/07

This morning while I was eating one of my many breakfasts of sugary cereal in a tiny box, I met one of my neighbors. He was a psychologist from Vermont. We chatted a bit about travel, and he told me I should go to Europe and India if I got the opportunity.

After breakfast, I drove down into the valley, flashed my annual pass, parked at the Visitor Center and hopped on the shuttle. I got off at Weeping Rock and motored up the short trail. True to its name, it was a rock that appeared to weep. The best part about it was the hanging gardens. I didn’t stick around long; easy, paved trails like this one tend to attract mobs of the more irritating-type tourists.

From Weeping Rock I continued on to Hidden Canyon. I enjoyed the mostly-paved, beautiful climb up the Zion Canyon wall bordered with wildflowers and nice views of Big Bend and Angel's Landing. Up near the mouth of Hidden Canyon, the trail was carved into the face of an 800 ft sandstone cliff, which explained the stick figure in peril at the trailhead warning those fearful of heights. The trail was wide enough not to need it, but the park service hung a chain along the rock as if to provide reassurance. I smiled as I remembered Angel's Landing. Compared to those heights, this trail was a piece of cake.

At the mouth of Hidden Canyon, gratuitous little stairs had been carved into the rock to help us up to the main attraction. I tried to picture the trail builders sculpting them as they neared completion of the trail. Nice touch.

Once I climbed the little sandstone steps to the mouth of the canyon, I saw a little sign informing me that the trail ends here and some scrambling may be required to continue. Apparently, the Park Service decided they could stop holding our little hands at this point. I grinned as I passed another hiker looking confused as he stared at the rocks ahead muttering something about not wanting to have to do something called "scramble... whatever that means" after hiking all that way up here. I hopped on the rock and climbed on up. If he wanted to stay behind and complain, that was fine with me. The fewer people in my way up the canyon the better. My new Merrills stuck nicely to the sandstone as I climbed up the rocks and the beach-like sand on the canyon floor was nice to jump into when I climbed down.

On my way up the canyon, I noticed a narrow little slot to my right with footprints in the sand leading up. I couldn’t resist a little adventurous detour, so I took off my pack and squeezed through to see what was up there. This was the highlight of my hike. The sandstone walls were carved into smooth and colorful patterns unlike any of the others I came across.

I squeezed back down and retrieved my pack and then continued up the canyon, snapping pictures of cool rock archways and blue lizards. When I reached a dry fall that was higher than I felt like climbing, I turned around.

At the trailhead, I stopped at the creek below Weeping Rock to check out some little fish I noticed on the way up. I took some pictures of them and then picked up a bunch of other people’s trash. Batteries, cigarette butts, band-aids, paper towels, drink bottles. Disgusting. I tried to let go of the bitterness as soon as I could. It seems Zion not only has strata of rocks, it has strata of tourists. The lower the elevation, the more disrespectful they get.

I chucked the trash in a bin, went back down to the creek to wash my hands, and got back on the shuttle to get to the Emerald Pools trailhead. The trail is a loop, and I began going left, which to me was easier because you get the long way going up and the short, steep way going down. The Upper Pool was big and surrounded with colossal canyon cliffs, but was very crowded so I didn't stay long. On the way down to Middle Pool I took some pictures of a big rock that somehow had become completely covered in little cairns of all sizes. I like to see the little human sides to these trails.

I passed by the Middle Pool and saw a little boy living the dream (wading) in it, even though swimming was not allowed. I wished I was his age so I could get away with it too, because it was a hot day. The Lower Pool had a waterfall that the trail moves behind. Today it was just a drip, like spray from a garden hose that moved back and forth with the breeze. I thought it was too bad Karl and I didn’t make it up here in 2005 after all the snowmelt. The waterfall was probably roaring that weekend and it would have been cool to walk behind it, assuming the trail was not blocked off.

After this hike I felt like I had had enough for one day and got back on the shuttle for the Visitor Center. It was full of old folks. I reckoned they were the only other people with time off this time of year.

One man with a wild white beard was joking with some other passengers about Henderson, NV; sort of defending it as a nice place to live. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to, because the seats in the front of the bus (where I was) faced the aisle and he was sitting in the first seat in back that faced forward. Anyway, I was smiling inwardly because I liked that he was so chipper.

His new friends got off the bus and shortly after, the tiny, frail little woman I barely noticed was sitting next to him passed out. He noticed right away and was very concerned, caressing her face and asking “Pam? Pam? Are you conscious?”

Then suddenly she came to in a panic, arms flailing and shouting “What happened?” By this time most of the other passengers were watching and we jumped in our seats in surprise.

He tried to reassure her, saying soothingly “It’s OK, we’re on a bus.”

I didn’t hear her, but some of the other busybodies on the bus repeated that she needed to get off the bus because she was not feeling well. We arrived at the next stop and he supported her off the bus. The driver and other passengers were very concerned, and everyone offered to help or radio for a ranger. The old man declined, his focused priority was getting her off the bus. Sure enough, as soon as she was off, she got sick. Some passengers got off to help and offer her water. It was a hot day.

I watched feeling sorry for her, grateful for my youth and good health, and proud of the little old Santa man for being such a hero to his wife.

As we pulled away, I noticed the other passengers whispering about the incident. Then at the stop sign to get back on the main road, someone said “Look!”

We turned and saw a mule deer with a lame right rear leg hobble up the hill towards the last stop, graciously giving the passengers something else to whisper about.

Once back at the Visitor Center, I filled up my eight gallon water jug and lugged it back to the car. Lava Point is a beautiful, tiny campground full of Aspen trees, White Fir, and Ponderosa Pines. The tent sites are level and smooth, they have huge nice fire pits, and cute wooden picnic tables. Each site has its own locking trash container, meaning no trips to a smelly dumpster. The toilets must have some sort of miraculous composing substance, because they don’t stink as bad as most. The park also hangs flypaper inside the outhouse and provides hand sanitizer (I thought this such a nice touch). I think I mentioned earlier that it is free. Overall, Lava Point is a very pleasant place to stay. The only catch is, there is no water, so you have to pack in your own for drinking, cooking or washing. Hence the water jug.

I decided tonight would be dutch oven roast turkey night. I went down to Hurricane and bought the groceries. As I was preparing the food, I noticed my frozen turkey breast looked a bit taller than my dutch oven. Sure enough, when I put it in, the lid wouldn’t close. No choice but to saw the top part of the breast off with my knife and cook it alongside the rest.

The turkey was absolutely delicious, and not just because I was starving. By the time I had sawed it apart and cooked it an extra hour to make up for it being frozen, I didn’t get to eat it until 10 or 11 at night! It was so worth the wait. Best camp dinner ever. Yum.

National Park Tour - Travel Day - Monday 5/28/07

I cooked breakfast, packed up, and headed east. I gassed up in Beatty, since the $5/gal price tag at Furnace Creek caused me to only buy what I needed to get out of Death Valley. I drove past “Big Dune” and made a mental note to visit it someday. I called Cindy so the family would know I was still alive when I drove through Vegas.

I got to Springdale in good time. I showered, and did laundry at the RV park outside of Zion. While I was waiting for my clothes, I browsed through their plethora of outdoor adventures magazines. One article in particular made me smile. A woman mused about the differences between camping with women and camping with men. One of them was that all-woman camping trips are well thought out and planned, and you usually have little need for any improv or survival skills. Men on the other hand, do not seem to consider it camping if they do not get the opportunity to play MacGyver in order to have a place to sleep or something to eat. As this was my first all woman camping trip, and also problem-free camping trip, I couldn't help but agree. My trip had been more relaxing than those I'd been on in the past, but I admit the Man vs. Wild trips I've gone on with the guys were more fun.

When my laundry was done, I looked at the camp fees in Zion and decided to camp at Lava Point because it is free. I drove up there, found an empty campsite, set up my camp, checked out the view, and then went to bed.

National Park Tour - Death Valley - Sunday 5/27/07

It is so much easier to get up with the sun outside a tent than in. I thought I might camp somewhere else tonight so I packed everything up and took off to the Valley.

On a whim, I decided to visit Skidoo. It was another sweaty-palms dirt road, 9 miles deeper into what was already the middle of nowhere. I made it with no problems, but made it where? In the middle of a totally empty valley I drove up to a handy-dandy NPS sign which informed me that I was parked in what was once the town of Skidoo. Not a trace of it was left. No rusty junk, no cement slabs, no rotting wood, nothing. I wondered why on earth anyone would drive all the way out here just for a NPS sign.

I figured I might as well make the most of it. To my right I notice the road goes up the hill to what is likely a nice view of Death Valley. Unfortunately, someone is already parked there and I’m not in the mood for company. The desert prefers solitude. I noticed a mine up the hill to my left and a road leading in the general direction. I got back in my car and drove up as far as I dared in the direction of the mine, then parked and hiked the rest of the way. It was like a cute little version of the Panamint City mine. I opted not to walk in this one, since I was alone, no one knew where I was, and perhaps most importantly, I forgot my flashlight and was too lazy to hike down to the car and then back up with it.

From here I assumed my Forrest Gump mentality and thought since I hiked up this far, I might as well hike a bit further and see what’s over that saddle. Turns out more mines were over the saddle. I marveled over one that looked like an earthquake fault, cut along the ground. I had never seen a mine like that before. I also noticed a wood structure, which finally made me feel like I didn’t drive out here for nothing. Past the wood structure, it looked like I might be able to get my own nice view of Death Valley up a nearby hill. Might as well! I tell myself, and continue on.

The top of the hill didn’t have the valley view I was hoping for, but what it did have was a view of another hill, circumscribed by a road with gates on both sides. It looked like someone didn’t want people over there, so of course I had to go see why not. That’s when I found the reason for the 9 mile bump-fest through the desert. The Skidoo Mill, cascading down a strikingly deep canyon and overlooking a spectacular Death Valley vista, was still in awesome shape! I climbed around it a bit, took some pictures, and then headed back to the car happy.

I turned the car around and while I drove down the hill, a raven flew along side like a playful dolphin alongside a boat. She stopped and perched on the “Warning – Mines” sign (sorry, no stick figures in peril this time). I thought she would make a good Poe-esque picture and so I stopped to see if she would pose. Not only did she pose, but she also starred in a short film titled “Raven Cawing on Warning Sign.” I rewarded her with a piece of bread, as there was plenty leftover from the duck pond, and drove on.

On the way back down the 9 mile bump-fest I stopped at an old cabin and mine I couldn't see on the way up that were also in great shape and took some pictures. The detour was well worth it after all.

My next stop was Scotty’s Castle for lunch and pictures for my desert rose page. I enjoyed the shade for a while and then waved goodbye to the castle’s pet coyotes and took the road to Ubehebe Crater.

The crater was mind-bogglingly spectacular. No picture from my cheeseball camera could do it justice but I tried anyway. The park service warned us to set our parking break due to winds, and they weren’t kidding. The world’s biggest hurricane-force blowdryer was roaring up at us from the bottom of the crater. I attempted to hike up to Little Hebe, but when the trail narrowed I lost my nerve due to the wind. It was fun to watch the other tourists lean into it with their arms outstretched on my way down.

I needed gas and decided to go to Furnace Creek so I could hang out in the air conditioned Visitor Center for a bit. On the way there, I stopped to see Salt Creek on a whim. It was a fun little walk along the boardwalk, and the pupfish were cute.

The Visitor Center closed at 5 and I drove back to Wildrose because camping in any of the valleys would have been way too hot. I had checked Mesquite Spring on the way back from the crater hoping it would have Mesquite trees, but no such luck. I thought it would be a fun place for a group camp, or for stargazing, in cooler weather.

It was windy at Wildrose so I set up the tent. I ended up tying it on both ends because when the sun set the wind totally changed direction! Such is life in the desert. I filled up my bucket for a sponge bath and a shave. I also discovered a cool walk-up campsite at the top of the hill. Maybe on another windless night I will hike my sleeping bag up to that one for a night under the stars.

Tonight, however, I went to sleep to the chatter of a large family of Southern rednecks who had pulled up nearby. So much for solitude! Before I went to sleep I read a few bits of A Course in Miracles. It is very thoughtful stuff.

National Park Tour - Bishop - Saturday 5/26/07

I got up and immediately went down the hill for some desperately needed ice and milk. Doh! Store’s closed. So I continued on to the local gas station.

Once I was back I packed up, said goodbye to Michael, and went down to the Laundromat/shower to rinse yesterday’s stink off. Ahh, showers are so nice, even if only for 5 minutes.

I was moving back and forth from my car to the showers for various reasons; do the hair, brush the teeth, change the shirt after the moisturizer exploded all over it… Anyway, as I did this I listened to an older gentleman, who would obviously rather be anywhere in this beautiful country other than sitting outside a Laundromat waiting for his clothes, entertain himself by teasing the passerby.

As I crammed the last of my stuff back into my car, he decided it was my turn to be teased and told me I needed to upgrade to a truck. I smiled at him and brightly agreed which took him aback for a second. It obviously was not the response he expected (there are few things in this world that give me greater pleasure than this).

“Really?” was all he could come up with.

“Yep! A little white one with a camper shell. Maybe I’ll have it in a year.” I said thoughtfully.

“That’ll work!” he said.

Though I hated to leave one of my favorite spots in the Sierras while the weather was so perfect, I also couldn’t wait to see Zion again so I drove on.

I stopped in Bishop to get the fabulous jerky and bacon from Mahogany Smoked Meats and of course bread from Schat’s Bakery. I also stopped and bought a pink Life is Good t-shirt since the exploding moisturizer had interfered with my laundry plan. The town was a zoo. I couldn’t figure out what the deal was at first, then I remembered. Mule Days. Luckily the big parade was over by the time I got there.

I managed to find a spot at the park to park my car. My plan to enjoy a peaceful lunch in the shade while feeding the ducks would have to be modified a bit. I wasn’t completely pessimistic about the ducks, however, so I brought my old bread just in case.

I found a somewhat peaceful and shady spot on a stump on the back side of the pond and put my bread away as I watched kids on the other side of the pond progress from tossing pieces of bread, to hurling slices of bread, to dumping loaves of bread into the water—totally ignored by the overstuffed ducks which were huddled together in the middle of the pond, as far from the melee as possible, quacking satiatedly.

From Bishop I went strait to Death Valley, stopping only to snap a picture of the pet elk on 395. From there I drove directly up Wildrose Canyon. My little car chugged up the road to the Charcoal Kilns, which was crappier than I remembered. Then I pushed the poor car up to Thorndike, palms sweating because at times I wondered if it would make it.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I arrived at the campground only to find it completely full!! Inconceivable!! So much for the idea that I would be the only one crazy enough to camp there! I knew from experience that if Thorndike was full, there was not point in trying Mahogany Flat so I rattled my way all the way back down the hill to tree-less Wildrose with my tail between my legs, my plan foiled.

On the bright side, at least Wildrose has running water. I set up my lawn chair under the shade of a scrub brush and waited for the sun to set. It was a gorgeous evening. I cooked beef stroganoff in my dutch oven and slept out under the stars.

National Park Tour - Yosemite Falls - Friday 5/25/07

I was up at sunrise, about 5am, and hit the road back to Yosemite. I had used the last of my milk in the pot pie, so I skipped breakfast, which was fine since I wasn’t hungry anyway. When I arrived in the valley, I parked by the meadow and walked to the Upper Yosemite Falls trailhead.

At the trailhead I put my head down and panted up the 60 steep switchbacks to Columbia Rock. The months of sitting in a classroom did nothing for my condition, because by the time I reached the viewpoint, I felt like I might barf if I took one more step. I considered briefly if this was the reason the trail builders chose to build the viewpoint, because the first view of the falls was only a short walk away. The valley floor was hazy, but pretty, and I was able to pick out my car which now looked like a micro machine.

Once I caught my breath, I continued to the first view of the falls. I rounded a bend in the trail and gasp like a kid on Christmas morning. It was glorious, and at this point I decided it would be worth it to suck it up and continue the trail up to the brink. I am only halfway there, and the second half of the hike is no easier than the first.

The falls are spraying mist on the trail and after sweating in the glaring sun for much of the first half of the hike, I am welcoming the cooler temperatures as I begin the climb upward. I pass a group of young Brazilian men who apparently had the same idea, because they chose this spot under the world's biggest swamp cooler to take a break for lunch.

From this point on, we would play a game of tortoise and the hare to the top of the falls. They would run past me, then rest and watch me walk by, and then pass me up again. During one of their rests, one of the louder ones finally asked me, “Hey! How come you no get tired? What are you on, vitamins or something?”

I was confused by this question as I sweated by them, red faced, mouth hanging open, and gasping for air. I managed to close my mouth long enough to grin at them, and kept walking. Of course I was tired, but he may have been on to something, because I did take my favorite vitamins that morning (yay, USANA).

Further up the trail, I had stopped for water (can’t bring myself to use a camelback—yuk) and they passed me again. This time the loud one smiles at me and says, “Finally you get tired!! I’m not a eunuch!!” I laughed at this one.

I finally made it to the top and saw a sign marking a trail crossroads. The trail I’m on connects with one from Tuolumne meadows, which explains the cheery looking backpackers that passed me on the way down. Their hike was much easier, though it took two days. I remembered cheerily passing all the suckers wheezing their way up the Walter’s Wiggles switchbacks on their way up to Angels Landing at Zion as Karl and I breezed down from the West Rim Trail—only this time I am one of the suckers. Dammit! Oh well, I made it. I see I also have a choice about whether to go to Falls Overlook or Yosemite Point.

I am wondering which to choose when a pair of hotties walk by on their way down. They said hello, so I asked them which one to choose. They said both. They preferred Yosemite Point, with one of them kissing the tips of his fingers as he said “Magnifique!”

I climbed down to the overlook. It is now 1 pm and I am starving. I squeezed past dozens of tourists to get to the brink, climbed up the guard rail to see anything even resembling a waterfall and to snap my photos, and quickly decided it was too wet and crowded to eat there and so headed back out.

I noticed my Brazilian friends were doing their best sea lion impression by basking shirtless on the rocks next to gorgeous Yosemite Creek. One looked like he was considering getting in the water, which would seem like an excellent idea after a long, hot, sweaty hike except for one minor detail. He was about 50 yards from the brink of the tallest waterfall in North America. I glanced over at an older gentleman who saw them too and said “Stupid!” just as he said “Crazy!” Not all of us want to live on the edge I suppose.

I plopped down under a tree at the top of the hill and polished off my Rice Krispie treat, apple and Cheez-its as I watched more tourists come and go.

After lunch I moved on to Yosemite Point. I crossed Yosemite Creek on a huge sturdy wooden bridge flanked with signs shouting “Danger, Waterfall!” I reckon they are supposed to be scary, but I found the little stick figure in peril humorous.

The creek itself may be the most beautiful creek I’ve ever seen. I was carved into the granite floor, lined with pine trees growing strait out of the rock, and filled with pristine snow-melt water.

Soon I was at Yosemite Point and the view was spectacular. My little micro machine is now a miniscule white speck on the edge of the green splotch I called a meadow. I marveled at how far my little legs were able to carry me in such a short time. The Brazilian boys caught up and I said “Good, you’re not dead!” They laughed.

The boys and I raced each other down the hill. I passed wheezing, red-faced suckers on the way down and assured them they were “almost there!” Many of them groaned at me and said “Yeah, that’s what the last guy said a half hour ago!”

I got to the first view of the falls without much ado other than pining for the walking stick I forgot in my trunk. The sand on the granite paving stones was slippery and my tired legs could have used the help. At the falls I took more pictures, as the light from the setting sun had cast a rainbow in the mist.

By the time I reached the trailhead my feet, cozy in their new Merrills (best hiking shoes, ever!!), were finally starting to hurt, and I am tired from lack of sleep. I begin the groggy post-hike limp back to my car and just as I am getting to the meadow, one of the Brazilian boys ran up to me all excited about something.

“Did you see the brr? Did you see the brr? It went right by where you were!”

“Huh?”

“Brr! You know! Brr!” he said, waving his hands.

I still didn’t know what the heck he was talking about. My tired brain creaked, trying to wake up and make some sense of what this kid was trying to tell me.

“Come here! I took pictures!”

I followed him to a group of people surrounding a camera and the light bulb click on. Ohhh, bear!! Apparently a cute little black bear had run right by me and I was too tired to notice. He had some great pictures of it. I felt like Meg Ryan in the movie French Kiss. Kevin Kline’s voice is ringing in my ears. (Wi, Bob!) I thanked him for sharing and continued to my car.

Once back at camp, I was too tired to cook so I plopped down with some leftover pot pie. It wasn’t half bad cold. By this time I had neighbors and one of them stopped by to say hello and chatted for quite a while. His name was Michael, and he was a chiropractor in Carson City. He told me he was an avid climber and explorer and suggested a few places I should visit. I was glad to have met him. He left and I was in my little sleeping bag snoring by 9 pm.

National Park Tour - Yosemite - Thursday 5/24/07

I got a late start with last minute packing and grocery shopping. I got up at 4:30 intending to be on the road as the sun rose at 6, but didn’t end up leaving town until 7.

I stopped at the Kings Beach post office in Tahoe to mail thank you cards to Matson and Isom for the interview and office tour they gave me the week before and mail my last-minute employment paperwork to Kohls. Now I was officially on vacation.

I didn’t stop again until the Yosemite fee station at the top of Tioga Pass. I had it in my brain that all of the National Parks accept credit/debit cards for fees since they do in Death Valley, and intended to bring my checkbook just in case. Unfortunately the checkbook didn’t make it onto a checklist; because it turned out to be the only thing I forgot and actually needed for the trip. Doh! I had no choice but to drive all the way down the pass to a Lee Vining ATM because I was $20 short of the $80 needed to buy my annual pass.

Upper Yosemite was beautiful and still had snow and ice on the lakes. The drive down to the valley took much longer than I remembered, and because of my late start and my two trips up Tioga, I only had time for one short hike and so I chose lower Yosemite Falls.

The trail was one of the poshest I have ever seen. It had new pavement, and redwood bridges and boardwalks. The falls were amazing. I found a rock that wasn’t already covered with the butt of another tourist and ate my lunch while gazing at the falls. An overweight squirrel tried to steal my food when I wasn’t looking.

On the way back, I moved off the trial for a picture of Half Dome dwarfing the local park that I thought I would cleverly caption “America’s Playground.”

It was on this detour that I surprised a pair of tame national park deer and got a much more entertaining video of one deer licking its hind end.

I made it back to the car by 5 and after a short stop at Olmstead Point and Tenaya Lake, drove all the way to my favorite Eastern Sierra campsite ( a secret not to be named on the internet) before the sun set at 8. I made the rest of my cash disappear on a couple nights’ campsite fees, which had gone up since the last time I camped. I made a mental note to try some free nearby camping the next time I am in the area.

The campground was deserted. I set up camp and broke in my brand new dutch oven with a chicken pot pie. It came out perfectly, and the crust was crispier and more delicious than any I had ever had before. Yum. Dessert was a s’more. I was in bed by 11 pm.