Yosemite

We just passed through the southern exit out of Yosemite after finally seeing the famous giant sequoias of Mariposa grove; a very different experience from the coast redwoods of northern California for one, because there are far fewer of them. They are extremely isolated, several of the groves providing a home to just a handful of trees. On the whole planet, these giants are limited to just a few patches on the western side of the Sierra Nevadas. The other big difference was the swarms of tourists packing the trails all over Mariposa Grove. The crazy number of people pretty much characterized our last two days in the park. Well, that and granite – more on that later. For now, here is the Grizzly Giant, one of the single most massive organisms currently (and probably ever) in existence on Earth:


This tree, although a measly 208 feet tall (!), is 28 feet in diameter. Actually, they say that the reason it is relatively short compared to many of the other giant sequoias is that throughout its life of thousands of years, it's probably been struck by lightning enough times to kill off the top of the tree, which has long since withered and broken off. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to hug the Grizzly Giant, but I think he was feeling the love anyway.

So what can you say about Yosemite National Park? It’s obviously an astonishing place, and understandably so for many different reasons: the beautiful winding river, granite domes, untouched meadows of wildfowers, the largest trees on earth, and its absolutely insane geologic history. I think the thing that stands out most in my mind is the staggering size of everything: the park itself along with everything in it. But before I elaborate, I should probably insert a brief prologue:

After driving in from San Francisco on Saturday afternoon, we spent the night of July 4th at another KOA campground, this one in Mariposa, California.



Again we got to take it easy and recharge for the night: took a dip in the pool, got a shower, had a nice dinner of bean tacos. We were going to drive back into the small town around dusk to check out the fireworks. Unfortunately, as we sat finishing up our side of chips and guac, listening to the soothing sounds of Vince Guaraldi through our car speakers, the music suddenly warbled and cut out. I ran up to the car only to realize that not only were we using the car battery to power the musical ambiance for our dinner, but we had been unwittingly charging up Cate Blanchett and air-conditioning the outdoors as well. So Sarah walked back to the front office to ask for a jump, a smirk on her face, knowing that I had just evened the score from her blunder, running out of gas on the way to Napa.

After scoring a jump, the sun already well below the horizon, we figured we had just enough time to get back to town for the fireworks. We took off immediately and proceeded to make two or three wrong turns. Twenty minutes later, we finally found ourselves among crowds of people walking from the fairground area back towards the road. Hopping out of the car and asking around, a gentleman walking with his toddler daughter cheerfully informed me that we had missed round one of the show, but that the finale would not be taking place as someone had been hit with a firework. Having been almost hit with a rogue firework myself on two separate occasions (two nights in a row, in fact), I could almost sympathize. We were slightly disappointed not to see any pyrotechnics on the 4th, but we were somewhat consoled by the fact that no one else got to see the whole show either. So, back to our camp and to bed we went.

We entered Yosemite National Park on Sunday morning, hoping we’d be early enough to grab a campsite within the park. After driving for three quarters of an hour to the park and then driving for another twenty minutes or so along the Merced River within the park, we watched the granite walls rise around us as we entered into Yosemite Valley. Our anxiety levels crept higher as we saw the thousands of people everywhere we looked, wondering if maybe we were deluded in thinking we’d find a vacant site to pitch our tent. Then, we managed to stumble upon Camp 4 (that’s the actual name: Camp 4) and were told there were still a bunch of spots open for $5 a person. Enormously relieved that we wouldn’t have to drive another 40 miles of winding park roads to inquire at the next campground, we sat for a moment and took in the view. Off in the distance sat Half Dome, in immense, bulbous peak of granite, sliced down the middle by ancient glacial erosion. And practically behind Camp 4, right in our field of view, draped from the north wall of the valley was Yosemite Falls, two cascades of white water, falling in slow-motion a total of over 2,400 feet to join the Merced River below. Quite an incredible spot.


So we set up camp alongside two other pairs of campers that had been assigned to our site (they pack in six people at each of the 35 sites - and this is just one of the 13 campgrounds in the park). Then we bear-proofed our car according to the park regulations, which they are quite serious about. This included removing all food and toiletries from our car (including unopened canned goods, toothpaste, and any trash) and placing them in one of the bear lock-boxes at our site. According to park staff, brown bears are capable of ripping an entire car door off its hinges just so they can get to your scented chapstick in the glove box. This did seem a little far-fetched, but we obliged nonetheless. Yesterday, we did in fact spot a bear:


Since the Lower Yosemite Falls Trail (designated at a difficulty level of “easy”) was nearby, we hit that up first. Although the place was mobbed, it was still an amazing view. Once you get up close to the falls to feel its cool mist, you are left standing at the foot of a huge gushing chute of water, hundreds of feet high, marveling that it is actually tiny compared to the Upper Falls, now completely out of sight, its view blocked by the towering boulders above.


By the time we got back to Camp 4, it was around 4:00, and although our energy was already drained (neither of us had had our morning caffeine fix), we decided to try the Upper Falls Trail even though it was designated as “strenuous”. According to our map, the trail climbs 1,000 feet over the course of about a mile hike, which seemed reasonable. We were somewhat encouraged by the nonathletic physiques of a few hikers we saw streaming out of the trailhead from above. So we puffed up our chests and began our ascent up the vertical equivalent of the Empire State Building.

We quickly found that practically the entire trail was essentially a staircase made of rectangular granite blocks dug into the ground, switchbacking the whole way up the slope.


It was beautifully done, and obviously very well maintained, some sections showing signs of recent repair. But it didn’t take long for us to realize that climbing up stairs can be quite a workout. As our caffeine-withdrawal headaches pounded with our heightened pulses, it became increasingly questionable whether or not we’d be able to make it to the Upper Falls viewpoint. Once we had been hiking for about 40 minutes, I calculated that we had probably gone about halfway. Around this time, we assessed the situation and decided that, between the options of going back to camp versus forging ahead and possibly passing out and dashing our head against a rock. We settled on the former, assuring ourselves that on any other day, we’d be all about it… maybe. Ah well.

Back at Camp 4, a tent city had formed since we had last seen it. Easily over a hundred tents had been pitched throughout the relatively small area, with people from all over the world (just as many foreigners as American’s it seemed) moving about, carrying equipment, setting up hammocks, tending to fires, making dinner on portable propane stoves. It seemed like a lot of pretty hardcore campers and a lot of rock climbers (including the pair of chicks sharing our spot). Naturally, there was a whole lot of granola and coffee being consumed. The whole communal atmosphere was very cool. Camp 4 isn’t really a family place like most of the places we’ve camped at so far. That’s not to say there weren’t many families there, but it had almost a hostel feel… only with smores!


So it got dark and thirty or so campfires lit up our little corner of Yosemite Valley as we fell asleep to the sound of the roaring falls just a half-mile away.

This morning, after being sure to start the day off right with adequate supply of caffeine, we took a tip from our camp neighbor (a middle-aged elementary school teacher who was married to an Asian girl who looked to be, at most, about twenty – not judging; just describing). He told us we absolutely had to visit Glacier Point before we left. Glacier Point is a lookout that is actually accessible right from the valley, at the end of Four-Mile Trail, categorized as “very strenuous” and covering a relief of over 3,000 vertical feet. Since the Upper Falls Trail had already maxed us out at a mere “strenuous”, we opted for the slightly less direct, 25-mile drive to the point. Even though it took us out of our way, it was well worth the extra mileage.

Here is the view that greeted us:


Supposedly, a quarter of the park’s total area can be seen from this lookout, which is remarkable, considering that the park covers an area of over a thousand square miles. Again, I must stress that the picture above does nothing to convey the vastness of the Yosemite Valley and the grandeur of its skyline. It started out as a normal V-shaped river valley cut through the Sierras, but was carved out by glaciers during the last ice age. At its highest point, the ice reached 700 feet above our heads from where we took the above photo. It’s as if the gods reached down with a mile-wide ice cream scoop and plunged it deep into the granite bedrock, scooping out a generous portion. But the effect as you behold the landscape from above is so severe that it barely looks real. It’s as if you’re looking at a two-dimensional backdrop that wraps 180 degrees around your field of view. If this isn’t the surest sign of the power of our planet, then I don’t know what is. Let’s just say that, as a geology teacher, I was happy.

I think I’ll leave it to Yosemite’s greatest advocate ever, John Muir, to close out this entry because no one could say it any more beautifully, and no one has greater authority on the subject than him. Here’s his advice:

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.”

Seriously.


-Josh