Things got off to a shaky start when the Yarts bus driver refused to drop me off in front of Housekeeping Camp, which was where I had my reservation. She insisted she couldn’t pull over there, even though Yosemite Valley shuttle buses do it all the time, and the Yarts driver last year did it. She dropped me off at Curry Village…which is now Half Dome Village because the North Delaware Company stole the damn name. Any other time, I could have gotten on a Yosemite Valley free shuttle bus and headed back to Housekeeping Camp, but because of road construction, the routes were out of sorts. In order to get back to Housekeeping Camp, I would have had to take the El Cap shuttle bus, and that would have taken over an hour. So I walked the mile back to Housekeeping Camp with all my stuff. My back and arms were already hurting by the time I got there. I thought I’d save money by taking food with me. That’s great if you have a car, but carrying groceries along with everything else for a mile... I’ve been walking, so I’m up to walking, walked quite a lot while I was in the park, but I’m not up to carrying a bunch of crap while walking. And I didn’t even need the electric blanket or flannel sheets because it never dropped below 60 at night. Next time, I’m going to stay at Curry Village—screw you, NDC, it’ll always be Curry Village to me—and I’m only taking a change of clothes, a couple extra pair of underpants and socks, my camera and my Kindle.
On Wednesday morning, I discovered that I had locked my keys in my bear locker the night before. This was not an auspicious time to have a senior moment, but a maintenance man was nice enough to come and break the lock for me without making me feel like too much of a fool. A rather attractive young man, too. I should have given him a special reward, but I was too nervous and keyed up.
After the bear locker ordeal was taken care of, I headed to the Mist Trail. My goal was to walk up to the bridge. It’s a 400 feet steep rise in elevation. I got about half way. People began asking me if I was okay, and I started to worry about myself, too. Although, Yosemite is a great place to buy the farm, I didn’t feel much like having a heart attack. Besides, given my condition, climbing 200 feet is pretty darn good, and I saw some wonderful views. Took lots of pictures. Another reason why I didn’t continue climbing is that I began to worry about going down such a steep hill if I managed to climb up. I have balance issues due to my head surgeries, and that trail is narrow and very crowded. People going by me in both directions. I’m arthritic now, too, and going down hill isn’t so easy on the knees and hips. It actually took me longer to walk down than up.
I was so tired and sore after that, I was in no mood to walk to Housekeeping Camp from Curry Village…sorry, Half Dome Village. So I took that El Cap shuttle. It was late in the day, and there were only two other people on it. The bus driver was nice enough to stop several times and let us get out. I took lots more pictures. It was like a free tour. I loved it.
On Thursday morning, I decided I should walk an easy trail, and preferably a quieter one. So I took the shuttle bus up to Mirror Lake. Didn’t actually go up to Mirror Lake though. Instead, I took a trail I’d never been on. It went along a creek, by the stables, by Lower Pines Campground, by a backpackers camp, and then to the Ahwahnee, which is also being called by a different name. (Damn the North Delaware Company.) From there, I walked down to Yosemite Village. I still hadn’t recovered from the day before, and I was so tired that I sat at a table in front of the Village Deli, put my head down and fell asleep. I have PTSD and extreme social anxiety. You know how tired I’d have to be before falling asleep with a million people walking around me? I just couldn’t move another inch without some rest. Once again, people were asking me if I was okay. When I gathered enough strength, I walked back to Housekeeping Camp. I had to walk. The shuttles were still all screwed up, and it was either walk or take that hour trip down to El Cap again. I finally made it back to my camp, flopped down in my bed and slept a couple of hours. I woke up feeling much better. I felt well enough to take a short walk so I could take some late afternoon/early evening pictures. The light is very good then, and I was anxious to give my new camera a workout.
This morning, I got up early, packed, and managed to catch the Yarts bus back to Merced. I was almost home free, but then I slipped in a mud puddle, and down I went. I was soaking wet, and my knee was banged up. At least I didn’t break anything. But seriously, a mud puddle…in Merced? Did hell freeze over, too?
Despite all the craziness, it was a great trip. But I’m glad to be home. I might be ready to leave the house again in a few years.
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My next door neighbors at Housekeeping Camp were two cute lanky, nerdish young men, one white and one Asian. Yes, they caught my eye a few times, but I tried not to stare. They always wore matching short outfits, and both always appeared fresh and clean despite the fact they were camping. They were both quiet and civilized. In that respect, they were unlike many of my other neighbors who didn’t seem to give much thought that not everyone would care to hear their conversations or their music. Many young men and women visit the park to engage in challenging sports such as mountain biking, high country backpacking and rock climbing. These two guys looked like they came for the gentle pursuit of bird watching. I don’t know if they were a couple or if they were gay, but I like to imagine these two buttoned down boys let their freak flags fly when they went into their shelter at night and pulled the curtain.
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One morning while I was waiting for the shuttle bus, two women showed up. I assume they were mother and daughter. They seemed quite familiar with one another, and there was a significant difference in their ages. The younger one was about my age, 45 or 50, and the older was about 70 or maybe a little past. They both carried a pair of walking poles. The mother was by far the more outgoing, and she appeared to be in better physical condition. The daughter seemed a bit depressed, withdrawn and gave the impression she was already kind of tired even though it was the start of the day.
The older woman was bright, open and eager to talk to me. Most sense my social unease and leave me alone, but this woman was having none of that. She asked me where I was from, what I had been doing while in the park, and how often I visited. I told her about my attempt to reach the Vernal Fall observation bridge. Her smile, which was already quite broad, got just a little bigger, and she informed me that they were going to walk to the top of Vernal Fall. The longsuffering daughter suggested that they merely walk to the bridge, but the older woman quickly shot down that idea. “Oh, no. We’re going for the full experience.”
I think my mildly sunburned face reminded the older woman, who was pretty fair skinned, that the sun can be rather intense on that trail because it was about that time she proclaimed she forgot her sunscreen. The daughter said in a slightly panicked voice, “The bus might be here any minute.” The mother said that she would simply have to tell the driver to wait, and off she ran to their tent-cabin as quick and spry as a squirrel. The daughter clearly dreaded having to ask the bus driver to wait, but luckily she didn’t have to. The older woman was back within a couple of minutes.
I wondered about their relationship. Of course, I related to the daughter, and I imagine she feels like she has lived in her mother’s shadow her entire life. I imagine she sometimes resents the way her mother pushes her past her comfort zone. And I imagine the daughter has grown used to using her mother as a kind of social buffer. I wonder how hard life will be when her mother is no longer here to guide her and spur her on.
I think my mildly sunburned face reminded the older woman, who was pretty fair skinned, that the sun can be rather intense on that trail because it was about that time she proclaimed she forgot her sunscreen. The daughter said in a slightly panicked voice, “The bus might be here any minute.” The mother said that she would simply have to tell the driver to wait, and off she ran to their tent-cabin as quick and spry as a squirrel. The daughter clearly dreaded having to ask the bus driver to wait, but luckily she didn’t have to. The older woman was back within a couple of minutes.
I wondered about their relationship. Of course, I related to the daughter, and I imagine she feels like she has lived in her mother’s shadow her entire life. I imagine she sometimes resents the way her mother pushes her past her comfort zone. And I imagine the daughter has grown used to using her mother as a kind of social buffer. I wonder how hard life will be when her mother is no longer here to guide her and spur her on.
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