Samantha: Yosemite National Park, the muse of so many ground breakers.
I spent so much time reading about the founding of the park, the Sierra Club,
Muir, policy, and I’ll be damned if I remember much of it. What stayed with me,
what made Yosemite a wilderness Mecca for me, was an Ansel Adams exhibit I
witnessed when I was 10 years old. I realized then that there are places seriously
grander than where I grew up, and they seemed impossibly far away. I never
thought I would approach the prospect of seeing Yosemite until much later in my
life. Then I worked at the summer camp in my home town this past July, as did
Mike Blouin, and whodda known it, Mike Blouin was fortunate enough to land
a job (briefly) in Yosemite, and sure, I could come visit. We arrived at the Naturebridge staff house around 7 on a Wednesday night, and I couldn't hurry enough into that awkward, It's-you-oh-my-god-I-want-to-jump-up-but-I'm-not-sure-if-that's-ok-so-I'll-just-kind-of-noncommittally-hop-and-make-it-a-little-more-uncomfortable-but-I-don't-care-because-it's-really-you hug. We unloaded the car for fear of hijacker-bears, I gifted Mike some beer from San Fran, made up some bitchin' guacamole like I do, and settled onto the porch for as many words as we could get out before sleep overtook us. He told me that he really knew I was crazy after he bore witness to me and two fine VerShare co-workers re-purposing the leftover kids' art into rude and crude thank you notes for the other staff. (He's worked with my sister at this same institution, and told me he's decided I have a nice family and that he liked us: score!) I happily admitted to being something of a freak, and he said we should have been that weird all the time. I agreed, then said goodnight.
We awoke
around 7AM so that we could get a jump on the day, and give Mike a lift into
the Village for training, and so that he could use his connections to get us
into the park on the cheap. Yes, Hantavirus, mouse poop disease as we’ve since
dubbed it, was present in Curry Village, but it was a mild concern for us, as we
were graciously offered rooms in the staff housing with our host (unfortunately for many of the good folks working as educators at Naturebridge, loads of the annual school trips canceled due to Hantavirus, resulting in layoffs. No one, including the administration, was terribly happy about this. Mike was one in this number, though he was abruptly offered an overnight trip while we were there, because he's a mad-hustler and wicked rugged and all that). Mike had
recommended that we bike to Mirror Lake, then hike whatever portion of Snowy Creek
we felt inclined to, and view a continuous panorama of North Dome, Half Dome,
and the Yosemite valley for the duration. We took this advice, and it was perfect. The
bike ride in from the visitors center was quick and spacious, the 1.5 mile walk
out to the wilderness area/snowy creek alongside Mirror lake was pleasant and
easy. Snowy Creek was loaded with switchbacks and proved to be a bit steep, a
little challenging if you pushed yourself enough. The hike to the top kept an
open view of Half dome the majority of the way. It was very gratifying to watch
that mountain become level with me as I hiked, and the valley below lush and
broadening. I paused to inhale the world, and watched a hawk ascend from 30
feet below, climbing to 40, 50 feet above me. All was silent.
I didn't have an epiphany. I didn’t learn my place in the universe. I didn’t feel small in the ample wilderness. I simply felt at ease. At ease, and easily able to hike as far and deep as my feet permitted.
Onward, and I met a gentleman in a red shirt with a southern
accent who kindly took my picture before Half Dome. I later learned that he ran
into Rain, and when she asked if he’d seen me, he described me as “Pretty, and a really good hiker.” Honestly, my favorite compliment to date. He told me I was 30
switchbacks away from the woods at the top of the trail, and he was about
right, and counting them certainly made the rest of the walk go by quickly. I
will admit, since we were warned of increased bear activity in and around the
park, and having seen the bear scat in the middle of the trail, I was somewhat
wary of entering the woods. Predictably, I did. I crossed a stream complete
with fish! And then I was in a clearing, a sign to my left beckoning me toward
North Dome, a mere 7 miles away, and a ledge through the woods on my right
promising unparralled views that weren’t 7 miles away. I worked up the
willpower, and went right. I’d been making good time, 2.5 hours up and an
estimated 2 down, but not enough to make it to North Dome without an overnight
plan in place. That will happen, someday and someday soon. I will climb
Half dome too – permit and all (there are those who know that the cable climb
at the end will rattle my fear of falling, but fear is bunk). While I fiddled
around with stuff in my pack, I heard some footsteps through the trees, and
naturally my first instinct was BEAR. I grabbed up a stick and started my way
back, but lo, it was simply a doe. She came within 10 feet of me, sniffed
around, and meandered along. It was awesome. I began my descent, found Rain by Mirror lake, we hopped on our bikes and went back to the Visitor's Center for a late lunch. I played in the kids' science area like I usually do, then we loaded up the bikes and headed back to the Naturebridge house. On our way out, a Subaru-full of young folks like ourselves passed us, waving. At first I thought it was Mike and his co-workers, but they didn't get home until after us. Logic leads me to conclude that we're just so cool we inspire spontaneous bouts of joy.
Once back from training, as per a previous inquiry, Mike had a look at my bike to see if he could fix the wobbles, squeaks, and scrapes. I think, though, that his intention was to seemingly innocently destroy my front brakes. He told me that my wheel wasn't true - "It LIES!" were his exact words. After tweaking a few things, he said "Go ahead, ride it in traffic." So I did. He said "get out of the road!" I replied "I do what I want!" and somehow, my brakes worked and I made it back safely. Foiled, Mike!
Then, the question of dinner. Originally, the plan was to "quickly" cook up some eggplant parmesan, and then head out for cheap beers at a bar the folks at Naturebridge haunt. Not so easy. The eggplant parm quickly escalated to Iron Chef cookoff levels, with countless attempts at foul play and critical information withheld by either competitor. He morphed into this confused beast, speaking Spanish with a French accent, throwing scalding pans into cold water, etc. Not that I needed any upper hand, I did appreciate the extra steps Mike took to burn his eggplant and very nearly summon the fire department. Fun was dampened once we found out that his housemate Sarah was deathly allergic to eggplant, so mellow actions constituted the rest of our kitchen-venture. Rain made delightful sauce from scratch, we sat to a nice dinner. Then, NIGHT SWIMMING IN YOSEMITE HAPPENED! We first wandered in the dark to where we thought there was a creek, but no cigar - just thorns, burdock (love/hate bane of a plant), bears, and poison oak (none of which I fell victim to! Hooray! Rain, however, was consumed by the 'dock).
Mike then stated "Well, we can go swim in the river instead. It's just a five minute walk from the house." Genius. To the river, but first a detour to the car to hear that ES and the Magnetic Zeros ditty, Home. We had been committing a disservice en route to the river by incorrectly belting the tune, so priority called that we learn it before continuing. Mike was a good sport and folded himself in half in the back seat. Drinks rotated around the car (no one was driving, of course), and we resumed our trot to the water. The river was incredible, cold and fresh, and only stars illuminated these bathers. We passed an hour there, easily, then to bed. Mike had been offered an overnight trip and needed to pack, sleep, all that boring responsible stuff. I was insistent though, and had the coveted novelty of aiding in the packing, which primarily consisted of things being thrown at my face (boxers not exempt, jerk.) The next morning, we all packed up and parted ways. Rain and I went through the High Country to Tuolumne Meadows, then on to Sheperd's hotspring for the night as recommended by our host ( near to next update, m'loves).
Truth be told (I bear no semblance to my bicycle wheels), Mike was a pleasant host, and I was very happy to see him again. Rain can testify - I was giddy all the way to the park. It seemed like much more than a month had gone by since we worked together in Vermont. His odd behavior was just as charming then as it is now. He's a capable, quick-witted man with a sinister sense of humor that instigates my waywardness, and I like it. He's also someone who has managed to earn my respect rapidly, a feat not easily accomplished.
One thing I've learned on this trip is how difficult it is to move along and leave behind all the potential for good times, all the things I wish I could do with the fantastic people I've met by chance and have had the fortune to meet up with again. I'm relearning gratitude and how critical sustaining contact is.
Mike Blouin, if you're reading this, and I know you are because you're unemployed and have a lot of free time (Too soon? Probably), thanks for a wonderful sojourn. You are a phenomenal creature, and I am grateful we know each other. Also, qwater, and don't try to correct me. Much love, talk to you soon!
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