Into Yosemite

I have been given a wonderful gift: the ability to fall asleep quickly, to sleep deeply through an avalanche, and to fully recharge in about six hours. I wake in the morning at my finest and ready to start the day. Marty is more of a typical twenty year old who pushes it later at night and sleeps later in the morning. So far this is working out really well because it gives each of us a little "me time" at the end of his day and at the beginning of mine.

Saturday morning, I woke early in the Motel 6 bed with the sound of heavy trucks rolling by on the freeway a hundred yards (or less) across the parking lot. I went to the lobby and signed in for Wi-Fi service for two hours of blogging, email, and photo uploads while Marty slept.

Comedian Steven Wright has a funny one-liner "It's a small world, but I would hate to paint it." While I was in the lobby, an older man came in and we struck up a conversation. It turned out that he is a tour guide at the Hoover Dam. Our tour guide two days prior was named Charlie and had mentioned that he retired from the phone company in Orlando. When I told this man at the Motel 6 our tour guide was Charlie, he immediately said "He's a great guy. He came from Orlando and worked for the phone company."

We loaded the bikes, by now this ritual was becoming routine and well practiced. We know exactly how each piece fits into the puzzle for a snug and secure ride. After a McDonald's breakfast, we set off.

In the central plains states, agriculture has a monotonous repetition of row crops. If you are passing through a corn growing area, you will see mile upon mile of cornfield. Likewise with wheat.  Two years ago when I rode across western North Dakota in August, I was stunned by the beauty of mile upon mile of sunflowers all facing the sun.  But in the Imperial Valley, it seems that each farm is distinct from the next. As you drive by, the view shifts from strawberry field to corn, apple orchards, radishes, grapes and every imaginable type of produce. It makes for a far more interesting ride as you try to guess "what the heck are they growing?"

We refueled in Madera and headed east into rolling ranch country. No more row crops, just hayfields, horse farms, and cattle. We turned to the northeast on an exhilarating road that ran past a reservoir, swept by gorgeous ranches, and climbed to 4,000 feet.  Soon the scrubbier foothills turned to pine covered mountains as we road higher and higher. We had an enormous amount of fun even before we got to the south gate of Yosemite National Park. At the gate we showed the annual pass I had bought at the Grand Canyon and breezed on through. The twisting climb continued up to an elevation approaching 9,000 feet then we descended through a long tunnel and emerged into the Yosemite Valley.  

I had reserved a campsite by the Merced River in the campground that is the furthest into the valley.  My reservation was for both Friday and Saturday nights. When we arrived a few minutes before 3:00 on Saturday, the ranger at the gate said we were just minutes away from losing the site.  We chatted with the ranger and ... small world once again ... he was from Shakopee, Minnesota just a few miles from our home town of Chaska.  

We decided to take a trail hike up to the base of the Lower Falls and I shot this short video.  Words cannot begin to describe the majesty of the sheer stone faces with numerous waterfalls that cascade from like lace curtains. It hardly seems fair to see a spectacle like this when you are a mile up and hardly have any breath to spare. The hike took us up about 1,200 feet above the valley floor -- a little over 100 stories. And even at that we were less than 1/3 of the way to the top.


I have a personal preference to NEVER cook while camping.  For one thing, food means cooking, dishes, coolers, stoves, dishrags and soap, and so on. As a second issue, food attracts critters. The national parks are filled with signs admonishing campers to store food in locked bear-proof steel cabinets, don't cook in tents because the smell will attract bears, to place trash in vault-like trash containers, and to never leave food in cars because bears will tear doors off to get at it. Third, when you add it all up, cooking at a campsite isn't really all that cheap. Why bother with the bulk, the danger, and the expense when you can eat a restaurant?  

We cleaned up after our hike and headed for the Ahwanee Hotel. The dining room bears a striking resemblance to the Great Hall of Hogwarts Academy including the floating candles but sans the sorting hat.  

Our waiter was Adrian and his name tag showed his hometown as Transylvania, Romania. He told a hilarious story of the Halloween when a bat found its way in. Another staff member calmly remarked "Oh That's just Adrian." But because vampires cannot be photographed I have proof of his humanity.