California-Texas Trip: Part Two
This journey has left me nothing if not more thoroughly convinced of the sanctity and majesty of the world’s remaining natural areas, heavily-touristed though they may be (and as one of those very tourists, I suppose condemning would border on hypocrisy). I am equally certain of the need to protect these areas from the encroachment of society at all costs. The beauty of Yosemite is truly staggering, rivaled in my journeys only by the great limestone peaks surrounding Yangshuo and Guilin in southern China- enormous, verdant pillars of stone which seem to have been dropped randomly upon the patchwork of terraced rice fields and simple villages. Yosemite, by contrast, consists of a glacier carved valley surround by a series of granite behemoths. Towering high above the valley floor, these silvery peaks jut into the cerulean splendor of the sky in a violent clash of unyielding stone and scintillating sunlight.
The valley itself is a forested collage, a delicate imbuement of greens and yellows, spattered with the erratic, titian brushstrokes of autumn. A number of meadows and small lakes dot the landscape. Also scattered about are the various camp sites as well as a charming wooden chapel and the community of Yosemite Village. It was near this small village at Camp #4, perhaps a mile distant, I set up my tent. After Jen’s departure and a very wonderful, very hot shower, I returned to camp and fell into a fitful sleep.
The next day was my last, and I intended to take in as much as possible. Waking early, I struck camp, packed my belongings, and drove to Mariposa Grove along Highway 41. I cannot recall the length of the drive, but it was at least an hour. Upon reaching the grove, I set out on foot along the trail to explore the many giant sequoias. Though there were some few other tourists, most of the time I had the place more or less to myself, a fact that only intensified the isolated, otherworldly tranquility of the grove. Located along the trail are various signs offering insight into the trees and the other flora and fauna in the park. Sequoias are born of seeds from the smallest cone of any conifer, yet they grow into the largest. They are aided in this endeavor by a number of creatures, who seem to live in a sort of symbiosis with the trees. Among these are a particular type of squirrel which obtains its sustenance from the covering of the cone and subsequently scatters the seeds which will sprout new sequoias. The sequoia has a very shallow, easily damageable root system. One of the placards in the park compared the tree to a nail standing on its head. Quite a amazing actually, particularly when you note the immensity of the trees.
I spent some four hours or so in the grove, and, but for misreading a sign and taking a wrong turn which resulted in my walking some three miles or so in the wrong direction (and observing some rather large, somewhat disquieting bear tracks- there are no more grizzlies in Yosemite only black bears), the hike was quite easy. Upon completing my exploration of the grove I drove up to Glacier Point (a trip of about thirty to forty minutes), a vantage point offering perhaps the best view in all the valley. It is here that one truly develops an idea as to the vastness of the park. I believe it was possible to view a fourth of the park from this point, though it could have been more. At any rate, even this portion of Yosemite is enormous. A great many of the pictures I took are from Glacier Point, including most of the pictures of Half Dome, perhaps the most readily recognizable feature in the park. While it is possible to hike up to Glacier Point, it is a rather formidable hike of some 14.5 miles and my legs were in no shape for another strenuous hike.
And so, with a renewed since of the beauties of nature, I left Yosemite and returned to Yosemite Bug Rustic Mountain Resort Hostel. I was greeted in the dorm by a young(er than me) Englishman, a technical wizard studying for his doctorate in computer science. We talked for some time about various subjects and then I took a shower and set off for the hostel’s restaurant. The meal consisted of mashed potatoes and roast beef, served up with a hearty helping of vegetables. Add to this a couple of Newcastles and I was in heaven. Enter our young English gentleman (I do not recall his name, alas I have slept since then- and several times at that- you may think of him as Ringo if you so desire) again for a few more beers and some conversation. With all due respect to my new friend, this was perhaps the dullest exchange I have ever been forced to endure (plus he was all but deaf). But for the beer, I likely would have excused myself and retired to count the tile in the dormitory bathroom.
The next morning I had breakfast (unfortunately without the presence of the fascinating young waitress from my previous stay), and set out for Arizona.
The valley itself is a forested collage, a delicate imbuement of greens and yellows, spattered with the erratic, titian brushstrokes of autumn. A number of meadows and small lakes dot the landscape. Also scattered about are the various camp sites as well as a charming wooden chapel and the community of Yosemite Village. It was near this small village at Camp #4, perhaps a mile distant, I set up my tent. After Jen’s departure and a very wonderful, very hot shower, I returned to camp and fell into a fitful sleep.
The next day was my last, and I intended to take in as much as possible. Waking early, I struck camp, packed my belongings, and drove to Mariposa Grove along Highway 41. I cannot recall the length of the drive, but it was at least an hour. Upon reaching the grove, I set out on foot along the trail to explore the many giant sequoias. Though there were some few other tourists, most of the time I had the place more or less to myself, a fact that only intensified the isolated, otherworldly tranquility of the grove. Located along the trail are various signs offering insight into the trees and the other flora and fauna in the park. Sequoias are born of seeds from the smallest cone of any conifer, yet they grow into the largest. They are aided in this endeavor by a number of creatures, who seem to live in a sort of symbiosis with the trees. Among these are a particular type of squirrel which obtains its sustenance from the covering of the cone and subsequently scatters the seeds which will sprout new sequoias. The sequoia has a very shallow, easily damageable root system. One of the placards in the park compared the tree to a nail standing on its head. Quite a amazing actually, particularly when you note the immensity of the trees.
I spent some four hours or so in the grove, and, but for misreading a sign and taking a wrong turn which resulted in my walking some three miles or so in the wrong direction (and observing some rather large, somewhat disquieting bear tracks- there are no more grizzlies in Yosemite only black bears), the hike was quite easy. Upon completing my exploration of the grove I drove up to Glacier Point (a trip of about thirty to forty minutes), a vantage point offering perhaps the best view in all the valley. It is here that one truly develops an idea as to the vastness of the park. I believe it was possible to view a fourth of the park from this point, though it could have been more. At any rate, even this portion of Yosemite is enormous. A great many of the pictures I took are from Glacier Point, including most of the pictures of Half Dome, perhaps the most readily recognizable feature in the park. While it is possible to hike up to Glacier Point, it is a rather formidable hike of some 14.5 miles and my legs were in no shape for another strenuous hike.
And so, with a renewed since of the beauties of nature, I left Yosemite and returned to Yosemite Bug Rustic Mountain Resort Hostel. I was greeted in the dorm by a young(er than me) Englishman, a technical wizard studying for his doctorate in computer science. We talked for some time about various subjects and then I took a shower and set off for the hostel’s restaurant. The meal consisted of mashed potatoes and roast beef, served up with a hearty helping of vegetables. Add to this a couple of Newcastles and I was in heaven. Enter our young English gentleman (I do not recall his name, alas I have slept since then- and several times at that- you may think of him as Ringo if you so desire) again for a few more beers and some conversation. With all due respect to my new friend, this was perhaps the dullest exchange I have ever been forced to endure (plus he was all but deaf). But for the beer, I likely would have excused myself and retired to count the tile in the dormitory bathroom.
The next morning I had breakfast (unfortunately without the presence of the fascinating young waitress from my previous stay), and set out for Arizona.
posted by Joel Hardin | 10:22 AM
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