10-01-09

I got up early to leave before the businesses opened in the industrial park and to get out of Sacramento before rush hour. Traffic was bustling already by 7:00. I got through Sacramento, headed south for awhile then left Interstate 5 and headed east on highway 4 toward Yosemite National Park.
Immediately the scenery went from busy urban traffic to quiet orchards, then long flat ranch cattle country. Excellent for driving, but I had hoped to find a big breakfast somewhere.
As I continued east the sun rose in the sky. The flat landscape began to roll. I was climbing in elevation into the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range. The road grew curvy and hilly with narrow switchbacks and one-lane road construction like I had been on so many times in the past. It was a pleasant drive. Traffic was light, the bus felt great with clean oil and filters…and I could see.
Eventually I stumbled upon a little restaurant serving breakfast in Big Oak Flat. As I waited for my food I overheard two women talking about horses. Other than an old lady sitting in the corner we were the only customers. The whole time I was there their topic stayed on horses. For awhile they talked about mules, “A mule is a mule” one woman said as if it were well known common sense. My breakfast was excellent. They didn’t take credit cards, so I went out to the bus to get some cash.
As I drove I continued to climb. The trees thickened and it grew more mountainous. I used my annual National Parks Pass at the Yosemite gate. I drove into the park awhile, found a place to park and checked out the Yosemite Travel Guide that the park ranger gave me at the gate.
Much of the park would be closing for winter in a few days. Some things were shut down, or shutting down already. I plotted a scenic course through the park and started to drive. There were still a lot of park goers, but it was by no means crowded. While waiting in a lineup of cars stopped for one lane road work an emergency vehicle went by with it’s lights and sirens on. There had been an accident up ahead and we proceeded to wait for quite awhile. It was a beautiful spot to be stuck. People got out of their cars and chatted. The couple behind me was from Italy. Behind them were two bikers from California headed to Los Vegas. One unpacked his folding chair and teased his friend for deciding to leave his chair at home. They were fun and we joked around for a long time. After about an hour, traffic started moving. I knew there had been injuries because several ambulances had gone by and I had overheard on a ranger’s radio, “A girl was coming down the mountain to get a phone signal to call the parents of her friends that were hurt.” I saw the girl standing on the side of the road talking on the phone. She looked to be about college age. It put a face to the situation and I felt a sinking feeling in my gut and sad for them. The crash was impressive. The car had gone off of the road and directly into a tree. At first I thought, “What bad luck, they went directly into a tree”. Then I realized that no matter where you left the road you would hit a tree, there would be no way to avoid it.
I spent some time at Olmsted Point, a scenic overlook of a vast valley with tall mountains towering above it. In the distance people could be seen with strong binoculars climbing on Half Dome. There are cables to hang onto. It’s a treacherous climb. People have fallen to their death. Many trailhead signs throughout the park warn that people are killed each year. I opted for the .2 mile trail and headed out. My bare feet stuck to the granite like a surefooted mountain goat. I spent some time mingling with two young women who I had shared binoculars with at the scenic overlook. We wandered around taking pictures and looking for a lake that was supposed to be somewhere down below. None of us had taken the time to read all of the information on the plaques at the beginning of the trail.
Time flew by and soon it was late afternoon. I needed to figure out where I was staying before dark. I still had headlight problems. The campground that I planned on staying at had closed 2 days before. I found one campground that was open. Except for the host it was empty, but the spaces were all too small for my rig. Close by was another camp site that I could easily fit into. There were only two other campers there and the host. Jim was a nice older man from Washington. He had been there since May and would be leaving in 3 days when the campground closed. He checked me in and went to go take his sun shower. The sun had warmed his water well that day. It was a sunny and about 70 degrees. He told me, “Once the sun goes down it’ll get cold really fast. Last night it got down to 22 degrees. Tonight it’ll be that cold again if not in the teens. I’d never been in the bus when the temperature was below freezing, but I was confidant in my heater, besides, the real campers were sleeping in tents.
The park was at over 9,500 feet elevation. I dealt with swelling food packages and hissing shampoo bottles. The Tupperware lid on my taco meat had completely blown off in the refrigerator and was lying next to it.
Jim was right, it was already getting cold. I bundled up and headed for the historic Tioga Pass Resort
That I had seen back out on the main road. I could see it from my campsite and opted to try to cut through the brush by foot and find a way over the small stream to get there. It took a few minutes, but I finally wandered in from the back side of the camp.
There was a small lodge, restaurant and a cozy lobby, warm and smoky from a wood burning stove. A pretty young woman sat behind a desk smiling with not much to do. The resort was shutting down in 3 days and it was fairly empty. I was hoping to get a bottle of wine to enjoy my evening back at my beautiful campsite. I had two choices; a cheap bottle of chardonnay, or a $20 bottle of pinot noir. I’m a red wine guy and love pinot, so the choice was easy. I asked about the menu. They’d be serving dinner later in the evening, so I said I’d probably be back. As I bushwhacked my way back to the bus with my bottle of wine I considered it funny that I’d paid $14 for a place to stay and $20 for a bottle of wine. “If not now, when?” I thought, which has become a motto of mine of late. This was the first time I’d paid for a place to stay since I left Minnesota months ago and it was worth it. I hadn’t had any alcohol for several weeks and figured it was okay tonight to celebrate the beauty I was surrounded by.
Later I walked back to the Tioga Pass Resort and had the TPR burger. The resort was a bit busier and the conversation was great. Half of the patrons were from other countries as I’m finding to be the norm in national parks. The couple behind me was from the area and was celebrating. They like to “come up here the pie“. They teased me when I turned down my desert offer. I didn’t explain to them that sometimes unemployed guys have to forego pie. I talked with them for awhile, and then went home.
I was completely off of the grid, no phone, no internet, no connection with the outside world. It was good. I still need practice being detached and not lonely. I enjoyed my wine, read my Yosemite Guide news paper cover to cover, turned on my furnace, bundled up and went to bed.