Homeward Bound

This last weekend I went to Yosemite. We pulled out of town late Thursday night inspite of accuweather's predictions of an almost certain death by drowning for those foolish enough to venture into the projected storm cloud-covered cavern of Yosemite Valley. Here are the highlights: When my friends Rob and Melissa went climbing on Friday afternoon, I decided to head up Yosemite Falls on my own to clear my head of endlessly recycled thoughts and to clear my lungs of the nestings of two months' worth of head colds. The day was starting out sunny, though a solid gray patch in the sky out to the east kept me tracking the clouds as I weaved in and out of patches of trees. I love setting out for a good hike by myself, especially when I feel like the odds are slightly stacked against me. After a while, I found myself steadily trailing about twenty paces behind a guy who looked like Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans, long hair and everything. I felt certain that there was some type of buckskin or animal tooth ornamentation on him, a talisman driving his serene and silent ascent. (I'm sure we all could run through the trees like DDL in LoM if we had a huge shotgun, and were dramatically draped in highly symbolic animal parts) Anyhow, the last leg of the ascent we began playing leap frog and tersely commenting on the ominious turn in the weather. Within a half hour, Half Dome had become hidden behind dense rain clouds, and thick fog cast a spectral presence over the valley. Short, fierce burst of rain punctuated the last mile, increasing the slippery smoothness of the rocks. Cold gusts of wind pelted the trail with the significant mist kicked up by the plunge of the upper falls. Anyhow, both DDL and I were feeling our flailing sea level circulatory systems and after finding out the close proximities of our homes, we ended up companions for making the final treck over the well-tromped snowy ridge to the edge of the top of the falls. Once at the highly exposed ledge of the falls, it only took only a couple of balance-challenging gusts to admit that we had both experienced the success of gaining this view on sunny days, and had no need to linger in the glow. So we started back down pretty quickly, and so began conversation. DDL is a committed liberal, canadian, father, husband, naturalist, traveler, anti-all things associated with city life, and his wife is a vegan and his daughter not yet two, and is in general a thoughtful man, quite a bit further down the line than me but similar in a lot of ways. Needless to say, we had lots to talk about. Throughout the weekend, he ended up being a rather nice addition to what had turned out to be a party of three after the oh, say, eight other friends scheduled to go backed out for various reasons. By the time we reached the bottom of the trail, the valley was sunny and beautiful, its cleanliness glistening and its freshness diffusing into the air. White puffy clouds roamed happily above and the valley seemed to be luxurously sighing with the estacy of a good morning springtime stretch. The next day we all toured the valley on some rented one-speed beach cruisers, DDL & I taxing our already sore quads on muddy, bumpy trails along a deserted stretch of the Merced. These bikes were at least built for butt comfort though - why be saddle sore when you can rent a bike with a cushy, coiled seat? Eventually we wended our way to the El Cap meadows to look for climbers on the wall and laze in the grass. Rob and DDL had climbing in common, and compared endless notes. Melissa and I happily chimmed in with utterly helpless comments about "nice racks" and "good sized jugs." Perverting climbing lingo never fails to amuse us, especially when confronted with anyone remotely serious about techincal language. The last day was a pure gift. Late rising was in the forecast, and listening to the rain stop and start on the nylon of the tent while floating in and out of sleep was demanded. When I did finally unzip myself from this red and beige dome, it was still early and thick fog was sliding over the features of the valley. Sunnyside Bench, the towering granite wall directly above Camp 4, was alternately shrouded in mist and shot through with strong sunlight, as was the top of Yosemite Falls a little further down. We took a quick walk to fill our eyes with all this contrast and beauty and then turned back to camp to head out for a big hike. As we were going about the business of eating and planning and saying good bye to DDL, the mist won, the clouds got lower. Shortly after we decided that packing up should be our priority, the rain came down, fast and fierce. Still reluctant ot leave, we headed to Curry Village to hang out, and soon out came the sun again. But the weekday clock was ticking, and thoughts of early Monday morning wakeups fueled our departure. We drove out casting last backward glances with sad eyes and talking of a potential May visit. Time is again ticking,a nd I've got to get to class tonight.