Yosemite

The granite rock was wet but warm under my bare feet. The smell was indescribably fresh, my senses now heightened. It had stopped raining, though I could feel my heart pounding. The birds were chirping and flying and didn’t seem too phased. It was business as usual for them. Woah that was crazy I thought. What just happened?

I hiked in the day before the storm. The trail was short but steep and well traveled. Not many would stay the night or even two or three nights. Most would go up and down again to sleep in the valley where granite towers overpower the senses and make big people feel small. I prefer the wilderness away from these but near to my own kind of beauty only found in solitude. Five nights is all I would need or maybe six if I skipped a meal or two. Six nights would be great.

The top of the trail was shaded from the sun in the late afternoon light. My pack was too heavy and twenty pounds of it food. Gnats buzzed my face. At least they weren’t mosquitoes I thought. I was dizzy and ready to stop but excited to see the falls. It would have to wait until the next day. The setting sun made my stomach growl. It was time to eat and find a place to sleep. Somewhere in the granite above Yosemite Creek I found a patch of dirt large enough for my tent next to some bushes and a small tree, perfect for shade and hanging water. It was near the trail but hidden. I like hidden.

A group of three men were camping nearby. I could see them but they couldn’t see me. It was going to be a good week. This would make week two of four weeks in the backcountry by myself, two months short of John Muir’s prescribed three month minimum in Yosemite. But it would have to do and I was ready for it despite my lack of experience. Besides what could go wrong?

The night came on strong with stars and a sense of excitement. I could smell the smoke of a small fire burning below me. I didn’t need a fire. I had the night and the stars and the creek for water and hot food in my hands. ‘The night is already warm enough,” I said out loud as if nature was listening. When you’re alone you talk out loud sometimes. It’s normal.

I cleaned up, grabbed a fresh pair of socks, and went down to the creek to wash my feet. I sleep better when my feet are clean. The cool water clears my head in a surprising way every time. I’ll have to take a dip tomorrow while it’s still sunny, I thought. There’s chance of rain in the afternoon. I like storms.

Sleep met me quickly with dreams of trees and the sun reflecting on the creek. I saw my family eating together in the woods laughing. Flashes of light with smiles and food then clouds and darkness came again. Birds were singing although I couldn’t see them. They brought a feeling of safety. Then I was awake to orange on the horizon lighting my tent.

I laid awake thinking about the day. I do my best thinking while still in my sleeping bag. I’ll go check out the falls and spend the morning near Lost Arrow. Maybe I’ll see some climbers. I like climbing but have never done anything big. I tell people I’d like to climb El Capitan one day. But it’s something that takes great preparation and time spent in the ocean keeps me off big walls. Plus I’m scared. I love the ocean but I also fell in love with mountains while in Switzerland one summer.

When I was young my family did several trips to Yosemite and Mammoth. Then there was Yosemite Sierra Summer Camp. But it wasn’t until I returned to Yosemite in my early twenties that my eyes were opened. Alli, Josh, and I had finished a day of bouldering in the valley and decided to take a walk up Mist Trail to Vernal falls. It’s most likely the busiest trail in Yosemite. The sun was low and the rocks were turning purple. It was like I was seeing them for the first time. I’d walked that trail as a child many times but now it felt bigger than ever. These memories swirled in my head and by now I was starting to sweat, so I got up and made breakfast.

It was quiet and peaceful under my tree except for a squirrel eying me. I don’t like squirrels. They’re cute but all they want is your food. A squirrel chewed a hole through my new backpack earlier that week. I accidentally left a piece of trash in the side pocket. It was even unzipped. I never forgot it. “Enough of you squirrel!” I said waving my hand and standing to my feet so he knew I meant business. Yosemite falls can get busy, so I filtered some water, packed a lunch, and headed out before day hikers would make it to the top.

I explored and rock-hopped off trail above the falls up to Yosemite Point. My topo map frustratingly didn’t tell the full story. Everything was bigger and took longer than I expected. But I was in my happy place exploring and seeing things for the first time. Hanging my head over the valley rim on my stomach looking down at the top of Lost Arrow, I could feel the weight of gravity pulling me down. It’s a great feeling but not meant to be felt for long.

In Yosemite Valley, waterfalls seemingly come out of the granite walls framed by trees. Massive granite domes hang among the clouds. I call it the dome zone. It’s one thing to look up at them. It’s another to be on them. The valley floor sits roughly three thousand feet below the granite utopia and is generally flat with meadows and trees and the Merced River snaking through it.

The granite walls are scarred with vertical black streaks from water and lichen making the rock look like it’s bleeding. Lighter areas show fresh rock fall. All this makes the abstract artist’s work look orderly. From far away the walls and domes appear smooth. But up close their caverns and outcroppings become visible like the backside of a jigsaw puzzle, rocks stacked on each other, as if each were made for the other. And people climb them overnight for a challenge and for fun. This is the majesty of Yosemite. You must be there to experience it and know it, to feel its calming effect in the midst of chaos. There’s a renewing that takes place that can’t be explained. It happens every time.

I was caught up in the wonder of it all while looking down, my chest gripping the rock. Squinting, I could make out aunt-sized cars buzzing around the valley floor, seemingly in slow motion. Still, I felt smaller than they. Death was near as birds whizzed by my head making my stomach drop. I’d like to fly some day I thought, then did a backwards army crawl to safety.

By now it was afternoon, so I wandered up Yosemite Creek towards my campsite, stopping to jump in a few times. The cold water was head clearing like a reset button. Walking barefoot on the smooth granite made me feel at home. It was comforting in a weird way though I was alone. Lost in my world I looked up and saw clouds stacking on the horizon beyond my tent. Thunderheads loomed beautifully thousands of feet into the sky. Okay I gotta baton down the hatches in case this thing unleashes, I thought.

It started to rain by the time I made it to my tent. Softly at first and then a crack of thunder let the heavens open. I didn’t see the lightning, just the sound it made as it split the atmosphere. It felt close and now I was soaking wet trying to secure the rain-fly and throwing whatever loose gear I could find into my four by seven foot home. Jumping in the first flash became visible with an immediate CRACK!!! Woah this is a little crazier than I expected.

I zipped up my tent still feeling vulnerable inside. I couldn’t stop thinking about the rain. Would it get under my tent? Before the trip, a friend shared how some people he knew got into trouble during a lightning storm. He said if the rainwater gets under your tent, you’re toast. Supposedly the water can unground you, leaving you exposed to an easy zap. I wasn’t sure if this was true or not, but now it was all I could think about. Then a consecutive flash CRACK, flash CRACK, came and I thought I was going to die. I unzipped my tent and looked up. The storm was swirling just overhead. Oh man I’m really screwed.

I was scared and my thoughts weren’t helping. Being alone in a magically big place can cause your imagination to run off with the wind. Talking to someone triggers logic and snaps you back to reality. Sometimes talking out loud to yourself can do this. But it’s a fine line.

“Okay what’s the plan?” I said out loud. I didn’t want to leave my tent for fear of getting zapped mid run, but there’s no way I could stay. Flash CRACK! “I’m outa here!” I grabbed my rain shell and bolted for the tree line below my rock exposed home. I ran for my life crouched low as possible with one hand over my head in order to block any on coming lightning bolts.

I felt truly safe in the trees but my thoughts were still out of control as I waited it out. My imagination is great.

Then she was there, blond hair, ponytail, casually running down the trail. She looked to be on an evening jog through the storm with not a care in the world. But was she real? She didn’t see me crouching near her in my red shorts, sandals, and charcoal rain shell. It’s easy to miss people in the wilderness when you’re not expecting to see them.

“Hi.” I said but she kept running. “Hello. Hi there!” I said louder, hesitantly waving my hand in disbelief.

“Oh hey!” She said turning around to backpedal. “Didn’t see you there.”

“My tent is out on the rock so I’m here waiting out the storm to be safe.” This felt more like a question than a statement.

“Oh yeah, get away from the exposed areas. Good call!” She turned and was gone. Like in a dream her silhouette disappeared over the ridge with the low hanging sun blurring my vision.

Oh good I’m not crazy for running. But how’s my tent? I’m sure it’s washed down in the creek. Or maybe some squirrels took over while I was gone. Those bastards! Did I even zip it up? Oh the vents! They’re open for sure. Shoot! These thoughts took over. I would live but would my tent survive the rain? Ridiculous. They’re made for rain.

Then she was back this time walking towards me.

“Half my group got split up so I ran back to check on them.”

“Oh I thought you were just on an evening jog in the storm.”

She smiled. “I’m Shelly.”

“James.” I said feeling better about myself.

“This storm is crazy. I love it.”

I think I love you. Thankfully this was only a thought. All women are more attractive in nature. It’s a scientific fact. “I know I thought I was going to die!” I said laughing at myself but still wondering about my tent. “Where do you guys plan to camp?”

“We’ll be up the creek for a couple nights then out to the road to catch the bus back down the valley. The weather should hold up the next few days.”

“It’ll be great. I plan to hang here a few more nights and explore the area. I want to see El Capitan from above and North Dome.”

“Fun. Well I gotta go but enjoy.” And she was gone again, this time forever. Goodbye my love.

The rain seemed to be letting up so I started to walk down the trail towards the falls when a day hiker came into view. He had a pack over his shoulder and was walking back from the falls towards the 120. “How’s this storm?” I asked.

“I love it. I’ll take any time out here I can get. I prefer to be off trail but I’m not allowed to do that solo anymore. Wife thinks it’s too dangerous.” He was a talker but I enjoyed the talking since I’d been alone for the last day and a half.

“I was out by myself off trail all last week.” I said.

“Yeah where at?”

“Below Tuolumne Meadows at Reyman lake. It was wild. I didn’t see anyone for three days.”

“Oh yeah, you roll your ankle out there and you’re crawling back. But if something worse happens good luck making it out.” He was shaking is head.

“For sure. I’m sticking closer to the trail now and it’s been good. My tent is over on the other side of the rock but I’m down here to play it safe while the storm passes.”

“You would have been fine. See that ridge there?” He asked pointing above the creek.

“Yeah.”

“And that ridge behind us? Lightning always strikes the closest object so you would have been totally okay out on the rock.”

“Really?” I knew he was right but it also felt completely wrong. Instinct trumps logic sometimes.

“Trust me. You could have stuck your tent pole up in the air and nothing would have happened.”

“Some friends told me how they got into trouble in a lightning storm because rain got under their tent and they weren’t grounded anymore.”

“Are you kidding me? Not grounded? That doesn’t make a difference. Lightning does what it wants. You can’t ground yourself from lightning period.” He was very certain. “I’m a seventh grade science teacher so I know this kind of stuff.”

“Oh.” I said looking down feeling kind of stupid. “Well thanks for the advice.”

“You bet!”

The storm seemed to dissipate after hitting the valley rim. I walked back to my tent expecting the worst. But it was still there. Everything was still there. The inside was a mess but that was my doing not the squirrels. God I hate them. I felt ridiculous but exhilarated. Did that really just happen? Oh man!

I snapped a few photos to capture the moment and then walked down to the creek to filter water. On the way down I noticed a tree had been blasted in half by lightning not long ago. Charred pieces of wood were strewn about a branchless eight-foot trunk. “Tent pole my ass.” I said shaking my head. That seventh grade teacher didn’t know jack. Thank God I ran.

I went for a swim in the creek to wash the grime from the day. It was cold but necessary. I was clear headed again and thankful. I had almost died but that didn’t seem to matter. Nothing does when the day transitions to night and colors come and go in rapid succession. It’s the best time to be present. I thought of Shelly and let out a howl. Sometimes it’s the only way to express your true feelings. Nature seems to understand.

The clouds were mostly gone now as the night came on. A lone star faintly twinkled and Venus was already clear as day. My shivering signaled it was time to get out and put on some fresh socks. The feeling of satisfaction and contentment coursed through my body. I felt truly happy like a child. Everything was new.

Walking back up to my tent I thought of home and realized nothing would feel like this moment. The moonless night seemed to magnify constellations as they appeared one by one like flowers in bloom. I named a few and eyed the occasional satellite as it moved steadily through space. No shooting stars but there’s always tomorrow night, I thought. Sleep came easy in the dark. I dreamt of my family and of squirrels.