Before the tittering about the bear died down, we decided out loud that we should get up at 7:00AM so that we could get started on the trail early. Consequently we promptly woke up at 8:30AM.
Now those of you who know me in person know that barring Christmas, my birthday, and when I’m petrified of missing an early flight, I’m not a morning person. At all. And even on Christmas and my birthday I’m really more excited to sleep in than I am about leaping out of bed to open presents. When I'm flying all you are really seeing is pure anxiety, "Leave your damn toothbrush they have them where we're going!"
Preparing coffee in the great outdoors should be simpler, and perhaps it is for some experienced REI guru, but for us it was an intelligence test than in the end ranked us just above squirrels. The first stop was trying to get Mike’s fancy two burner stove to work without Mike. It wouldn't. Also I’m wary of fiddling too much with things that are highly combustable...before coffee. We then tried to perch a coffee pot on top of Michelle’s single burner stove, but despite our pleading gravity prevailed and the whole contraption toppled over.
Eventually Mike was able to help us out with his fancy stove, and put our squirrel brains to shame. It was a lucky thing too since I was about to put the coffee pot in the middle of a fire. And no, we didn’t think how we would retrieve it once it reached the boiling point.
Once Mike was on the scene a delicious breakfast materialized. Eggs, cheese, toast (which was really just warmed bread), and sweet delicious coffee. Therese and I were the only ones worshiping at coffee’s altar and we did so with offerings of cool milk and chunks of chocolate leftover from last night’s s’mores. It was divine.
Even with the caffeine we were slow to break camp and prepare for the trek out to North Dome. Mike was going to stay behind at the car campsite and meet us on Sunday afternoon at the trailhead. After shuttling us all out there, he joined us for the first few miles uphill.
Those of you who have never been to Yosemite should know that when you hike most anywhere in the park after about 2 miles you see practically no one on the trail. No. One. And considering both how big Yosemite is and how many people visit it every year, that would seem quite a feat, but it’s true. The fact of the matter is that very few people actually hike around Yosemite. Sure they might put in a mile or two here and there, but most people will drive to various sites and parts, tool around for a bit, and then drive back to their car campsites or their hotel for a very dry martini. It isn’t a bad way to go, but I have to point that out so that you know what rock stars we are for hiking at all.
Back on the North Dome trail we are reaching the two mile point and we see many people coming down the trail. Truth be told they could have actually gone out on the trail at 7AM, scampered all the way to the top, and were now coming back to have lunch, but I decided that they were simply a pack of tourist pussies. In fact I screamed that at them as they passed. No. Actually I don’t know who would want to only hike two miles of the North Dome trail since the payoff is only at the very end. Otherwise all you are seeing to your left and right are trees, dead trees, rocks, and dirt. There aren’t any views to speak of and it is pretty much a solid incline for about 4 miles. I don’t really have a point except that as I saw people pass I had the urge to grab them and say, “Did you go to the top?”, and if they were to say “No” I would turn them around and force them to march up there with us.
For the most part, since we were heading uphill almost the whole way, we didn’t talk as much as breath loudly at each other. The conversation was peppered with lots of gasps for both emphasis and for air. I’d forgotten what kind of an adjustment it is to walking with forty extra pounds on your frame, a’la a backpack. Whenever you want a reality check of what it is like to lose ten pounds, or twenty, or more, just try strapping it to you back and start walking uphill.
Just past the mile two point we stopped to have lunch and Mike bid us farewell. While it would have been great if he had come all the way to the top with us, we were going at a very slow pace, and heck, there are better trails to do if you are doing a simple day hike, and I think he’d had enough of our labored breathy conversations.
Another hour or so passes and we realize that we are about 3/4’s of the way there. We also realize we’re running short on water. I’m a water fiend and on day hikes I usually carry almost double what I will need. But for backpacking you usually need double what you normally take. I’d brought enough for myself, but we were passing what we thought was our last water source -- about 600 feet away down a steep hill -- and some members of our crew were down to just one bottle. That wouldn’t cut it for the rest of the day, the night, and then the morning. Therese and I elected ourselves to filter water for the group. It delayed us by a good 45 minutes since once we went down, we had to go up. Yeah. That would be physics not working in our favor again.
When we got to the top, everyone else was well rested, but we decided to take a few more minutes for ourselves before moving on. I lay down on tree trunk, and turning my head I saw two women hiking up the trail together. They were roughly in their forties and one was calling to the other as she made her way up the steep incline that we had just gone up a little while ago. “You can do it, Marie,” the woman said to her friend. Marie grunted a little and kept on maneuvering her way up the hill using the two trekking poles she had firmly grasped in each hand. A few more minutes passed and Marie finally reached the top. Her friend let out a small cheer and they smiled at one another before stopping a few more feet down the trail from where we we sitting.
“I hope I never stop doing this,” I thought to myself. I suddenly flashed on taking my children up to Yosemite, my kids perhaps griping a bit now and then, but then thanking me during their respective valedictorian speeches for those wonderful memories of hiking in the Sierras, and how it taught them to be a better person, and to give back to the planet, which they were dedicating their lives to doing while getting a triple Ph.D. in environmental science, marine biology, and chemistry. “Thanks Mom,” they would say, a tear glistening on their rosy cheek, “you’re the wind beneath my wings.”
“Eleanor. Snap out of it.”
“Huh?”
“Are you thinking about your imaginary children again?”
“No.”
Another mile passes and we pass the real last water source and my calves let out a silent cry. Ah well. At least we’d know that it was there when we were hiking out in the morning. We then hit a long series of switch backs which is always a good indicator that the summit is near. Well. Truthfully it isn’t necessarily a sign of that at all, but in this case it was and we eagerly, at least as eagerly as you can when you are exhausted, plowed on ahead. After reaching the top and continuing for a long straight-away passage, we started getting our first few glimpses.
Through the trees you could see the valley stretching out below, as well as all the other summits that make up the walls of Yosemite. We rushed on with new enthusiasm and then suddenly burst forward out onto a large thrust the was above the tree line. As we headed into the clearing there was a collective feeling of awe. In front of us, close enough so that it felt like we could touch it, was Half Dome. It was glorious. The late afternoon sun caught the gradients of the massive wall of rock. Off to our right was the yawning beginnings of Yosemite valley, weaving eastward. There was an electric excitement that filled each of us and after dropping our backpacks we literally ran to the edges of thrust and threw our hands up in the air, and I called out to the trees and to everyone else that would hear me, “Wahooooo!”
On the right side of the thrust, about a hundred feet from the trail, was a wilderness campsite. This is to say there was an area where someone had constructed a fire ring with some stones and then put a few log benches around it to complete the picture. It was perfect. We set up our camp for the night and then rested for a spell.
The rest of North Dome lay below us. The thrust where we would be camping had a spectacular view, but the trial itself actually continued for another mile. I was determined to make it out to the edge of North Dome, where you could supposedly see even more of the valley, despite the fact that it would be a very steep incline on the return route. At least for this last leg we wouldn’t need to carry our heavy packs.
We each grabbed some water and hit the trail for the last mile. At first it didn’t seem like it would be a very steep decent. Then, well, it started to become one.
Therese and Monique decided that they would head back up to our campsite, but Michelle was game to hike with me out to the very edge. We got there and then hollered back to the rest of our crew sitting up on the thrust above. We didn’t get to see much more of the valley, but I took a picture of Michelle and I to commemorate the event nonetheless.
At this point we were quickly losing light, so Michelle and I hurried, as much as you can hurry uphill when you’ve been hiking for six hours, back to the campsite. We got there just in time. The sun was setting, so we quickly gathered wood for our evening fire, and heated up dinner. Okay, so we barely warmed it, but it was still delicious.
After dinner we sat around the fire and watched the stars come out. It seemed even more spectacular than the night before since now there felt like there was nothing between us. Our conversation turned to dreams and ambitions, and of course, guys, and although I’m sure he would he would enjoyed himself, I was glad that Mike was back at the car campsite with Fuzzy McBear.
Eventually the fire died down and we trundled into bed. I thought I would fall asleep easier than the night before, but still found myself tossing and turning. This is the point where I feel old. When I was twenty-six and hiking around the Sierras with my old boyfriend, I didn’t have the thirty-something aches and pains that seemed to prevent me from finding a comfortable position on my ThermaRest(TM) sleep pad. Eventually I did find something that resembled a good configuration and did conk out for a few hours. Therese, I’m sure, was pleased.
I woke up at half-past sunrise, and peeked out to see Half Dome bathed in morning light. I got up and saw Monique sitting out there, staring across the valley that separated North Dome and Half Dome from each other. Monique is going to hike Half Dome the first weekend of October, and I could see her sizing up the task ahead. It is a difficult day hike, sixteen miles round trip, with a cable ladder ascent at the end that gives you the chance to peer over the beak like edge of Half Dome and into the valley below.
“You’ll make it.”
“I know. I’m just thinking what I have to do.”
I took her picture so that she could remember this moment, where she was sitting across from Half Dome, having achieved a milestone the day before by going on her first backpacking trek.
As the sun started to steadily climb, everyone rallied and slowly broke camp. The hike back would be pretty easy since most of it was downhill. Monique shot this picture of the three of us before we headed out.
The outdoors equivalent of “did I leave the stove on?” caused our group to split up for a moment. Michelle headed back to make sure our fire wasn’t still smoldering. With all the wildfires already happening in the area, I suddenly had visions of getting a news flash back in San Francisco about a fire in the North Dome area, “started by some idiots.” Therese and Monique carried Michelle’s pack between them and I plowed on ahead to get to our previously scouted water source so that we could get some water. When Monqiue found me, she took this shot. I like the fact that it makes me look unusually rugged and hardcore.
We made it down in amazing time and arrived at the trailhead shockingly on time. The problem was that we never told Michael when exactly to meet us at the trailhead. Walkie talkies suck. Or I should say, it sucks to have a walkie talkie as your only mode of communication between you, a large slab of rock, and a car campsite. A cellphone was by no means better, but we thought we were going to beat the system with a walkie talkie. In the end, after telling Michelle, “No, you may not hitchhike. I don’t care if they do look like a nice family,” Monique and I hiked the extra mile back to the car campsite. Because, you know, at this point all you want to do is hike more, right?
We got in touch with Mike and in short order we were back at the car campsite and busily splitting up possessions and deciding who should ride back with whom. In the end, we went back the same way we went up, but we made a promise to stop in the first town for a little cleaning up and a late lunch.
Back in San Francisco it took me three rounds of rinsing and repeating to get the dirt from out of my hair and from under my nails. My feet ached for the next two days, but the rest of me felt truly refreshed. The wait for me to go on a backpacking trip is over, and I’m eager to organize one in the Spring.
Oh, and in case you’re wondering, my first meal after we came down from Yosemite? Hamburger. And of course some fries.
[previous: "Y" is for Yosemite]
