By Timothy Roe, Staff Writer
Last weekend, I took a step out of the city with my father and older brother to the glorious national park of Yosemite. It’s a place full of life unlike the life you’d find in the late night walks of Los Angeles, a life with a quality of serenity occasionally interrupted by the whispers of birds or the running of water atop water-beaten rocks. During our session there, we visited three of the numerous extravagant sights found in the park: Hetch Hetchy, Mono Lake and Glen Aulin Trail. Conveying the 2-day, 2-night experience through the frame of words and pictures may leave aspects of it untold, but I will share the story with great care so that maybe, you’ll be inspired to run along a path beautiful and real.
Day 1: Friday, June 15: Hetch Hetchy and Mono Lake
We arrived at the front gate of the Hetch Hetchy location around 6:30 a.m. after my father had taken the endeavor of driving for 7 hours in the night and intaking enough caffeine to drive for 7 hours in the night. Unfortunately, the gate to the trail opened at 7:30; fortunately, it took us about half an hour to locate the restroom so we only had to wait for an extra half-hour. The temperature during the time was unbearably chilly for us natural beach-dwellers, reaching a low of 52 degrees.. As we made our way through the gate and onto the entrance of the trail, this temperature would gradually rise, reaching its height as we reached the height of our climb. For most of the morning, though, it would stay relatively cold and refreshing. It helped that feeling that we were instantly met with a grand, shining lake right as we stepped out of the car, enveloped again by that sweet and unnaturally natural air. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky that day, and it looked as if the lake were a glimmering reflection of the sky made approachable by nature. It was crossed by a spacious and empty white dam which followed its way into a deep tunnel at the end of its length. I could see clearly as we walked across the dam, light jumping from the water to the wall, splashed across, alive, vibrant, constantly moving. The O’Shaughnessy Dam, as it’s called, was constructed to provide water to people in San Francisco at the cost of the valley’s natural beauty; the lake we were gazing at was a construct of man. It’s a weird and spectacular feeling you get from that knowledge, looking at such a lake.
Past the glowing dam and the dampened tunnel, a tree stood stretching out on the right which announced the start of our three hour hike. I’d say one of the key factors that loosened the struggle of the trail wasn’t something ambiguous like “the prospect of achievement”, but rather, the wind. The heat of the climb, by the time we reached the climax, kept my mind from functioning in its usual concise manner. And although self-trickery and inspiration is effective in a relatively short-span of time, the physical cool and empowerment of the breeze had a much greater effect towards my stability during the course of our journey. Wind wasn’t the only force helping us along. As the proximity of our destination became ever more smaller, the tiny sounds which seemed to accompany us throughout the hike, the tiny, all-encompassing, continuously moving sounds of nature became overpowered by the greater force of life of the waterfall up ahead. The icy water which sprang forth from the snow of the mountain above spread its influence over its territory, and as we approached this territory the wind gained a partner with whom to revitalize its guests. The sight was amazing when we got there. I could see the water hopping along the water-chiseled rocks into the life of the lake beneath us, and onto us in the form of a mist of vitality, cool and wet. This was Wapama Falls–at least, the first of its three parts. It was a 2.5-mile hike from the dam to the falls.
After this encounter, we decided to head back to the bridge where we had started, the view of the lake, forestry and mountains always accompanying us along the way. Oddly, the journey back from a hike feels shorter than the journey forward, and this was the same case for this hike. We followed the trail back in heat and wind, through the significantly cooler tunnel, across the presently-occupied dam and into the car to our residing cabin, where we would all rest until the time of our next departure.
It was around 9 p.m. when we left the cabin to Mono Lake. We departed so late in the day because of what we wanted to get out of the trip there: a view of the Milky Way. At the site exists the conditions required to see the galaxy at its finest, and when we arrived, we could see, one by one, then later, hundreds by hundreds, stars forming in the sky and in our eyes. We used red light to guide our way to the lake, as to not damage our eyes and the sight above and reached the lake where the moon gained company by the second. As strange as it sounds, though, the crescent shied away from its company as the night grew later, descending into the mountains from which it ascended from. I thought either the world was ending, or my mind was. Confirming with my brother, it seemed that, yes, the moon slowly made its way back from where it came, disappearing after about half an hour from when we first saw it. So, the next time we gazed above, we saw not the familiar moon available to us every night, but an abundant cluster of moons far brighter and vaster than the sun, all worlds apart in distance, yet so close in our minds that we could bring them together with a tug of our arms. We had flashlights with us, and when we turned them on and pointed them toward the sky, a beam stretched out far and thin that reached just short of one of the stars above it, or so it seemed. Turning off all the lights and about to head back, I looked over at the direction of the lake and saw the ever-slightly moving black and blue abyss.
Day 2: Saturday, June 16: Glen Aulin Trail
Walking the Glen Aulin Trail is an adventure, it makes you feel like an adventurer. We began the hike around 11 a.m. and finished at about 5:00 p.m., making the round trip a six-hour hike. Along the trail, the sights were almost fantastical, though real enough to keep me grounded to the dirt. The hike was a battle of endurance rather than skill, since it was relatively easy compared to the previous day’s hike, but greater in length. It’s because of this fact that, when we reached a stream on the way to our destination, we chose to plunge our feet into the brisk liquid rather than try any fanciful method of crossing the checkpoint. Water, it seems, always acts to naturally counter the heat of both the interior and exterior.
One thing nature doesn’t try to combat is its pests, namely mosquitoes. I believe my brother had around six bites across his body, my father had six on his neck thanks to his protective clothing, and I had six nowhere; my blood isn’t of the mosquitoes’ liking, much to my dismay. Around the area where the mosquito problem became significantly worse (which was at the halfway point of the trail), another stream crossed our path and again, we used it for our benefit. The density of the forest became greater as we progressed with our hike, much like the density of mosquitoes; when we reached a clearing of stone and lake, the mosquitoes also cleared. Another unexpected sight awaited us at the clearing: a whole bunch of towered wish stones at every glance of the place. I was unsure whether this signified a condition that needed to be met before we were allowed to pass on again into the forest, or a trial to test my conformity, or just a thing. I decided it to be the third option, knocked over one of the towers, and continued onward. We emerged back into the woods and continued walking like this for another hour or so. Just as I began to feel fatigued, our destination came into sight: a cascade. From one point to the next, water and life hopped its way down rock and soil. Trees and water jutted out from in between stone, and ants and creatures crawled stealthily across the ground. The blue of the sky collided with the background of the mountains and the wealth of the forest. Here, we rested for some time.
As the sun descended, we descended to our concrete car, passing the things, the cold checkpoints, the adventure.We made our way back home the day after, getting a good night’s rest in the foreign cabin.
Yosemite is a place for break and revitalization. The time there was real, thoughtful and good. Detachment and harmony within your thoughts; if that’s something to wish for, go.
