Our time away from work generally involves going somewhere. Places worth going to are always over there somewhere, and we have to wade through those other parts of California we don't much enjoy to get to those parts we do. The fun starts when the congealed masses are left behind, and the pretty and pretty empty places replace them.
A trip to the north coast becomes enjoyable when Marin County and Santa Rosa are left behind. The road to Wyoming opens up once we are past the quagmire that is greater Reno. And the path to Yosemite becomes a delight once east of Stockton, an appalling city that makes Reno look pleasant. We climbed slowly as narrow Hwy 4 threaded through farm field and pasture, past turkey houses and beef ranches, until it blended into the oak scrub and rock formations of Copperopolis, and O'Brynes Ferry Road.
This year, the color green has been reinvented, and improved. They tell me that Ireland is green, the beneficiary of sitting downwind of the North Atlantic all the time, but I would put our Sierra foothills version of green up against it without hesitation this year. The grasses were green. The trees were green. The rocks wore a clothing of green, the moss and lichens of a soggy spring. Under a happy California sun, all this green startled our eyes.
The wild flowers were just hitting their stride, and should soon reach the intoxicating stage. Life's cares, frustrations, failures peeled away a bit with each luxurious mile. The beauty drove them away, and left room to savor those few victories life allows.
Scrub oak and rock gave way to Ponderosa pine as we climbed deeper into the mountains. Leaden clouds hung low in front, and we soon ascended into them. A few drops of water splashed against the windscreen, and then bits of sleet. A few miles shy of the Yosemite entrance gate, snow fell in earnest.
I bought my senior pass from a smiling lady ranger at the entrance kiosk, and Joie took the photo to memorialize this moment. The truck thermometer said it had dropped into the high thirties, and I pulled to the roadside to throw on a long sleeve shirt and my I'm not working hat. And we rejoined the road as it climbed to Crane Flat.
Large snowflakes plummeted toward earth as the clouds descended to become a fog that transformed snow covered pines into ghosts. Six foot piles of white stuff lined the road. I pulled the lever into four wheel drive, just because. And we reveled in a winter wonderland that somehow found itself misplaced into April.
Yosemite Valley was being coy, hiding its beauty behind shifting clouds. It did the dance of the seven veils, showing this and then hiding that. The valley in its entirety is wonderful, but it can overwhelm if you aren't accustomed to such grandeur. We were presented with small pieces of the wonder which could be studied on their own, as holes appeared in the clouds, and that is a fine way to get to know the place. We drove up to the viewpoint at the mouth of the Wawona Tunnel and broke out my camera right as the clouds lifted. Serious photographers set large cameras on sturdy tripods around me, pulled out long lenses and filters, and tried for magic. I hoped to freeze the moment to help my ancient brain remember, and if I caught some magic, so much the better.
The Merced River in the Valley was full and roaring happy. The famous waterfalls, Bridalveil and Upper and Lower Yosemite blasted off their cliffs, and the more ephemeral cataracts, Ribbon and Horsetail, and many without names, celebrated gravity and air. Water was roaring down all over the valley.
And as we retreated down the Merced Canyon below the park on the way to our motel, driving into the sunset we saw a dozen or more tiny falls and cascades, some only inches wide but thousands of feet long, as they spewed down the canyon walls.
We stayed at the Cedar Lodge again, with few other tourists but all the carved wooden bears littering the place, and the Teddy Bears in the gift shop. Ground fog veiled the valley at dawn, but it cleared by breakfast, and nary a cloud sullied the sky the rest of the day. My camera came out again as we tagged the valley before heading for home.
A short weekend trip, but so very worth it.
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