Daily Local News (West Chester, PA)
Taking ownership of Yosemite
Walk out of the bathroom, look up and there she is — Half Dome.
I spent a glorious spring living and working in Yosemite National Park.
I’d just scrubbed that bathroom and was rewarded with a view of that iconic mountain. Not a bad perk!
Every weekend was spent backpacking and walking from Yosemite Valley into the back country.
It is a joy when you climb the walls to Glacier Point, ramble up along Yosemite Falls, which is the second or fifth highest waterfall in the world depending on how you measure it, and you get wet from a waterfall along the Mist Trail.
I also picked up a ton of trash when walking in the valley. It was amazing how many people litter, even in the most beautiful of places.
I yelled at people to stop feeding deer, as we’d been told to in training. Animals become accustomed to a handout and then when no one is around in the winter they may starve.
Nevertheless, most of my adventure was pleasant. On warm sunny spring days in the backcountry, I hopped over dozens of streams that were carrying snowmelt from high above.
Before testing the waters, I jumped into the snowmelt fed Merced River. The shock was intense. It felt like there were hundreds of needles piercing every inch of my skin. The water temperature was probably colder than 40 degrees F. I’m reminded of this when I see those hearty souls dunk themselves into the Brandywine Creek in January.
And later, at the same spot, I caught a trout.
In 1987, I made beds and cleaned toilets for $3.83 per hour. A tent cabin with a wooden floor was available for $11 a week. All-you-caneat meals at the cafeteria could be had for just $28 week. We didn’t get rich but did I mention the views?
A winter earlier, I’d read “Centennial” by James Michener and then moved to Colorado. After receiving a book of Ansel Adams prints for Christmas, I then headed to Yosemite.
It was mere happenstance that I didn’t end up in Anchorage after reading Michener’s “Alaska.”
Almost everywhere in Yosemite, I’d look up and say, “Wow! Ansel Adams stood right here and pointed his camera in that direction.”
Yosemite is about climbing and I tried this too. I climbed the very bottom 10 feet of El Capitan, the second biggest rock in the world and a Mecca for climbers. I used a pair of skin tight, sticky climbing shoes to boulder and dreamed of sleeping on a cliff face.
The cashier in the cafeteria was astounding. She quickly climbed a hundred foot vertical wall while using no ropes for
safety.
It was a place we called “Yos-E-Mighty.” We played day and night. The valley belonged to those of us who worked there. We were woken daily by the howl of coyotes and the rumble of Yosemite Falls.
Maybe the park bums who slept out of sight and searched trash for aluminum cans for the nickel deposit were the richest.
As Americans, when in a national park, everything you can see, you own. If you are the only person in a particular back country spot, it’s all yours and you solely own everything you see. Conversely, you might own Yosemite Valley, along with 25,000 others, on a busy summer day.
We named our coyotes in the valley. I can still picture “Josephine” answering the call of the wild to the amusement of a shuttle driver and a full bus load of visitors.
Bears were everywhere. For a couple of hours, a bear trap housed a black bear just a couple hundred yards from my tent cabin.
We watched a momma bear teach her cubs how to climb and steal another camper’s food, which was hung between two trees. I’d thankfully placed my meals in a metal bear box that time.
These bears were brazen. During training we’d been taught to bang two rocks together in a bid to scare a bear away. It just didn’t work. While camping 12 miles out in the backcountry, I’d placed my food on one of those rocks that Yosemite is famous for.
A bear that could climb was able to steal everything but my rice. I giggled when considering how that bear would feel after eating my dehydrated meals and then taking a slurp of water.
That bear only took my bag 30 feet away, noisily grunting and snorting, while consuming my next day’s breakfast. Rather than peel the fruit, it looked like he or she squished my banana and orange and licked the juices.
I slept in the nude but that didn’t keep me from running in the pitch black dark in the opposite direction.
Whether it’s wildlife, the views, or hitting the trail and simply getting away, our national parks are America’s best idea.
National parks are as close as Hopewell, Valley Forge and Independence Hall.
Go ahead, take ownership.