PROLOGUE
It was a four day weekend in California that Jana had asked me about to maybe try to be in attendance of, two months ago in March.
“My boss said she couldn’t give me those off, a couple of folks were already out” I mournfully answered. But given she, my boss, was desperate for a volunteer to man the department for Memorial Day, I made her a deal:
“Let me have Monday and Tuesday off the week before Memorial Day, and then I’ll work Memorial Day for you.”
She reluctantly welcomed the proposition, but it was ultimately agreed.
*
I was out for drinks one evening, a day or so after I had booked my flight and secured a permit to backpack Yosemite’s Pohono Trail, when I casually mentioned the trip to a friend. KT, a city dweller who occasionally ventures out for day hikes, had not backcountry camped prior to this trip. To my surprise, she was enthusiastic at possibly joining along. A day later, she too had booked her own flight down.
PART 1
Saturday morning, we landed in Oakland, 20 minutes before our scheduled arrival. An already auspicious start for a trip that was only partially figured out: We planned to stick around the Bay Area on the first night, but made no hotel reservations. We drove up to Berkeley for breakfast where KT found a fancy hotel through an App on her phone that offered us an outrageously discounted price. Because I wanted to spend the afternoon driving through California 1 in Big Sur, we opted to stay there. “Fancy” was totally the best word to describe it: heated pool, free happy hour, a savory breakfast, etc., for the price of a Travelodge.
“We are winning so much right now” KT said.
In addition, KT’s dad had offered to buy us both a fancy dinner which we brazenly took him up on at a Tapas joint in Mountain View called Cascal. Method of payment would be KT’s assigned emergency card linked to her parent’s account.
“Winning again!” I exclaimed.
After dinner, KT opted to stay in and catch some sleep at the hotel, given she had indulged in only 2 hours of the night before. However, let this go on the record that it was naught for an unreasonable cause: Billy Joel played in Seattle, and she was there for it.
So off I went. I tore through the interstate, our VW rental regaling the trip with a mix which consisted evenly of Beach Boys, Wilco, Fleetwood Mac, and so on. As I got closer to the coast, the windows were rolled down and the salty California air tore in.
Can I handle the seasons of my life? Stevie Nicks sang.
“Oh I don’t know.” I joined.
When I zipped past Carmel and Monterey, I was met by a beautifully long and winding road; Santa Lucia Range on my left, the seemingly endless Pacific horizon to my right. The sun was falling down towards the ocean and the sights were painted gold all throughout. I continued, basking in the glorious views on my way to McWay Falls.
I’ve always pictured myself of one day doing this. When I first did, I thought it would be many, many years from then. I guessed maybe that so much time had since gone.
I was adrift, stopping in any and all places I thought were interesting. When you are steeped in wonder, time lasts awhile; it lengthens itself and makes room for your head to sink in.
PART 2
KT and I awoke the next day, bright and early. I didn’t get back until late last night and she basically passed out all through happy hour so neither of us got to enjoy our fancy heated pool and bottomless drink privileges. However, our fancy breakfast was not a lost cause and we labored to make it there even if it meant setting the alarm to wake us by 6 a.m.
“My omelet appears as if the chef slobbered all over it,” I told KT, my brows furrowed, eyes fixed at the plate, horrified and strangely embarrassed.
“And the coffee kind of sucks here,” she added. Perhaps a bit of justice for the deeply discounted rate we received in order to stay there.
Fair enough.
We loaded up the car with all our gear and by 9 a.m., Sunday, we were en route to Bean Scene Café for good java, 5 min from the hotel. Either we took on the 3 hour drive to Yosemite full of fuel, and by fuel we here meant caffeine, or the trip to there would not take place; this is a basic Cascadian existential requirement.
The drive was long, sunny and very scenic. A Spotify playlist titled, “Long Weekend” which featured numbers one could whistle to accompanied our travels. We arrived at the Park Entrance in two and a half hours, but with Yosemite Valley being 24 miles away still, and a shit ton of heavy traffic congestion afoot within the park, we could not arrive to meet Jana earlier than 1300h.
Jealousy turning Saints into the sea / Turning through sick lullabies / choking on your alibis. KT and I screamed to The Killer’s Mr. Brightside which helped alleviate the frustration inflicted by the slow traffic. In fact, “slow” would be an understatement here; some kid on a walk adjacent to the road was traveling faster than we were. Some ungodly length of time later, we met up with Jana and shortly past that we were on our way to the trail.
THE HIKE
Due to a few unsavory natural events that recently occurred in the high country [Snow on the road, rain in the forecast (unfortunately)], our plan to backpack the entire Pohono Trail starting from Glacier Point, whose road was shut off the previous week, had to be modified slightly. As opposed to 13 miles of hiking, we reduced it to 2.
“Fine by me,” I said.
“Thank god,” the girls said. However, the threat of rain was looming eerily by.
The trail started off at Tunnel View. We were regaled with the breathtaking sight of the Valley; El Capitan featured majestically on one side, and the rugged mess of granite rise soaring on the right with Bridal Veil Falls flowing in between like, well a bride’s veil.
A heavy crowd inundated the parking lot where we stood to bask in Yosemite’s awe so we decided to move on quickly ahead and proceed with the hike. The trek was steep, but manageable. The air was warm, a little humid, and the sun lingered on as if it was there specifically to shine our way to the campsite.
“Not a bad hike,” I thought.
When we got to Inspiration Point, the place at which we settled to camp, we were struck with an equal, if not greater, view of Yosemite Valley. We stood and gawked at the gift we had awarded ourselves the trip here with.
“I’ll look for firewood, be right back.”
When I returned, the sun was setting. Our camp had been fully settled, foods were being made, wine was flowing freely throughout, and I began to light the campfire. Jana infused the rustling sound of wind and songbirds with a choice of songs emanating from her portable speaker. It all seemed to fit perfectly.
“It’s cold,” KT said, wrapped in multiple layers and sitting very close to the fire.
“Keep drinking (wine), you’ll feel warmer,” Jana advised; although, I wouldn’t put it past KT to have already known/been doing this.
For hours we sat there by the fire, laughing, telling stories, singing songs, me in the Uke. I mentioned before that the uncompromising value of time tends to extend when one is met by awe. There, that truly was the case – we had been dwelling in stillness that evening, and it felt like multiple days had gone by -, before we knew it one night had fallen and the full moon began to cast its pearly glow upon us. We had been so steeped in our own modes of calm revelry that we forgot that the valley below us had been changing. Oh, the darkness below was like an abyss, and the stars twinkling aloft looked like hurled gems pirouetting in a cosmic dance.
“Whoa, look at this!”
El Capitan’s titanic rise looked so much more prodigious now as the moonlight shone on its ethereal countenance; it was frightening yet we stood on the promontory, our eyesight unable to shift and glance at something else.
“This is the greatest thing I have ever seen,” I shouted, my knees trembling, and eyes welling with tears.
Jana was adrift in her own thoughts and was physically inching towards the edge – for the record; there was no edge – as if offering herself as sacrifice to the magnificence that she was currently enraptured by.
“There are no words,” Jana echoed to no one.
KT sat next to the campfire, ruminating the audible comments.
“You know what’s interesting,” Jana said “is that beyond those stars (above El Capitan) is a universe we couldn’t comprehend the vastness of.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what prompted Jana to utter that comment, but it made sense that she said it there. We were beholding the sublime and our tininess was geared into focus with the vast scale ahead.
“I don’t think we were meant to know.” I said.
“Just imagine that the universe has always existed, it has always been there, and I just can’t wrap my mind around that,” KT added.
We had no answers then, and perhaps never will. There was only silence at that point, and for some reason we hugged, El Capitan brightening even further as if daylight was afoot. It was surreal, but it felt par for the course.
When I crawled into my sleeping bag that night, I thought of Rilke:
A billion stars go spinning through the night / Blazing high above your head / But in you is a presence that will be / When all of those stars are dead.
Part 3
The looming dark clouds the day before dissipated by sundown. The night was clear all throughout and the temperatures dipped into cool, but were classifiably comfortable. I arose an hour before sunrise, brewed several cups of coffee, and started another fire. The sky was fluorescent but subdued, and birds resumed their chorus. Jana got up not long after the fire had been lit and sunbeams began to burst into the space bookended by El Capitan and Cathedral Rocks. I took the ukulele and strummed a few chords, Jana joined along to sing immediately after.
California, I hope that it wakes you / From all of the darkness that I couldn’t break through / Cause I’m gonna miss you / I’m gonna miss you / Like I miss the valley when I go to sleep.
This whole weekend gave us an auspicious start and it favored us in all of our times here. We packed our bags and began the hike back to the trailhead. It’s perhaps a bit late in this piece to raise another point, but the sense of belonging has always been another question I was never sure there’s ever an answer for. In spite of that, we were there. We were there totally, as present as we possibly could and everything fell into place. Perhaps, that was an answer the stars gave us for being there; frankly, it was more clear an answer than what I could have ever expected to know.
