Yosemite Part I, Thursday July 14

We departed early for the 3 hour trip to Yosemite in Ken's luxurious Mercedes.  Ken kept up a commentary as we passed area after area, explaining geographical, social, and cultural features. The traffic was light, by California standards, as we participated in a reverse commute, moving away from population centers.  While the 3 or 4 lanes across from us were practically bumper to bumper, our side of the highway was more or less clear, and we moved smoothly through the gradually decreasing traffic.  Ken's driving, I soon learned, was precise and assertive, and we did not dawdle as we moved relentlessly eastward across the map of his dashboard navigation system.

At one point we gradually crossed an extensive wind farm in a mountainous area.  I learned that this was Altamont Pass, where the wind accelerates markedly due to a channeling effect through a gap in the mountain range.  Of course I recalled the infamous Altamont rock concert, which ended in tragedy and seemed to signal  to me an end to a magical period of peaceful, innocent music festivals.

Altamont Wind Farm-not my picture

Soon we left the Diablo range through which we had been passing, and found ourselves in a wide expanse of valley devoted to agriculture.  I  noted almond trees, grapes, corn and had walnut trees identified for me.  Towns became smaller and farther apart.  Finally we began to see mountains on the eastern and southern horizons, and as we turned southward for a time, the road once again began to climb.

After some time were at 4000'+ of altitude, and passed through yet another small town, this time called Groveland, which turned out to the be the last town before the entrance to Yosemite, still some 30 miles distant.  During that last stretch, the way climbed to a maximum of 6100', before beginning the gradual descent to the final level of the Yosemite Valley floor.

We entered the park and received a shiny map and a newsprint-type informational materials.  A quote by John Muir, the famous conservationist, founder of the Sierra Club and an early apostle of Yosemite's glory, caught my eye, and has stayed in my memory: "It is by far the grandest of all the special temples of Nature I was ever permitted to enter."

Opening the map gave the first indication of the scale of the place, when I realized that our position was still more than 17 miles distant from the crown jewel of this huge national park.  I refer to Yosemite Valley itself, site of the most well known and striking of the park's attractions, and the goal of our day trip.

Yosemite is, in part, a drive-through park, and so it was for us, for the day.  There are frequent turnouts and stopping places at many of the most arresting views.  People get out, marvel for a while, snap photos with their smart phones and cameras, and drive on.  There were many people in the park this Thursday late morning, and more and more seemed to enter as the day wore on.  The number of visitors to the park in the month of July during the last few years has averaged just short of 20,000 souls per day.  Not surprisingly, then, the pull-over places were quite full.

As a passenger in a car with a huge sunroof, I had an excellent view as we drove.  Some distance from the park entrance, as the road is still descending in multiple winding arcs through and around the steep slopes, there are two or three short tunnels.  Up to this time, much of the road had been in a sheath of thick evergreens, blocking somewhat any view.  As we exited one tunnel, however, the world opened up and dropped away, and we were on the edge of a tiny line along one slope, the road we were on, looking across a yawning gulf of open space stretching down and across.  On the other side two or three planes of naked, sheer rock converged at varying angles and slopes.  The scope of the space was so immense as to cause a physically palpable effect on me.

Web capture of the first spectacular view

I asked Ken to stop so we could appreciate the chasm for a time, and he smiled and said something to the effect of "you haven't seen anything yet!"  And he soon proved to be correct.  Eventually we came to the Yosemite Valley floor, located at about 4000' of elevation, though of course, it appears as local bottom to whatever features one appreciates there.  We entered on the south side of the Valley Floor Loop, a large circuit of mostly one way travel that winds along the length of the valley first on the south side, to the end some 7.5 miles away, and then reverses direction and traverses the other side of the 1 mile wide valley on the north side.

While we were at first deep within forest on both sides of the road, the valley finally opened out and the looming granite cliffs on both sides of the valley became evident. One after another we passed mountain, after cliff, after peak, after geologic feature, all composed of sheer whitish gray granite. Each stunning structure of nature had its name and its story.  Ken pointed up, and far, far above poured a cataract of water, a river spilling through a gap in the cliff edge.  The winds were such that the torrent was atomized quickly into a mist before it fell even a tenth of the distance to the valley floor.  The flow was called Bridal Veil Falls; I have no idea why.  :)

As we wended our way further into the valley, Ken smiled and pointed to the left.  Although there was forest between our side of the loop, and the car traffic on the loop across the valley, I could clearly make out the immensity of a monolithic tower of granite far ahead.  As we neared, the sheer scale of the granite sheet became more apparent, though at our closest approach we were still at least a mile and a half from its base.  This was the second-most recognized iconic monument in the park, El Capitan, one face of which is a sheer vertical sheet of granite that rises some 3000' from the valley floor.  I was assured by my host that we would have multiple locations from which to view the gigantic feature, including the closest pass-by on our traverse of the northern side of the loop during the return to the park's entrance.

We continued our way along the valley floor.  The immediate goal was the historic Ahwhanee Lodge at the far eastern edge of the valley, built early in the park's history and maintained in its period glory to the current day.  Around every turn in the road we were greeted by new views of awesome majesty, towering structures of stone and light, shadow and space.  Approaching the lodge, above us began to become visible Yosemite's most famous feature, the immense fractured pinnacle called Half Dome.  Rearing an astonishing 5000' above the valley floor, Half Dome is visible, at least in part, from the entire eastern half of the valley floor circle drive.  We will return to Half Dome again later.

Arriving at the lodge, Ken's car was parked by a valet, and we entered the hotel.  Despite repairs or renovations which blocked off a portion of the facade of the building with plastic sheeting, the entryway and front desk were striking.  The decor was elegantly rustic with hints of American Southwest and Art Deco added as well.  Once seated for lunch, we appreciated the huge scale of the dining room, designed to seat 250 diners. Huge steel chandeliers hung from the 40' ceiling, and along the walls were half trees of at least 24" diameter serving as columns between the 30' high door/windows, each of which was crowned by stained glass detailing.

After lunch we decided to hike and asked the front desk staff their advice on a pleasant and non-demanding walk.  They advised us to try the trail through the woods to Mirror Lake, and after a brief look at the attractive grounds around the lodge, off we went on a more physical approach to experiencing Yosemite.