Defeat at Vernal Falls and Goodbye for Now
Day 6
After breakfasting at the lodge food court, the family packed up their belongings and checked out of their woodsy room at 3434 Hemlock Building, Yosemite Lodge, Yosemite National Park. They drove to the same parking lot they had discovered the day before, then waited patiently at a shuttle stop for a ride to the Vernal Falls Trailhead.
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| Saying goodbye to the hotel room view. |
“Oh, look, my Raven,” AJ exclaimed as the big black bird alighted across the road. It hopped into the shade of the trees, looking around intelligently. Another stately charcoal bird alighted nearby. “And my other Raven … and another.” The shuttle stop was across from a large camp site. The ravens knew where to get their breakfast.
Hope came roaring down the road in the form of the park shuttle bus, but promptly passed them by, full to the gills with people. The family then decided to walk the half mile to trailhead, gathering sticky pine sap and needles on their shoes as they went.
Vernal Falls Trail was a very popular spot that morning. AJ had always thought of hiking as a solitary family activity, but that day it was going to be communal hiking, with long lines of people walking together, passing each other, never out of sight of another person. It meant learning to share the scenery and even rejoicing with people who were having too much fun to care about manners or the injudicious disposal cigarette butts.
The beginning of the trail was marked with repeated warnings about proper hydration. It should have been a clue: if they were warning people, people needed to be warned.
The trail started out as a steep, paved walk for about a mile. Because of minor health hiccups, AJ had not been able to do her usual aerobic exercise in the months prior to the trip. The previous days’ hikes of substantial length (and altitude) had not spent her energy as she had expected so she was optimistic at being able to reach the heights and see where Vernal Falls was born.
After stopping for a brief bathroom break at a water station at a bridge, the family had a decision to make.
“We can go up a smooth, inclined path with a lot of switchbacks, or we can take the slightly shorter, steep path with lots of steps,” B announced.
“What?” TwoSon asked. AJ repeated the options to him.
“I suggest the switchbacks,” B voted.
“I guess it doesn’t matter to me, really, but if you need a decision, I suppose I’ll go switchbacks,” AJ said.
OneSon shrugged, “I don’t care.”
“The steps!” TwoSon said with happy enthusiasm. The most vocal and insistent opinion, (which counts for something) won out. The family headed up the trail of steps.
The many stoney steps were prefaced with another steep paved path through thick woods, then steps.
AJ’s tactic for tackling the mountain was to take it slow and steady. B’s, OneSon’s and TwoSon’s tactic consisted of short bursts of fast walking, punctuated with many breaks. B and the boys would quickly outpace AJ, disappearing into the huffing and puffing crowds, past people sitting, sucking down water every fifty feet. But as she came upon B and the boys resting, sitting, she waved, “See you later … and later … and later.”
Halfway up the stairs, AJ the slow and steady, did give in and sat down for a lonely rest at a spot a few yards off the trail. After a few gulps of water, she popped a handful of pumpkin seeds into her mouth, then sealed them up and zipped them in her bag. But it was too late.
Scurrying creatures whose sense of smell was sharpened from stark survival in the wilderness, had detected the food. Little grey squirrels with not-so-fluffy tails and subtle white spots came scrambling out of holes in the rocks, looking for the source of the delectable aroma. One little guy, nose sniffing, eyes darting erratically, crawled furtively around her, then sat on a rock nearby. That day AJ found out that she couldn’t win a staring contest with a hungry squirrel. She flinched first.
Uneven, steep steps lay ahead of her, going up, presumably to infinity. The one advantage of taking the stepping path was that it passed by Vernal Falls. Hikers on the trail could look over the precipice and see the deluge roaring into a small pond at the bottom of the height, with rainbows at its knees.
The waterfall was noisy, overwhelming the sound of aerobically challenged lungs. At times a breeze would find its way up the mountain and blow the falls a certain way, making a booming noise.
Though AJ’s body hated her for the hiking she had done that week, it was civil and didn’t complain too much. But about a hundred steps past the waterfall, AJ’s body started to make its displeasure known. It suddenly and significantly turned its back on her. Her legs started to shake, she had to take more frequent breaks, but no matter how long she sat, she was unable to recover. Oxygen wasn’t working anymore.
Walking is said to be good for word recall. Most of the great writers in history were also great walkers. But on this walk, at that point the only words AJ could think of were, “I’m going to die from this … they’re going to have to get a helicopter to take my body off this mountain.”
AJ stopped along a queasy steep stretch of steps and waited for B, who had spent his time more leisurely while taking pictures on the way up. When he finally caught up to her, they counseled each other on the terms of defeat.
The race postings were as follows: First Place: OneSon. He went quickly, with breaks, but in the end, he went the furthest and was perfectly ready, willing and able to go to the top, mind and body. He had trained steadily before the vacation by walking on the treadmill with flip-flops. Huh.
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| Wind blowing the Vernal Falls. |
Tie for Third Place: AJ and B. AJ was fearful of having to be taken off the mountain by helicopter. She was the first to speak of defeat, consulting B and Tripod, who acquiesced. Technically, B was last, busy taking pictures of Vernal Falls and beautiful rocks.
It was their first trail hike fail. But the journey was still full of worthy sights, with many impressions taken, mostly from tripod and Camera.
On the way down, AJ saw a man taking a smoking break, “He is so not going to make it to the top,” she thought, as he already looked spent.
The family lunched in Curry Village where B and the boys had pizza and ice cream. AJ had a salad and an orange.
Then they left Yosemite through serpentine tree-shaded roads.
From the back seat of the cramped rented Ford Focus (she had given up her privileged position in the front seat to OneSon who was having trouble with motion sickness) AJ watched the roads straighten and the tree-crowded hills flatten and fall away into stark plains. Leaving Yosemite made her heart hurt a little. Yosemite was 2,021 miles from her home in Michigan and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be back again. The parting wanted more pomp and ceremony to match the sharp pull at her senses, but the separation was more like a sigh than bang.
The road before them lay through orchards of pistachios and oranges, tiny scorched towns with small businesses in pole-barns, convenience stores with barred windows, dry sheep and goat hills. It ended at Lazy J Motel in Three Rivers, CA. It had a kidney-shaped, clean pool, little buildings with tidy rooms that were comfortable, worn, but provided all they needed, and wifi. There were goats and sheep in the pens in back of the office.
That night they ate at the Gateway Restaurant, a fancier-than-expected place that looked over a once fervent Kaweah River situated just outside Sequoia National Park.
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