Yosemite National Park: Mist, Smoke and Granite.
Portland, OR
Elevation: 50ft.
Running back and forth between Rhyhorn and the house I could already feel the excitement growing in my chest. Sleeping bag, tent, camera - check. I could already see the open road, the mountains, the never-ending sky. Dried food, jackets, boots - check. I could feel the hum of the road beneath me, the warmth of the dusty sunlight. Shit, the yeti. With a satisfying slam of my trunk I walked over to the driver’s seat, organized my maps, music and GPS and started out of the quiet, Portland neighborhood. It was 0730, I was going to Yosemite.
The cool morning air whistled through the cracked windows as I merged onto I-5 S. To get there I would have to drive across Oregon and nearly half of California. California is fucking huge. I would be passing through many of my old stomping grounds. Eugentron, Corvallitron, Grants Passtron, Medfordtron, Ashlandtron and Reddingtron. South of that I had never really travelled this far inland. Traffic wasn’t as much of a bitch as I thought it was going to be. Shoulder to shoulder with tired morning commuters I broke away from the rat race once I cleared Tigardtron and gunned it south.
The old anal Airstream parked at the intersection of hwy 96 and I-5 - an old landmark to my Klamath Crew that meant we were almost home.
Driving south out of Portland has some of the most dramatic landscape changes along a highway I’ve ever seen. Oregon is a patchwork of agricultural land, public/private wilderness and towns with large cities like Portland, Eugene and Bend interspersed within it. At one moment you are driving through the congested web of Portland’s bridges and the next you are hurtling towards Mt. Shasta in all of her misty beauty.
Mt. Shasta elev. 14,180ft.
Mom vans, trucks and weathered campers blend together on I-5.
My first mission was to meet up with none other than Kevin Tenorio in Rocklin, CA. Our friendship goes back to middle school days when our everythings consisted of Yu-Gi-Oh!, self-taught martial arts, Rurouni Kenshin and social anxiety. Bitten by the hip-hop choreography bug in late high school we both dedicated a lot of time perfecting our separate dance styles and blended it with martial arts to form the Take-Out Boys. Add on Johnny Chen and you had the triumvirate. After college Kevin took his passion for dance to the next level and moved out to Denver, CO with the hopes of teaching choreography. Hands down he was the most courageous person in our close-knit friend group and had held onto the passion for dance firmer than any of us. His bold move to pack up his life and drive across country was secured by nothing more than the prospect of a few job interviews. Fast forward to 2015 and he hasn’t just started teaching choreography - he has taught at 3 schools, created countless choreographies for the massive Denver PrideFest and has done commissioned work for MapQuest. But things change and life keeps moving. As of this month Kevin packed his life up again and made the move to northern California to pursue a more stable job as a branch manager for an up and coming energy company. It doesn’t seem glamorous but it’s part of the path that myself and all of my friends are traveling - growing up. Check out his work at his YouTube Channel.
New to the area and within driving distance to me I figured I would spend my last unemployed weekend with him (I got a job at the Hillsboro REI!). Looking through my maps and looking at how many days we both had off I told him he was in for a treat, we were going to Yosemite. As I continued south through California the sun began to set. I wasn’t going to make to Rocklin before dark and was starting to wonder where we would camp for the night.
Endless agricultural fields almost looked like savannas in the orange sunset.
It wasn’t until 2000 hours when I pulled into the parking lot of the gym Kevin was currently using as his showers. He had a house lined up and had already accepted the job but for now he had to tough it out of his car while things fell into place. Like I said, courageous. We ate at a local burger place and caught up while I poured over my road map. I didn’t like how dark it already was and hadn’t quite planned this far ahead - unlike me, I know. I debated on just gunning it for Yosemite tonight and gambling on the off chance that the less popular campgrounds had space. Hearing me think out loud he helped me make the decision by simply saying, “Let’s just fucking go tonight”. Moving his things to Rhyhorn and parking his car in a sketchy motel parking lot we gunned down the dark highway. We had 4 hours ahead of us and with luck would be pulling into the western entrance by 0100 hours - it was going to be clutch. As time ticked on we caught up more and more. It was wild to think that we were sitting here in the same car. You could just feel how much we had changed since high school and how much we had changed from each other. We were always quite similar growing up but the difference now was as plain as black and white. He was clean-cut, dressed in all black dance-specific clothes, tatted and pierced and as city mouse as you could get. And I, well, I was me. Dreadlocked, dirty feet, dirty shorts and blasting country. It was wild and epic and all to unreal how we had managed to reconnect all the way out here.
It started to get near the arrival time and we were suspiciously still on the major highway. From looking at the map earlier we should have already started heading east towards the National Forest land but we weren’t. What had happened would be the first of many silly logistical mistakes I would make. Instead of verifying that we were heading towards the western entrance I had just plugged in “Yosemite” to my GPS and accepted what it told me. Yosemite National Park can be simplified down to a large circle with two major roads crossing it horizontally splitting it into thirds. The top one was an alpine road that separated the northern wilderness from the more car-friendly lower parts of the park. The bottom road was Yosemite Valley itself, the heavily developed area surrounding the Merced River where the famous peaks like Half Dome and El Capitan resided. We were unintentionally heading towards the valley. This wouldn’t have been a big deal under any other circumstances but it was already late, we didn’t have a lot of gas and there were no open campsites there. To put it into perspective, Yosemite is a national park the size of Rhode Island and instead of cutting west towards a campsite at the outer edge of that top road we were entering the park from the SE towards a ghost town of empty visitor centers and full campgrounds. Breaking my navigational error to city mouse he was undaunted. We were explorers and we were gonna do it - simple as that.
Nothing could have prepared me for what would eventually become an epic 3 hour journey through the winding roads of the pitch black mountains of this park. Driving slowly though the eerie night we found ourselves in the valley. Thick fog filled the cold air and not a soul stirred. It was ghostly. Continuing along the main southern road of the valley loop I was jolted awake by the unmistakeable orange of fire.
“Holy shit Kevin the forest is on fire!”
Getting out of Rhyhorn I stood before the darkness and let in the unmistakeable crackling of a thousand little fires. Like spirits dancing between the shadows of the trees the fire licked and cracked through the night and I breathed in the warm air with relish. I was 100% sure this was a prescribed burn and was at a loss of words. It was simply amazing to be there.
The mission was to continue around the loop and to check the campgrounds dotting the valley. These were the most popular campgrounds since they were close to the Valley Store, Visitor’s Center and, of course, El Cap and Half Dome. We ran into a park ranger and asked him what camp sites were opened and learned that they were all full. Discouraged I asked him about Wawona campground near the south entrance.
“Wawona?…Maybe. Good luck, get some rest”.
Pulling into Wawona all I could think about was how loud and bright Rhyhorn was. Desperately looking left and right all I could see were taken campsites. City mouse was falling asleep and would have been little help anyways as he wouldn’t have known what to look for - this would be his first time camping ever. With a heavy heart I made the call to drive south some more in hopes that an unnamed campground just out of the south entrance was open. Closed. It wasn’t until we had driven through Fish Camp and further south that I realized that we were out of luck - there was simply not going to be anything out here. Turning around I made for a turn off I had seen earlier near the closed campground. Pulling in at an angle I made a triangle with Rhyhorn and the ridge protecting us from the road. Grabbing my headlamp I quickly set up our two tents (REI skills to the rescue) and broke down the basics of tent camping to the sleepy city mouse. We climbed into our tents and passed out - it was 0400 hours.
The next morning rumbled me awake into a hellish blaze of yellow light as 18 wheeler ripped passed us. The tent shook violently and I sat up heart racing. This was exactly what my team spent the whole summer trying to avoid - dispersal camping along a major road. Waking city mouse up we emerged from our tents and began to load up Rhyhorn. Our mission was to get back to off the road before any Park Rangers found us and to get to Wawona. There we would wait for a campsite I had seen the night before that was only reserved for one day. Piling into Rhyhorn we started off for the camp, it was 0600. As we drove I realized that in an hour and a half I would have been driving on and off for nearly 24 hours, Rhyhorn’s engine hadn’t even cooled down since we had fallen asleep. Fast forward a few hours and we had a campsite, breakfast in our bellies and a gameplan for our first day. Since we had 2-3 days allotted for the park I decided to focus on one major area each day. Today we would work our way northward and explore the valley. It was a perfect morning.
Massive granite mountains so characteristic of the park.
Our first stop was a quick hike to the top of Sentinel Dome. Walking through the granite meadows I was overcome with the scent of the pines.
Smooth granite took the place of soil.
Sentinel Dome elev. 8,122ft.
An adorable pinecone family.
Yosemite NP was, like much of Oregon’s defining mountains, born from volcanos. Formed underground from massive magma flows, the granite bedrock eventually rose to the surface thanks to a tag-team effort of surface erosion and tectonic plate shifts. Once these bad boys rose to the surface water and ice sculpted them to the shapes they are now. The Merced River carved out the Yosemite Valley and ice age glaciers polished and cracked the ridges into the iconic shapes we see today.
A view of the other side of the valley from atop Sentinel Dome.
On top of the world. Kevin and El Capitan in the distance.
Ansel Adams’ Jeffrey Pine and yours truly.
Back at Rhyhorn we continued up Glacier Point Road to Glacier point where we came face to face with Half Dome and all of it’s glory. It was the best lunch spot to date.
Half Dome elev. 8,842ft. | Shot with Canon 5D Mark II.
After walking off my geomorphological full-chub we got back into Rhyhorn and headed north for the valley. Along the way we went through the tunnel and exited out into what has been described as “the most photographed vista on earth”.
From left to right: El Capitan, Half Dome, Sentinel Rock, Cathedral Rocks and Bridalveil Fall | Shot with Canon 5d Mark II.
The valley itself is made up of a one-way loop that runs west to east. On the northern loop is Yosemite Village which is a town made up of the visitor center, valley store, forest service dispatch, valley garage and a bunch of restaurants and parking. We treated ourselves to a hot dinner (1 orders of fries cause shit was hella expensive) and made our way back to camp as it started to rain.
Swinging Bridge Picnic Area - a spot Kevin was considering for a choreography.
Wawona was spared from the heavy rains that flooded the higher elevations of the park the night before and we awoke to a morning shrouded in fog and smoke. I knew that there was more to see in the valley but was also debating on going further north. Realistically, weather consistent, we might pack up and head out the next day so for all-intensive-purposes this was our last day. Driving into the valley we parked and walked over to the visitors center for city mouse to collect himself (the dirt and general exposed nature of the outdoors was getting to him) and for me to look up some day hikes. What I realized was that there was an incredible amount of day-hikes that we hadn’t done at all. Instead of moving onto the northern part of the park I realized we couldn’t even finish the hikes here in the valley. It was good news. As the rain began to worsen I picked out a short, popular hike that would round out the day as well as give us a good workout to an amazing view. The mission was Vernal Falls.
Misty mountains.
Merced River.
The sheer size of the mountains was hard to grasp. Photos seemed powerless.
The mossy side of the ridge. The trees were growing at 45º angles.
Tree up close for scale. Tree on slope for scale.
The hike towards the falls was luxurious. If there is one thing to know about Yosemite it would be that it has an incredible amount of infrastructure. Most national parks will be rather built up and accessible but one as charismatic and large and iconic as Yosemite is a totally different story. The path was a 1.5 mile switchback up a wide paved path. Rain vacillated between drizzling and torrentially down pouring making the hike difficult on the rockier portions. I discarded my jacket and ended up hiking in a t-shirt. I still haven’t mastered the art of hiking in the rain. As we approached the last stretch of switch backs the path turned into steep, narrow staircases carved out of granite. City mouse was a champ as he carried his water bottle, soaked sweatshirt and camera bag up the stairs. Even as experiences as I was I was having difficulty with the slippery stairs and almost would have rather just had a gravel path or dirt - but this was a mountainside we were talking about.
Another view of the Merced River.
A view downriver towards the valley. People for scale.
Rounding the last corner the rain started to pour hard. Like ouch-this-is-hard-rain pouring.
There she falls!
By this point I was scared for my phone. Hurry up Lifeproof.
At the top we took a wet breather. Gazing down into the valley my breath was taken away. The steep cliffs, the curving river disappearing into the foggy green of the forest. It was an awe-inspiring picture of force and it was just one hike of the park. It was then and there that I realized that I needed to come back, come back soon.
From the narrower part of the river, the large snag in the middle and the size of the people you can backtrack where I took the previous photos.
A few miles further up the path and we would have reached Nevada Fall.
Granite. Deep and dark. People for mind-blowing scale.
Started from the bottom.
Wet and tired we changed our clothes and made our way back into the valley for a nice dinner. Walking around the village store I searched for stickers (of course). It wasn’t until we were checking out that I realized that I didn’t have my car keys. Quickly going through the past hour I realized I had dropped them in the cup holder as I was changing my pants - they were locked inside of Rhyhorn. With daylight to spare we made our way to the visitors center where I asked the shop clerk if they could recommend a course of action. They passed me to the park rangers who then passed me to the village garage. They told me to call AAA (thanks for advising me to get it dad!) and then, once they got the call from AAA they would drive over and help us out - simple enough. AAA had me on hold for almost an hour. It was unbelievable. The situation quickly dissolved from me pacing back and forth saying grateful things to city mouse like, “Man I am so glad I have AAA, this was easier than I thought!” to “How? How is this even possible? How can this be the situation that is happening right now? They still have me on hold! I know they can hear me I know it’s recording! BALLS BALLS BALLS BALLS WHAT THE FUUUUUUCKKKKKKK!”. Eventually one of the guys came out and asked for my card and made the call themselves and within 15 minutes were were driving back to camp. Driving back along the windy road that had become our familiar commute I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t explore enough. There was so much more to do and so much more to see. I knew that there would be another chance and that this was just a taste of a whole world of exploration. Rounding one of the last corners we were struck with a sunset so orange it looked like wildfire.
That night it stormed. It may have been the hardest storm I had ever camped in. Starting around 0300 the rain had become so loud that it had woken up most of the campsite. It was lightening and thunder crazier than I had ever felt. Being me I set up my phone to voice record the storm and sat back for nearly an hour listening and counting lighting strikes - it was surreal. Within 30 seconds I counted nearly 49 strikes - somewhere was getting its shit fucked to put it scientifically. The next morning we found our tents owned. City mouse was basically sleeping in a small pond and my tent had mud and sand kicked up the sides underneath the rain fly from how hard the rain was landing. But instead of a flaming deathscape we found the morning greeting us cool and misty. Packing up our wet gear we hit the road for home. Bidding farewell to my new campground friends I set my sights for Rocklin. We took an alternative path that traded I-5 for forest roads. It was a flashback to the Klamaths. Winding mountain roads took us through a landscape dominated by shrubs and rolling hills. At this point city mouse was pretty done with nature and responded to my stopping with, “What are you doing. What the hell are you doing.”.
Oh, hi Shenandoah.
He jumped head first out of his comfort zone to join me on this adventure and I have a lot of respect and gratitude for him.
That part of California no one thinks about.
On the road back home thoughts of my realities started filtering back in. It was like the sudden onset of cell signal and text messages was a calling for me to come back to real life. To responsibilities. It’s strange. What I experienced and witnessed and felt in my bones this weekend was everything I consider to be real life. The realest it can ever be what can be truer than the earth, the water the mountains that have been there so long before us and will be there so for longer? I settled into a peaceful storm of thoughts on that endless road.
This is why I do what I do.
We picked up Thai food and Kevin’s car. Shouting for joy we were both relieved to see that it didn’t have any tickets or wheel clamps. Saying goodbye to Kevin was a mix of feelings. Here we had spent such an amazing weekend far from our problems and here we were back in Rocklin. I watched as he organized his car and couldn’t believe he had been living in it for as long as he has. I was happy that he had gotten his managerial job and that things were starting to pick up for him again. I’ve never met a person so dedicated to his passion - never. Hugging it out we said goodbye and good luck. Good things will come soon yet my dear friend.
Country Mouse | City Mouse
The next 10 hours would be a painful test of man and machine fueled by gas station bathrooms, trail mix bars, oreo shakes and me ultimately caving in and buying the new Mumford & Sons CD. But God. Damn. It. Rhyhorn and I were made for the road.
Give me golden fields and blue skies over concrete any day.
By this point my mind was starting to melt - like the sunset.
At this point I was shouting Mumford & Sons and crying in joy to see Portland.
All in all the trip was an amazing one. It felt forever since I had been on such a journey. Covering 1,763 miles in two days I was just 1,044 short of returning home to Virginia - 2/3 of the way across the U.S. But more than just the distance I hadn’t had a journey that affected my heart and mind like this in a long time. I suppose it was a mix of seeing Kevin in his current situation, my encroaching responsibilities, how much I missed being with someone and how much I missed my family. Whenever I see places as beautiful and breathtaking as Yosemite I am always pulled from deep within by a sad feeling that my parents and my grandparents aren’t with me. These are places that my brother and I can spend our whole lives exploring but my grandparents and parents have spent most of their lives working to survive and to provide for us. Making sure they retire soon and can start enjoying their lives is going to be a big part of my 5 year plan. I want to show them things they’ve never seen before…Here’s to making that happen.
As always, love and miss you all,
Chris
