we woke early enough and had a modest breakfast of leftover hummus from the night before, the portion that the bears didn’t get to, and some coffee. Coffee is always magical on camping mornings. I talked to the ranger about getting a better campsite, but realized it was such a busy weekend it wasn’t even worth trying. It was to be a hectic day for the rangers, and by the time we hit the trail towards vernal falls, you could see why, the modest trail was like a pedestrian freeway. I had never seen so many people on a hike before, and the crowds only increased. This is definitely a par tof the modern spectacle that is yosemite.
The rivers flowed around us with a spring rush and roar to them, and the hike uphill was accented by stretches of warm sun, not unbearably hot but smooth and even sun.
The hike was much more extreme than we had expected, and still the crowds were there. It was well worth it though, up past the misty rocks, up and up and up steep stairways in the stone with railings holding you from falling a couple hundred feet, cool mist nice on the skin. At the top, the smooth rocks melted toward vernal falls, where the vista down into the valleys, ancient and glacial, was incredible. It was a relief and satisfaction to be standing there at one of those spots you peered in awe at from the Valley floor. We found a perfect flat rock to hang out at, next to a very shallow run of the river, where it rolled steadily into Emerald Lake. Another waterfall fed the smooth shallow run from above. When I hiked up to that one, to the bridge that ran across it, I took some pictures of Kate painting on the rocks. Zooming in as far as the camera would go, i captured her in the viewfinder, and then as I zoomed out and took more pictures, I realized the complete and confounding immensity of the little scene we had found so humble and pleasing.
We spent a good couple of hours up there, where Yosemite breaks you heart in its beauty. I napped warmly on the smooth rocks, and daydreamed with little else but a certain peacefulness to caress my senses. At this point up, I began to admire my fellow Yosemite crashers, and the endurance they had shown to appreciate the place from where we were, caravans of little kids, old and young alike, appreciating the grandeur that makes all the Yosemite hype worth it.
We blissfully skipped down the trail, much easier going down of course, brushing past other hikers and kind of enjoying our youthful abundance and freedom.
When we got back to the campground, it was clear that it was to be a full house, and a busy weekend indeed on the valley floor. But we didn’t stay there long. We made a bit of coffee, rested a little and then embarked on another, shorter hike back up to Mirror Lake. The night before had filled me with a certain reverence for the place, and I wanted to spend more time by it.
We sat on the river bed beneath Half Dome and just let the time slip away, Kate painting some more and me reading my books, and trotting about taking pictures.