Bring on the Backpacking: Sequoia to Yosemite

You may not have read the news, but California has been having a heat wave. We recently read in the paper that many people have died, and we can personally verify that it has been well over 100 degrees. Happy to be escaping the humidity in China, it was a bit of let down to encounter such extreme heat back on US soil. Hence, it was with no hesitation that we headed for the mountains as soon as we could after our reunion with Van-gogh and a day of regrouping near LA.

Our first destination was Sequoia National Park, the southernmost National Park in the Sierra range in California. We had picked out a hike to do back in June, but after the ranger had told us that it was rather too snowy at that time, we decided to save it until our return from China. Eagerly we drove to the trailhead, secured our permit for a five day trip, and prepared to hike. Having been immersed in other kinds of travel for many weeks, we felt a bit rusty preparing to backpack, and were rather slow. To make matters worse, while getting our permit from the ranger, we learned that due to national park bear regulations, we had to remove all food from our car and store it in a special shed set aside for just this purpose. For most travelers and cars I imagine this to be no big deal—how much food do you actually have in a sedan anyway? But for us, as Van-gogh is our home, and we are never entirely sure when we will see a grocery store again, she contains tons of food. Did we mention all the various cupboards and shelving areas our van has? They are all full of food. It must have taken us over an hour to get all the food out of the van (yes, including all canned items and sealed jars of things), and even after that, we kept finding hidden away items and pulling them out. By the time we were done, we had two large boxes, one crate, and four grocery bags full of food to fill the food hut. The ranger came by and noted that we really did have a lot of food, as though when I'd mentioned this to him earlier he'd assumed I was exaggerating. We wondered idly if removing all the food would actually help—our van must have smelled like a mobile stir-fry and tofurky stand no matter how much food we took out. However, since there was little we could do about the enticing scent of our home, and the fee for leaving food in your car was quite steep, we decided to let nature take its course, and tried to get on the trail. We had also heard that marmots chewed people's radiator hoses at this trailhead, but tried not to think about that.

It was a gorgeous hike. We started at 8000 feet, and wound up along a creek and waterfall to a high ridge over 11,000 feet. The terrain was steep, although not heavily vegetated, and thus our cross-country route (which the ranger had recommended) was easy to find. We were not prepared, perhaps, for how tired we would feel, and try as we might could not ignore the lingering effects of jet lag (we hadn't had a normal night's sleep yet) and some underused muscles. We gratefully fell to bed the first night, and hoped for more energy the next morning. We enjoyed beautifully perched camps every night of this trip, often looking out across wide valleys, and up toward imposing peaks. The Sierra are white granite mountains, brilliant against the crisp blue sky, and shining near their tops with patches of snow. We spent two nights next to a lake which was part of a group of lakes and enjoyed early evening reflections of the mountains on the water. Water is one of the themes of all our mountain time so far. After a good snow year, the Sierra have plenty of water to offer, and there were tiny streams, creeks, puddles, and rushing water everywhere. While it was absolutely beautiful, it also created a very different problem: mosquitoes. They were terrible (fortunately the first night and following morning there were none and how we avoided them there, we will never know). At times, they were horrible. When you are trying to stay in your calm Zen space, moving slowly and without irritation, and they still manage to get inside your ear and crowd your face, it hard not to scream. When temperatures dropped it was better, we would simply put on most of our clothes, pull our jacket hoods tight around our faces, and leave little exposed. But when it was hot and you still needed defense (and repellent didn't work well enough), we got rather grouchy. Somehow, we managed to carry on, and at certain times of day, they were definitely better. It was especially nice on exposed ridges where the wind would whistle by, keeping the mosquitoes far away. The one day we spent day-hiking from our base camp was an especially fine walk up a gentle valley with a meandering stream with cascades and pools and deep rushing channels galore, all surrounded by an open meadow and peaks watching over us on all sides. It seemed that everywhere we hiked there were more lovely valleys, filled with new previously hidden pockets of variously sized lakes and perfect meadows. We were able to make a bit of a loop, and our final day of hiking took us over an even higher pass on the way back to the car. It did not seem troublesome—at least until we were high on the ridge and a thunder-storm moved in. When at first it rained (and it wasn't cold), we huddled under the rain-fly for our tent and waited for the storm to pass. We were cozy, not too concerned, and enjoyed a snack while listening to the rain drops. When things cleared a bit, we ventured out and headed for the pass. Unfortunately, the thunder came back at this point, and brought with it a helping of lightning. Lightning can be scary under any circumstances, but when you are exposed high (at about 11,550 ft) on a rocky ridge, wearing a metal-frame pack on your back, it is much scarier. I tried to remain calm, and was fairly successful. Listening to the crashes and noticing the bright flashes was interesting entertainment during a few tense moments. Somehow, we managed to make our way up between storm blasts, and after a final few feet of steep cut steps in snow, we pushed over the edge, and onto the gentler back side (a fine feature of many Sierra peaks). Needless to say, our descent on the other side was swift and purposeful, and before long we had dropped quite some distance to safety. We were happy to reach our car that evening, filled with the beautiful images of this little trodden piece of wilderness, but relished the lack of bugs, soft bed, and protection from the rain (at least until the morning, when we had to venture out again to dig up a campground sign to get our van out of its wedged-in parking spot.....).

And so we drove north. Since we had started at the southern end of Sequoia NP, we now wound along a twisty road to the center of the park, where we could get a glimpse of the giant sequoias themselves. They were magnificent trees, wider than you would imagine possible, and nearly as tall as giant redwoods. In terms of volume, sequoias are the largest trees on earth. Some of their side branches are as large as whole trees in the surrounding forest. The sequoias grow in groves, but intermix with other kinds of trees, and it is a special moment when you spy their redish-orange bark hovering just beyond a thicket of green boughs. Unfortunately, our mellow days in Sequoia were interrupted by ongoing stomach pain Lance was experiencing. He had brought back a few million friends from China, he surmised, and they just weren't leaving with any speed. Besides, they were causing him to lose strength and weight, which made backpacking difficult. As a result, a day-long field trip to Fresno ensued. We did not relish this prospect, as we knew it meant descending over 6000 feet into the outrageous heat wave, but there was no choice. Thankfully we found a doctor specializing in travel medicine, and Lance was able to get an appointment, a visit, and a prescription with relative speed. Anti-biotics in hand, we rushed back into the mountains, eager to continue our journey into King's Canyon NP (just north of Sequoia). The drive down into King's Canyon itself is spectacular, a path that leads through many climatic zones, and finally along the bank of a wildly raging river wedged between the steep rock walls of the canyon. Lance already felt better by the time we began our next backpack the following day, a cause for great relief. We hiked up out of the great canyon to a high basin ranging from 9 to 10,000 ft. -a daunting hike taking us up 5000 ft. from our car. Once again we hiked surrounded by amazing views of granite peaks (this was named Granite Basin after all), chains of small rock-ringed lakes, large Granite Lake, and the surrounding meadows and rock promontories (and even a roaming bear). We camped on a high ridge, hoping for great views and a brisk breeze. We were well rewarded with views of the spiky peaks of the eastern Sierra, but unfortunately the breeze did not last long enough. Despite our dearest hopes, this area too was swarmed with mosquitoes and so were we. We managed two nights on our perched ridge, finding a windy knob to climb on our day-hike, and especially enjoying the sunset skies and starry nights after the bugs had gone to bed, but we ended up leaving one night early from our planned four nights out. We tried to be as Zen as possible, but sometimes it is just not enough, and when they actually fly into your mouth and stick to the back of your throat as you are just trying to breath, it is time to leave.

The next stop was only two hours north, the all-too-well-known Yosemite National Park. We worried that the crowds might be too much to deal with, but were pleasantly surprised at how well managed the people were. With rangers and bears to manage the populace, they were not difficult to navigate around. Bear boxes abound (take all your food out of your car at night and put it into a large steel box with a heavy latch that clunks into place—we got rather good at the daily switch back and forth of our bags and crates of food). We decided to take it easy for a few days, car-camping to see Yosemite. The first night we drove to Glacier Point, a high vantage from which to peer over Yosemite Valley and gaze across at Half Dome. Almost by accident we planned our timing perfectly, and caught a pink alpenglow making its way across the upper falls of the valley and then sliding across Half Dome itself. Half Dome, the icon of Yosemite, totally lives up to its reputation, and is an amazing hunk of granite. Inspired by our first glimpses, we spent the next few days exploring Yosemite's jewels. The waterfalls were fantastic, full of rushing water from the high volume of snow melt, and the Merced river, which follows the valley floor, was perfect for swimming, floating in the current, and gazing up at waterfalls as you nicely escaped the over 100 degree heat. Our great hike was to scale Half Dome, something which seems nearly impossible when you stand on the valley floor. The ascent is 4900 feet and 16 miles round trip. The ideal hike to really get a sense of Yosemite, we decided, the trail takes you past two of the park's most famous waterfalls—Vernal and Nevada—and then through a high valley until you get to the exposed flanks of Half Dome itself. Hiking past the falls you are both at their feet, and then above at their drop-off points (getting sprayed with heavy mist along the way), a dramatic array of perspectives. The high valley was a quiet escape before we encountered the surprising crowds coming down off the summit as we neared the higher reaches. The last 1200 feet is nearly straight up, across the exposed granite surface of the dome. For part of this, the trail is made of steps blasted out of the granite mass, but at the very last the trail goes over the smooth, steep rock surface, a pair of steel cable handrails marking the way. At the start of the twisted cables is a large pile of gloves, from which you pull a pair to fit your hands, and begin to propel yourself up, at times holding yourself with your feet, and at times with your arms, climbing what seems an impossibly steep surface to the curved top of the dome. But there are other people doing this too, and you know many have gone before you, and so you have faith. Once you take the final steps, coming over the crest, it is all worth it. The top is rather level, easy to meander across, and certainly affords an impressive view of the entire surrounding territory, from high Sierra peaks to the valley floor and beyond. Just to know that it was really like the Half Dome seen from below, we made a final stop at the edge of the sheared off dome, where you can lie down and hang your head over the abyss, peering down the flank of the endless granite wall.

We left Yosemite by way of Tuolumne Meadows and Tioga Pass, the high route which takes you across the divide, and down to the eastern flanks of the Sierra. A spectacular drive which is only open in the summer, we were dully impressed after the lushness of Tuolumne Meadows, to make the dramatic 3000 ft. descent in just ten miles to dry, rough terrain and desert-like air. Filled with the beauty of the three National Parks of the Sierras, we still looked forward to our next adventure, driving north to meet a friend near Lake Tahoe. We hope you are enjoying the pleasures of summer as well.

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