Here are photos of my short trip to Yosemite.
I really need to do this kind of thing more often while I'm living here in California.
I really need to do this kind of thing more often while I'm living here in California.
Showing posts with label Yosemite. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yosemite. Show all posts
Sunday, August 04, 2019
Saturday, August 03, 2019
Give Me A Tent and a Patch of Ground
Tonight’s lodging.
Looks fine, except the neighbors are traveling in a pack and blaring music through a tinny Bluetooth speaker.
Looks fine, except the neighbors are traveling in a pack and blaring music through a tinny Bluetooth speaker.
Bear Where?
I awoke early—well, that's probably an exaggeration. I managed to leave the lodge at the outskirts of Yosemite before 9 in the morning. That's early enough, but hardly worth mentioning.
I drove to Glacier Point, a nearby outlook to get a glimpse of the Yosemite Valley I'd be arriving in soon.
Marvelous.
And then I drove back, slowly down the winding road to the main drive. And then I saw a crowd of people and cars, and I pulled over.
I saw a bear! I think.
I drove to Glacier Point, a nearby outlook to get a glimpse of the Yosemite Valley I'd be arriving in soon.
Marvelous.
And then I drove back, slowly down the winding road to the main drive. And then I saw a crowd of people and cars, and I pulled over.
I saw a bear! I think.
Friday, August 02, 2019
Short Fridays
Back on March 15, I'd been hovering over my keyboard at 7 a.m. As immortalized on Sunset.com, I was signed in on Recreation.gov, waiting for Yosemite campsite reservations to open up.
I barely grabbed one and they were all gone for July 15-Aug 15 within a minute. I couldn't even get the same one for two consecutive nights, so I took a site for Saturday and reserved a still rare but less competitive single room with shared bath at a park entrance lodge for Friday night.
"That actually works out better," I thought. "In case I get held up in traffic out of LA and arrive late."
And here I was, five months later, cursing the slow traffic out of Los Angeles County. I'd meant to leave work at one, which is the earliest we can leave on summer Fridays, and I'd managed to get out just ten minutes late. But then I had to stop by my place to grab my blue IKEA bag of tent, sleeping bag, travel pillow, towel, and 19-year-old Thermarest. I shoved a few clothes in a knapsack, grabbed a water bottle, the old phone I use as an iPod, and was finally on the road by 2.
Traffic crawled from Burbank to Bakersfield, giving me plenty of time to alternate between being annoyed and contemplating my journey. My old car had been to Yosemite without me back in 2002. On the great cross-country trek with Turbo the Aussie, Henry the 1990 Ford Taurus had been driven to Yosemite after Turbo put me on a Greyhound back to LA. I was to be in a wedding, and while I can't remember which city Turbo and I had parted in, I remember being pissed when he'd locked the keys in the trunk right before I'd had to catch my bus. He'd been eating a sandwich out of our picnic gear in the trunk, and he had a habit of tossing the keys down inside the trunk while he made his sandwich.
"You're going to lock the keys in the trunk that way," I'd said a few days before.
I barely grabbed one and they were all gone for July 15-Aug 15 within a minute. I couldn't even get the same one for two consecutive nights, so I took a site for Saturday and reserved a still rare but less competitive single room with shared bath at a park entrance lodge for Friday night.
"That actually works out better," I thought. "In case I get held up in traffic out of LA and arrive late."
And here I was, five months later, cursing the slow traffic out of Los Angeles County. I'd meant to leave work at one, which is the earliest we can leave on summer Fridays, and I'd managed to get out just ten minutes late. But then I had to stop by my place to grab my blue IKEA bag of tent, sleeping bag, travel pillow, towel, and 19-year-old Thermarest. I shoved a few clothes in a knapsack, grabbed a water bottle, the old phone I use as an iPod, and was finally on the road by 2.
Traffic crawled from Burbank to Bakersfield, giving me plenty of time to alternate between being annoyed and contemplating my journey. My old car had been to Yosemite without me back in 2002. On the great cross-country trek with Turbo the Aussie, Henry the 1990 Ford Taurus had been driven to Yosemite after Turbo put me on a Greyhound back to LA. I was to be in a wedding, and while I can't remember which city Turbo and I had parted in, I remember being pissed when he'd locked the keys in the trunk right before I'd had to catch my bus. He'd been eating a sandwich out of our picnic gear in the trunk, and he had a habit of tossing the keys down inside the trunk while he made his sandwich.
"You're going to lock the keys in the trunk that way," I'd said a few days before.