The Range of Light

John Muir referred to Yosemite as "the Range of Light," saying "...from the eastern boundary of this vast golden flower-bed rose the mighty Sierra, miles in height, and so gloriously colored and so radiant, it seemed not clothed with light but wholly composed of it, like the wall of some celestial city.... Then it seemed to me that the Sierra should be called, not the Nevada or Snowy Range, but the Range of Light."

At first, I didn't understand the beauty of the Sierras and Yosemite Valley. Sure, the vast rock faces were grand and unlike anything I had ever seen, but they seemed like just that--giant rocks. It may have been that the view wasn't quite as nice through the bug-smudged windshield, but I didn't really fall in love with Yosemite until the third day into our stay at the park, when we really immersed ourselves in the Sierra Nevada's wild beauty.

Dave and I camped in the high country along Tioga Road in Porcupine Flat Campground. We loved our campsite. I'd like to say a little bit about camping in Yosemite for a moment. There seems to be this misconception that it's impossible to find a campsite in Yosemite unless you've booked one forty-seven years in advance. When we'd tell people that we were going to Yosemite, they would immediately ask if we'd previously booked a campsite. No, no we hadn't. They'd shake their heads and tell us that it was near-impossible to find a campsite in Yosemite without booking ahead. Well, this simply isn't true. About half of the campsites in the park (which is, like, a lot) are reserved for first-come, first-served campers. We arrived on a Tuesday around 1pm, which may have helped our chances, but we had dozens of campsites to choose from, as long as we were flexible in which campground we would stay at. The campsites in "the valley" do fill up very quickly, but other than being close to some glamorous camping, a.k.a. glamping amenities, they hold little appeal. Just picture nature's version of Disney World. The campsites along Tioga Road, on the other hand, are at roughly 8,000 feet of elevation and provide the benefit of 70 degree temperatures, unlike the sweltering 100 degree drought going on in Yosemite Valley, as well as wooded, private sites.

Our cozy little campsite at Porcupine Flat Campground.

Dave and I planned to spend about a week in Yosemite, which was the longest we planned to stay at any national park. We decided we'd spend the first few days camping in the front country, settling in to the park, checking out visitor centers, and doing the touristy things in the valley. We dedicated our third day to site-seeing in Yosemite Valley, and found ourselves hot and exhausted by about 3pm. The temperature reached the upper 90's and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. We'd waited in line that morning to get our free back country permits for about an hour and a half in the sweltering sun, so we were ready to cool down.

The line for back country permits outside of the visitor center.

We found a swimming hole that we were told was the locals' favorite, and dove in the cool stream. It was from the beach of this swimming hole that I finally saw the Yosemite that John Muir was talking about. We sat for hours and watched the sun transform the rock faces with different colors and lines with every passing second.

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.” -John Muir 

The swimming hole along the Merced River, taken from the beach.

The beach.

The next morning, we headed into the back country, where we would spend three nights and four days. We backpacked in about eight miles to Grant Lakes and found a stellar campsite on what seemed like our own personal island. We didn't see another soul at the lake that first night. We spent the rest of the evening swimming out to the giant boulder island in the middle of the lake and watching the sunset.

We're ready to hike!

Our first view of the lake.

Dave, cooking up a mean dinner.

The lake at sunset.

Over the next few days, we explored the Sierras via day hikes, played a lot of card games, and read for hours. What a gift.

The lake in the morning light.

Another one of the Grant Lakes in the distance.

Although we couldn't really capture it with pictures, you can get a sense for the intense colors of the sunset. Pink! Blue! Purple!

One thing I began to really think about at Yosemite is the constancy of change. Time, and with it change, keeps ticking on without us, whether we'd like it to or not. It never stops.  As Dave and I immerse ourselves in nature, I have been struck by the change that is happening every single second. Water that was once snow, melting and making its way down the mountain, moving 1000 year old rocks downstream along with it. Trails that were closed a week before, covered in foot upon foot of snow, suddenly revealed by the warming sun. Light slowly moving across the sky reflecting different colors and angles in rock faces. Glaciers receding every year. Wildflowers suddenly blooming, then just as suddenly, gone for the year. Of course, we humans are not exempt from change either. That's not easy for me to accept at times as I see myself and loved ones creeping along toward the end of this life. But yet, there is something comforting in knowing that we are not alone in the change. The entire earth is on this journey together. 

John Muir understood this when he said, “This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.”

This trip has been wonderful and hard, all at once. Like so many things in life, right? With all of the insulators of every day life stripped away, I'm left only with myself to face.  For the first time in a long time, I have no real plans or next steps laid out, and that is scary. But I find peace among the wild things. I am amazed at creation's ability to carry on quietly and intuitively, doing the very things they were meant to do. It gives me hope that I, too, will be able to find my way. Or perhaps I am already doing it.

“Another glorious Sierra day in which one seems to be dissolved and absorbed and sent pulsing onward we know not where. Life seems neither long nor short, and we take no more heed to save time or make haste than do the trees and stars. This is true freedom, a good practical sort of immortality.” -John Muir

Coastal Paradise: Big Sur

After a long blog hiatus, we're back! We've been spending a lot of time in mountains and national parks, and it's been good to unplug for a while. We'd like to begin where we left off, which is California.

After our lovely visit with Brooks in San Francisco, we hit the road again on the famous coastal highway 101 headed south. We were ready for some sunshine and warmth, so south seemed like the right direction. Our destination was Big Sur, which is the furthest south we will make it on this trip.

For us, Big Sur is the standard for all other coastline--we can't help but compare everything else to Big Sur from here on out. We saw beautiful blue whales meandering along the coast, got our first taste of surf culture, and watched Germany win the world cup with a bunch of Germans. We were thrilled to find free camping spots on a road that winds up a cliff overlooking the ocean. At this makeshift campground we met other travelers from Canada, the U.K., and Australia. We shared the awe ("Brilliant!", exclaimed our British friend, Tim, upon seeing whales) and whatever drinks we could all scrape together over talk of our travels. We could really get used to this minivan life. Things began to feel a little bit magical, especially at sunset when hundreds of whales danced along the coastline. We felt like we were at the edge of the world, placed like royalty at the top of the mountain. Words can't even describe the majesty of Big Sur, so we'll just let the photos do the talking. Just a note, none of these photos are edited--the colors are all credit to mother nature!

San Francisco

After falling in love with Lake Tahoe, Dave and I forced ourselves to leave before the huge Fourth of July crowds arrived. As we drove made our way down, down, down, out of the mountains on highway 50 headed south, we passed a seemingly endless line of cars headed into Tahoe. We were so sad to leave, but didn't want to deal with enormous crowds on the little two lane highway that surrounds the lake. We made our way even further west from there, excited to stop in San Francisco and catch up with an old friend of Dave's from AmeriCorps--Brooks Bruce, everybody! Brooks was an incredibly gracious host who let us stay in the extra room (what?!) that he and his two roommates have in their lovely San Francisco apartment.

Brooks Bruce, what a guy! Thanks for having us, friend.

What can I say about San Francisco? It is a picturesque city filled with historic Victorian-style homes, affectionately referred to as the "Painted Ladies" that are smattered along the it's famous hills. These hills are no joke! Dave and I were down-right scared driving and bicycling up and down some of these hills. It seems to me that whoever decided to form settlement at San Francisco wasn't really expecting it to become a large and densely populated city. Dave and I, hailing from the largely flat Midwestern plains, continually marveled at the determination and skill put into building homes on the steep hills. We would find ourselves laughing at the absurdity of it. I have to say, San Franciscans have tenacity!

Aside from the hills, the weather wasn't quite as pleasant as I expected. I now understand that summer is notoriously cold in San Francisco, but I wasn't prepared! The fog that rolls in each morning makes the air downright cold, and the wind is ceaseless. Some of you are probably laughing at me, because--duh--it's on the coast of the ocean which isn't exactly warm, serene water. All that talk about perfect California weather--nonsense! This Wisconsinite was chilly!

Here we are in winter hats and mittens (which you can't see but are there) watching the fireworks from the Fisherman's Wharf. Sorry it's so grainy, but, hey, it was dark!

All that being said, San Francisco is a very cool place. The hills and unpredictable weather actually add to the charm and seem to fit the variety of people who live here. Dave and I spent a good hour in Golden Gate Park watching the most wonderful display of humanity skate around what we called "the oval."  While the white oval painted on the cement is nothing special, it is transformed each day into a full on performance.  People gather in completely extravagant, weird, and entirely retro garb and skate, bike, roller shoe and dance their way around the oval. There is a speaker wheeled into the center on a bicycle cart and old school hip hop tunes fuel group dances, clapping from bystanders, and disco fever. Here are a few pictures that will fail, but try, to illustrate this scene for you.

Silver Wings

Synchronized Skate Dancing

A few of the many interesting outfits.

Watching people show off their skills with abandon and dance to their heart's desire was so heartening to us. There is nothing more beautiful than people able to be fully themselves in public, no matter how weird. Some of them were damn good! These performers were superstars in this place, tiny as it may be.  Maybe someday Dave and I will have the courage to get out there with them.

We also spent a little time in Berkeley, which is just across the bay and full of treasures as well. We met up with Glenn and Francesca, who you may have heard us mention in previous blogs. Glenn is also known as "The Grove Guy" (his blog) and provided the inspiration for Desy's conversion into a camper van. Glenn and Dave have been keeping in contact over email, and Glenn mentioned that they would be in the bay area and would love to meet up if we passed through while they were there. As luck would have it, were headed to San Francisco when the email came in, and we decided to meet up. Glenn and Francesca are wonderful people who we quickly connected with. Francesca grew up in Berkeley and Glenn spent some time there as well, so they were great tour guides! Francesca provided first hand experience of what it was like to grow up in Berkeley during the 60s, when there was a lot of political unrest, including the well-known riots and demonstrations. We went on what we like to call a "sensory tour" of downtown Berkeley, enlisting all of our senses as we tasted, smelled, touched, and heard the essence of this artistic, progressive town. It is a rare gift to bond with others so easily, and we are so thankful to have spent a little time with this lovely couple. We hope to meet them along the trail again someday.

I could go on and on about our time in San Fran, but I think photos are a little more exciting, so I'll let them tell the rest of the story.