YOSEMITE

At 5 a.m. I rose to meet the challenge of the day, an hour before I usually do. I woke Marcia my wife and visiting sister-in-law Florence, and precisely 6;20 a.m. we were off, picnic box loaded with sandwiches, fruits and vegetables. We would not go hungry on our trip to Yosemite, some 185 car miles southeast of us. We found the scenery and the road conditions as diverse as our finger prints.

The first section of road wound up, down, and around for some twenty miles, but did this ever so gently. Large bouquets of colorful flowers lined both sides of the road, a testimony to man’s artistic bent.

This passing parade was followed by some industry, sparse enough to be rather apologetic. Grazing cows and horses seemed out of place in this setting but we didn’t seem to mind.

When nearing Livermore, home of one of America’s 193 nuclear power plants, we began to literally see thousands of what looked like scaled down windmills lining both sides of the road.

Not all of those futuristic looking devices were obedient to the will of the wind and remained stubbornly still. Cows grazed nearby, uncaring, unknowing -- a sharp rural contrast to man’s suicidal drive to extinction. The actual plants remained hidden from highway view. We soon left Livermore and thoughts of nuclear waste and destruction behind.

The fruit belt was upon us. Row after row of green grape vines stood at attention. I didn’t bother saluting. Thousands of peach trees had given birth to the ‘fruit of their labor’ and stood mutely waiting for their next cycle. Ears of corn stretched for miles and our mouths watered as we pictured them on a plate, buttered, golden, and delicious. Then it was walnut time. Walnut trees as far as the eyes could see, gave us the eye. Signs read, “Walnuts, 59 cents a lb. We were going to stop but the car kept going. We agreed that we would stop on our way back.

We had been busy breathing ohs and ahs as our eyes were pleasured again and again, but our ohs and ahs turned to oohs, and oh my gawds as we entered tree country.

Giant cedars clung tenaciously to the sides of mountains. Dogwood, oak and eucalyptus varieties vied for attention. They climbed up hills and roamed the valleys. They crowded and jostled one another rudely for space. All were magnificent, stately and their green color drew us in, and captured us.

The road began playing snakes and ladders – twisting, turning, dipping, rising and the oohs became louder, particularly when we drove into a mountain wonderland – hills massive, voluptuous, sensually rolling – mountains so obviously feminine in shape and design. Was nature playing favorites when it so carefully carved these masterpieces?

The hills eventually gave way to towering rock and granite formations lining north and south sections of the road. We drove entombed, speechless with wonder, our eyes and mouths agape as we again witnessed more of nature’s wizardry. There we were – smack in the middle of the stone age. A work of art that probably took millions of years to complete. Nature bides its time – it cannot be hurried. No seven day creation this.

We finally arrived atYosemite Park, paid our entry fee and were informed that we had some 25 additional miles to go before seeing our lodge. We were now eager beaver.

The road began to go a little crazy. It dipsied, it doodled, it dropped, it rose and fell, it curved, and it did it’s best to unnerve us but failed. Eager beavers do not become unnerved easily On we went, as our eyes opened even wider as nature’s offerings were served up to us on golden platters.

We passed trees that were parents and grandparents during Mexico’s reign in California -- Trees that were hosts to Indian tribes, ever careful to preserve nature. These huge plants did not subscribe to weight-watcher groups. Their girths displayed extraordinary proportions.

The piece de resistance was yet to come and when it did, we were simply not prepared for it. There they were -- an awe inspiring challenge to rock and mountain climbers the world around …. Granite mountains that rose to the skies – mountains that offered no sanctuary for climbers, no ledges, or hope of being really conquered. Here were creations immortalized by Ansel Adams, a famed photographer. The famous ‘El Capitan’ rose precipitiously some 2500 feet from the valley floor. Still other peaks claimed our attention. Waterfalls, some 7 in number, cascaded tons of angry, foaming water for distances ranging from 2000 to 2500 feet: All of it ending up in a swirling, headlong, rushing, furious whitewater stream.

Visitors from all over the world come to see nature’s gifts and were raring to go, to do, to experience nature.

Our two day stay was crammed with activity. We got to the base of Yosemite Falls and sat bug-eyed, our ears filled with the awesome roar, our bodies showered by America’s highest waterfall.

We climbed up ever ascending trails rimmed by thousands of stone boulders – some the size of buildings. Marcia and I walked ahead, our voices singing the praises of the miracles wrought by the massive movement of glaciers over millions, maybe billions of years. Florence took up the rear, her Cuban or low heeled shoes not adapting too well to the sandy surfaces of the winding trail. Not a bit deterred, she doggedly marched forward, lost in silent, reverential awe.

We took a scenic tour of the valley on an open, tram-like affair pulled by an ordinary truck cab. Our guide sat facing us on a raised chair and went into the history of the park, explaining how the Indians were eventually thrown off their land by the greedy gold miners, backed by the United State Militia. Acquisition took precedence over the indigenous people.

During this same tour we saw some four or five climbers half way on one of the sheer cliffs. They looked like so many little dots. One of the climbers was flashing a mirror, and our guide told us that this was probably a distress signal. She turned out to be right. Two of the climbers had fallen and a rescue team in a helicopter arrived in minutes. Unfortunately, one of the climbers never regained consciousness we later learned.

Exotic birds, tame as pets, were everywhere. The Stellar Jay, a blue beauty, predominated. We were told that bears, fox, and all manner of wild animals could be seen at any time on anyone of the many trails. We were cautioned against feeding them, and by no means were we to get in between cubs and mothers., but simply view them quietly and then go on our way. We saw no animals during our stay other than a few squirrels and a couple of deer quietly grazing some ten feet from where we were. “Oh deer.” We said.

The majesty of the mountains followed us everywhere we went in the park. Here we were, in a sort of hollow, a valley actually, and to be surrounded by the incredible granite mountains was an ever ending treat.

Thousands of vacationers took to the streams in boats and rafts. Others cycled, rode horses, mules or ponies. We abstained, the women were chicken. Back packers did their shtick over dozens of never ending trails. Souvenir hunters jammed the stores, restaurants were mobbed as appetites were heightened. Free shuttle busses were busy shuttling people back and forth. Tours of every description were offered and signed for. We found that we could move comfortably around despite the crowds of people. The park was big enough to swallow us all.

We remain branded with Yosemite and all of its glorious and natural delights. Try it, don’t buy it.