A Weekend with Nevada Barr

Over a hundred of our members were treated to “A Weekend with Nevada Barr” this past weekend, an offering of our Yosemite Outdoor Adventure Program. During her sessions at the Ahwahnee, Nevada delighted us with her comedic presentations, prompting many audience members to suggest that she pursue a career in stand-up comedy. Nevada signed hundreds of copies of her new novel, High Country, which is set in Yosemite National Park.

Butch Farabee, former assistant superintendent at Glacier and expert on National Park search and rescue operations, gave an enlivened presentation on the drug plane crash of 1977, the incident Nevada uses as the focus of High Country. Commonly referred to as the Gold Rush of 1977, some enterprising individuals braved the snowy conditions and cold weather to retrieve bales of marijuana, reported to be worth $400 a pound, that were submerged in Lower Merced Pass Lake after a drug plane crash.

Buffalo Soldier

Yosemite National Park Ranger Shelton Johnson will present his Buffalo Soldier living history program today in Washington, D.C. in celebration of Black History Month. Shelton discovered an anonymous photograph of African American soldiers in the Yosemite Research library and from that discovery he created a fascinating interpretive program that details their history. When you visit the park, check Yosemite Today for the program of interpretive schedules and be sure to catch his Buffalo Soldiers program.

Rockclimbing with Ron Kauk

Regular readers of this journal have probably learned that I associate the concept of rock climbing with words like “fear,” “death stuff,” “utter terror,” and “ultimate horror.” In my backcountry excursions, I have always made sure to adhere to my maxim of “my feet must not ‘dangle’ at any time” and have hiked miles out of my way to avoid scampering across sheer cliffs.

During a cross-country hike last summer, I attempted a descent down a cliff that went way beyond my comfort level. After climbing White Mountain, I had walked southwest along the Sierra Crest, hoping to find a place to descend to the east near Finger Lake. If I couldn’t locate a suitable route, I knew I could hike down on the western side, near Skelton Lakes, although it would make my hike back to my car considerably longer. At the end of the ridge, I peered down the cliff and saw an accessible route down. About halfway down, however, I came to a point where the decent required some class four climbing. Although a seasoned climber probably wouldn’t have blinked, I was paralyzed with fear.

Given my fear of heights, no one was more surprised than me when I accepted a generous offer by legendary climber Ron Kauk to give rock climbing a try. I’ve been working with Ron on developing programs for our association and as a result he’ll be giving a talk at our upcoming Spring Forum on March 27th and leading a class for our Outdoor Adventures on April 17th. When I confessed to my timidness when faced with “exposure,” Ron said he could help. How could a turn down a lesson from a world-class climber?

Last week, Ron gave me my first lesson on an outdoor climbing wall. Ron is a gentle soul and he approaches rock-climbing instruction like one would teach yoga. Instead of focusing on the conquest and competition, he encouraged me to simply experience the flow of my movements as I climbed, albeit slowly, up the wall. I wasn’t scaling a granite cliff, but I actually liked the way this ballet of moves felt. After a few times on the wall, my confidence level soared. I’ll be interested to see if my fear returns when we progress to an actually cliff.

Stay tuned! I’ll keep you posted on my progress!

Low Snow

This morning, my drive up the river canyon to the association’s office in El Portal resembled an excursion in the high country. A winter storm left the hills frosted in snow, a rare event at 1,800 feet elevation. I enjoy my daily commute winding along the river and in between the hills, observing the character of the region as it changes, sometimes subtly, sometime significantly, with the weather. Today the hills were in a preening, boastful mood, proud of their new white coat.

Yesterday the snow began in the afternoon, following a burst of wind that came up as suddenly as an ocean squall. Our sunshade gazebo that covered our picnic tables blew down, and we eyed the bending trees surrounding our office with alarm. After the wind calmed, the snow began to fall, large feather-like flakes that made it appear as if the gods were having a pillow fight above and we were witnessing the carnage.

Cascade Dam

The Cascade Dam has been dismantled and a group of onlookers witnessed the river flowing free for the first time since 1916. For two months construction crews have been working to demolish the dam, using rubber rafts and sandbags to divert the river until the project was finished. When I drove by the site, I was always amazed at their progress. Construction or in this case deconstruction, is made very difficult when a river flows in the middle of your project!

The dam provided electricity for Yosemite Valley until the mid-1980s. The original construction costs were $200,000 as compared with the demolition price tag of almost $3 million. Next time you visit Yosemite, be sure to stop by the site (at the intersection of Highways 120 and 140) and witness the new dam-less landscape.

Let It Snow!

Let it snow! A viable winter storm has finally enveloped Yosemite, and should continue through this weekend. The current snow level is at 5,000 feet, with a predicted accumulation of seven inches overnight. The past few storms have been fickle, tempting us with overcast skies and light rain, yet dissipating before granting us any satisfying levels of precipitation. At last, a snowfall that might herald the true beginning of the ski season at Badger Pass! Being a cross-country skier, I don’t need much snow to be happy.

Thoreau said that being on the snow is like “walking in the sky upside down.” Winter is a sublime season in the park, and some of the most peaceful memories I have in Yosemite are while gliding along Glacier Point Road, reveling in the quietness of the snowfall. Perhaps a cloud has the same prevalent silence that is almost mystical in nature.

The miles of cross-country ski trails at Glacier Point provide great skiing opportunities for any level of skier. Beginners can refine their skills on the groomed track, while more advanced skiers can take advantage of the more difficult side trails or venture cross-country. I hope to be skiing in the high country this weekend!

Fall in Yosemite

As a native New Englander, I think of the fall season as a prolonged sunset, trees bursting in orange, red, yellow, and brown before retiring for the winter. I have been largely unimpressed by the fall colors in California, although I will admit the aspens’ golden show on the east side of the Sierra is quite splendid (just not on par with say, miles of maple trees waving multi-colored leaves in Vermont).

This year has been an exception. Not only did the aspen leaves fluctuate from stunning shades of amber to a brassy gold, but the moderately cold, yet relatively dry fall has enabled those photosynthesizing plants to retire in style! My morning commute up the river canyon has been decorated with vibrant color. Amber-yellow grasses highlight the banks of the Merced, while even the usual dull brownness of oak leaves seem imbued with an auburn tint. All my commute needs is a covered bridge, and I would be magically transported back to the New England falls of my youth.

Yosemite Reunion

This is your life, Yosemite! This past week the park has been filled with hundreds of Yosemite alumni, gathered together in the first Yosemite Reunion. Butch Farabee, past park ranger, and Kim Tucker, present park employee, organized the three-day event, which drew people from all over the country. Being a relative newcomer, I gazed at nametags that also had the dates of park tenure, some stretching back over decades. The park has an incredible legacy of people.

Additionally, Butch Farabee just published a new book, National Park Ranger: An American Icon. The book explores the history of park rangers, described by Farabee as “an amalgam of Jedi Knight, Favorite Teacher, and Smokey Bear. As stewards of our nation’s treasures, they are heir to five thousand years of tradition: they celebrate this legacy with pride, reflect it with humility.”

Badwater

I reached a low point last week. Actually, the lowest point in the continental United States. I took a brief vacation with my partner Shad, and we drove over the Tioga Pass (and the aspens were still a splendid gold) to explore Death Valley. Neither of us had visited the park before and thought we should make the journey before the pass closed.

On one of my Mt. Whitney trips, I had planned to hike the 21 miles roundtrip to the summit, get in my car and drive a few hours to Death Valley, and then walk to Badwater so I could lay claim to being at the highest and lowest points in the continental U.S. in one day. It was one of those “it was a good idea at the time” ideas, and by the time I had completed the Whitney hike, I could only muster up the energy to eat a cheeseburger and find a motel room.

I’m glad I waited to see Death Valley for the first time at a slower pace, not when I was rushed and exhausted from trying to complete some silly milestone. The starkness of the landscape requires patience to appreciate; the vastness of the desert does not lend itself well to a quick view.

At Badwater, I stood on a salty plain (playa) that extended in all directions, a white-brick road of amazing magnitude. During the Pleistocene Ice Age, Lake Manly covered this valley, reaching over 100 miles long, six to eleven miles wide, and over 600 feet deep. Today a small, spring-fed pool serves as a ghostly memory of the lake. From our position, 282 feet below sea level, we peered up at the cliffs that stand guard 5,000 above us. Telescope Peak, visible to the west, reaches over 11,000 feet into the sky.

Fall Hike at Budd Lake

Perhaps in return for a very wet spring, and a summer filled with atypical storms, Mother Nature has rewarded us Sierra dwellers with stunning fall weather. This past weekend I journeyed up to Tuolumne Meadows to check out the fall color and take advantage of the perfect hiking weather.

I decided to explore the Cathedral Lakes area, a region that attracts many visitors in the regular summer season—and with good reason. Over lakes that reflect the rich blueness of the sky stands the grand summit of Cathedral Peak, reaching for the heavens. The granite peak does resemble the spires of an ancient European cathedral, sans the stained glass windows.

For my excursion, I decided to begin the hike with the cross-country route to Budd Lake. Coincidently, given our recent recall election, the lake was named for James H. Budd, the governor of California from 1895-1899. Does that mean we might one day have a Schwarzenegger Lake in Yosemite?

Nestled under the arm of Unicorn Peak, Budd Lake provides a fairy-tale like setting for those wishing to relax in the high country. Sitting on the shore, with a view of the clan of Echo Peaks, I felt transported into a Tolkien or other mythological story and almost expect to see a unicorn emerge from the surrounding forest. Is that why the peak is named Unicorn? Because try as I might, I couldn’t really make out the figure of the unicorn from the shape of the granite rocks. I have the same problem with many of the constellations, so perhaps it’s just my lack of imagination.

From Budd Lake, I continued southwest and climbed to the top of the saddle of Echo Peaks. To the north, I had front a row seat to watch the climbers as they scaled Cathedral, and to the south I had a view of Matthes Crest. Not wanting to tempt fate with my back, I decided to forgo the scramble to the top of one of the Echo Peaks, but I did try my hand at creating an “echo.” It worked!

I descended into the basin that contained Cathedral Lakes and connected with the John Muir Trail for my walk back to Tuolumne. Although I have enjoyed the warm, dry fall, I realize that it’s time for some precipitation—many of the creek beds and pools I passed were dry, patiently waiting for the winter to arrive to resurrect them.

As for the fall color, the aspens have begun transforming the Tioga Road into a pastel canvas of yellow and green. I think next weekend will be prime viewing.

Autumn Barbecue

Today we celebrated our association’s success this year with a delicious barbeque provided by Kevin Kelly, the Chief Operations Officer at Delaware North Parks and Resort at Yosemite. Any member who had donated $1,000 or more this year was eligible to attend this event, held at Kevin’s home on the Ahwahnee Meadow. I enjoyed meeting our supporters and admire their commitment to our association and to this park. During the dinner, a helicopter landed in the meadow, transporting those investigating the rock slide that had occurred earlier today. Portions of Northside Road were closed, but we had not yet heard the extent of the rockslide when I left after dinner.

Sharsmith Peak

Just received the news: I have another ruptured disk in my back. What’s the record I asked my physician? He advises me to live my life and attributes my partial recovery (i.e., that I am not still lying in bed) to being in good shape and having a high tolerance for pain.

I thought I’d celebrate having two ruptured disks with a hike. Although I have frequented the Gaylor Lakes region this year, I had not yet climbed peak 12,002 (called Sharsmith Peak for the late ranger by the Yosemite community). It’s a relatively easy hike, involving a fun boulder scramble to reach the craggy summit. I had wonderful views of Granite and Gaylor Lakes, and as a bonus, watched as a golden eagle soared over the basin.

I’m happy to report that my back made some noises in protest, but remained in good shape.

YA Members' Meeting with Claude Fiddler

Another successful members meeting! Claude Fiddler spoke about the wonders of Yosemite wilderness, and debunked all of the intellectual theories about the “true” nature of wild places with his exuberant yell of “YEEEEEEEEAAAHHH!” (his theory on the meaning of wilderness). Anne Macquarie, a contributor to Yosemite Once Removed, and a former Yosemite Back country ranger, read a poem about visiting Benson Lake as an adult, with an adult’s physical limitations (aches, pains, etc...that did not exist in youth), which resonated with all of us who experience age creeping into our physical activity.

On Sunday, I lead an energetic group up to Gaylor Lakes and the Great Sierra Mine for an interpretive hike. My father and brother, both visiting from New England, accompanied me, and both completed the hike despite their coming from sea level and not being used to high altitude walks. My dad affectionately calls the Tioga Road “The Valley of Death.” Being a born and bred New Englander, he hasn’t driven on too may mountain roads on the east coast.

Immobile

My regular journal readers will note a rather lengthy absence from my reporting. I do apologize and I can even offer a good excuse. My ruptured disk decided to give me some misery, and I had to remain in bed for over a week. My activity was limited to crawling from the bedroom to the living room couch for a change of scenery. Being immobile for a week tried my patience, but at least I caught up on my movie viewing and reading. I’m happy to report that I am recovering fast and should be back on the trail soon.

What's In a Name?

My friends ended their visit with a guided rock climb in Yosemite Valley with the Yosemite Mountaineering School (they provide excellent guided trips). Since I don’t do the “death stuff,” I didn’t join them for their adventure (when my feet come off the ground I start getting nervous). They returned from their day-long climb enchanted with the park and exhilarated at climbing a granite wall in Yosemite.

What intrigued me was the name of their route: C.S. Concerto. I won’t repeat what the C.S. stands for, but will hint that it refers to a common sexual expletive. My curiosity was piqued and I checked out a climbing books. The names of the routes are filled with a wonderful poetry. I can only imagine the story behind some of these designations. From my brief perusal of the guidebooks, here are some of my favorites:

No Love-Chump Sucker

Kung Pao Chicken

Boogie with Stu

Desperate for Donuts

Gidget Goes to Yosemite

God Told Me to Skin You Alive

Your Pizza is Ready

The Granite State

My close friend from high school and her partner arrived for a week-long visit and I gave them a grand-tour of the park, beginning with three days in Tuolumne Meadows. Lisa and Becky’s constant exclamations of wonderment made me enjoy (for once) the long drive up the Tioga Road. I’ve been away from New England for almost fifteen years, and I am used to the western largess that is at first astounding to those from the east coast. The highest mountains back east rise only on to the 6,000 feet above sea level mark, and peek out from dense forests that hide most of their base. “How can New Hampshire even claim to be the granite state?” Becky asked after seeing the view from Olmsted Point.

On our first afternoon, we strolled up to Gaylor Lakes, and I told them of the mining history of the area while we munched on cookies and stared at the blue waters reflecting the clouds. I had read recently the haunting story of two mules who stumbled on the descent to Sardine Lake and plunged to their deaths in the seemingly bottomless depths, “never to be seen again.” They were carrying cases of whiskey and sardines for one of the miners. Dana Village, Bennettville, and the other mining towns of the area are all filled with a rich history. Did you know the Tioga Road was originally named the Great Mining Road? Or that Bennettville once boasted the highest elevation post office to operate in California? For more tales of the mining ghost town, see Ghost Mines in Yosemite, by Douglass Hubbard.

No grand tour of Tuolumne would be complete without a trip to the Mobil Station. My friends were very doubtful about dining at a gas station, and were much relieved to see the menu at the Whoa Nellie Deli. I selected the lobster taquitos once again.

The next day, since my friends were not used to the altitude, I took them on the relatively easy Mono Pass trail. We watched the cumulus clouds form overhead, and I checked my barometer to see if we were in for a storm. I’ll need to do some research to substantiate this claim, but this year seems to be a record one for afternoon thunderstorms. I feel like I’m hiking in the Rocky Mountains. I guess I’ll have to get used to getting up at the crack of dawn again in order to finish ascents before the afternoon. California weather made me lazy for a while!

Glen Aulin

Being Irish, I felt a certain duty to check out the valley in Tuolumne whose name came from the Gaelic tongue (Gleann Alainn is the traditional spelling). Glen Aulin always seemed out of place in a region with landmarks named for western explorers and scientists, and with Native American terms and references to obscure (and not so obscure) anecdotal legends. (The naming of Lost Bear Meadow is my favorite obscure story. A little girl, Shirley Miller, was lost for three days in the park. When her rescuers finally found her she replied, “I am not lost but the bear is lost. He went away and got lost.”) Glen Aulin seems more appropriate to a landmark in a Tolkien tale or the Irish countryside than Yosemite. But then again, Yosemite does have Ireland Lake.

I’ve avoided in my travels the more popular Tuolumne hikes like Sunrise, Volgelsang, and Glen Aulin, preferring to seek out areas of more solitude. For my first “test hike” after rupturing a disk in my back, I decided to take a more populated route in case my back decided to be a poor sport. And I had heard of the beautiful waterfalls in Glen Aulin and wanted to see them for myself.

Although my back did not cooperate, and I hiked with a fair amount of pain, my reward was watching the Tuolumne River flow by me gracefully as I strode along the trail, and seeing the personalities of Tuolumne and California Falls, and White Cascade. I stopped by the Glen Aulin High Sierra Camp, and gave a message to the manager of the camp, Tom, a friend of Steve (our President). Tom told me stories of his travels around the globe and asked me to scold Steve for not including the position of the S.F. Giants in the standings.

I camped near California Falls, and sat near the river, watching the land and its inhabitants prepare for sleep. A deer walked into my camp noiselessly, gazed at me for a moment, and continued on her search for a bed. Fish jumped out of the water, searching for their evening feast, competing with the bats overhead for the unlucky insects.

Happy Birthday YA!

Yesterday we celebrated 80 years of supporting Yosemite National Park. Such a momentous occasion called for a party, and we certainly did not fail in that regard. We assembled a great group of National Park Service staff, Yosemite Association board and employees, our members, and park visitors, who helped us celebrate our accomplishments and consume some very delicious birthday cake (chocolate with white chocolate frosting - very yummy).

Mike Tollefson, the park Superintendent, joined a list of speakers who recognized our efforts. Bob Hansen from the Yosemite Fund traveled from San Francisco to participate, Mary Gearheart, board member of the Association of Partner for Public Lands, came from Arcadia. Debbie Hurley presented us with a statement of Congressional Record from Congressman Radanovich’s office, Shelly Abajian read thanks from Senator Diane Feinstein, and Senator Barbara Boxer sent her greetings via letter.

We decided that on our birthday we would give gifts. Our association began in 1923 in order to fundraise for a museum, and had its early roots in assisting museum and research development in the park. We thought it appropriate to commemorate our anniversary by presenting some gifts to the museum and research library. Among them were a beautiful Western Mono basket made between 1940 and 1950, six rare and hard-to-find travel books for the the library, and for the museum, a Carleton Watkins mammoth photographic print and a set of 35 stereoviews made in Yosemite by T.C. Roche in 1860.

If you missed this event, please join us in Fresno on August 17th for an evening at the Fresno Metropolitan Museum. Ranger Shelton Johnson will be presenting his award-wining Buffalo Soldiers of the Sierra Nevada program.

So Happy 80th Birthday YA!

Tuolumne Poetry Festival

I had a grand weekend up in Tuolumne: a wonderful literary experience, Mobil station dining, a gorgeous hike, and even a couple of thunderstorms to satisfy my weather addiction.

For those of you who have not yet attended a program at Parsons Memorial Lodge, let me introduce you to the terrific offerings that ranger Margaret Eissler assembles each summer. Margaret is the “heart” of Tuolumne Meadows. She spent the summers of her early childhood in Tuolumne (if you look at the exhibits at Parsons Lodge you can see several photographs of Margaret as a child), as her parents were caretakers at the lodge, and began working in the park herself in 1985.

Each summer she organizes a series of lectures at Parsons. On Saturday, Jock Reynolds, Director of the Yale University Art Gallery, gave a slide presentation on photographer Emmet Gowin. His work is collected in the book, Emmet Gowin: Changing the Earth Aerial Photographs. He was joined by a surprise guest, author Terry Tempest Williams (a contributor to Emmet’s book), who gave an impassioned reading of her work and somehow gave us hope, even given the current world situation, that our wild places won’t be forever lost.

Check the program listings in Yosemite Today on the NPS website for a complete schedule of events. Some upcoming programs at Parsons to note: Butterflies of the Sierra, a slide presentation by naturalist Bob Stewart and the Tuolumne Meadows Poetry Festival featuring David Mas Masumoto and Tom Crawford.

During the event, rain clouds strolled lazily above us and watered the meadows. Not to be outdone by the speakers, the storm asserted its presence with some crashes of thunder and flashed a few streaks of lightning. Few scenes are as picturesque as a thunderstorm over the High Sierra.

The next day the storm system, which was probably the residue of Hurricane Claudette appeared to have dissipated. Although it rained into the night, we awoke to find clear sunny skies in Tuolumne and looked forward to a perfect day to climb some mountains.

My partner, Shad, and I had breakfast at Tuolumne Lodge, and spoke with a father and daughter from New Jersey, who were hiking to Glen Aulin that day, and a couple from San Francisco, who were seeking wildflowers. We all expressed the hopeful opinion that the storm system had passed. After all, this is California, where it never rains! I often brag to my friends in the Rockies or back east that I don’t even carry rain gear on most of my excursions. I once spent two weeks on the John Muir Trail without seeing even a cloud in the sky!

Thunderstorm on North Peak

Well, I was made to eat my words. It actually can rain sometimes in California. That day, we took the boat across Saddlebag Lake and began our hike up to North Peak. As we strolled though the lovely basin that contains Conness Lakes, the tops of cumulus clouds peered over the Sierra crest.

Watching the clouds, we began climbing, and sure enough the cumulus clouds became cumulus congestus and were heading toward the cumulonimbus stage very rapidly. Thinking we still had time to reach the summit before the thunderstorms were fully developed, we continued up, but a half a mile from the peak the first roar of thunder sounded. I turned to Shad and said one word, “DOWN!”

Shad, having never been on a high mountain pass during a thunderstorm, continued to snap photos as I scurried down the mountain in record time. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. I love to watch storms, yet after having been caught a few times in high places with my hair standing up on end and the thunder sounding like a gunshot next to my ear, I always try to avoid such situations!

As we strolled back past Conness Lakes, my pace more leisurely now that I was near some cover, we watched the gray clouds build in strength and surround the ridge. Two brave souls had hiked up one of the remaining snowfields and we followed their small distant forms as they sailed down on skis.