Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Wet ...



Our lives can be easily represented by our accumulated stories, the stories we have to tell, good stories usually, since we forget the boring day stories, the dull lusterless grey stories. We live to accumulate stories. We can remember the good days and the bad days; the better or worse the day, often the better the story. I remember the first time I drove a car, Big Frank’s brand new 1971 Cadillac. I was 13. And it was really stuck in the mud on Airport road just west of Colusa, CA. Everyone else was pushing that car, me being the smallest person, I had to drive.

Sometimes, it’s hard to find a good story to tell, despite challenging environments and meeting interesting people, when nothing good or bad really happens. It’s not like I got frostbitten, I just got wet last weekend in a rainstorm because my tent failed. I have several stories to tell about getting wet …

When I was younger, my father used to say that if there was puddle within a few miles I would find it and fall into it. He wasn’t entirely off the mark. Once, when we went goose hunting, I stepped out of the car into a three foot deep post-hole (the only puddle for miles around), sending my right leg in that puddle up to my testicles. What he never knew despite all his story telling, was that I could set my tent up in it too, and usually I would. I have been every variety of wet in the wilds … in over my waders … nude swimming in the icy Couer D’Alene … showering under a hand pump in a desert campground … falling drunkenly out of a canoe … and genuine difficulties, like the plank bridge snapping below me over Rock Creek one cold April morning, or me in the water with a bunch of rattlesnakes swimming very near there later that summer. I’ve been wet so many times, for so many reasons it’s often been a joke to those that know me. There’s a whole other story about me and broken glass …

When I was younger and I got wet it was often a problem. When I was about 16, I went to Yosemite for spring break; with a few of my high school friends. Ron Kauk might have been there trying to unlock the famed Midnight Lightning. My friends all hitch-hiked to the valley. I wanted to, but my mother insisted I ride the bus. I went to Sunnyside (now Camp 4) where we were all supposed to meet and I set up my gear. My friends didn’t show. I set my tube tent (my first of many bad tent decisions) up in a wash between two trees, which, ummm … filled with water when it rained during the night.

I moved into the heated bathroom at Camp 4 with a wet sleeping bag and my aspirations; aspirations of being in the wilderness and being a naturalist and a guide and a savvy outdoorsman. Ron Kauk might have come into the bathroom and given me advice about how to dry out my bag. “Go to Housekeeping Camp and use the dryers.” I tried to stay in the bathroom, but it was busy and the Ranger threw me out repeatedly, and threatened to find me a “Warm place to stay.” It was impossible.

The next morning I was soaked. It was cold and getting colder. I tried to find a place to dry out my gear. By noon the snow level had dropped to right above the valley floor, and I was still struggling to get my gear dried out. By dark it was snowing heavily on the valley floor.

At about 9 or 10 that night I called my parents and they came and got me – I had had enough. I never got my gear dried out, and I never really found my friends. It was cold and I was starting to suffer from it. So much for my aspirations.

My aspirations. To be a savvy outdoorsman.

Here I am many years later, and I haven’t lost my touch. I set my tent up in what would later become a puddle, left the fly door open and was drenched by morning. Additionally, the tent failed miserably. It leaked through the floor and ceiling. I was seriously wet. There’s one small difference. I was warm. I was wet, but warm. These days I can afford a lot better gear. Soaking wet in Patagonia Capilene base layer and a North Face Snowshoe 0 degree bag, in 35 degrees winter wetness, and I was toasty warm. Mostly.

Setting up my tent in the yard to dry it out, I realized that the paint that said “Sierra Designs” on the side was wearing off, indicating the obvious age of the tent. It has been through a dozen rainstorms, several windstorms and several snowstorms. It’s seen better days. So now I am looking at a new tent.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Rain ...


... Still isn't that much fun. I got a bit wet last night.

You Remind Me of ...


Fire Damage near the North Entrance to the Valley

Tenaya Creek

Half Dome from the Meadow


Mirror Lake

Mirror Lake

1 March 2009. Yosemite Valley
It’s threatening to rain as the daylight fades and I am cozy in the Great Room at the Ahwahnee, curled up by the big fire listening to these sounds from the 20’s. It wasn't easy to find an internet connection here in pardise, but if you spend enough, you can connect in the lobby of your hotel for free, even in paradise. I'm not staying in the Ahwahnee, mind you, but I am enjoying the pleasures of the lobby.
It's been fairly grey here and threatening to rain for days, but I did manage to take a few photos of the fire damage up near the old Big Oak Flat road on Friday.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Crystal Magic -- Yosemite Valley -- Day 5


During the night, the valley was transformed into a crystal palace. Blame it on elves or just the sun coming out; glitter and light were literally falling from the sky. It was magic.

Beyond that, there's not too much to talk about. Three things happened. I got stood up for breakfast, a snow plow pulled into the parking lot about ten minutes before I was ready to try to drive out (do the miracles never cease), and I shot about 100 photos before I left at about 1. At one point I literally stopped my truck in the road to shoot out the window, explaining the the honking car behind me, "Hey, it's a photo emergency." Enjoy!


























Saturday, February 21, 2009

Wild Crazy Snow -- Yosemite Valley -- Day 4


The Buried Table


My Truck, Also Buried


Well, by Tuesday, it has been snowing for three days. The people left in the valley are talking of cabin fever, and I am starting to feel a general dampness creeping into everything. I went down to the Village Store and out to the Mountain Store for some gloves and a more convenient hat. Later, I would abandon photography altogether in favor of a hot shower compliments of the Curry Co. I walked back to camp from the Village after lunch and managed to find a few shots. It was getting harder to stay warm, keep my camera from getting fogged up, and stay focused on photos.


Efforts to Save the Black Oak


Shot from the Meadow


South Face of the Valley Wall

Winter Badge -- Yosemite Valley -- Day 3


Lone Oak in the Meadow

Monday was characterized mostly by snow. It was all snow, all the time. Sunday night's dumping, snow all Monday, and snow all of Monday night, and well into Tuesday. Snow fell from the sky in huge 2" diameter clumps, drifting in the sky even before hitting the ground. Literally, several feet of snow fell. Roads closed, Badger Pass was a "total whiteout," according to one gentleman I met, everyone scrambling to get out of the valley in the morning, and looking for shelter later in the day.

Shuttle Bus Front Window


Snow Covered Pines


Yosemite Oak

Photography was hard, if not impossible, driving was still possible, if I could have gotten out of my parking spot. My truck was pretty much buried, so I rode the shuttle or walked everywhere. I took a hike in what I think was Leidig Meadow. It's not that I don't know where I was it just isn't clear which meadow I was in from looking at the map. I started at the Village and walked across the meadow to the river and then back across to Yosemite Creek and Falls. I carried my snowshoes in the Nashbar Backpack Pannier with the camera in the waterproof drybag, and used them a few times to stomp around in the meadow.

Nashbar Waterproof Pannier Double Duties as Daypack

They plow the bike paths around the valley and the sound of little Bobcat snowplows destroyed whatever calm or serenity the meaodow may have had to offer .

Meadow Close-Up


Me, At the Falls


Yosemite Creek


Yosemite Creek


Near Lower Yosemite Falls
Eventually, I made my way back to camp, to find my tent buried in the snow.

Camp

Friday, February 20, 2009

The Storm Begins -- Yosemite Valley -- Day 2

Sunday morning was innocuous enough, quiet, calm even. Even the most conservative of weather reports had to acknowledge the winter storm advisory for the Sierra Nevada. As the day progressed, the sky hung more ominously in the valley. Jim left, and I thought about it. By early afternoon it was snowing. By evening, it was undeniable, snow, and lots of it. In the morning Jim and I looked over the area around El Capitan Meadow. Despite being interested in a group of Oaks I had seen the night before, The light was wrong and I ended up focusing my attention on a burn in the west end of the valley.

Fire Damage

Black Oaks

Don't Eat Human Food
For lunch I went to Degnan's and grabbed a sandwich. I spent some part of the day finding stuff like gloves and a map.

The sign on the table says something fascinating about our dietary choices. If you just imagine people in the place of "wildlife" this gets a bit more interesting. If we ate better, maybe it wouldn't be so dangerous for the wildlife to eat it.


The Lodge

Ahwahnee Meadow

Ahwahnee Meadow
I went to the Ahwahnee for Chili in the early afternoon and walked back via the valley loop trail. Beyond that I spent some time tightening up my gear and preparing for a cold snowy night. I went back over to the Lodge to see the Cajun band that had played the previous night (you remember the picture of the guy playing the washboard tie with spoons) and to carbo load before retiring to my tent.

The First Snow Falls
By the time I got back to my tent the storm had evolved to a raging howl above the tree tops, none of which could be felt on the valley floor. Snow fell in clumps and the wind kept me awake. I had to wake and clear snow off my tent more than once.
During the night something or someone collapsed on my tent, making me fear that I was really about to be crushed, leading my to scream and shout. When I was able to evaluate the tent -- everything was normal, so I suspect I dreamt that, but it seemed so real, that I wonder. Did some crazy camper trip over my tent while wondering around in the dark?


Uh-oh
The wind howled and I slept roughly, snow fell, but I was dry and fairly warm. The coyotes woke me in the early morning with a crazy song.
Big Winter, Tiny Tent