Yosemite 2021

[Greg]

Day 2 Hike Tiltiill Creek Crossing

3.48 Miles Hike
1234’ Climb
233’ Descend

Although I did not prep properly for the Rancheria climb, I was fully aware of what the Tiltill climb would entail. The Hetch Hetchy reservoir sits in the bottom of a bowl. If you want to get out of that bowl, climbing is in your future. Looking at the map I figured that day would be Tuesday when the group climbed to the Tiltill Crossing.

The group had plenty of discussion about the name Tiltill whether it was pronounced Til-Till or whether it was pronounced Tilt-ill. No decision was reached. But it was going to be a short hike only 3.5 miles or so according to Mrs. DM’s pre-hike emails. I was glad for the short hike since most of it would be uphill. Originally I thought the hike would be as steep and tiresome as the hike to the top of Yosemite falls, which was a bear, but it was shorter. On the flip side, I didn’t have the ginormous Backpack on the hike to the top of Yosemite Falls.

My breakfast for the day was my leftover Biscuits and Gravy that I had for dinner from the night before. I thought I was being extremely clever using my freeze dried meals for two different servings. The pouch did say it was two servings. I figured I would use it for two meals. Smart!. Too bad the meal looked slightly less savory than chunky vomit for the second serving. I choked it down. The body needed fuel for the upcoming climb.

And climb we did. The Younglings took off up the switchbacks without a care in the world. Mrs. DM followed closely behind them. DM and I held to the rear position. The distance between our groups grew with every step. Oddly, though, despite the experience of the previous day, I had a tad more energy than the previous day so I was not the last hiker. DM suffered just a bit more than I. I like to think that my walking 4 miles every morning for the last few months helped a little bit with my wind.

I spent a lot of time on the climb looking for the ridge line above us to start to disappear and see more blue sky than hill. It took awhile but eventually the downhill portion of our journey happened. My shirt was completely soaked through with sweat as were my shorts and underwear. I chafed an inordinate amount. The relief at walking downhill was extraordinary. And that’s how Yosemite sucks you in and makes you want to come back, a painful beating coupled with a strong dose of beauty. At the bottom of the hill, the trees vanished and the vista before us was this giant beautiful meadow studded with wildflowers. I just had to stand there in awe and look. I could also tell I had more energy for the hike because I started to take more pictures than I had the previous day. I wasn’t getting those dramatic granite hillsides but the wildflowers more than made up for it.

The hike to the Tiltill crossing was only a couple hundred yards further on from the meadow. Oddly, on the map, the meadow was listed as a pond. Mrs. DM met us at Tiltill Creek Crossing surrounded by backpacks. The Younglings had ventured forth to find a campsite for the night. Around Mrs. DM’s perch were giant green leaves that DM referred to as Backpackers Toilet Paper. I’m sure they had some fancy name, but from then on, whenever I would see them, I would refer to them as Backpackers Toilet Paper. The BTP was a broad leaf plant that had giant leaves that were soft and strong and perfect for the job they described. It added a whole new level of comfort to the hike.

The hike ended early. I think it was around 10:30 when DM and I made it to the creek. I was ready for some sitting down and water drinking. The Younglings found us a nice spot underneath some trees that had plenty of flat areas for tents. A group of backpackers from Chicago had already taken the best spot closest to the creek but our spot wasn’t that much further away.

There was just one snag with finishing the hike so quickly. The Younglings were still ready to go. While DM and I were dragging our asses into camp, they were thinking about doing two more miles up the next grade and camping there. Wait! What?

I could understand their logic. They had plenty of energy. It would cut down on the hike to Lake Vernon, which was an almost 7 mile hike. And the Tiltill campsite had snakes. Rattlesnakes.

As I was going to the creek to start filtering some water to slake my never ending thirst, the Chicago hikers informed me they had seen a rattlesnake slither through their campsite, headed towards the water. I thanked them for the warning and told them I would keep an eye out.

I was filtering water into my Nalgene bottles when the Cub walked up to the creek. I informed her of the warning of the snakes. The Cub did not looked pleased about the information. She started scanning the area for the nope ropes. She pointed at a rock a few feet behind her and asked “Like that?”. I looked over at the rock and saw the little triangular head and said “Yep, just like that” The snake was really close. It was hard to tell if it was a rattler because the colors were a bit more grey than brown. But it was definitely a snake. I told everybody to freeze while I went to grab my camera. The Cub left. By the time I got back the snake was gone.

But that might have been the tipping point for the Younglings hanging around.

I, on the other hand, had no intention of continuing on. Although I wasn’t completely exhausted by the hike to Tiltill, I still felt the effects of the hike to Rancheria Falls. I was more than happy to relax for the rest of the day. Plus, I wanted to fill up with water. I think I drank about 7 liters of water and didn’t go to the bathroom once. My big fear, besides another two hours of hiking straight up a hill, was not having enough water. I feared I would fill up my two bottles, drink them on the hike, and then not have any water for the four mile hike to Lake Vernon. There was a creek listed on the way to Lake Vernon, but it was five miles from Tiltill and there was no guarantee there would be water in the creek. I give as prime examples the two ponds listed on the map on the way to Tiltill where one was a meadow and the other was a grass infested marsh. I did not feel good about continuing on.

I made these arguments to the group. Their argument back was that I would still have to make the hike tomorrow on two bottles of water. But tomorrow, I would be rested and water logged by drinking a bunch of water before we started.

For a short while, I thought I had swayed the group to hold off hiking until the next day. Then everyone started packing up their gear. The cub looked at me and asked if I was going to be okay on my own. The only answer I could give her was a thumbs up. DM was still on the fence about going. He decided to see if he could make it by throwing on his pack and heading up the trail.

I guess I was going to spend the night alone. And do the hike by myself the next day. I did give some thought about what would happen if I were hurt. But I really, really didn’t want to do any more climbing that day.

Just as the group was set to head out, DM returned. He was still having problems and didn’t want to do the hike either. I gave an internal sigh of relief that I wouldn’t be spending the night alone or hiking by myself to Lake Vernon.

DM and Mrs. DM had to do a bit of gear shuffling. She was going to spend the night under the stars but at least wanted the tarp to sleep on. DM managed to hold on to the cat hole shovel™ The caboose would remain intact for another day.

[Drunk Monk]

I thought we decided on Tilt-ILL because that's how I felt. I was still depleted from the previous day's climb but this one - the shortest and steepest - kicked my ass. I was cramping. Worse was I was getting rather lightheaded. I'd take about a dozen steps and the world would start to spin. My vision would become starry and redder. I'd have to lean on a rock or tree to get support. Good thing I brought that staff to lean upon. That was a life saver. 

This was the roughest day for me. I was in so much pain, rethinking my commitment to backpacking. I started to wonder if this would be my final backpacking trek because I just couldn't take it anymore. Lots of dark thoughts about mortality crept in. Thankfully Greg kept pace with me, which motivated me to persist. 

When I was in Junior High, there was a class called Wilderness Experiences taught by Mr. Salerno and Mr. Cantrememberhisname. They were both backpackers and designed the class, which culminated in an optional backpacking trip. I went on that with a buddy of mine - Scott Carter who ED will remember well - and maybe there were a few others. It was a great trip and I learned a lot. It's mostly obsolete knowledge now. Those were the days of the old portable stoves that you had to pump and heat up by lighting some fuel in the top cup (I tried to explain that to the younglings but they just looked at me like when I try to explain what life was like before the interwebz and microwaves). They taught me to use Gerry Tubes and the magic of Sierra cups (these are going out of fashion, being replaced by titanium cups which, although tougher and lighter, don't lie as flat). They also taught me about Backpackers' toilet paper (it's Thimbleberry which I just looked up). That was such a great class. 

I remember I wrote an article about it in the school newspaper titled 'W.E. Shall Overcome' when the program was tentative and received many accolades on that title. That's one of the earliest memories I have of being praised for my writing. 

BTW, Corn Lily leaves are also recommended as Backpackers' TP. We were too taken by the beauty of their blooms to notice the wide sturdy leaves below. Take note. 

I thought we agreed that discussion of your underwear was off the table. TMI, bro. 

I was really torn about the group splitting up. That seemed so imprudent. But it worked out in the end. After they left us, we both got into our tents and laid there until nightfall. That was a few hours. I wrote in my notebook - some article ideas (one which I thought I already wrote after our previous backpacking adventure but didn't - this time I had Greg shoot a few pix so I'm more committed), also some interview questions for an upcoming piece, and the Haiku that I posted above, plus a few dangling notes. I know, I know, it's vacation but it was also a major inspirational refueling, and it triggered a lot of thoughts, thoughts I wanted to preserve.

[Greg]

Backpacking is for losers!


That being said, I was just doing a logistics check on how to do a hike from Tuolumne Meadows to Devils Postpile....

[Drunk Monk]

That’s uphill, is it?

[Drunk Monk]

Day 3 to Lake Vernon

Greg & I broke camp early and hit the trail at day break, hoping to beat the heat. We had a last bit of climb, over a ridge and then into the Lake Vernon valley. I was glad of the rest and recovered a little but still coping with dizziness and cramps. My body was done with me. 
 
The upwards climb was killing me. My legs just didn’t want to play anymore. I was clinging to my staff as a third leg, thinking of that riddle of the Sphinx about 4 legs in the morning, 2 in the afternoon and 3 in the evening. I think I first heard that on Batman. Greg’s caltopo app was amazing keeping us exactly on track. 

I don’t remember much about the ascent, just thinking that it would be mostly downhill afterwards. It was shadier, which was a relief from the previous days which offered less tree cover. The trail has lots of obstacles, lots of fallen trees that needed to be huddled or crawled beneath (much harder with a backpack). I nearly face planted while traversing a passage by an uprooted tree where the trail was muddy near a buggy bog. Greg has stopped to watch and make sure I made it. My first step was misplaced leaving me to pachinko between obstacles in a comic fashion - if not for my trusty staff, that would’ve ended much worse. ‘Graceful’ commented Greg and I had to agree.

We came up to the ‘water source’ which was about the halfway point and just before the crest - a bone dry creek bed. Fortunately we weren’t relying on that and had reserved plenty of water for the rest of the trek. At the top of the trail, the fauna gave way to granite, that classic landscape of Yosemite that I find so alluring. We rested there, admiring the panoramic vista, dropping our packs for water, and for me, a dose of more powdered electrolytes. 

Then Greg spotted it. ‘A bear... no a backpacker ... no a bear’ it was a juvenile, a teen bear, maybe a 300 pounder coming up the trail behind us. It spotted us and took off down the dry creek bed. My lord it was fast. I always thought of bears as lumbering. Like elephant seals, I figured they were capable of short bursts of speed, like 30 ft or so. I was so wrong. This teen bear dashed down maybe a hundred yards of creek in a heartbeat. It was freakin fast, like a greyhound in full sprint. I was stunned. It totally reshaped my perception of bears.

It was a beautiful golden brown, with a lustrous coat that shone like our state flag. Inspiring. The bear was a harbinger of Yosemite opening up to me again. After that point, the trek turned around. I got my legs under me. I was still coping with dizziness but I was dealing with it and the cramping too. Mostly it was because the major uphill was over. There’s nothing as beautiful as witnessing a wild beast like a bear in nature. It brings such perspective - like where you stand on the food chain and how wild the earth still is, if you just venture out to find it.

[Greg]

I'm not reading this until I posted my version. But I did spot the word 'bear'.......

As for the question is the Toulomne to Devil's Postpile uphill, well, Toulomne Meadows is at 8800' and you have to climb over Donohue Pass which is about 11,000' so I'm going to have to say there is bit of an uphill.

[Drunk Monk]

8800 to 11000? Damn. So not ready. Altitude was rocking me at 6K. 

I left it at 'bear'. Over to you...the bear's in your court.

[Greg]

For some reason, it's like pulling teeth to get the words out at the moment.

[Drunk Monk]

‘Take your time. We got all day. All we got to do is make it to the lake...’

[Greg]

Words to die by.

(And then hike another mile looking for the campsite)

[Drunk Monk]

Now that the agony has faded, I long for another day when my plans are so simple.

[Greg]

Day 3 Hike Lake Vernon

6 Miles
1978 feet up
814 feet down

I pored over the map for the Lake Vernon hike. The hike was going to be long and the lines on the topographic map along the route we hiked were really close together. Really close together topographic lines meant a very steep uphill climb. I figured we would be making a 1400’ ascent over 2 miles. Then we would climb another 500’ over the next two miles. Our peak elevation for the day and for the trip would be 7600’

As usual, I got up early. Seems my watch didn’t know I was on vacation and would go off at 4am. The way to change that is on my phone with the Apple Watch App, but I had resolved not to turn the phone on until much later in the trip. But I was usually awake when the alarm went off. I would gauge when it was time to leave the tent but how much light I could see outside.

Every day starts the same. I fold up my sleeping bag in the tent. I do this on top of my air mattress while it deflates. I fought with the air mattress many mornings on the best way to get the air out of the mattress and then roll it up into a tiny little ball. That mattress is probably one of my best purchases because I never felt a thing under me.

Then I throw all the gear I have in the tent, like my stuff bag full of clothes I used as a pillow and my bag of electronics out of the tent. Once the tent is empty, I take the tent down. I’m always amazed by the tinker-toy like rods that make up my supports for the tent. Mine break down as one unit but I noticed that the other tents used by the Younglings and the DMs have multiple rods. Yes, I have rod superiority.

While I was doing this, I noticed that DM was kind enough to start to get up as well. Some mornings I’m pretty much done with the backpack full while everyone else stumbles to life. I noticed the Younglings have an especially hard time with the early hour. They spend a good fifteen minutes just sitting up in the tent staring out the world. DM informed me they were all nightowls so these early mornings were hard on them. But if you want to get hiking up these hills before the sun starts it’s assault, you have to get going early.

I tried to choke down my second helping of the previous night’s chicken and dumpling but couldn’t get passed the texture. Plus, I wasn’t very hungry. Which is odd, because as you might have noticed my body clearly exemplifies my love for food. Just not when I’m hiking. The last thing I did before shouldering my pack was borrowing DM’s cathole shovel and heading off with my BTP.

We climbed up for two hours. I led. DM followed. Unlike the previous day, the sun was up and shining on our hill. It was nice to have the trees around but there were plenty of open spots to make us feel the heat. There were also plenty of trees down across the trail that we had to navigate over. Some of the downed trees, you could just lift your leg over. Others were high enough off the ground that you could kind of lift your leg over. Others were off the ground or were quite large, you had to sit down on the tree and swings your legs over. Tree navigation added an extra level of difficulty to the hike. My favorite (not my favorite) part was hiking the switchback, climbing over a tree, turning the corner at the end of the switchback and being faced with the exact same tree blocking another portion of the trail several feet away.

There were plenty of switchbacks to entertain us but there were also portions were the trail went directly up the hill. DM and I would go from the shade of a tree to the next shade from a tree. As DM pointed out, we could take our time. We had all day to get to Lake Vernon. I made it a point to drink as little water as possible.

As we got to the top of the switchback portion of our morning, I started to look for possible camping sites for the other group. During the switchback climb, there weren’t any good sites. The ground was steep or it was covered with foliage. I finally found one spot that could have made a good spot but there wasn’t anything to indicate anyone had camped there.

At the top of switchbacks, the trail became less steep. It was a great relief to climb at a less rigorous incline. But we still had to climb up hill for another 2 miles or so.

We finally got to the place on the map where there was supposed to be the creek, the water spot to refill our bottles. It was almost completely dry with just the suggestion of mud to indicate water once flowed there.

After a slight uphill away from the creek, DM and I found a spot to drop our packs and rest for a bit. My water conservation had proved successful. I still had plenty of water for the rest of the hike. While we sat there, I looked back down the trail. I saw a light brown hump near the dry creek crossing. That couldn’t be a bear could it? I said something to that effect to DM but quickly corrected it to “That must be a backpacker” Or not. When the backpacker didn’t appear, I stood up for a better look. “It’s a bear!” I never got a good look at it. I just heard it crash through the bushes near us. DM got a better look and was startled. He had never seen a bear move that fast. My adrenaline spiked to a 100. I scanned the bushes around us for any sign of the bear but the bear was long gone. I hoped. My fatigue was gone. Time to quick step it up the trail.

It wasn’t much longer before we came around a bend in the trail and saw Lake Vernon sitting in a granite bowl below us. In the distance, beyond the blue lake, there were several granite domes poking up from the ridge. The dirt trail that  we had been following quickly became a granite slickrock trail. There is nothing like seeing your destination to help you pick up your pace.

I never did see any sign of the Younglings or Mrs. DM until DM and I got to the bridge over Falls Creek, the outlet river for Lake Vernon. There was one tiny bit of shade under a tree on the far side of the bridge. All the packs were grouped there while the Younglings found a cool spot next to the river underneath the bridge. Thankfully, the Younglings took the water filters and started filling up the water bottles. I immediately emptied one of my bottles and put the empty back in the pile to be refilled.

After a bit Mrs. DM returned from her hunt . She mentioned that we would have to walk a bit further to get to our site but it wasn’t as far as the ranger shack. She had talked to an Eastern European gentleman who had been out fishing who said he had spent two hours looking for a good campsite the previous day.

Reluctantly, DM and I shouldered our packs and followed Mrs. DM for some more walking. I left one of my bottles and my empty filter and water bladder with Younglings with the request that it be filled when they brought it to the camp. I knew at the time I should have grabbed my other bottle from them but I did not. I was on one side of the river and they were on the other and I didn’t feel like crossing over to get it.

The hike to our campsite seemed to take forever. It didn’t help that Mrs. DM couldn’t quite remember the location of the site. At one point, I thought Mrs. DM had taken us off on a wild goose chase through the brush. I really didn’t like having to squat to go under a fallen tree. Although I did learn later this was the actual trail. It was in terrible condition.

After several cries of “Found it” followed immediately by “That’s not it”, Mrs. DM led us to the campsite. My immediate concern was we had walked about twenty minutes from the creek. I could see the lake through the trees, but the shoreline appeared to be covered by reeds and brush. In order for us to get water, we would have to trek back to the river.

While I set up my tent, the Younglings showed up with their gears. The Cub was none too pleased to have to carry my extra Nalgene bottles and my water bladder. I apologized and thanked them profusely for grabbing my gear.

Our campsite was a bit warm and DM had a desire to stick his feet in the river. Since I had already killed another two liters of water, I opted to join him. Mrs. DM also wanted to join us for some water time  It would also give me an opportunity to use my ultralight towel that I had been carrying around for two backpacking treks without ever using it.

Because I’m me, I measured the distance back to the bridge. It was 3/4s of a mile. It was 1/2 a mile to the trail for tomorrow’s hike.

From the top of the ridge on the hike down, I spotted the is glorious blue pool in the river. It screamed to be swum in. From the bridge, I thought I could spot that same pool down the river, but the idea of more walking was killing my desire to see the pool up close.

DM and I sat in the shade below the bridge while Mrs. DM waded in the shallows right near the bridge. DM filled more empty water bottles while I went about draining them. While we were at the other campsite, two more hikers had arrived. They set up camp right next to the bridge near some trees. They also were purifying water and swimming in the creek. Falls Creek at this point, while small, was bigger and faster than any of the other creeks we had seen. Since it flowed in a gorge in a giant granite outcrop, it was easy to access.

The lure of the blue pool proved too much. I told DM and Mrs. DM of my plans. They said they would wait as they were in no hurry to get back to the camp. I grabbed my camera and headed down the river.

I never actually made it to the pool because when I got near I could tell it wasn’t the same pool. I still felt like going into the river to rinse off some of my accumulated sweat and dirt. I was going to have to that unpleasant thing of taking off my boots and then putting them on again once I exited the water. I figured it was worth it. I stopped at a spot where there was what appeared to be a nice deep pool. I pulled off my camera harness, shirt, shoes, and socks. I sat by the edge of the water and slowly inched my feet into the water. It was gloriously cool. Finally, I pushed myself into the water. The current immediately wanted to take me down stream.

I had a bit of trepidation because one of the other hikers had followed my down to my swimming spot. I was afraid to leave my camera untended on the bank. But figured there weren’t many places for him to go if he grabbed.

As I dunked under the water, I realized I had my glasses on. And my baseball cap. I realized I had my glasses on because they floated off my face and headed towards Wapama Falls. After I got the glasses on, I noticed I had my Apple Watch on, too. Yikes. The watch was supposed to be water proof but there was also a button to push to seal it. But there was too much water flowing around and the screen was too dark for me to find the right button. The watch was either going to be waterproof enough or not. Turns out, it was waterproof enough.

I went into the middle of the stream to check out the pool. It was deep. Deep enough for me to completely submerge and still not touch the bottom.  I couldn’t go any deeper because I had one hand on my hat. 

Getting out of the creek proved more of a problem than entering. There was just enough moss on the granite near the edge of the creek to prevent me from getting a firm grip necessary to pull myself out. I eventually went out butt first, much the way i went in.

While I dried myself off, the lurking backpacker came by, coming up the other side of the creek.  We exchanged greetings. Turns he lived in Santa Cruz not far from DM. I told him about the deep pool. He checked it out but didn’t venture in.

I finished putting my hiking boots back on, feeling a million times better and hiked back up the granite to the bridge. DM had waited for me but Mrs. DM had headed back. Since we were so close to the lake sure, I wanted to walk a little closer to see if there was an opening where I could take a nice photo. DM only wanted to head back to the camp, but he agreed to come with me as long as we didn’t go too far.

Not fifty feet from the bridge just over a slight rise of rock, there was a camp site. It was flat. There was dirt instead of granite and a couple of trees for shade. Son of a bitch. I walked on a little further. There was another camp site. Grrrrr. Guess what we found after walking even a little bit further? Yes, a third nice camp site. Nope. Not angry at all. I then spotted a lit bit of sand beach at the edge of the lake uncluttered by reeds. I just shook my head in disbelief at DM. I took my photos at the waters edge. DM shot some panos with his iPhone. It was a beautiful spot.

We then turned and walked our mile back to the waterless camp.

[Drunk Monk]

I still haven’t mentioned those sites near the bridge to Stacy. 

There was a hilarious moment with Alex. He was always edging towards the deep end and he found one of those deep holes in one of the pools. As Tara, Bri and I watched him cautiously lower himself in, a large fish darted out, circled him rapidly, and darted back in. It was just under a foot long and moved fast as a juvenile bear. Alex didn’t see it but we all did and reacted in shock because it moved so fast, we weren’t sure what it was until it vanished again. We didn’t scream but we all gasped. Alex, only seeing out reactions, struggled to escape the pool, not knowing what was happening. We all collapsed in laughter after as Alex tried to grasp what had happened. 

Those pools were heavenly. After a cleansing dip, there were plenty of warm sunny granite slabs to lizard lie upon and dry off. It was perfect.

And sitting under the bridge filtering water was one of my fav moments. Best water in the world.  

And I really enjoyed the sunset from our campsite. The view of the rock wall reflected in the lake was magical. Despite the pain-in-the-butt hike from the bridge, I’m not sure that those other sites would’ve provided such a spectacular view. That’s my post-Trek rationalization for it anyways.

[Greg]

Day 4 Laurel Lake Hike
4.74 Miles
630’ Up
616’ Down

I was up early. I was packed and ready to go before every one arose, so I spent a goodly portion of the morning watching every struggle to awake. I grabbed all the bear cans from their hiding space and put them near where everyone ate. I did however manage to lose the dime the Younglings used to unlock their bear can. Fortunately it was quickly found or they would have all quickly starved to death. My bear can didn’t a dime to open it. I just had to fight to unscrew it. In case you are unfamiliar, a bear can is where we store our food. The bear can is a hard plastic container that is supposed to impossible for the bear to open. Even so, the bear cans are hidden at night with anything smelly in them far from the campsite. That way if the bears do catch some scent from them, they will be attracted to the cans rather than the tents.

Since I had filled up my three liter water bladder the night before, I was able to top off all my water bottles in the morning. The Younglings however needed to go back to the river to filter and fill up before they could start the hike to Laurel Lake. Mrs. DM was in a similar boat.

So, for a change of pace, DM and I headed off up the trail first while the other four would have to catch up with us. I was pretty sure they would catch up to us in a few minutes. 

There was a teensy bit of uphill before the trail leveled off. I was in the lead so naturally I lost the path over the granite. Despite the fact there were plenty of trees with trail markers on them. DM got us back on the trail after a short while and off we went. We climbed over logs across the trail. We battled bugs. We navigated a fern forest. It was all together pleasant.

At one point, I got pretty far ahead of DM. I was all alone in the forest when I heard an odd noise. I stopped. I looked around. Up the hill about 70 yards away was a light brown bear cub checking out a log for grubs. I got a good look at him before I realized that DM might come loudly up the trail and spook him. I turned around and headed back down the trail until I caught sight of him. I put my hands to make him stop and finger to my lips to make him be quiet. I then held my hands to show the approximate size of the bear which was probably 40 or 50 pounds. Later DM told me he thought I had put my wide spread hands up next to my ears to indicate I had seen a moose.

I pointed in the direction of the bear until DM saw it. We stood side by side on the trail watching the bear forage for a couple of minutes. At one point, I swear the bear looked right at us to see what kind of creatures we were. He didn’t seem very concerned by our presence. The question in both of DM and I’s mind was, because it was a cub, where is the mother? Since we didn’t want an angry mama bear charging us, we moved on. We stopped for another watch party a little further down the road to get one last glimpse of the bear. My pictures of the bear did not come out. The bear looks like a brown blob in amongst the trees. It was the only time on the trip I wished I had my zoom lens.

Onward. More hiking. DM and I chatted since we weren’t completely out of breath. There were plenty of wildflowers to photograph. The most prevalent was the California Corn Lilly. At first we saw just a couple, but during this hike there were fields of them. DM also found this giant mushroom, about the size of a small dinner plate that looked just like a hamburger bun complete with sesame seeds.

DM and I finally reached an intersection called the BeeHive. Take the path to the left and you could head down to Hetch Hetchy Reservoir. Take the path to the right and you would head to Laurel Lake. We dropped our packs and waited for the rest of the party. During our wait DM decided now would be a good time for him to do a photo shoot of some staff handgrips for an article he was writing. What could I do but oblige? I was also the model for some lovely photos of me swatting away bugs. It is my Yosemite interpretive dance.

We didn’t have long to wait for the rest of the group. First question out of my mouth was if they had seen the bear. The look of disappointment on their faces on missing another bear sighting warmed my shriveled heart. DM and I had now seen two bears. The rest of the party had seen 0. They asked how far away the bear was which prompted us to do the bit of theater we had done the last time. Well, it was 70 yards away. No, more like 20 yards. You could almost touch the bear he was so close. HE WAS LICKING DM’S PACK!

DM and I were ready to proceed but the Younglings needed a bit more rest. Mrs DM decided she was ready to go on as well. Just up the trail from the fork at the Beehive was another fork. You head to the left, you go right to the Laurel Lake camp site. You take the fork to the left, you go all the way around the lake to the Laurel Lake Camp Site. Laurel Lake wasn’t all that big so going around the lake only added about another mile to the journey. Mrs. DM wanted to go around the lake. DM and I were rested so we said we would go with her.

Not more than a hundred yards up the trail, a giant tree had fallen blocking the path. Mrs. DM tried to find a way around the trail but couldn’t. I don’t she felt like scrambling over the tree either. Plans to walk around the tree were scrapped in favor of heading directly to the Laurel Lake campsite. I was secretly relieved.

The entire trip Mrs. DM was super human. She might start the day slow but she just seemed to gather strength all day long. Sure, the male Youngling might have been ahead of her, but she was at least three decades on him. But she did have one weakness. She hated crossing it. When we got to frog creek, she made her displeasure. Not that the creek was particularly wide or fast flowing, you just had to step on uneven rocks to cross it. And I didn’t blame her one bit. I have always hated rock hopping across creeks. I think I’ve been unsuccessful more than I’ve been successful. It was just nice for my fragile male ego to see a sliver of weakness in Mrs. DM who left me in the dust all week. I know it’s not a competition. Please see the bit about fragile male ego.

Naturally, Frog Creek was in the bottom of a ravine, something about erosion, and there was a bit of a climb after it. But before you knew it, we were at Laurel Lake. The campsite was perfect. The outlet creek was twenty yards to the right and the Laurel Lake was a short walk down the trail. It even had a beach with a giant log to sit on. The most comfortable log I sat on all week.

The sun fought us and we tried to find shade for our tents. I thought I had the perfect shady spot only to find the tent in direct sunlight twenty minutes after I set it up. But the log by the Lake perched in the shade for most of the day. Most of the party ventured into the water. Laurel Lake was quite shallow for a good thirty feet off our small beach. I went in with the camera to photograph some bright blue dragonflies resting on some tall stalks of grass sticking out of the water.

We did the usual things. We filtered and filled up water bottles. We rinsed off our sweaty clothes, leaving them to dry on a rock in the center of camp. I think we only saw one other group pass through the camp. We could see people on the other side of Laurel Lake but other than them, we were all alone.

Mrs DM and I had quite the chat while sitting on the log watching the female Youngling head far into the lake. The cub was torn between going in as well but hating the water. I tried peer pressure on the cub but was informed by Mrs. DM that is not an effective strategy with the cub. 

The fundamental backpacking difference between Mrs. DM and I came up. She mentioned she had some backpackers with gear that made it look they were ready for the assault on Everest. I asked if that looked like my backpack which is really new. She mourned the loss of the days when you could just throw some stuff in your pack and head off dressed in nothing but a bikini wearing flipflops. I’m sure I looked horrified at the thought off going off into the wilderness so unprepared. Mrs. DM also brought up the fact she had a bear encounter many years ago when she was out in nothing but a bikini. She was rescued by a group of Boy Scouts who she bumped into during her flight from the bear. Our talk was quite informative. She even mentioned an old girlfriend who I figured had dismissed me from her thoughts but decades ago.

Later on after the dinner, the ground decided it would give us a good shake. DM heard it first. I thought It was something giant flying overhead before I realized the source of the noise. The shaking was another clue. All around us, I could hear pine cones crashing into the ground. The shaking did go on for what seemed a long time. The Younglings were a bit freaked out by the shaking. None of them had been in tremor of this magnitude before.

The problem we immediately faced was not knowing anything more about the quake. If we had been at home, i would have raced to my computer to get the news from Caltech. DM immediately jumped to the worst conclusion and wondered if the dam was gone. And if the dam was gone how did we get home? My thoughts were is this a big quake here in the park or are we just feeling the edge of what could have been a massive quake elsewhere? Fortunately, as we found out later, it was just a biggish quake, 6.0 near the Nevada border. 

To escape the insect invasion, everyone headed into their tents. I was fortunate to have a whole colony of flying marauders between the top of my tent and the rain cover. Yes, I mocked the little buggers for not be able to come in and get me. I’d donated enough blood already to their cause on this trip including two nasty ones in my butt crack. I don’t know how they got there. But they were nothing compared to bites the female youngling acquired. Her bites looked giant peas attached to her skin.

I got my kindle out and started to read my book. My Kindle was yet another reason my pack was heavy. I thought I hear something outside my tent and turned to look through the one open flap. Ten feet outside my tent stood a ten point buck investigating the camp. I would have grabbed my camera to take some marvelous pictures of the deer, but my cameras were in my backpack outside the tent. I didn’t want to leave the tent to get the camera because I figured I would scare the deer away. I resigned myself to just watching. DM and everyone else in their tents had a much better show because none of them had their raincovers on their tents. The deer wanted around the camp for a good long while. DM said later if i had the flap open on the other side of the tent, I would have gotten an even closer look at the deer.  At one point, the deer approached the Younglings tent. He stopped feet away and looked in at the cub who stared back. DM got a great photo of this memorable event.

After it got dark, I think the deer came back. Or maybe some other creature. Maybe bear. As I was going to sleep, I heard something outside the tent scratching at my backpack. I didn’t know what to do. I hoped it would go away but the scratching persisted. I had to see what was going on out there. I only have this little solar powered lamp as a light source. The button to turn the lamp on are impossible to find. I used the illumination to find the switch. I popped out of the tent, fearing the worst and shined the light towards my pack. There was nothing there. I went back into the tent, probably bringing a few insects in with me.
As I lay there worried about my visitor, I heard the scratching again. I repeated the previous steps of finding the switch on the lamp and popping outside of the tent. Again, I found nothing. I’m sure the other members of the troop thought I was losing my mind. I did this dance two or three times. The only thing I could think that might be attracting anything to my pack were some Backpacker Toilet Paper™ leaves in one of my side pouches. On my final time out of the tent, I took the leaves out of the pouch and through as far from the tent as I could. I also moved my pack to join the other packs in the center of camp.

That solved the problem. I didn’t hear any more scratching. I eventually fell asleep. That was enough excitement for one day.

[Drunk Monk]

Yes, that just about covers it. 

I've heard that bears can break bear cans if they can drop them on rocks. They just can't open them the conventional way because their claws are too clumsy to handle a dime. It's a far cry better than tying them up in trees. That never worked. 

The bear cub was cool. So cute. And it definitely checked us out for a moment. 

The mushroom was cool too. I wish we had put something next to it for scale. It was the biggest one I've ever seen. Should've taken a selfie with it. It was beautiful.

Watching the lake and the dragonflies from that sitting log was wonderful. That site was perfect. There was also a nice rock for me to lay across that reminded me of our backbending whale at home. It was such a relief to lie over it. The shape fit my back well. 

The quake was intense. That sound. There's nothing like the sound of a quake. I think the granite and the lake amplified that somehow. As a devout base worshipper, that sound was divine and terrifying. And among those falling pine cones, I also thought I heard some granite crashes in the distance. It was so surreal. 

The stag was magical, like a mythic mystic beast coming to commune with the younglings. They stared at each other from about a yard away for almost five minutes. It was so intense - like the communion of sacra. Such a beautiful creature, so majestic, so powerful. 

As twilight fell, there were also some bats. We could hear the younglings chatting, clearly still buzzing from the extraordinary evening. Yosemite truly revealed herself to us all that evening in so many unexpected ways. I called their attention to the bats. Alex replied "Enough excitement for the night!" which sent everyone into peals of laughter. I still giggle a bit when I recall that moment. 

This was a truly special night.