8/17/15 - A Day in the Meadow

Even though I have been to Yosemite many times, yesterday was a day of new experiences, deep emotions and great joy. I was reminded that no matter how many times I visit this magical place there is always something new to see, a vista seen from a fresh perspective, different lighting or a new vantage point. It helps me to understand how John Muir, Ansel Adams and countless other less famous people could spend decades in this comparatively small piece of the world and feel continually inspired and refreshed.

Anne and Dan love this place as much as I do, making the pilgrimage many times, including their honeymoon and countless trips over the years as their girls grew up. So this was a day of returning to favorite places for them and they took great pleasure in sharing old friends with me.

After a great breakfast enjoyed on the huge deck overlooking the trees surrounding the house we headed out at about 9:30 for Tuolumne Meadows. I had never seen the Giant Sequoias at Crane Flat so we found a spot in the crowded, albeit small, parking area and headed off down the old dirt road, the remnants of the Big Oak Flat Road originally built from Stockton into the Sierras during the Gold Rush to carry the miners and all the supplies that they demanded. Later in the 1870's it was extended into Yosemite to carry the growing number of people being drawn to the valley as tourists. It was a beautiful warm day with the sunshine filtering through the trees as we descended deeper and deeper down into the woods towards the small grove of Giant Sequoias located about two miles from the main road. And then there they were, only about twenty-five in number, but standing tall and majestic, one of the few locations in the world where these giants can be viewed. As I stood looking up I was struck by the sweep of history, the age and size of these trees and I could not help but think of the time when stagecoaches and wagons had lumbered down this same road with people in much more formal attire gazing up at these same trees, probably feeling many of the same emotions. The tug of history was strong.

Returning to the car we continued down the road towards Tuolumne Meadows, pulling off at a few places, including White Wolf Campground, site of many happy camping trips in the past for Anne, Dan and the girls. We stopped at Olmstead Lookout to gaze at the back of Half Dome and the summit of Cloud's Rest, a place I have yet to visit, so I made a mental note to add it to the list. And then we climbed a small rise swung to the left and there was Tenaya Lake in the distance, my starting point and entry to the JMT some five miles distant down the trail. We stopped the car, and I stood by the side of the road looking down into the canyon where my adventure will begin. I know that I have done everything possible to be ready for whatever awaits me, I am anxious to begin. Descending to the lake we drove by the "Sunrise TH" sign and the tiny parking area to which we will return on Tuesday morning for my departure. I could not help but think as it sped by my view through the car window that it was a very ordinary looking place for the beginning of such a grand adventure. There is a lesson there that I shall ponder.

We arrived at Tuolumne Meadows and it was strangely empty for a summer Sunday, but the campground was being cleared out for the coming week so they can kill the fleas that carry the plague, plus no cars are being allowed into the park over Tioga Pass to the east due to a fire, the smoke faintly distant to the northeast as we gaze over the expanse of this quietly spectacular place.

After a brief snack purchased at the small grill by the side of the road and consumed under the shade of tree on an old wooden picnic table we set out for a hike across the meadow to Parson's Lodge. A simple hike of a couple of miles turned into an emotional experience that will live with me for a long time, for I had never experienced Tuolumne Meadows as I did on this beautiful late afternoon. As we walked across the open meadow, Lembert Dome rising up in the distance on our right, I thought of John Muir who spent his first year in Yosemite working as a sheepherder in this very meadow. We continued over a hundred year old bridge and climbed a slight hill to Parson's Memorial Lodge, a small stone building with rough hewn beams built by the Sierra Club in 1915 and little changed since then. Again, history pulled as I was reminded that Ansel Adams visited this building in the summer of 1920 as the custodian and made emergency repairs to the structure. This simple structure was designed to survive the harsh elements and it has succeeded grandly, still looking stately in a rustic way nestled among the trees above Tuolumne Meadows. May it be here for another hundred years.

By now, lost in thought, I was lagging behind Anne and Dan as they descended further into the meadow back towards the river. Glancing up to my right I saw an old cabin at the end of a rough trail and read the sign which told the story of the McCauley Cabin, built by a pair of brothers in 1897 when they bought the land for use as pastureland. Later purchased by the Sierra Club in 1912 to ensure the meadow remained pristine it served as the headquarters of a campground until it was sold to the National Park Service in 1973. A photograph depicted a young girl and her family standing in front of the cabin, her father the caretaker of the cabin and campground in the late 1950's and I was reminded of an older woman I had chatted with at the Tuolumne a couple of years ago and wondered if it might be her, for she told me she had grown up and lived most of her life in Yosemite. Again, the reminder of time and people who have visited this place. I could not help but think that once again those folks over a hundred years distant would probably be surprised and amazed to think that their humble structure still survived, largely unchanged.

Walking down the path I was greeted by a sign that told the story of John Muir and publisher John Underwood sharing a campfire at this location in 1889 where they ways to protect this special place. Underwood later published two articles by John Muir in his Century magazine, and one short year later Yosemite National Park was born.

I gazed up from the sign, sat down on a rock and looked across the expanse of Tuolumne Meadows and was suddenly and unexpectedly completely overcome with everything I had experienced in the last hour. The beauty, the history, the skill and foresight of those who had preceded me to this spot, coupled with the realization that in some small way I was part of a long chain of people who felt a kinship with this land and some higher power. And I quietly cried tears of joy and gratitude as I sat alone on a small rock overlooking the quiet and peaceful meadow. Surprised at my emotion, I at first felt slightly embarrassed, but then I let go and realized that it was completely appropriate. May I never forget what I felt at that moment, the freedom to feel, completely and openly, the power of a special place. Tuolumne Meadows will forever be one of those special places for me.