Jim and Sue L.
Junior Ranger
Ought to be ashamed of myself for not keeping up with our adventures. I looked at my journal today and realized the last trek I wrote about was in 2012! I could make excuses about watching the grand babies, life interfering with living, yadda, yadda...but you don't want to hear that.
You want a story.
So journey with me now, back to December 31, 2012 on a dark and stormy night....
Actually it was early morning and we were pretty much into the drought, so storms were nowhere in sight. Because of said drought, the roads were clear of snow in the Sierras and I dared Jim to greet the New Year in Yosemite (temperatures forecasts were from 15 to 35 degrees - a snip). A quick call ahead - yes, there was one campground open - and off we went. We took the easy ride along Hwy140 and the Merced River (Priest Grade is a nightmare in good weather) and were at the entrance by 9:45 AM.
We chatted with the rangers about snow camping, the thin layer of snow in the valley, crazy tourists and our tiny trailer (of course), then down into the valley past the glistening, ice coated Bridalveil Falls, all the way past Camp Curry (of Hunta Virus fame) and into Northern Pines Campground. This part of the valley is almost always in shadow during the winter, so the snow was several feet thick rather than the foot or two in the rest of the valley.
We found our site, dropped the trailer and headed out for adventure. Leaving the campground, we waved at the three other groups of winter nutcases: a small cluster of Scouts trying to construct an igloo (ice cave?) and daring each other to sleep in it, a young couple with their tent in the bed of a truck and four dedicated, experience ice climbers with their mummy bags on an insulation blanket and covered with a tarp.
Yosemite Valley is usually a tourist nightmare what with all the buses, tour coaches, cars, bikes and foot traffic, but we were hoping the winter would have lessened some of the noise and congestion. It did...sort of. The tour buses were still there disgorging their loads of clients dressed in shorts and light windbreakers (guess no one told them it was winter) to do the usual getoutofmywayIwantthispictureheywhere'sthepizza nonsense, but there were fewer of them and they all left by 4PM. Cool. The valley belonged to us.
So did the ice.
The fun thing about ice in the valley is that, in the exposed areas, it gets to harden, melt, then harden again into a sheet as clear as glass - and just as slick. This is where I discovered the great secret of my husband: Jim doesn't do ice. Poor baby slipped and skidded so often I thought for sure we wouldn't escape the valley before he broke a hip. As I pulled him up from another wild wobble, I noticed a ranger clomping securely along the walk. A quick hello lead us to where we could purchase ice cleats and in a few minutes we were sure-footed and off again.
You say we should have known about ice cleats? Hey, city folks here and Californians to boot. Only time we hear the term ice cleat is when PBS televises some story about Mt. Everest. Where was I...?
I had longed to see Yosemite in the winter and even though we were in a drought, she didn't disappoint. The thin layer of snow made everything look as if it were coated in whipped icing. Ice crystals covered the snow and every exposed surface and sunlight bounced and ricocheted off those crystals transforming the entire valley into a magical, bejeweled wonderland.
And the silence! With the snow's muffling properties and the smaller crowds, Yosemite was quiet! We could hear the crunch of ice under our feet, the hiss of our breath, the sudden thump of a clump of snow falling from a branch or the occasional call of the ice climbers on Half Dome and above it all, the sudden, sharp rifle shot of ice breaking from Yosemite Falls. We stood on the edge of the meadow and drank it all in with huge gulps like someone dying of thirst taking his first swallow of cool water.
As the sun set, the cold took command. Our breath came out like steam. Rather than poor little me trying to cook with frozen fingers, we decided to try out the one restaurant opened on New Years Eve - a pizzeria. We warmed up on a combo and beer, then back to camp for a roaring fire and hot cocoa.
The fire roared, the cocoa was hot and steamed like witches' brew...and the mercury dropped lower and lower. We huddled closer (nice) and stared at the winter sky so clear and bright that night. The flames reflected off the icy surfaces all around and we watched the light refract, sending tiny prism lights all about. We were in the middle of a giant chandelier and loving it....
We were also freezing our ba-hoozits off! It had dropped to 13 degrees, so into the trailer and under the covers. Our breath still smoked (no heater then...we've remedied that), but we eventually warmed up and, before dozing off, vowed to invest in a 12 volt electric blanket - if we survived the night.
Morning found us warm and comfy. We laughed as the doors cracked with ice when we opened them. This freezing morning demanded a huge breakfast of eggs, bacon and lots of coffee coming hot and hot. A quick look at our neighbors (the ice climbers were still on Half Dome and the Scouts had given up and slept in the trucks) and we were off on a photo shoot.
Jim took the wide-angle photos while I concentrated on individual ice-encrusted twigs and leaves. Jim says I'm drawn things more my size, but we'll let that pass... We had a great deal of fun and met some interesting people who were staying at the lodge. We talked about the valley, snow, winter camping and (naturally) tear drop trailers.
By afternoon we had all the photos we wanted and the chill was starting to set in again. We packed up our photo gear and chatted:
Jim: Nice here without the crowds, isn't it.
Me: Yes it is.
Jim: Like camping in the snow?
Me: Yeah.
Jim: Want to go home and sleep in a warm bed?
Me: Hell yeah!
And so your intrepid campers chickened out and shot home as fast as our Popsicle truck could take us. Took us three days to thaw out.
City folks we are.
Camp on,
Sue and Nanook-Jim of the North
You want a story.
So journey with me now, back to December 31, 2012 on a dark and stormy night....
Actually it was early morning and we were pretty much into the drought, so storms were nowhere in sight. Because of said drought, the roads were clear of snow in the Sierras and I dared Jim to greet the New Year in Yosemite (temperatures forecasts were from 15 to 35 degrees - a snip). A quick call ahead - yes, there was one campground open - and off we went. We took the easy ride along Hwy140 and the Merced River (Priest Grade is a nightmare in good weather) and were at the entrance by 9:45 AM.
We chatted with the rangers about snow camping, the thin layer of snow in the valley, crazy tourists and our tiny trailer (of course), then down into the valley past the glistening, ice coated Bridalveil Falls, all the way past Camp Curry (of Hunta Virus fame) and into Northern Pines Campground. This part of the valley is almost always in shadow during the winter, so the snow was several feet thick rather than the foot or two in the rest of the valley.
We found our site, dropped the trailer and headed out for adventure. Leaving the campground, we waved at the three other groups of winter nutcases: a small cluster of Scouts trying to construct an igloo (ice cave?) and daring each other to sleep in it, a young couple with their tent in the bed of a truck and four dedicated, experience ice climbers with their mummy bags on an insulation blanket and covered with a tarp.
Yosemite Valley is usually a tourist nightmare what with all the buses, tour coaches, cars, bikes and foot traffic, but we were hoping the winter would have lessened some of the noise and congestion. It did...sort of. The tour buses were still there disgorging their loads of clients dressed in shorts and light windbreakers (guess no one told them it was winter) to do the usual getoutofmywayIwantthispictureheywhere'sthepizza nonsense, but there were fewer of them and they all left by 4PM. Cool. The valley belonged to us.
So did the ice.
The fun thing about ice in the valley is that, in the exposed areas, it gets to harden, melt, then harden again into a sheet as clear as glass - and just as slick. This is where I discovered the great secret of my husband: Jim doesn't do ice. Poor baby slipped and skidded so often I thought for sure we wouldn't escape the valley before he broke a hip. As I pulled him up from another wild wobble, I noticed a ranger clomping securely along the walk. A quick hello lead us to where we could purchase ice cleats and in a few minutes we were sure-footed and off again.
You say we should have known about ice cleats? Hey, city folks here and Californians to boot. Only time we hear the term ice cleat is when PBS televises some story about Mt. Everest. Where was I...?
I had longed to see Yosemite in the winter and even though we were in a drought, she didn't disappoint. The thin layer of snow made everything look as if it were coated in whipped icing. Ice crystals covered the snow and every exposed surface and sunlight bounced and ricocheted off those crystals transforming the entire valley into a magical, bejeweled wonderland.
And the silence! With the snow's muffling properties and the smaller crowds, Yosemite was quiet! We could hear the crunch of ice under our feet, the hiss of our breath, the sudden thump of a clump of snow falling from a branch or the occasional call of the ice climbers on Half Dome and above it all, the sudden, sharp rifle shot of ice breaking from Yosemite Falls. We stood on the edge of the meadow and drank it all in with huge gulps like someone dying of thirst taking his first swallow of cool water.
As the sun set, the cold took command. Our breath came out like steam. Rather than poor little me trying to cook with frozen fingers, we decided to try out the one restaurant opened on New Years Eve - a pizzeria. We warmed up on a combo and beer, then back to camp for a roaring fire and hot cocoa.
The fire roared, the cocoa was hot and steamed like witches' brew...and the mercury dropped lower and lower. We huddled closer (nice) and stared at the winter sky so clear and bright that night. The flames reflected off the icy surfaces all around and we watched the light refract, sending tiny prism lights all about. We were in the middle of a giant chandelier and loving it....
We were also freezing our ba-hoozits off! It had dropped to 13 degrees, so into the trailer and under the covers. Our breath still smoked (no heater then...we've remedied that), but we eventually warmed up and, before dozing off, vowed to invest in a 12 volt electric blanket - if we survived the night.
Morning found us warm and comfy. We laughed as the doors cracked with ice when we opened them. This freezing morning demanded a huge breakfast of eggs, bacon and lots of coffee coming hot and hot. A quick look at our neighbors (the ice climbers were still on Half Dome and the Scouts had given up and slept in the trucks) and we were off on a photo shoot.
Jim took the wide-angle photos while I concentrated on individual ice-encrusted twigs and leaves. Jim says I'm drawn things more my size, but we'll let that pass... We had a great deal of fun and met some interesting people who were staying at the lodge. We talked about the valley, snow, winter camping and (naturally) tear drop trailers.
By afternoon we had all the photos we wanted and the chill was starting to set in again. We packed up our photo gear and chatted:
Jim: Nice here without the crowds, isn't it.
Me: Yes it is.
Jim: Like camping in the snow?
Me: Yeah.
Jim: Want to go home and sleep in a warm bed?
Me: Hell yeah!
And so your intrepid campers chickened out and shot home as fast as our Popsicle truck could take us. Took us three days to thaw out.
City folks we are.
Camp on,
Sue and Nanook-Jim of the North