Those temple destroyers, devotees of ravaging commercialism, seem to have a perfect contempt for Nature, and, instead of lifting their eyes to the God of the Mountains, lift them to the almighty dollar. JM
2 August 2010
Mary was right when she said this would be the hardest part of the hike. I had no drive, no ambition to get this trail section started. Instead of getting up at sunrise, I didn't start the hike until almost 8am.
I can see why many hikers skip this section of the JMT and start at Tuolumne Meadows like Darlene planned it. Large swaths of this section are heavily burned, there are few vistas, and the park's horses have badly eroded the trail in parts. The first few miles to Cathedral Lakes was also polluted with a lot of horse shit and expanded muddy sections.
And then all the people...was the entire stretch here going to be consumed by people, horse shit and burned trees?
Luckily, no. In the end there were a few sections of this northern part that were fine. Somehow the one thing that added to the lackluster emotions of this stretch is feeling I was being observed all the time. By what, I am not sure, but human presence is everywhere. Southbounders were coming toward me, asking me repeatedly how long it was to the campsite. How was I to know for sure? Four, five miles? Hadn't they looked at their own maps? Today was one of those days where human interaction was not on my list. I just wanted to get off the trail and call it done.
Perhaps the one redeeming section along the trail was the open valley exposing Half Dome. Sure, looking at Cathedral Peaks was nice, and the meadows of wildflowers as well, but the presence and damage of horses ruined any joy I could have had here. Are horses really necessary in the park? Why do rangers blame trail erosion on hikers and backpackers but don't take extra precaution with their own livestock?
Another miserable experience that I knew I was going to have, was the ever-increasing presence of people the closer I got to Half Dome. No one seemed like someone I wanted to stop and chat with; people I passed I politely greeted but then walked on.
I had climbed Half Dome in September 2000 and had no desire to do it again. Within a mile from the intersection to that exposed rock were campsites, some trail trash and human noises. One couple warned me of a bear "up the trail" which I never did see. Another couple, a rather rude lesbian couple, yelled at me "Hey hiker, which way from here!" to which I just wanted to yell back "Follow the damn trail!" but I didn't. I knew it was best to bite my tongue, put up with the hoards, and keep peace. The more people I was around, the faster I wanted to get off this trail.
By the time the Half Dome trail intersected with the JMT I shut my mind down. Every person around me just annoyed me and I avoided contact with them at any cost. They were a part of this trail and had a right to enjoy it as much as I, but I didn't stop with anyone to chat. I was like a person who had spent weeks in solitude who was now "released" back to civilization...and not enjoying it.
Nothing about this part of the trail looked familiar to me from ten years ago. Had the creek gotten so overgrown in the last ten years that I failed to recognize it? The only thing I remember was how long this trail was, how congested it was and that the first few miles were paved.
The trail was still very long, perhaps longer than I remember it to be, but most of the upper paved trail had eroded and fallen in disarray now. This is how Mother Nature had intended it to be; she didn't want the National Park Services turning it into an asphalt playground charging admission, so she cracked up the pavement and pushed it into the creek. Even John Muir, I'm sure of it, would be appalled to see Yosemite today.
Younger hikers kept cutting from the trail. Here is where a ranger was needed, but most likely the rangers were in campsites ticketing people for whoknowswhat. Dust rose with every step and I could feel dust seep into my pores. Even when the JMT came up to the Mist Trail it seemed that what was more evident was the presence of humans rather than the presence of nature. I was tired, hungry and miserable.
The last hour of the JMT was spent in shadowed sunset. I finished the trail with enough light to see, and the presence of many people at least provided a safety zone, but I was happy to get to Happy Isles by 8:30pm and take a rest. The name alone of this place evokes joy, but I didn't feel any joy. I was just relieved it was all over, however anticlimactically. Had I known I could have done the 23-miles in one day, I never would have wasted time at the permit office and putting up with Ranger C.
I now had to start finding a place for the night. I had no idea where I was going. My map didn't seem to have good directions to the backpacker's camp and all I could do now was take what time I had left to explore the shuttle bus route.
At least the shuttle bus is a nice amenity for the tourists stuck in the Valley. It stops 18 times at all the sites, from nature center to shops and snack shops, stables, campsites, cabins and day parking lots. At least the NPS did this part well. Within an hour all the sites are reached through this free shuttle.
Despite the dark hours, the shuttle bus was crowded and so was everything else I stopped in at. I bought cheese and tortillas at the store, meandered around the kitchy tourist stuff but didn't buy anything. (My best souvenirs from this trip are my photographs). My god, I realized you could spend an entire vacation in Yosemite Valley and never experience true wilderness! Everything that a lazy tourist would need is within a shuttle bus stop.
I rode around on the shuttle bus at least twice before I gained a perspective of where I was in the valley. The backpacker's camp, it turned out, was easiest from behind the stables and through another camp site. I had to stop and ask a ranger, who was visibly tormented by two women who were complaining to him about how their reservations were inadvertently cancelled and they had no place for the night. I didn't want to stay long enough to witness how this incident was resolved; that is why rangers are in the park.
The ranger took a minute from his torment to nicely describe the route I had to take to the backpacker's camp. "Just follow this road and stay to the right. You'll see a sign for it. Cross the bridge and take any spot you can. Although signs say 'only four tents per site' we really don't enforce that!" and with that I was gone. His descriptions were right on. To help matters out, I met Adam again, the Maryland student from Reds Meadow and Mount Whitney. I followed him across the dark foot bridge and into the camp where I was able to choose from several more isolated sites.
Once I set up my tent, though, I realized something: somewhere, somehow, I had lost my trekking pole. After serving me faithfully for three weeks, I carelessly had placed it somewhere and forgot it between the Happy Isle shuttle stop to here. I would have to find it in the morning.
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