Falling For Yosemite

Yosemite National Park is one of America’s great treasures. Nevertheless, it took almost a year for us to witness this gem on our own. Read on, and you will see what I mean.

Last summer, in the middle of the COVID pandemic, Helen and I had made campground reservations at Yosemite Pines RV Park and eagerly looked forward to being there. But, unfortunately, mother Nature had other plans. About two weeks before our scheduled arrival date, we received an email informing us that the campground operator had canceled our reservations due to the wildfires raging in the park. So we said prayers for the folks living nearby and scrambled for a reservation somewhere–anywhere.

This year, we again booked Yosemite Pines for a second attempt at entering the park. Several friends and fellow bloggers alerted us that we needed entry passes for Yosemite. Helen and I both did some research, and we each swear to this day the information we found said we needed to make reservations on the morning of our arrival. Not so.

As she usually does when we arrive at a new campground, Helen talks to everyone around to learn what we should see and do. She also spoke with the campground manager, who informed her that reservations opened on our arrival date and were filling up fast. We panicked and, sure enough, discovered that the next available passes were for the day of our scheduled departure from Yosemite.

Not easily discouraged, we drove to the Big Oak Flat entry gate the following day, hoping to persuade some sympathetic park official to allow us entry. At the check-in point, a young park ranger asked if we had a pass. We told her that we missed the application deadline, but surely, she could help us out. She shook her head. I assumed that meant “no.”

Helen then went into her best begging mode. She rattled off the following:

1. “The fires stopped us last year – please let us in!”
2. “We drove all the way from Tennessee – please let us in!”
3. “We’re retired military, AARP members, NP Senior Pass holders – you HAVE to let us in!”

The young ranger stared straight at us with steely, cold eyes and held her ground. “Uh-uh,” came the reply. I can’t fault her, she didn’t create the policy, she was merely doing her job. By this time, I was ready to return to the campground, hitch up Dora, and move on. Instead, Helen asked if she would allow us to drive 100 yards to the Visitor Center. Ranger Rhonda relented. 

We made the same pleas at the Visitor Center to anyone who would listen, but with no luck. We did learn that we could book passage into the park on a shuttle bus that would take us into Yosemite Valley, but we should hurry because the shuttle was filling up fast. The only day available was on Monday, our last full day. We purchased tickets online.

The Rangers in the Visitor Center suggested that we also visit the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, an area within the park that did not require an entry pass. So we thanked them and drove through some very scenic countryside to the parking area at the Hetch Hetchy Dam. Once there, we hiked to the overlooks on each side of the dam. A lovely waterfall across the reservoir was discharging the melting snowpack from the mountains above. Water used to generate power spewed from a large aqueduct below the dam. We enjoyed the chance to stretch our legs and felt a little better after our rejection at the gate to Yosemite.

Our next day, a Sunday, offered a few options to keep us entertained while we waited for Monday and our bus trip. First, we spent some time people-watching in the campground. A couple in the campsite behind us had two massive Great Danes that somehow fit into their small-ish travel trailer. Next, Helen put the last piece into the puzzle she had worked on since we left home. I read my book. Finally, we spent a few hours watching Phil Mickelson win the PGA Championship. 

Before all of the above, we drove into Groveland, CA, about three miles from the campground. Groveland, a one-stoplight town, is charming in an old west kind of way. The town boasts of having the oldest saloon in the State of California. A Bingo Hall appeared to be the only other form of entertainment available. We spent about thirty minutes walking both sides off the street, then went to buy gas. I couldn’t take much more of the excitement.

On Monday, we drove to the bus stop at Big Oak Flat and boarded the bus for the 24-mile trip to the Village in Yosemite Valley. From there, we spent the next three hours hiking to Yosemite Falls and along the walkways through the low meadow near the village. Yosemite is beautiful, and I enjoyed taking pictures of both the Lower and Upper Yosemite Falls and everything else in front of us.

To add a bit of irony to our visit after last summer’s flame-out, the park staff had initiated a controlled burn throughout the Valley. As a result, heavy smoke wafted through the Valley at times and obliterated our views until the wind shifted. I waited patiently for the smoke to clear to capture some images of at least a few points of interest. At times, the smoke added a touch of drama to the pictures. 

To amuse me and to bring out my best Ansel Adams impersonation, I took a few pictures in Sepia. I have shared them here. 

Although we waited longer than we wanted to get into Yosemite, we agree that our patience paid off. Yosemite is beautiful and rightfully holds a position as one of America’s oldest and most-visited National Parks. We were smitten as soon as we got off the bus. I hope that the word gets out about the reservation policy so that others can visit without the problems we faced.  

When we inquired into the reason for the reservation policy, COVID received the blame. My personal opinion is that the change had everything to do with crowd control and little to do with COVID. I suspect that our most popular parks will implement similar reservation systems soon. Glacier and Acadia National Parks have done so already. 

Helen and I encourage everyone to get out and enjoy the National and State Parks after a year like we just went through. The fresh air and exercise will cure almost anything that ails you. In most places, you can leave that mask in your pocket…what a blessing! 

We’re Easin’ Along.