As Marshall snoozes in the tent after our late night chatting with Jerry and Julia, our hosts in Oakhurst, I've decided to take the opportunity to throw a few words down on the blog. We've just finished a four and a half day trek through Yosemite National Park, and in a few hours we will begin the extended journey through it on bicycles, up and over the highest summit that we will encounter on the road north to Canada, the infamous Tioga Pass at 9 945 ft. Although Yosemite is actually quite small if you were to traverse it in one straight line from Oakhurst to Tioga Pass (maybe 50 miles), the road that passes from Southwest to Northeast is incredibly circuitous, meandering lackadaisically from one end to the other. We could probably do it in one day if it was just simply one big hill...but the problem is that it is literally 3 summits we have to go over, and after each one we loose a significant amount of the elevation that we worked so hard to achieve (free miles, right?). For this reason we are allotting ourselves 3 days to get up and over, with ample time for photo taking and more exploring, because the park is indeed that nice. After trekking through it, we contemplated hitchhiking with our bicycles to the other side, because we've got plenty more places we want to explore, and we'd already done Yosemite a smidgen of justice on foot. Combined with the fact that the road designers absolutely failed to make the park safe for cyclists - the shoulders are literally 1 ft wide, and the park is crawling with tourist cars who are more interested in the dramatic granite landscape than watching the blind shoulders that make up 75% of the road - made it pretty tempting to hitch-bike through. But, in addition to the slight feeling of shame that would come with bypassing the highest pass on our route, it took all of 3 minutes while we were hitch hiking out of the park and looking at the incredible vista's surrounding us on the road to know that we just had to bike it. How could we not?So once again, we are falling behind schedule...but then I question where even this fabricated schedule came from? We don't necessarily have to finish the route on this trip, provided we don't spend all of our time in Starbucks (as has been the story in Oakhurst) and instead are exploring to our utmost abilities, whether on bicycles or off. It would be nice if we could make it to Canada, but if it means sacrificing parts of the trip that we really want to do, then I say screw it. Before I get too side tracked, I'd like to backtrack to where I last left off in Pinehurst, the town we stayed in outside of Sequoia NP. The next morning we packed up our tent and coasted downhill for about 10 miles via a beautiful stretch of back country roads. The scenery was divine and the delicious smell of various blooming flowers wafted through the warm air as we cruised along, with the sun rising higher in the sky. It is these moments when you feel on top of the world while riding a bike. A car may be able to get you to places more quickly, an advantage by many standards, but it rarely allows you to experience the smell of flowers as you drive by. Cruising downhill in the morning. Needless to say it was a great start to what would turn out to be an incredibly difficult day. The roads we followed that day were fabulous to cycle along, but we misgauged just how much climbing we would do when we (not just me, but Marshall as well) looked at the elevation profiles in the morning before we left. To make matters worse, as is the story in much of California, the convenience store that we had relied on for food was closed down, thus complicating our ability to eat something other than peanut butter and carrots. Normally, we'd have turned to our handy stash of Mac n Cheese that we keep for scenarios such as this, but there was also no water to be found (other than a small stream meandering tediously slowly through a vast expanse of cow pasture), so we were pretty much hooped for the day. This lead to an inevitable mental breakdown on my part, as I expressed to Marshall that I was not OK with how our diets had deteriorated since we started the tour. On these back country roads through the mountains, we essentially live mostly out of convenience stores, and I felt as if our 25$/day budget wasn't cutting it for getting semi-descent food from these podunk places, which charge up the wazoo for anything semi-healthy. The breakdown was potentially due more so to the fact that we'd been strenuously exercising all day, and hadn't eaten much other than fritos (because granola bars were too damn expensive from the gas station) and carrots & peanut butter, but the whole diet thing was a legitimate concern that I had and was much exacerbated by the circ*mstances of the day. The backcountry roads kicked our asses on this day! Marshall took the breakdown well (as he always does), although asked me if I was sure I wanted to continue bicycling, as I seemed to be getting upset over something every other day. I assured him that I was still absolutely enjoying it, how could I not when I was surrounded by such incredible and constantly changing scenery on a daily basis? The difference between Marshall and I is that when I'm pushed to my physical limits, as has been the case on multiple occasions since we left San Diego, I don't cope emotionally as well as he does, thus leading to some crying on my part. I'm honestly trying to work on not breaking down when I'm pushed to my limit, because I think it is an important part of personal growth to be able to deal with adversity in a positive way, and to change how you think about challenges rather than get overwhelmed to the point of emotional exhaustion. While hanging out with the PCT hikers in Big Bear, I learned about the record holder for fastest trail time, a girl from Oregon who did the trek from Mexico to Canada in 60 days, averaging 40-50 miles per day - walking. The only reason she was able to push herself that hard is because she is either a) Bonkers or b) Incredibly Positive. I’m working on trying to change those negative thoughts that start to creep in when I’m feeling exhausted to positive ones. The change is slow but I can tell it is happening, and this makes me happy. After all, this is the reason I wanted to do a bicycle tour in the first place, to challenge myself intensively both mentally and physically to the point where I have to learn to cope positively. Anyways, with that breakdown behind us, we continued onwards for another 12 or so miles over the final uphill climbs into Auberry. We immediately found the market, and loaded up on good food before checking out the library for some wifi. A friendly man who started asking about our trip (the bicycles are a fabulous conversation starter - we literally get asked for our story multiple times per day) while I was waiting outside the market told me of a good free campsite that he knew of - the only problem is that we’d have to climb further uphill before we had a nice downhill plunge into the San Joaquin river canyon. After refueling with food, I felt OK to push onwards. Marshall was wary of the uphill, but we did it anyways. As the sun was setting we descended steeply into the San Joaquin river gorge and found the steal campsite the guy had told us about - it was absolutely perfect, except for the fire ants that swarmed Marshall’s clothes after he accidentally laid his bike down on their nest. Luckily, there were no bites had because he noticed them and we flicked them all off before he put his fleece on. We drank our ‘General Sherman’ IPA’s by the river and then had a wash in the slow moving water. It was our first ‘shower’ since the night before we entered Sequoia National Park and it felt great to be clean once again. We cooked up a tasty dinner and slept great, as there were hardly any cars driving along the road at night. We started bright and early the next morning to beat the low-altitude heat, as we had a rough uphill slog to tackle to get to the town of North Forks (and wifi). The hill was definitely tough, but was over in 5 miles and we happily sipped coffee in a cute little cafe in North Forks while we organized the storing of our bicycles with a Warm Showers host in Oakhurst, just south of Yosemite. Woken up in the morning by these Canadian traitors, hanging out in Cali. The weather was calling for snow/rain, so we eventually dragged ourselves out of the coffee haven and back onto our saddles and set off to Oakhurst to hopefully beat the weather. We arrived in Oakhurst fairly early, and set up shop in a Starbucks cafe, so I could upload some photos and we could figure out our lives a bit more (a.k.a. what trek we were going to do in Yosemite the following day). Marshall started on his mission of arranging a string of Warm Showers hosts for us so that we would have 4 beds in a row. [I’m now writing from one of the host’s houses in South Lake Tahoe, and am happy to report that he was successful - we’ve got showers and beds for the next 4 nights!] North Fork - the exact centre of California (town-wise) We stayed in Starbucks until it closed, and then set off to the local RV park to camp for the night. We were prepared to pay the 24$ to camp, because we needed to drop off our bikes in town the following morning, and we needed to use wifi a bit more in the morning before departing (we just love living in the Bucks). However, when we rolled into the grungy RV park at 10pm and discovered that the place was a total dump smelling of toilets with ‘tent sites’ crammed so close together you could basically hear your neighbours breathing, we said ‘f*ck this place’ and got our bikes packed up for an early departure. We awoke shortly before 6, and had our tent and sleeping bags packed into our panniers in a matter of maybe 5 minutes. We hit the road, while a bewildered fellow camper watched us depart, knowing that we were doing so to avoid paying. I wanted to exclaim ‘this is the advantage of bicycles, honey!’, but that could’ve spoiled our stealthy departure, so I bit my tongue.Jerry, our Oakhurst host, contacted us shortly after 10 AM as we were in the local park rearranging our bags for the trek. We pedaled to his house, and just as we arrived we met his wife Julia who was setting off for the day. She took pity on us when we told her we were going to hitch hike into the park, and drove a bit out of her way to drop us in a spot that was good for hitch-hiking. In a matter of half an hour, a lovely young german couple pulled over in their rental car and let us grungy backpackers climb in. They probably saw me making cheese sandwiches on the side of the road and said ‘those two are harmless’. They were so darn sweet and it was a lovely ride into the park, talking to them about their vacation, which was almost over, and their impressions of the USA. I think they were happy to practice their English, which was already very good. They drove us all the way into the visitors center where we started our trek. We said goodbye and good luck, and registered ourselves for our trek. We packed the rented bear barrel full of food, and set off. As we climbed up to 6000 ft, the weather was hinting at rain. It held off until the night time, and we walked in thick fog up to our stop for the night, the incredible Chilnualna falls. It is no wonder most people think we’re incompetent trekkers given that this weird blob is one of two of our bags, and the shoes we wear crunch while we walk. While on the trail, we constantly have to tell people we’re on a cycle trip that periodically morphs into a backpacking trip... Fog is pretty cool I guess. The cascading Chilnualna falls We met a huge group of backpackers (like 14 of them), whom I’d first assumed was a group of friends reuniting for the summer. They all had massive packs, which I was certain were full of good food and beer for a back country reunion in Yosemite, because the trek they were doing was only 20 miles away. Turns out they were a group of trail maintenance workers, and we spent the evening talking with this enthusiastic group, learning about their life in the woods. It sounds like the American version of tree planting - hard work in the bush for an entire summer - with the difference that they can’t use iphones and aren’t allowed to drink any alcohol (hardcore). Every single one of them was so pleasant and easy to talk to that I was tempted to join them in clearing trails for the next few days just to get to know them all better, except they had to work, not socialize, and I would’ve been totally incompetent in trail maintenance. The selection process to get the job sounded quite rigorous and competitive, which probably explains why they were such a fantastic group of individuals. How about that for a campsite?The next morning, we set off on our longest day - 15 miles - to Merced Pass. We are so used to the bicycles that this 15 miles damn near killed us. One thing I’ve come to realize is that cycling uphill is comparable to trekking uphill, maybe a bit more difficult at times. However, when you hit a flat on a bicycle (provided you’ve got no headwind), it seems like hardly any work at all. Downhills on a bike are the opposite of hard work (they’re free). Trekking on the other hand is work all of the time - with downhills sometimes being more difficult than the up. Those poor PCT hikers, walking all day, every day for 5 months. Ouch. In my last post, I referred to how I like when little trees grow out of fallen big trees. Marshall has informed me that these are called‘nurse logs’. How about this quasi nurse log, sustaining a nearby baby and also propping up our backpack? Pretty neat, right? It didn’t help that all day it was raining/hailing/snowing so we were soaking wet at high elevations for the entire afternoon. Plus, we’d opted not to bring proper trekking shoes due to the extra weight on the bike, and hiking in our stiff-soled bike shoes proved to be fairly painful after a long day (although they are great for off-bike use, they aren’t meant to be trekked in for 15 miles). To make matters worse, the clip-in cleats for our pedals easily let water in through the soles of the shoe, so we spent a fair amount of time dodging any and all puddles (and thanks to the week of rain/snow, the land everywhere was totally soaked through), which slowed down our pace a fair bit. I was ready to give up just below Merced Pass because my feet were so sore, but we pushed uphill and set up camp on the pass itself. I was so cold that I was shivering uncontrollably, and my feet were frozen, so I was ready to eat plain bread and call it a night. Marshall wanted a cooked meal, so he stayed outside the tent and made us some Kraft Dinner with Chorizo. He tried to start a fire with some of our camp fuel (gasoline), but everything was so wet that it didn’t light. Check out that fog rolling in. Enjoying the teasing sunshine while we can (it would soon turn to hail again) I slept like crap that night because it was so cold. It didn’t help that our lightweight dry bag, which has seen 6 months of beating, didn’t keep the moisture out so well, so our sleeping bags were mildly damp. What did help was waking up the next morning to bright blue skies and sunshine. It was glorious. Very few things are better than the feeling of sunshine after you’ve been cold and wet for so long. We spread our things all over the various rocks surrounding camp to dry them out, and had an incredibly slow start to the day. When we finally set out (near 10AM), we happily meandered downhill for a few hours, in the direction of Yosemite Valley. Couldn’t have asked for a better day - the terrain was lovely (except for the frigid rivers we had to fjord), and the weather held up for us. My feet were still in pretty bad pain, so I resorted to wearing my crocs for part of the trek. As always, it was great to watch the terrain change as we trekked along, going from rocky landscapes with scraggly trees barely clinging onto the slabs of granite, to old pine forests, to tunnels of dense baby trees, competing for the light. I’m incredibly drawn into textures, and I’ve come to realize that I really enjoy pine cones - seeing all of the variations of cones that the trees produce is fascinating. Trees are just so damn cool. Good morning, frosty world. Loving those rays of sunshine with our oats and coffee. Those poor trail maintenance workers are going to have a tough year - trees are dying everywhere due to drought and pine needles (not that I cay say for sure that is what killed this old soul). I love pine cones! We ended the day with a bang, finding a campsite perched atop the Yosemite Valley and the Merced River. Marshall graciously set up camp while I snapped photos at one of the most stunning vista’s we’ve encountered since starting our trip in November (and we’ve seen plenty of vistas). I found myself on a rock overlooking the entire valley - from Yosemite falls all the way up, past Half Dome and the famous Vernal and Nevada falls into Little Yosemite Valley. The clouds were lingering ominously, yet not threatening rain, and as the sun periodically broke through while it set slowly, it bounced wonderfully off of the granite faces of Half Dome and North Dome, and lit up Nevada Falls. It was magical and I was completely humbled, standing near the edge of this canyon completely alone. I had to do some searching to find this view point, and because it was hidden behind some boulders, I think that very few people have ever made their way here, which made it extra special. Is this the real life? Looking towards Yosemite Valley (you can’t see it due to hazy haze) Marshall returned, and we waited until the sun disappeared behind a thick ring of clouds on the horizon before heading back up to camp and eating some Kraft Dinner. Marshall insisted we cook a second batch to use up the remainder of what we had, which I was happy to do, as we’d been carrying it since leaving San Diego a month ago (a.k.a. 3 weeks too long). However, I told him he’d have to eat it because I wasn’t that hungry...which he painfully did. The next morning, we started downhill to Nevada Falls, and ate breakfast and made coffee next to the pounding water. Our plan for the day was to head up to the top of Cloud’s Rest, the mountain beside Half Dome which reputedly gives a 360 degree view of Yosemite - what could be better? However, the night before, a cloud had indeed been resting on the tip of the mountain, so we’d decided that if it was cloudy by the time we got to the junction to go up, we wouldn’t do it because the track record for the last week had been snow and rain above 6000 metres almost every day. We got to the junction, and it wasn’t cloudy, but one of the park’s maintenance workers told us that it was calling for potential thunderstorms in the afternoon. Clouds Rest is approximately the last place you want to be when thunder and lightening hits, so we opted to trek the John Muir Trail instead - after all it is famous for a reason, right? Looking at our topo map, we had the impression that it’d take us along the Little Yosemite Valley, and were slightly disappointed when we found ourselves instead spending much of the day trekking through a forest that had been ravaged by fire a year before. It was interesting to trek through a recently cindered forest, something I’d never seen, but I was upset because no clouds ever rolled onto Clouds Rest, and no thunder or lightening occurred that afternoon, so we could’ve had an amazing vista if we’d hedged our bets the other way. Who knew coffee making could be so dramatic? Recent fire ravaged this forest. Had to change to crocs - yet another reason experienced hikers think we’re going to die in the woods when they see us trekking. But our luck turned around, because as we trekked onwards, we were rewarded with a stunning view onto the Cathedral Mountain Range on the north eastern edge of Yosemite. Had we gone up Clouds Rest, we may have gained a different view, but we’d have missed this one - so as with most things in life, you win some and you lose some. After enjoying the view briefly, we trekked onwards to Sunrise Camp. We were convinced that the view there would be that much better - makes sense to set up a high sierra camp at a great viewpoint, right? Yet we found ourselves losing altitude as we trekked onwards, eventually winding up next to a meadow, with a hill blocking out most of the mountain views. That’s fine, we thought, we’ll just have to go back uphill. So we set up camp and set off up the closest mountain/rockpile to the top. In retrospect, we should’ve brought our camping gear up with us and pitched a tent on the top, but we didn’t have that foresight. From the top, we had a stellar view of the dramatic Cathedral Mountains, with those slightly ominous clouds lingering about. It couldn’t have been more perfect. We stayed up there for a long while, Marshall having a little nap and me snapping away. The Cathedral Mountains. We opted to head down before the sun had fully set, because the rock face we’d walked up was slightly treacherous, and we didn’t want to do it in low light. That, and we wanted to burn some sh*t in the campground and warm up. So we gathered some of the fallen and cut wood on our way back down, and started a fire in the pit by our tent. We enjoyed watching the colors of the setting sun in the nearby valley, and ate our tasty bag of chili as the fire slowly died down and a curious groundhog watched us for at least 10 minutes. Who knew how cute groundhogs are? Certainly not the two of us. I’ve come to learn that Marshall is a rodent lover (as am I, because I love literally all creatures), as he squeals with delight when we see curious mice with big ears or groundhogs itching their snouts on rocks, and asks me if we can take them home.We slept wonderfully that night, toasty and warm instead of damp and cold, and had another lazy start the next morning, basking in the rising sunlight and drinking coffee. The trek to Tuolumne was easy peasy, and we started out through a long alpine meadow. We saw a lone trekker coming behind us, and waited for him to catch up. His name was Dave, an Austrian who’d been on the road for quite some time. As we walked along, we shared stories of our travels with each other. He had quite a list of them, and was still in the early (ish) part of his dreamt up trip. We got along well, and trekked together for the whole morning, heading to Cathedral Lake together, where Dave and Marshall had a rinse off in the slightly-less-than-frozen water while I observed happily from the sidelines. We continued down the trail, but lost Dave along the way as he said he’d catch up to us, but took a different turn from us at the bottom. Trekking and Cathedral Lake with our new friend, DAve. We reunited at the Tuolumne Meadows Store after both getting lost along the way, mostly because of the awful signage in the ‘Wild West’ of Tuolumne. We picked up a few beers, and sipped them in the sun while having a snack on some carrots - the first fresh veg we’d had in a few days. Dave’s plan was to camp in Tuolumne like ourselves, so we set off to the closed campground and threw our bags down. We headed to the sunny rocks by the river, where we rinsed some of our filthy clothes, and had a semi-wash. When we started down the east coast on bicycles, feeling grubby bothered me more than I’d anticipated it would. Since we’ve started north on bicycles, I’ve noticed that our significant lack of showering options (we hardly stay with warm showers hosts anymore) doesn’t get to me as much as I thought it would. Rinsing the clothes next to the Tuolumne River. The Tuolumne River and a motley assortment of pine trees. The sun setting on Lembert Dome. When we finished the first round of beers, Dave said he was going to grab a few more. He came back with far more than anticipated, so as we spent the afternoon sipping on beers, we may have gotten a little more drunk than anticipated. It was all dandy, especially when we transitioned from sunny rock to having a campfire. The night only got better as we met a cool PCT hiker named ‘Mr. White’ who was full of neat/scary stories of trekking through the high sierra’s in the snow. And then the following morning, and I awoke feeling like junk. Stupid me. I had to bail on the day hike that Marshall and I were going to do towards Tioga pass for fear that I may throw up, and Marshall patiently waited around for my headache and general feeling of crappiness to subside as I napped in the sunny meadow before we headed to the side of the road to hitchhike back to our bicycles. How about this gang of campers, taking advantage of the closed campground like ourselves? We were immediately picked up by a neat couple named Joe and Josee from Florida who’d recently sold their house, threw their stuff in their truck, and were two weeks into the adventure of a lifetime (literally). Joe had just retired from being a customs officer, and they were going to live out of their truck and soon-to-be-purchased trailer and drive from Alaska to Argentina, and then onwards. (Here they are on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/joeandjoseesjourney). They didn’t have room inside the back of their truck, so we climbed in the cab and enjoyed the wind on our faces and the unobstructed views of the granite domes around us...until a ranger told us we couldn’t sit in the back (we knew it wasn’t legal, but they were meandering so leisurely down the road that we weren’t concerned). So Joe and Josee re-arranged their whole truck so we could fit inside. They dropped us off outside of the campsite they were going to stay at for the next week or so, and we waited for another 10 minutes until a New Zealander who works in Yosemite as a emergency rescuer picked us up. She drove us a short ways down the road, and then we traded cars and hopped into her husband’s car with their adorable border collie and continued down to the floor of the valley. We waited for about 30 minutes before another young couple from Michigan named Jonah and Melissa picked us up. We saw them drive by a few minutes earlier, and they’d given us such a seemingly startled look, like ‘what are these people doing on the side of the road?’ that we were shocked when they came back to pick us up. They were on a short road trip to see Melissa’s family in California. They were very sweet, and we had a great time talking about their travels thus far, and telling them about ours. They drove us all the way to Oakhurst, and we walked the rest of the way towards Jerry and Julia’s house to meet the bicycles. On the way, a friendly man in a truck pulled up and asked us if we wanted some milk - his exact words were ‘I can see you guys are on foot’, as he offered us the milk that had ‘expired’ from his grocery store which he could no longer sell but was still fine to drink. We happily accepted. A minute later, Jerry pulled up in his truck and offered us a ride, as he’d spotted us walking along the road and instantly knew who we were although we’d never actually met fact to face. Their house was full of kids who’d returned from Uni for the summer, but they told us to pitch our tent on their lawn and we spent the night drinking wine with them, playing fetch with their three dogs, and cooking up a late but fabulous dinner (chicken club sandwiches, sweet potato fries and home made key lime pie....does it get any better? The answer is no, it does not). We went to bed stuffed with good food and departed a wee bit late the next morning, running some errands before finally starting out of town towards Yosemite. We’d already decided that we were going to hitch-bike from Oakhurst through the entrance to Yosemite. I know, we seem like the laziest bike tourists, right? But here’s why: The road into and through the park is quite unsafe for cyclists. Once you’ve crossed the park boundary, people drive slower...but getting into the park people are maniacs. PLUS the fee to get in is 15$ per person. We were not OK to pay 30$ for a park that hadn’t even made roads that were safe for cyclists. We waited briefly at the same place that Julia had dropped us off, and it wasn’t long before a friendly guy named Aaron picked us up. He wasn’t going to go towards the park, but he saw us on the road and his ‘soul told him to turn around’. Why? Because he used to be an avid cyclist, and was hit by a truck who’d ‘lost him in the sun’ years ago, suffering a back injury as a result of the crash. He told us we were smart for hitch-biking into the park, because people drive like maniacs on that road - our suspicions were confirmed. When he dropped us off a few miles before the entrance, he gave us some advice: Be safe and love eachother, and when things go wrong, look to the sky and say ‘why!?’. What a fabulous character - I hope he one day realizes his dream of traveling through the Rocky Mountains with his wife and his adorable dog Coal. This neat pseudo rainbow appeared in the sky immediately after Aaron gave us his advice. We stuck our thumbs out once again, and as we were waiting a Spanish cyclist rode past us. He didn’t seem to understand our reasoning for hitchhiking through the entrance and probably just thought we were lazy, even though Marshall tried to explain it in Spanish. He kept on riding by, and a little while later an incredibly friendly and enthusiastic french guy named Max pulled over in his camper van and rearranged his stuff to shuttle us the few miles across the entrance. (Everyone we’ve met so far was smart enough to get a park pass - unlike ourselves - so no one has accepted our money to enter the park). An engineer by trade, Max had bought the camper van in Florida for some 8500$ - a great deal because the thing was so damn cool - and was living out of it along with his dog Marley, making his way to Canada where he was going to spend two years using his work visa. Sue and Derrick Rancourt, I’ll be sure to send Max you’re way if he needs a place to park his camper van in Calgary. He was the loveliest of lovely lads. Finally across the entrance, we made the 2 mile uphill trek to check out the last grove of Sequoia Tree’s that we’ll see. The place was a zoo, so we didn’t spend too long there before we whizzed down, down, down to Wawona and ate lunch by the river. It must be a particular time in some large flying ant’s life cycle, because Marshall and I were being pelted in the face continually by these bugs as we flew downhill. It makes for a mildly anxiety producing ride, because although they’re relatively small, they can sting pretty bad when they collide into your face at such a velocity, or even worse when suddenly they’re flying towards your face, and you get a startle as your brain is convinced they’re going to end up in your eye before you can process that you’re wearing glasses, which they crash into (the poor things). Remember what I said about smelling flowers and cars? This is one area where cars definitely have a one up on bicycles, because that windshield can make a big difference sometimes. Our final grove of Sequoia Trees. From Wawona, we climbed 2000 ft before we crested a hill, and soared back down 2000 ft to the Yosemite Valley. The ride went by quickly - we were in good spirits and full of energy. The drivers were mostly courteous, except for a few who honked at us like we were assholes or cruised by too close for comfort. It was unfortunately a bit hazy over the valley, so the pictures at the famous viewpoint heading into the valley weren’t the nicest. We waited a bit to see if the sun would burn off the clouds, but it didn’t, so we eventually continued to the valley floor. Waiting for them clouds to burn off. What you don’t see in all of those pretty Yosemite shots. There is a reason that some 4 million visitors go to Yosemite Valley every year. The place is incredible, with sheer granite cliffs soaring up on all sides, and waterfalls flowing over the cliff edges. The river running through it has created a lush floor of pine forests and meadows. It’s pretty stellar, although the history of the place leaves something to be desired - it was once inhabited by the Ahwahnechee Native Americans, who were evicted by the US government, in the typical European Settler fashion. We meandered around the valley as the sun was setting in search of the rumored campsite for backpackers and cyclists. For a park that is so highly trafficked, you’d think that there would be more resources for tourists. It is honestly the most poorly organized of the parks we’ve been to, and it definitely receives the highest monetary income. We went to the visitors center...it was closed. We consulted maps...no information on this secret campsite anywhere. We tried to knock on the doors of multiple campsite hosts...none were available. Some kind people offered to let us pitch our tent on their site if we couldn’t find the place, but we eventually found it - tucked away in the corner of the valley with a tiny signpost that said ‘Backpackers camp’. We cycled into it and it was just total chaos - dozens of tents with no apparent order. Perfect. We set up next to a guy named Trent and I ran off to get some shots of what remaining light there was. I was frustrated that it’d taken so damn long to find the campsite, and nearly all the sun was gone, but in retrospect it was my fault for wanting to wait above the valley for so long hoping the clouds would clear. By the time I got set up, the only light to be seen was on Half Dome - not the most original of shots, but definitely not the worst! Some rock climbers from Oregon started talking to me about bicycle touring while the sun went down and I snapped pictures, which was a nice way to pass the time. Trees clinging on to the sheer rockface of HAlf Dome. Then I cycled to the store to grab some beer, because I knew Marshall would want them, and he’d been patient with me as I had my little photography anxiety session while finding the campsite. I took a different route back, thinking it’d be faster, and it led me on some crazy circuitous route through these back paths with not a soul around. I pedaled as fast as I could, terrified that I’d be attacked by a mountain lion (they hunt at night, and tend to go after cyclists who look like deer), and in taking a different route, I ended up missing Marshall, who went to get beer at the store. Oops. So I shared some with Trent, and started on dinner. Marshall came back and we accepted the fact that we were just going to have to carry beer up the massive hill to Tuolumne the next day, because I sure as hell wasn’t having a repeat drunken night and hungover morning. I awoke early the next morning, hoping to snap some sunrise shots in the valley. Overall, it was pretty lacklustre, as there was nothing too interesting happening in the sky. On my way back to camp, I managed to snap a shot of the sun’s rays breaking through onto Half Dome and I channeled my Ansel Adams and shot in black an white. It was pretty darn nice, so that was great. Back at camp, we packed up leisurely and set off towards the Ansel Adams gallery. While waiting for it to open, we re-did our handlebar tape with some bright white tape (it was the cheapest we could get at the bike shop, because who the &^%$ wants white handlebar tape? Oh right, only insanely clean “I ride my bike for 15 minutes on Sunday morning” types of people, meaning practically no one) and talked with a nice and adventurous guy named Tyler who works in Yosemite. Channeling my inner Ansel After touring the gallery, we started towards the uphill. It was already quite late in the day, and Marshall was feeling frustrated with our prolonged start, so we kicked it into high gear and cycled hard until lunch. We stopped at a store less than halfway up to Tuolumne and ate some sandwiches before continuing uphill. For hours and hours, we climbed. We were lucky enough to get a 3 mile shuttle ride through the construction zone, which we were grateful to receive, because the last thing we wanted to battle were hoards of impatient cars in a single lane who’d been waiting for 20 minutes to drive up or down the road (plus we were tired, and 3 miles uphill is a lot!). It was at this point that the craziest thing happened, because as we were cycling past the line of cars waiting at the construction site, Marshall looked into a car window and sitting inside was a guy named Casey whom we’d met on our tour through the San Blas Islands outside Colombia. What a small world! We then clued into the fact that he said he was from California. Honestly, what are the chances of running into him on this road at this particular moment? If he’d been driving by us, neither of us would’ve known that we were passing one another...it was only because of this construction zone that we saw each other! Casey from Colombia. Up Up Up. So we had a small reunion and he continued uphill. We continued pushing onwards until we hit the gorgeous Olmstead Point. I waited there until close to sunset, while Marshall rolled downhill into Tenaya Lake and set up camp on the perimeter of the beautiful water. There honestly isn’t a better guy in the world than Marshall - his flexibility allows me to pursue my photography on this trip in a way that I wouldn’t be able to do on my own. It makes a huge difference to be able to focus on pictures and know that he’s taking care of camp and cooking dinner. I know, it doesn’t seem like the fairest exhange for him because he has to do the work while I have fun...but at least he gets pictures and a blog for us to look at in future years, right? So we ate grilled cheese and soup, and drank the semi-cold beers from the night before before heading into the tent. That point when a rock becomes your kitchen counter. We packed up camp early the next morning, because we’d stayed in a picnic area which was technically not allowed (but we needed the bear boxes to ensure bear safety), and we started towards Tioga Pass. The ascent up there was not bad at all, and we made it to the top fairly quickly. We treated ourselves to Oreo’s and Milk and took our time at the top before starting on the descent to Lee Vining. Just before we were about to take off, I heard ‘Hilary!’ from behind me and turned around to see an old friend from Queen’s, Anthony, coming up to me. Before we left to bike through the park, Anthony and I had made tentative plans to hang out in Lee Vining for the day, but we’d had no reception in the park so I was unable to follow up with him. Turns out he wrangled up two of his friends, and they’d made the drive out to Lee Vining and had been looking for Marshall and I in the morning! Tioga Pass Celebrations.I was happy they found us, and we all continued back downhill to the Tioga Gas Mart (us on bicycles, and them in the car). The ride downhill was hands down one of the most beautiful descent’s we’ve had the pleasure of experiencing on this trip. Once you go over Tioga Pass and enter the Inyo National Forest, the landscape transforms to a reddish orange colour and in the far distance you can see the snow capped tips of the Sierra’s to the south. It was wonderful. Marshall flew down the hill, while I took my time to snap plenty of shots. We passed the Max’s Campervan, and left him a note, hoping he’d find us at the gas station (we ended up finding him in town later on). At the gas station, we ate all sorts of junk food (hooray for healthy lunch!) and lazed around for hours before heading further into town and grabbing a coffee and lazing some more. It was great to catch up with Anthony, because we’d fallen out of touch since leaving Queen’s, and I enjoyed meeting his two friends who were super easy to talk to and full of great stories. Suddenly the world was full of reds and oranges. Descending through Inyo National Forest (look at those Sirra’s in the background!) We locked up our bikes in town, and all hopped into the car and drove a few miles down the road to the southern rim of Mono Lake, where we checked out some weird limestone formations called ‘Tufas’. Mono lake is similar in many ways to the Salton Sea, in that it is 2.5x saltier than the ocean. However, it was naturally formed, and there aren’t fish dieoffs every year, and it doesn’t smell rancid. Sadly, though, it is being drained to supply LA’s water needs, and may not be around in future years. Too bad, because it is really quite beautiful, the turquoise lake nestled beneath the Eastern Sierra’s in the warm desert. Mono lake and the Tufas After saying goodbye to Anthony, Katherine, and John, who were headed up into Yosemite to do some climbing, Marshall and I grabbed a burger at the one busy joint in town. While sitting there, we ran into a PCT hiker we’d met in Lake Isabella named Panda (his trail name, not his real name). It was great to see him again - this guy is just so darn nice you wouldn’t believe it. He told us about the trials and tribulations of the trail, and how he was going to be in Lee Vining for 5 days while waiting for his sisters graduation. He also told us how he’d spent some time in Yosemite, and trekked up Half Dome where he tackled a bucket list item of dangling his feet of the edge of it. The thought of that gives me the heeby-jeebies, but his picture was incredible. Anyways, we bit adieu to Panda and then pedaled a quarter of a mile down the road where we found a fabulous steal camp spot. California is just too easy to stealth camp in, compared to the mega-populated eastern coast. We essentially stop wherever we want, roll our bikes off the road, and pitch our tent. It is just fabulous. This spot was so great that while we were searching for a flat spot to put our tent, we saw another tent nestled among the trees and asked the guy if we could pitch our tent near his. He left early in the morning, so we never got to learn his story. Too bad! The more I meet people, the more I want to hear about their lives - it is fascinating what drives people to travel, and all of the things they’ve done and learned along the way! Saying bye - too bad the guy snapping the shot couldn’t focus it :( Anyways, that wraps up our adventures in the incredible Yosemite NP. I write from South Lake Tahoe, which is 40 miles from the end of map section 2. It has officially been over a month since we left San Diego, something that I became aware of due to the presence of a full moon (we last had a big ‘ol moon in Joshua Tree) rather than a calendar date, which is a pretty nice feeling. I don’t know if we will make it to the Canadian Border in two months, which is when we absolutely need to be in Calgary to get back home to Halifax. But I’m not going to stress about that so much. We do need to pick up the pace in the upcoming days, more so because we are feeling less challenged recently than to keep a schedule. We’ve got a string of hosts for the next little while, and then will be venturing into Lassen NP, which is only a few days away from the border of Oregon. Before we part ways, lets take a moment to appreciate some cool trees in Yosemite: Tata for now!
See Also
Lisa Johnson email address & phone number | University of Wisconsin-Madison Teaching Faculty at the Writing Center contact information - RocketReachProsecutors spend first day of testimony in Hunter Biden’s gun trial detailing his drug problemsPolice reports. - Free Online LibraryLisa Johnson email address & phone number | Premier Sotheby's International Realty Real Estate Broker contact information - RocketReach