Yosemite

   Up early, it's still dark as I leave Santa Barbara and head north to Yosemite. The moon was full last night and now it hovers low and huge, optically illusionary, on the horizon and I watch the great ball fade to orange as it sets below the peaks near Gaviota Pass. A rare sight for me, I've watched many moonrises but very few moonsets. 

  I drive on for a few hours, the weather becoming increasingly worse the further north I go. Once past Fresno I can see storm clouds hiding the tips of the Western Sierra mountain tops. I will probably get snowed on at some point today although the forecast gives only a thirty percent chance of precipitation for the Valley, but higher up who knows?  At the Park entrance it's darker yet, still no snow but all the "Chains Required" signs are up and at Wawona the giant snowplows are lined along the road and ready to go to work.

  I get to Badger Pass by 12:30 and the hill is practically empty. Perfect for me. Badger is a small resort anyway, good for kids and learning. It's very uncommercial which is part of its charm. I figure out what jacket to wear and give my bindings one more check making sure everything is tight.  It has been over a year since I've ridden and even though I may be rusty my boots, board and bindings are in excellent shape.

  My first glide down the hill brings it all back. I grin like a fool as I slide and make wide turns getting the groove and the rhythm that I haven't felt for so long. The air is cold and the wind has picked up but I'm thrilled to be at altitude breathing deeply and dizzy with the joy of whipping down the steepest part of the run. 

 Ravens cruise along the pines and provide their usual entertainment as I watch them from the lift. The white snow and green trees and deep black birds make it seem like there are only three colors in the world, each standing out boldly in comparison to the other. I catch a glimpse of Mount Hoffman through the trees and think back to that time Pak and I scrambled to the top on a beautiful Spring morning. 

  After four or five runs the sky darkens as clouds surround and then cover the hill. And then it starts to sleet and that quickly turns to hail. Little pellets sting my face and I slow down as to alleviate the impact of the tiny hard BBs. To no avail though, the wind is blowing straight up the mountain and I am heading down. I hold my glove in front of my face and make giant wide slow turns minimizing the impact and wishing my face mask wasn't in the jeep. 

  The clouds are moving pretty fast and I figure this little front will blow through quickly and I am too lazy to walk back to the jeep so I take a few more runs through the hail while becoming less amused at the pinging sound of hundreds of tiny pieces of ice hitting my glasses and helmet. But I feel I can't take a break, the afternoon is already slipping by and only a fool lets the weather ruin a good time. So I blast on waiting out the storm and soon the clouds break up a bit and visibility increases and now the hill is covered with half an inch of crisp crystals. Not the best of conditions but the fact that I'm high in the mountains far outweighs the slight disappointment of the crappy snow that crunches under my board.        

  A few more runs and I'm getting tired. Leg muscles I haven't used in a long time start to ache, but not discomfortingly so. I take a final run and now it starts to snow. This time real flakes, lighter and fluffier, not yet a storm, just a soft snowfall that looks to be from another grand cloud that will soon disperse or move off the mountain to the next range. 

  It continues to snow as I drive towards the Valley and by the time I get to the tunnel view parking lot an inch or so has accumulated on the road and visibility is a couple hundred yards. Bridelveil Falls is only barely seen through the snow and mist, the rest of the Valley is totally obscured. I four wheel drive to Yosemite Lodge and the snow falls heavy.  I stop at a few turnouts just to watch the flakes drift from the sky. I've never been here before in a storm and it's so quiet and beautiful. In the silence I find myself staring at a coyote. It looks right at me with mild interest for a moment and then lopes off into the woods.  

 By the time I get to the Lodge the snow has stopped and already the sky is clearing and Yosemite Falls looms out of the low clouds, its water thundering down on the huge ice dome that forms every winter between the upper and lower falls.

  I check in and hang my gear to dry and wander over to the Mountain Room Bar to sit by the fire and have a beer. I am relaxed and exhausted. I talk to the bartender/climber, Jo, (charming) for a little bit and then go to the dining room for dinner. I have a surprisingly good winter root vegetable cassoulet. It hits the spot and I remember all I had to eat today were a few nuts and two Cliff bars. 

 I'm tired but I must take advantage of the clearing clouds and moonrise so I walk out to view the lower falls in the moonlight. A singular delight. I stand and listen to the water until I start to get cold and even though I told Jo I'd be back for a nightcap I decide to have one in my room instead. As I walk back to the Lodge I note Orion overhead, brighter than when he rises over the ocean in Santa Barbara. I pour a healthy whiskey and read for a while. I'm reading about the Stoics; Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus and Seneca.  Deep stuff for a simple mountain philosopher like me. 

  Seneca reminds me, "All things human are short-lived and perishable."

  I fall into a deep sleep full of snowy dreams. 

  Day two. I'm up early and refreshed after a decent sleep. I go to the food court and have breakfast and scan the Fresno Bee, a paper about as good as the Santa Barbara News Press, which is not saying much. I walk over and spend an hour at the Ansel Adams Gallery admiring the master's work. He has been called the soul of the park. He certainly became its eyes. The selection of books for sale seem to become slightly more pedestrian as the years go bye. Less poetry and serious nature writing and more tourist crap. Oh wells.  

  The clouds are gone and the sun shines on the snow covered pines as I drive back up to Badger Pass. The road just past El Cap is still in the shade of the cliffs and it's like driving through an ice tunnel.  I slip around a bit again realizing that I need new tires and shift into four wheel drive for most of the way. Arriving around twelve-thirty to the hill I find it even less crowded than yesterday. It's still pretty cold but the wind is down and the light dusting from last night make conditions slightly improved from the crusty hail cover I dealt with yesterday. 

 I spend the next three plus hours lost in the reverie of my mountain thoughts as I take run after run after run. I contemplate the beauty of this place that holds such an attraction to my heart. Time seems to disappear for a while and I take a slow run and then a few fast ones remembering my skill level has not improved over the last few years. I maintain less than a Black Diamond ability, but that's not the point this time out. I am just here to enjoy the day and clear my head of all the distractions of Santa Barbara, which are many lately. I ride all the runs at least once making sure I skirt the edges of the groomed portions for the slightly more powdery new snow. Small grey clouds appear to the west and the winter light becomes more opaque reminding me of January sunsets by Pontoosuc Lake in the Berkshires.  

 The temperature drops and the afternoon is almost over and I say to myself "One more run!" at least five times before finally calling it quits a few minutes before the hill closes. With shaky legs and a suntanned and wind reddened face, I slog back to the jeep. At the bus stop a guy asks if I'm going to the Valley and I give him a lift as the bus is still an hour away. We chat about hikes we've taken and he's impressed with all the walks I've enjoyed in the Park. He quizzes me passionately about Half Dome and Clouds Rest. Two hikes he really wants to try and I encourage him whole heartedly to go for both. He's retired but looks in pretty fine shape. I drop him off near the lodge and go to my room and enjoy a cold Sierra Nevada while sitting on the balcony shivering and looking at the rocks.  

  I grab a garden burger at the food court and the lone girl behind the grill taking orders and doing all the cooking hands me my food with a big smile and says, "There y'all go honey!" For some reason this cheers me. Her touch of infectious glee as she works steadily makes me think that any job in paradise has a payoff unconnected to money. 

  I figure a night walk is in order so I ramble over to the Ahwahnee for a beer. I sit at the bar that has more fine memories for me than I can count, including a beer with Dad. And then the beer after hiking Half Dome, possibly the best bottle of my life. I've sat here with Pak probably twenty plus times over the years. Every now and then we'd even sip a whiskey. It's true.

 I talk with some tourists from Florida for a bit and I wickedly recommend a glass of Bakers to warm them up. Being 126 proof I'm sure that will do the trick. I go outside and stroll back to the Mountain Room Lounge but first I take some time to admire Half Dome under the starlight and then I stand for a while in the field across from the Falls and listen to the water. The stars, sharp and piercing, keep my attention while I'm hoping to see a meteor. I don't, but my awe of the night sky remains undiminished.  After being outside for forty-five minutes I feel I deserve a whiskey for myself and am delighted to see Jo working again tonight. But despite her encouragement for a second glass the rest of the company at the bar is less than inspiring and I feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me. So it's back to my room to spend a few more pages with the Stoics. 

 Marcus Aurelius says, "Nothing is worth doing pointlessly.''

 Next thing I know it's Tuesday morning. The Valley is still deep in the shadows of the cliffs as I walk out to Happy Isle pausing to look up at Glacier Point and North Dome catching the first rays of the sun. North Dome is on my list to climb again. Muir used to scramble up there for lunch. My next stop for reflection is where Muir camped along the river with Teddy Roosevelt and plotted the nascent conservation movement. A shrine to the greater possibilities of man's thought that transcends greed and complacency. 

   I linger awhile, always feeling a pang of guilt if I leave the park too early in the day. I stop again for a few minutes at the Wawona Hotel and admire its historic elegance. If it were open I would be drawn in for a rest and to sit by the fire, but unfortunately it's closed for the winter. I tip my hat to the memory of Galen Clark, the first caretaker of Wawona and its grove of giant Sequoias, and aim the jeep back towards the coast where I arrive just at sunset.