Circumnavigation of Yosemite Valley Rim
Yosemite - June 2015
We all have a bucket list. Some of us have it formally written down while others just have lists upon lists in our heads. I’m the latter. And something that has been on my list for years has been a hike all the way around the rim of Yosemite Valley. The chance to see the valley from above, literally hundreds if not thousands of different viewpoints has always intrigued me. I’ve always believed that a hike like this must hold some of the most special views on the planet. Now, I know that to be true.
On Saturday, June 6th I found myself in a short line at the YNP Wilderness Center. After setting out from Sacramento at 3:30 am that morning, my goal was to obtain one of the small number of first-come-first serve back-country permits when the office opened at 8:00 am. When I arrived at 6:30 am, a small group of sleep deprived, disheveled backpackers were already in line waiting. After a couple groggy greetings, I took up my place in the line.
At 8:00 I entered the permit building. Once my place in line came up, a friendly ranger asked about my itinerary. She was intrigued by my plan and told me that in her 11 years issuing permits, no one had ever put this itinerary together. She then turned to the three other rangers in the office to confirm that they too had never issued this itinerary before. This really surprised me, as well as the fact that I was able to obtain a permit for that day rather than the expected next day departure.
Because I was expecting to hike out the next day, I then had to spend about an hour situating all of my gear before leaving. I did this in the backpacker's parking lot just south of the Happy Isles trail-head. While packing and making some last minute gear decisions, a family of three parked next to me. Out got a couple in their late 20’s with their baby girl, Josephine. They were from Virginia out to see SF, Yosemite, and the wine country. We spoke for a bit about hiking with children and really enjoyed each other’s company. Then it was time to hit the trail.
By now, it was almost 11 am and as I arrived at the trail-head to Happy Isles I was thrust into a sea of tourists. More languages than I could count floated through the air as a variety of footwear from flip flops to mountaineering boots hit the trail. Old, young, male, female, and every nationality that I could imagine all traveled in both directions. Serenity would come later….this was time for a bit of people watching.
I’ve hiked this section of the trail many more times than I can count. Numerous hikes up Half Dome, multiple trips on the John Muir Trail, day hikes to both Vernal and Nevada Falls, as well as day hikes in summer and winter along the Panorama trail. I know the terrain, the twists and turns, the bridge at Vernal Falls and the rushing rapids of the Merced River well. This...was people watching time. It was two miles of watching and listening to every type of person and conversation possible. One could write a thesis paper for a Masters Degree in this stretch alone….hmmmmmm…
Turning off onto the John Muir Trail after 1.2 miles was….heavenly. The hordes of people were gone. Completely gone. For the next 7 and half miles I saw not one person going the same direction as I was hiking, first on the JMT and then on the Panorama Trail. The only hikers that I saw were a variety of prepared and unprepared day hikers that had been dropped off at the top of Glacier Point by car or YNP Shuttle for the virtually all downhill, 8.5 mile hike back to the valley floor.
Clouds built up as the miles went by and about 1:30 a light to medium rain was added to the thunder and lightning that had already created the beginnings of the orchestra of nature. After putting on my poncho (One of my most used pieces of gear in terms that it’s my rain gear, pack cover and sleeping shelter in inclement weather) I hiked on to the footbridge crossing the Illilouette Gorge just above Illilouette Falls. Completely alone, I took out my Alite Chair (the best 1.6 pounds I carry now-a-days), walked down to the smooth granite below the bridge and settled in for a bit of a break.
Closing my eyes was a gift. Nature was performing a symphony. Thunder boomed and rolled like a bass cello. Rapids from Illilouette Creek built and receded in their intensity as the current changed and the string instruments crescendoed. Splashes, random yet not random in the least, served as the melody consisting of various woodwind instruments. It was...mesmerizing.
After enjoying the performance for half of an hour, I continued on my way up the Panorama Trail. As I walked, I passed many day hikers ill prepared for the weather and soaked to the bone as they headed another 2-3 hours down and into the valley. Many asked how much farther they had...a question never to be asked because few hikers keep track of the time or miles that closely, and any response is based on personal experience, current mental and physical state, and pure guessing.
The clouds broke a few times for amazing views of Half Dome, Nevada Falls and Illilouette Falls. The day hikers kept coming with even more ground to cover and even wetter than those I had seen at lower elevations since the rain had steadily grown stronger.
Cresting Glacier Point, I was hit with the noise of civilization. People, structures and vehicles moving on rain soaked roadways. I’ve been to Glacier Point many times and decided to skip the outlook (the only one on the loop I would choose to skip) and continue across the road and back into the woods. Almost immediately the forest absorbed the sounds of humanity and cast me right back into the world of nature.
Walking on wet trail is always pleasant as it completely does away with the “dust factor” that hiking almost always accompanies. Puddles dotted the trail and reflected the impressive scenes from above. Much of the rest of the afternoon was spent walking through deep forest with not many views. It was pleasant, as the rain and the moisture floating in the air made for perfect hiking weather.
At about 5:30 pm, I arrived at the footbridge crossing Bridalveil Creek. This was an important junction, as it marked the beginning of an area that was designated as legal for camping. A pair of hikers had already set up camp and were attempting to start a fire with very wet wood. Since I carry very little water in an effort to save weight, I stop periodically at water sources to purify and drink as much as I can get down. This helped replenish my fluids from the past two hours or so and helped me try to over-hydrate a bit so that I didn’t need to drink as much on the next stretch.
I decided to also have dinner. On this trip I decided to carry a ultra-lightweight stove that I use only to boil water. The stove uses about 1 ounce of denatured alcohol to boil 2 cups of water. With this I can make dinner (with dehydrated packets of Good To Go Food --the best I’ve found) and coffee in the morning. Food is simply fuel out here. But there is nothing wrong with the fuel tasting good.
After a fine dinner and plenty of water I decided to hike on a bit. After about another hour it was starting to get quite dark , due to the cloud cover, so I hiked a few hundred yards off the trail and found a nice spot for the night. Although it had stopped raining, the water was still dripping out of the trees, and I set up my tarp above my sleeping bag and gear.
It was a wet night. The air was filled with a tremendous amount of moisture from the still cloudy skies and all of the wet vegetation and ground. But I was warm and dry in my sleeping bag which has a water resistant shell on the outside that keeps me bone dry in this type of environment. Woke up at 3:45 am with a bit of a stiff neck and ready to get up and get going. But since it was still well before light, so I dozed back off until about 5:30 am.
I packed up quickly. The skies were clear and my goal was to get to Dewey Point, have breakfast and dry out all my moist gear. By 8:40 am I hit Dewey point and what a view it was. I was looking straight across the valley at Yosemite Falls. Looking left my view was filled with El Capitan and to the right I was graced with Glacier Point and Half Dome. All this, and I was completely alone. I had the view, the point, and the space all to myself. It was amazing.
I spent about 90 minutes hydrating from water I had carried for just this purpose from the night before. I also made a pot of coffee and had a bit of breakfast (avocado on a hunk of baguette.) After spreading out my tarp and the few moist pieces of gear I had, I set up my chair and just took it all in. Sitting alone in the warm sunshine with the entire valley of Yosemite straight down thousands of feet below me, was nothing but peaceful.
Onward! I continued south on the Pohono Trail stopping to enjoy both Crocker Point and Stanford Point, all alone...again. The views were different from every point I stopped. No less spectacular, but filled with different well known formations like, Church Tower, Cathedral Spires, Leaning Tower, Bridalveil Meadow, Washburn Slide, and more. I was even able to get a good view of the Rockslides Trail starting just below El Cap which would lead me back up the other side of the valley in a few short hours. The bright red Snow Flowers were everywhere. I’ve never seen so many anywhere else in the US. It’s as if, because they are called Snow Flowers, they decided to put on an extra big showing this spring seeing that there was little to no snow in this area.
Rolling along in a southern direction I began to lose altitude at a pace which matched the warming of the air temperature. As I hit the junction to the .6 mile trail to the famous Tunnel View parking area, I was met with hordes of day hikers once again. I had only seen two other people since about 3:00 pm the previous day.
Stopping to chat with a family from Raleigh, NC gave me a chance to let the breeze dry out my sweat filled clothes. I hiked about a quarter of a mile with a woman a good amount older than me from the NC group and we talked about their vacation itinerary, which was very similar to the family I had met from VI. Stopping at Artist Point to take a quick picture was a bit tricky with all the day hikers vying for position to take the perfect picture. I managed to get a couple quick shots and then head on my way. In a matter of minutes I hit the valley floor and the busy road. My plan was to hike on the road and take one of the few cross roads with a bridge to the other side of the valley. The issue was that I was right in between bridges. Whether I went north or south I would have an extra two miles of walking. Looking at the map gave me little help. I was going to have to walk in the valley.
I decided to head to the southern bridge. Walking along the one way road with traffic coming towards me grew tiresome after only a few minutes so I headed off the trail towards the Merced River with the plan of just walking along the river instead of the road. Walking through the trailess valley floor, I passed a plaque up high on a rock dedicated to Dr. Lafayette Houghton Bunnell, one of the first party of white men to enter the Yosemite Valley in March of 1851.
Upon getting to the Merced River I knew right away that the river was fordable. It was wide, about 2 ½ feet at the deepest and running fast, but not too fast. I sat down on a rock to prepare by taking off my boots and socks and putting on my lightweight camp shoes. I also unbuckled my hip belt (a precautionary measure to take before crossing a water source to prevent being pulled under or down stream by your backpack should you accidentally fall in while crossing.)
Boots tied together by the laces and strung over my neck, I was ready to go. I stepped into the frigid water and used my hiking poles to keep my balance. The first third was very easy going but as I arrived in the middle, the river became at least 6 inches deeper than I had anticipated and the current grew exponentially as well. I struggled to keep my balance searching for the safest way to get through the most difficult 20 yards or so. Choosing a path and then changing my mind two times started me second guessing my choice. Then, suddenly I saw the perfect path. The water was deep and the current was swift, but in seconds I had hit the other bank and was out of the water.
I took advantage of being on a water source and drank mightily while the bottoms of my shorts, legs and feet dried in the sun. A Monarch Butterfly joined me on a pine branch for a bit. It’s colors were stunning.
Crossing the road I headed north on the Valley Loop trail keeping an eye on my left for a possible opening to allow me to cut over to the Rockslide Trail. Never seeing a safe spot, I walked about half a mile north before coming to the “road closed” sign and barrier that marked the start of the trail.
The Rockslides trail only shows up on old and very old maps. The park service doesn’t advertise its existence or sometimes even acknowledge it. The “trail” is unmaintained and 142 years old. It was built in 1874 as the original Big Oak Flat Road into the Yosemite Valley and served as the main entrance for the next 64 years until the completion of the current Big Oak Flat Road. During the 1800s it served horses and wagons and in the early 1900s it was used by the first automobiles. It was built 100% by hand and muscle and is an extraordinary work of construction.
The story goes like this; In the mid 1800's two investors made a bet to see who could complete the first road into the valley. The first investor was from San Francisco and called his road the Big Oak Flat Road (coming from the town of Big Oak Flat currently on Highway 120.) The second road was built by the town of Coulterville also entering the valley from the west. Halfway into the building of the roads, the San Francisco investor ran out of money and his laborers found work elsewhere. Buy the time he raised enough to continue his project, the other road was complete and he could find no skilled workers to finish construction. A few weeks later the investor met 5 Italians, just off a boat from Italy who just happened to be skilled rock wall builders. He immediately hired the five who skillfully and artistically built the remaining 30 rock walls without any concrete to finish the road from Gentry Pass into the valley. Once again the investor ran out of money, but the 5 Italians finished the work on a promise that they would be paid in full from the toll that was collected on the road. It took almost 5 years, but the Italians were paid in full. The road was completed in 1874.
These would be the same rock walls I would search for during the next 3 hours of sometimes hiking and sometimes scrambling in order to reach the west rim of the valley. At times the road just just like that, a road. Broken asphalt peeking out from under leaves and dirt. Sometimes trees or manzanita would obscure the entire road or grow out from the middle of the path. Other times the road was a single track trail where rockslides had all but obliterated the road’s surface. And still other times, the road ceased to exist at all and its place were massive rockslides to scramble over, under and around all the while looking for the next rock wall built by those not-so-famous 5 Italians so many years ago. Each rock wall gave me not only a sense of direction, but also a sense of history.
In the middle of two of these massive rockslides (hence the name of the trail) was a perfect shady spot with the perfect view of Bridalveil Falls and Cathedral Rocks to pull out the chair and have some lunch. Smoked gouda and avocado sandwich on more baguette hit the spot and gave me just the boost I needed to top the west rim. I had hiked over 5 miles south of El Cap which meant I needed to hike those over 5 miles back in the same direction. I stopped at Fireplace Creek to drink just a bit but really hydrated and filled my bottles at Ribbon Creek which falls into the valley in Ribbon Falls on the south face of El Capitan. After drinking my fill and filling my bottles I hiked on with the goal of getting to El Cap and having dinner before hiking another hour or two. Lupines greeted me around every corner.
All that changed when I hit the summit of El Cap. Once again, I was completely alone, and once again the view was one I had never seen before. The zigzagging 4-mile Trail from the valley floor to the top of Glacier Point stood out like Harry Potter’s scar. Just as mysterious and just as intimidating. The light off of Half Dome was so soft that it looked more like an oil painting than the real thing. I was sold. This is where I would stay for the night.
I picked one of the many hand built rock windbreaks and immediately lit my stove to boil water. While the water warmed to a boil I set up my ground sheet, sleeping pad and sleeping bag. There would be no tarp needed tonight. The air was warm and dry. As the water came to a boil I carefully poured the two cups into the aluminum lined bag filled with Thai Curry. Folding the top back closed to let it “cook” for 20 minutes would give me time to take in my surroundings. I walked all over the rounded top of El Cap taking pictures in every direction as the light literally changed the scenery by the minute. After 20 minutes my food was ready, my camp was set and my comfy chair beckoned for me. Sitting alone having dinner on top of a rock rising more than 3,000 feet above the valley floor, and named the largest monolith of granite in the world was spectacular. I sat in that very spot for the next 90 minutes as the sun dipped under the horizon and just watched the incomparable show.
Laying down in the darkness, the warm breeze filled the night with the sounds of wind blowing through the pine needles of the few trees struggling for life atop this rock and the sweet songs of the famous El Cap frogs. Pacific tree frogs live on this monolith by the hundreds if not thousands and use their sticky pads to hop around on the vertical granite and live deep in fissures where moisture collects. And once again, nature sang me to sleep.
I awoke the next morning at 5:00 am on the dot to a sky just starting to light up. Starting the stove to boil water for coffee, I hopped up into my chair to watch the show called Sunrise. It was no less spectacular than the show the night before called Sunset. When the sun had risen from behind Half Dome I broke down camp and headed out having some shadow fun as I walked.
My next view over into the valley wouldn’t come for almost 5 more miles. When I hit the top of Yosemite Falls at about 8:00 am I was once again…..alone. I’d been to this spot many times before and was out of water so I moved on to the Yosemite Creek footbridge crossing quickly. Here, I drank my share of water and filled my bottles with the knowledge that I was heading a mere 1.5 miles to Yosemite Point for breakfast.
Just before reaching Yosemite Point, I rounded a corner to meet my first Yosemite Blue Grouse. Some call these birds “Sierra Chickens” and it’s easy to see why. After staring at each other for a bit I continued to the top of Yosemite Point where once again I was...alone. I set up my chair, had some breakfast and enjoyed the solitude once more. It was now 9:00 am and I hadn’t seen another soul since yesterday at about 1:00 pm. Who said you can’t come to Yosemite in the summer and be able to have real solitude?
After getting my fill of the views of Arrowhead Spire and the rest of the majestic valley I headed on. The trail would now take me back into the woods for almost another 5 miles on the way to North Dome, the formation directly across from Half Dome.
When I arrived at the approach trail to North Dome I heard the unfamiliar sound of voices. Four day hikers were a couple hundred feet below me coming up after summiting the dome. The approach trail left the rim trail and first dropped about 400 feet before rising another 200 feet to the summit of North Dome. Within about 20 minutes I was atop the dome, once again...alone. I set up my chair, took off my boots and socks, and dropped my feet into a small crater in the granite filled with water leftover from yesterday’s rain. Soaking my feet and being able to look straight across the valley at Half Dome and the tiny specks atop called people was so relaxing that I stayed for almost an hour and a half….all alone. I stayed knowing it would probably be the last real solitude I would have in the park as the next 9 miles would lead me into areas very accessible to day hikers once more.
I said my goodbyes to the summit of North Dome and headed along Indian Ridge. Almost immediately I started passing oncoming day hikers. They looked clean and smelled even cleaner. They were on trail from Tioga Road and had been hiking on relatively level terrain for about 2 miles. Most were carrying little to nothing. Some were wearing sandals. After hitting the trail junction that would begin my descent back into the valley I would see no one again for quite a long time.
Stopping at Snow Creek Falls to drink and fill my bottles for the steep and hot descent to the valley I set up my chair one last time. Hands down, my favorite piece of gear on this trip.
The 1.7 miles of switchbacks on the Snow Creek Trail down to the valley floor are never ending. The National Park Service says there are “dozens of switchbacks.” This...is just not true. There are well over one hundred and the majority of the trail is covered in uneven and moving rocks. In short, it’s a tough, jarring down.
Reaching the valley floor I was immediately greeted with the sounds and sights of...you got it...day hikers. It was a two mile walk back to Happy Isles and at no point in those two miles was there a time I couldn’t see numerous hikers, walkers and then bikers in front and behind me.
Arriving at Happy Isles was….happy…. I had done it. Circumnavigating the entire rim of the valley in 3 days / 2 nights. Approximately 60 miles of unprecedented views that most humans on this planet would never get to breathe, feel, live or see first hand.
I know I’m a lucky man to be able to physically and financially do this kind of thing. I have a supportive and loving family who understands and supports my need for this type of immersion. I’m lucky to live so close to heaven on earth.
(My daughter thinks that this is the best journal I have ever written.)
Yosemite - June 2015
We all have a bucket list. Some of us have it formally written down while others just have lists upon lists in our heads. I’m the latter. And something that has been on my list for years has been a hike all the way around the rim of Yosemite Valley. The chance to see the valley from above, literally hundreds if not thousands of different viewpoints has always intrigued me. I’ve always believed that a hike like this must hold some of the most special views on the planet. Now, I know that to be true.
On Saturday, June 6th I found myself in a short line at the YNP Wilderness Center. After setting out from Sacramento at 3:30 am that morning, my goal was to obtain one of the small number of first-come-first serve back-country permits when the office opened at 8:00 am. When I arrived at 6:30 am, a small group of sleep deprived, disheveled backpackers were already in line waiting. After a couple groggy greetings, I took up my place in the line.
At 8:00 I entered the permit building. Once my place in line came up, a friendly ranger asked about my itinerary. She was intrigued by my plan and told me that in her 11 years issuing permits, no one had ever put this itinerary together. She then turned to the three other rangers in the office to confirm that they too had never issued this itinerary before. This really surprised me, as well as the fact that I was able to obtain a permit for that day rather than the expected next day departure.
Because I was expecting to hike out the next day, I then had to spend about an hour situating all of my gear before leaving. I did this in the backpacker's parking lot just south of the Happy Isles trail-head. While packing and making some last minute gear decisions, a family of three parked next to me. Out got a couple in their late 20’s with their baby girl, Josephine. They were from Virginia out to see SF, Yosemite, and the wine country. We spoke for a bit about hiking with children and really enjoyed each other’s company. Then it was time to hit the trail.
By now, it was almost 11 am and as I arrived at the trail-head to Happy Isles I was thrust into a sea of tourists. More languages than I could count floated through the air as a variety of footwear from flip flops to mountaineering boots hit the trail. Old, young, male, female, and every nationality that I could imagine all traveled in both directions. Serenity would come later….this was time for a bit of people watching.
I’ve hiked this section of the trail many more times than I can count. Numerous hikes up Half Dome, multiple trips on the John Muir Trail, day hikes to both Vernal and Nevada Falls, as well as day hikes in summer and winter along the Panorama trail. I know the terrain, the twists and turns, the bridge at Vernal Falls and the rushing rapids of the Merced River well. This...was people watching time. It was two miles of watching and listening to every type of person and conversation possible. One could write a thesis paper for a Masters Degree in this stretch alone….hmmmmmm…
Turning off onto the John Muir Trail after 1.2 miles was….heavenly. The hordes of people were gone. Completely gone. For the next 7 and half miles I saw not one person going the same direction as I was hiking, first on the JMT and then on the Panorama Trail. The only hikers that I saw were a variety of prepared and unprepared day hikers that had been dropped off at the top of Glacier Point by car or YNP Shuttle for the virtually all downhill, 8.5 mile hike back to the valley floor.
Clouds built up as the miles went by and about 1:30 a light to medium rain was added to the thunder and lightning that had already created the beginnings of the orchestra of nature. After putting on my poncho (One of my most used pieces of gear in terms that it’s my rain gear, pack cover and sleeping shelter in inclement weather) I hiked on to the footbridge crossing the Illilouette Gorge just above Illilouette Falls. Completely alone, I took out my Alite Chair (the best 1.6 pounds I carry now-a-days), walked down to the smooth granite below the bridge and settled in for a bit of a break.
Closing my eyes was a gift. Nature was performing a symphony. Thunder boomed and rolled like a bass cello. Rapids from Illilouette Creek built and receded in their intensity as the current changed and the string instruments crescendoed. Splashes, random yet not random in the least, served as the melody consisting of various woodwind instruments. It was...mesmerizing.
After enjoying the performance for half of an hour, I continued on my way up the Panorama Trail. As I walked, I passed many day hikers ill prepared for the weather and soaked to the bone as they headed another 2-3 hours down and into the valley. Many asked how much farther they had...a question never to be asked because few hikers keep track of the time or miles that closely, and any response is based on personal experience, current mental and physical state, and pure guessing.
The clouds broke a few times for amazing views of Half Dome, Nevada Falls and Illilouette Falls. The day hikers kept coming with even more ground to cover and even wetter than those I had seen at lower elevations since the rain had steadily grown stronger.
Cresting Glacier Point, I was hit with the noise of civilization. People, structures and vehicles moving on rain soaked roadways. I’ve been to Glacier Point many times and decided to skip the outlook (the only one on the loop I would choose to skip) and continue across the road and back into the woods. Almost immediately the forest absorbed the sounds of humanity and cast me right back into the world of nature.
Walking on wet trail is always pleasant as it completely does away with the “dust factor” that hiking almost always accompanies. Puddles dotted the trail and reflected the impressive scenes from above. Much of the rest of the afternoon was spent walking through deep forest with not many views. It was pleasant, as the rain and the moisture floating in the air made for perfect hiking weather.
At about 5:30 pm, I arrived at the footbridge crossing Bridalveil Creek. This was an important junction, as it marked the beginning of an area that was designated as legal for camping. A pair of hikers had already set up camp and were attempting to start a fire with very wet wood. Since I carry very little water in an effort to save weight, I stop periodically at water sources to purify and drink as much as I can get down. This helped replenish my fluids from the past two hours or so and helped me try to over-hydrate a bit so that I didn’t need to drink as much on the next stretch.
I decided to also have dinner. On this trip I decided to carry a ultra-lightweight stove that I use only to boil water. The stove uses about 1 ounce of denatured alcohol to boil 2 cups of water. With this I can make dinner (with dehydrated packets of Good To Go Food --the best I’ve found) and coffee in the morning. Food is simply fuel out here. But there is nothing wrong with the fuel tasting good.
After a fine dinner and plenty of water I decided to hike on a bit. After about another hour it was starting to get quite dark , due to the cloud cover, so I hiked a few hundred yards off the trail and found a nice spot for the night. Although it had stopped raining, the water was still dripping out of the trees, and I set up my tarp above my sleeping bag and gear.
It was a wet night. The air was filled with a tremendous amount of moisture from the still cloudy skies and all of the wet vegetation and ground. But I was warm and dry in my sleeping bag which has a water resistant shell on the outside that keeps me bone dry in this type of environment. Woke up at 3:45 am with a bit of a stiff neck and ready to get up and get going. But since it was still well before light, so I dozed back off until about 5:30 am.
I packed up quickly. The skies were clear and my goal was to get to Dewey Point, have breakfast and dry out all my moist gear. By 8:40 am I hit Dewey point and what a view it was. I was looking straight across the valley at Yosemite Falls. Looking left my view was filled with El Capitan and to the right I was graced with Glacier Point and Half Dome. All this, and I was completely alone. I had the view, the point, and the space all to myself. It was amazing.
I spent about 90 minutes hydrating from water I had carried for just this purpose from the night before. I also made a pot of coffee and had a bit of breakfast (avocado on a hunk of baguette.) After spreading out my tarp and the few moist pieces of gear I had, I set up my chair and just took it all in. Sitting alone in the warm sunshine with the entire valley of Yosemite straight down thousands of feet below me, was nothing but peaceful.
Onward! I continued south on the Pohono Trail stopping to enjoy both Crocker Point and Stanford Point, all alone...again. The views were different from every point I stopped. No less spectacular, but filled with different well known formations like, Church Tower, Cathedral Spires, Leaning Tower, Bridalveil Meadow, Washburn Slide, and more. I was even able to get a good view of the Rockslides Trail starting just below El Cap which would lead me back up the other side of the valley in a few short hours. The bright red Snow Flowers were everywhere. I’ve never seen so many anywhere else in the US. It’s as if, because they are called Snow Flowers, they decided to put on an extra big showing this spring seeing that there was little to no snow in this area.
Rolling along in a southern direction I began to lose altitude at a pace which matched the warming of the air temperature. As I hit the junction to the .6 mile trail to the famous Tunnel View parking area, I was met with hordes of day hikers once again. I had only seen two other people since about 3:00 pm the previous day.
Stopping to chat with a family from Raleigh, NC gave me a chance to let the breeze dry out my sweat filled clothes. I hiked about a quarter of a mile with a woman a good amount older than me from the NC group and we talked about their vacation itinerary, which was very similar to the family I had met from VI. Stopping at Artist Point to take a quick picture was a bit tricky with all the day hikers vying for position to take the perfect picture. I managed to get a couple quick shots and then head on my way. In a matter of minutes I hit the valley floor and the busy road. My plan was to hike on the road and take one of the few cross roads with a bridge to the other side of the valley. The issue was that I was right in between bridges. Whether I went north or south I would have an extra two miles of walking. Looking at the map gave me little help. I was going to have to walk in the valley.
I decided to head to the southern bridge. Walking along the one way road with traffic coming towards me grew tiresome after only a few minutes so I headed off the trail towards the Merced River with the plan of just walking along the river instead of the road. Walking through the trailess valley floor, I passed a plaque up high on a rock dedicated to Dr. Lafayette Houghton Bunnell, one of the first party of white men to enter the Yosemite Valley in March of 1851.
Upon getting to the Merced River I knew right away that the river was fordable. It was wide, about 2 ½ feet at the deepest and running fast, but not too fast. I sat down on a rock to prepare by taking off my boots and socks and putting on my lightweight camp shoes. I also unbuckled my hip belt (a precautionary measure to take before crossing a water source to prevent being pulled under or down stream by your backpack should you accidentally fall in while crossing.)
Boots tied together by the laces and strung over my neck, I was ready to go. I stepped into the frigid water and used my hiking poles to keep my balance. The first third was very easy going but as I arrived in the middle, the river became at least 6 inches deeper than I had anticipated and the current grew exponentially as well. I struggled to keep my balance searching for the safest way to get through the most difficult 20 yards or so. Choosing a path and then changing my mind two times started me second guessing my choice. Then, suddenly I saw the perfect path. The water was deep and the current was swift, but in seconds I had hit the other bank and was out of the water.
I took advantage of being on a water source and drank mightily while the bottoms of my shorts, legs and feet dried in the sun. A Monarch Butterfly joined me on a pine branch for a bit. It’s colors were stunning.
Crossing the road I headed north on the Valley Loop trail keeping an eye on my left for a possible opening to allow me to cut over to the Rockslide Trail. Never seeing a safe spot, I walked about half a mile north before coming to the “road closed” sign and barrier that marked the start of the trail.
The Rockslides trail only shows up on old and very old maps. The park service doesn’t advertise its existence or sometimes even acknowledge it. The “trail” is unmaintained and 142 years old. It was built in 1874 as the original Big Oak Flat Road into the Yosemite Valley and served as the main entrance for the next 64 years until the completion of the current Big Oak Flat Road. During the 1800s it served horses and wagons and in the early 1900s it was used by the first automobiles. It was built 100% by hand and muscle and is an extraordinary work of construction.
The story goes like this; In the mid 1800's two investors made a bet to see who could complete the first road into the valley. The first investor was from San Francisco and called his road the Big Oak Flat Road (coming from the town of Big Oak Flat currently on Highway 120.) The second road was built by the town of Coulterville also entering the valley from the west. Halfway into the building of the roads, the San Francisco investor ran out of money and his laborers found work elsewhere. Buy the time he raised enough to continue his project, the other road was complete and he could find no skilled workers to finish construction. A few weeks later the investor met 5 Italians, just off a boat from Italy who just happened to be skilled rock wall builders. He immediately hired the five who skillfully and artistically built the remaining 30 rock walls without any concrete to finish the road from Gentry Pass into the valley. Once again the investor ran out of money, but the 5 Italians finished the work on a promise that they would be paid in full from the toll that was collected on the road. It took almost 5 years, but the Italians were paid in full. The road was completed in 1874.
These would be the same rock walls I would search for during the next 3 hours of sometimes hiking and sometimes scrambling in order to reach the west rim of the valley. At times the road just just like that, a road. Broken asphalt peeking out from under leaves and dirt. Sometimes trees or manzanita would obscure the entire road or grow out from the middle of the path. Other times the road was a single track trail where rockslides had all but obliterated the road’s surface. And still other times, the road ceased to exist at all and its place were massive rockslides to scramble over, under and around all the while looking for the next rock wall built by those not-so-famous 5 Italians so many years ago. Each rock wall gave me not only a sense of direction, but also a sense of history.
In the middle of two of these massive rockslides (hence the name of the trail) was a perfect shady spot with the perfect view of Bridalveil Falls and Cathedral Rocks to pull out the chair and have some lunch. Smoked gouda and avocado sandwich on more baguette hit the spot and gave me just the boost I needed to top the west rim. I had hiked over 5 miles south of El Cap which meant I needed to hike those over 5 miles back in the same direction. I stopped at Fireplace Creek to drink just a bit but really hydrated and filled my bottles at Ribbon Creek which falls into the valley in Ribbon Falls on the south face of El Capitan. After drinking my fill and filling my bottles I hiked on with the goal of getting to El Cap and having dinner before hiking another hour or two. Lupines greeted me around every corner.
All that changed when I hit the summit of El Cap. Once again, I was completely alone, and once again the view was one I had never seen before. The zigzagging 4-mile Trail from the valley floor to the top of Glacier Point stood out like Harry Potter’s scar. Just as mysterious and just as intimidating. The light off of Half Dome was so soft that it looked more like an oil painting than the real thing. I was sold. This is where I would stay for the night.
I picked one of the many hand built rock windbreaks and immediately lit my stove to boil water. While the water warmed to a boil I set up my ground sheet, sleeping pad and sleeping bag. There would be no tarp needed tonight. The air was warm and dry. As the water came to a boil I carefully poured the two cups into the aluminum lined bag filled with Thai Curry. Folding the top back closed to let it “cook” for 20 minutes would give me time to take in my surroundings. I walked all over the rounded top of El Cap taking pictures in every direction as the light literally changed the scenery by the minute. After 20 minutes my food was ready, my camp was set and my comfy chair beckoned for me. Sitting alone having dinner on top of a rock rising more than 3,000 feet above the valley floor, and named the largest monolith of granite in the world was spectacular. I sat in that very spot for the next 90 minutes as the sun dipped under the horizon and just watched the incomparable show.
Laying down in the darkness, the warm breeze filled the night with the sounds of wind blowing through the pine needles of the few trees struggling for life atop this rock and the sweet songs of the famous El Cap frogs. Pacific tree frogs live on this monolith by the hundreds if not thousands and use their sticky pads to hop around on the vertical granite and live deep in fissures where moisture collects. And once again, nature sang me to sleep.
I awoke the next morning at 5:00 am on the dot to a sky just starting to light up. Starting the stove to boil water for coffee, I hopped up into my chair to watch the show called Sunrise. It was no less spectacular than the show the night before called Sunset. When the sun had risen from behind Half Dome I broke down camp and headed out having some shadow fun as I walked.
My next view over into the valley wouldn’t come for almost 5 more miles. When I hit the top of Yosemite Falls at about 8:00 am I was once again…..alone. I’d been to this spot many times before and was out of water so I moved on to the Yosemite Creek footbridge crossing quickly. Here, I drank my share of water and filled my bottles with the knowledge that I was heading a mere 1.5 miles to Yosemite Point for breakfast.
Just before reaching Yosemite Point, I rounded a corner to meet my first Yosemite Blue Grouse. Some call these birds “Sierra Chickens” and it’s easy to see why. After staring at each other for a bit I continued to the top of Yosemite Point where once again I was...alone. I set up my chair, had some breakfast and enjoyed the solitude once more. It was now 9:00 am and I hadn’t seen another soul since yesterday at about 1:00 pm. Who said you can’t come to Yosemite in the summer and be able to have real solitude?
After getting my fill of the views of Arrowhead Spire and the rest of the majestic valley I headed on. The trail would now take me back into the woods for almost another 5 miles on the way to North Dome, the formation directly across from Half Dome.
When I arrived at the approach trail to North Dome I heard the unfamiliar sound of voices. Four day hikers were a couple hundred feet below me coming up after summiting the dome. The approach trail left the rim trail and first dropped about 400 feet before rising another 200 feet to the summit of North Dome. Within about 20 minutes I was atop the dome, once again...alone. I set up my chair, took off my boots and socks, and dropped my feet into a small crater in the granite filled with water leftover from yesterday’s rain. Soaking my feet and being able to look straight across the valley at Half Dome and the tiny specks atop called people was so relaxing that I stayed for almost an hour and a half….all alone. I stayed knowing it would probably be the last real solitude I would have in the park as the next 9 miles would lead me into areas very accessible to day hikers once more.
I said my goodbyes to the summit of North Dome and headed along Indian Ridge. Almost immediately I started passing oncoming day hikers. They looked clean and smelled even cleaner. They were on trail from Tioga Road and had been hiking on relatively level terrain for about 2 miles. Most were carrying little to nothing. Some were wearing sandals. After hitting the trail junction that would begin my descent back into the valley I would see no one again for quite a long time.
Stopping at Snow Creek Falls to drink and fill my bottles for the steep and hot descent to the valley I set up my chair one last time. Hands down, my favorite piece of gear on this trip.
The 1.7 miles of switchbacks on the Snow Creek Trail down to the valley floor are never ending. The National Park Service says there are “dozens of switchbacks.” This...is just not true. There are well over one hundred and the majority of the trail is covered in uneven and moving rocks. In short, it’s a tough, jarring down.
Reaching the valley floor I was immediately greeted with the sounds and sights of...you got it...day hikers. It was a two mile walk back to Happy Isles and at no point in those two miles was there a time I couldn’t see numerous hikers, walkers and then bikers in front and behind me.
Arriving at Happy Isles was….happy…. I had done it. Circumnavigating the entire rim of the valley in 3 days / 2 nights. Approximately 60 miles of unprecedented views that most humans on this planet would never get to breathe, feel, live or see first hand.
I know I’m a lucky man to be able to physically and financially do this kind of thing. I have a supportive and loving family who understands and supports my need for this type of immersion. I’m lucky to live so close to heaven on earth.
(My daughter thinks that this is the best journal I have ever written.)