Please read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 and part 9.
The night was cold, the wind was strong and it was dark.
I was only grateful when the morning Sun rose against the mountains. It was almost 0900 hours by the time my weary eyes were opened. I quickly brushed my teeth, changed to my hiking gears and packed up the tent. The tent had two parts, one was the tent itself and the other part was sort of roof for the tent. The wind was so strong last night that I found the roof a few meters away from the place where it was supposed to be.
It was nearly 1000 hours when I finally moved out from my camping spot. It was disheartening to know that I still had to climb. However, the climb wasn’t too bad unlike yesterday. Later, I had to cross the river after the gradient lessened out. On the bridge and looking eastward, the river was as calm as a bayou but westward, the water plunged fiercely toward Glen Aulin.
After awhile of flat terrain, climbing was again needed but thank God hardcore climbing was not a necessity. Unfortunately for me, there was one problem; the trail was not well marked as the ground was hard rock. At one time, I thought I was walking toward the right direction but ended up just a few feet away from a hundred feet drop. Funnily enough, I was facing toward Glen Aulin instead of the other direction. Immediately, I realized I had gone off trail. So, I turned around and voila! I had no idea where the trail was. Meanwhile, the rattling sound was omnipresent and hell yeah it was scary. I am not a snake fan especially after sitting right beside a rattle snake a few days ago.
Not long after, I saw a few hikers from far. Knowing they were my ticket, I quickly ran toward them. A few puffing later, I caught up with them and found the trail. I just couldn’t believe how I missed the trail. There were a few signs indicating the trail but like I said earlier, it was not well marked. One of the signs that usually used is the stacking of two or three round stones. In my case, the sign was hard to be seen because it seemed to bland with the rocky topography almost perfectly.
I went on the trail, I continued on and human traffic suddenly increased. This made me to conclude that I was approaching the Tuolumne Meadows. Eager to end my misery, I quickened my pace.
After an hour of hiking, it was almost 9000 feet and the peaks still rose without fail though the landscape appeared to flatten out. Optimistically, I convinced myself that the Tuolumne Meadows was within a day worth of hiking.
And then, the forest opened up and thus leaving a spectacular open space. Utopian as it was, the Tuolumne River flowed against the backdrop of Sierra Nevada. Suddenly birds were singing and the sky was clear and blue. Of course, it was clear and blue and the birds were singing all the way. It was just that the surrealness of Sierra Nevada induced the sight and sound of nature, bringing the sound of heavy breathing and the pain of the scorching heat into the far background of the mind.
It was as if the whole scenery was drawn by an artist. It was as if I was living inside an Adam Ansel’s painting. If I wouldn’t know any better, I would have thought it was the Garden of Eden.
I went to the side, off the trail, closer to the river and sat down. One part of me wanted to catch my breath, another part wanted to savor the moment. Only God knows how long I marvelled at the scenery quietly. And when it was time to go, part of me didn’t want to leave and the other part urged me to go on. Oh how I wish I would have followed my heart instead of my mind.
But then, I went on knowing I needed to go on, leaving behind a place I didn’t want to pass into the depth of time.
p/s – Joke of the day by Prof. Hamermesh: That girl is pretty 3 S.D. above the mean.
pp/s – The Great Lakes Zephyr describes The __earthinc as “an interesting weBlog of a nature lover and envir(o)nmentalist at heart”. I’m flattered.
errata – Somebody pointed out that the statement “It was as if I was living inside an Adam Ansel’s painting” is wrong. It should be “It was as if I was living inside an Albert Bierstadt’s painting.” The two of them were related to Yosemite and I had gotten them mixed up.