the __earthinc

This is part 6. Please read part 1, part 2, part 3 and part 4.

A few hundred yards later, the terrain started to rise slowly and the environment was filled with rocks. Despite the rise, the hike was still bearable. The only thing that was a turn off was the lack of shade. The Sun’s, with its ray in full spectrum continuously bombarded our miserable skins. Our clothes were also wet with sweat but there was nothing we could do but ignore it.

By 1300, we were too sleepy to go on and so we resolute to take a cat nap at a place beside the river. The nap lasted for nearly an hour.

Having regained of our strength partly, we continued on walking. Along the way, we did meet a few interesting people. One of them was a father of three. Upon seeing us, we said out loud, “Are you doing it?”

I was not paying attention to my ears and so I replied with a short “What?”

“Are you doing it?” He repeated. “Hiking! It sucks!”

I only managed an “oh” but Epol went on further by declaring “I agree”.

We were tired but Mother Nature repaid our resilience almost immediately. As we gained more altitude and later found that Yosemite Creek was way down below in the middle of a very small and steep ravine. The river was also wilder. It must be a fantastic spot for extreme canoeing.

For a full two hours, we hiked the tight, treeless path under the merciless Sun. It was during this time as my skin pigments were being bombarded with UV ray that I finally realized that I forgot to apply sun block lotion.

It came as a relief when green and tall vegetation came back to existence. Shade slowly replaced the light on the floor as we moved forward and we were more than glad to walk under the green canopy.

Somewhere under the shade, we had to cross a stream that flows into the Yosemite Creek. It was a small stream, barely 4 feet in width. Despite that, the trail seemed to disappear after it went into the water. We took roughly 15 minutes to figure out what needed to be done. After sending each other as scout to three different directions, we finally found the other part of the trail about 10 meters upstream. This happened because the part of the trail is being consumed by the tiny stream. Nature seems to have a way in reclaiming its property.

It took another hour or two when at last, in the middle of nowhere, we heard internal combustion engines roaring somewhere in front of us. Through the map, we had to cross two roads, one unpaved while the other is a state freeway; reaching the first road means that we were near to our destination.

However, the first road was paved. We were surprised to see a paved road as it could mean that we were lost. Looking at the map again, we found that it is impossible to cross or to find other paved road as within 50 miles radius, there are only two roads with the unpaved road always on the freeway’s south. We later concluded that our map was outdated, or though however unlikely, the American notion of unpaved is different.

A further hike finally brought us to the freeway. There were signs that confirmed our location with White Wolf laying 4 more miles ahead and better, downhill. We took a rest and some photographs near the road.

The only piece of technology that we brought with us was a camcorder and a digicam. Nothing was impressive about either the camcorder or the digicam. However, what was impressive is the memory, a staggering 120 Megabytes in a card with a total area less than 3 cm. When I was first introduced to a computer, an early Mac back in the late 80’s, a 5” floppy disk could only hold as much as 360 kilobytes. And the floppy disk drive itself took up 1/3 of the total CPU space. Although I consider myself to be well-informed and located somewhere near the technology frontier, I can’t help but marvel at how fast the rate of computer technology is being developed.

Anyway, we fought on and another mile later, we saw the incredible Lukens Lake. The approach is particularly worth mentioning.

The trail that leads to the lake was heavily shielded from the Sun by the tree branches and the slope was tolerable. It took about a mile or so until the area became flat. The vegetation of the area also changed. Tree trunks were giving way to a weaker green-stem species. At the same time, the mosquito population density increased.

We sort of waded along the path as the small but tall plants, a little bit taller than me grew into the edge of the trail. Merely roughly 50 meters later, the tall green-stem plant stopped its infiltration as a smaller species took dominance. With the lack of the green-stem plants, Lukens Lake was visible under the completely clear blue sky. On its background, confiner trees are everywhere and just before the lake, purple flowers are as many as the mosquitoes, making the sight as pretty as a well-painted picture (in fact, better!).

Beside the irritating mosquitoes, there were all kind of dragonflies flying around. With the whole populace concentrated around Lukens Lake, I had the chance to see one of the rarest dragonflies – a blue colored dragonfly. It might not be rare according to biologists but it is a rare encounter for me. The usual dragonflies that I am familiar with are colored in green and to some extend red.

Though the water looked marvelously beautiful with the reflection of the blue sky, a closer look revealed that the lake is not a good place to be in; it was mosquitoes’ breeding and dragonflies’ feeding ground. The water itself was murky. On the other hand, it was a great fishing spot for those with fishing as a hobby.

After a few photo sessions, we left the splendid Lukens Lake behind for White Wolf. The time was around 1800, two more hours before the Sun finally set in the west; three more miles to our camping ground. Despite the short distance, those last three miles seemed like 3000 miles. My body was already exhausted after more than 10 miles of hiking. Epol also looked tired but Leman was by far still had his stamina.

As we walked farther down the path, the temperature dropped slowly. I could feel the cold air touching my already burned skin. While I was trying to conserve my body heat, we reached a junction. The right trail leads to the canyon and the other one leads to White Wolf. At first, we we had wanted to leave our backpacks here and walk for dinner to White Wolf. However, in the end and I was disgusted by this decision, we brought everything with us. I didn’t show any sign that I was against this decision since I believed it was rather an improper time to argue. In addition, I was already exhausted and any argument by my side would lead to a disaster.

And so we brought everything with us. The last mile was challenging in a way I could no longer pull any muscle. My backpack seemed to get heavier with each step forward. It was as if my legs told the brain that they didn’t want to walk any further. I was all ready to commit a rest time but up front, somewhere in the trees I heard cars and voices. This could only mean that we were already in White Wolf. And so, the brain told to the legs “Get your act up because we are going to have a very heavy dinner afterward”. The legs had a renewed motivation and marched all the way towards White Wolf.

We set our feet in White Wolf approximately 15 minutes before 0900. We were lucky to have reached White Wolf by this time since the only restaurant serving the area close at 0900. Once we unbuckled the backpacks, we sat at a table situated in a patio. All the tables save two in the patio were taken. As soon as we settled in our seat, the waitress gave us a smile and three menus. I was hungry and tired and I returned the smile and quickly searched the menu. She gave us some time to make up our mind and when she got back, I asked for a fillet dinner served with french fries and a cup of hot chocolate.

The hot chocolate was so delicious and properly made that I asked for three refills.

White Wolf is a small settlement, a few miles off the nearest freeway deep in the wilderness. It has a main campground setup for families and hikers alike, a small but great restaurant and a bus stop. Buses do serve this settlement but the fare is rather expensive. On four corners, mountains and tree loom tall.

With full hope, we went to the campground to rent a site. Alas, we learned that we need to reserve a site in advance. Subsequently, we had to hike back outside of White Wolf and so that we could camp. If we just had to hike back, I wouldn’t mind. However, one hiking rule demands us to hike a full mile off any paved road before we could camp.

Furthermore, it was dark; well passed 2100. My disgust with the earlier decision reached another level but remarkably, I managed to hold a nonchalant composure.

Worn-out, we cheated. We ignored the rule and walked merely 30 or 40 meters from the campground before we made our camps in the dark and quiet night.

Please read part 1, part 2 and part 3.

We cooked some mushroom soup for breakfast to be eaten with some bread. It wasn’t enough for me but I wasn’t really hungry at that time, so I didn’t say anything about the quantity that I had.

By 0700 on 3rd July, everything was ready and we left our first camping ground no later than 0800.

We were supposed to follow the trail that leads to the Ten Lakes but somehow, we had the urge to see the Grand Canyon of Tuolumne. Therefore, instead of going to the right, we headed northwest towards White Wolf.

It wasn’t long until we reached a place where rocks were a predominant landscape instead of soil. We saw a huge rock and decided to climb it. We left the backpacks behind for awhile so that we could climb the rock faster. We got up, armed with a digital camera and a view cam in order to record anything that we would see.

Up there, we saw some footprints. Leman said that it was dears’ prints but I suspect that it were not dears’. In any case, I think it was mountain lion’s print since the prints were somewhat similar to the lion’s print shown the Valley Visitor Center. In any case, a few feet ahead laid a ledge that overlooks the mother of Yosemite Fall, the Yosemite Creek.
The creek was more like a river full of rapids. The water from far looked greenish but a closer look convinced me that the water was crystal clear. And of course, the sound of dashing water made the view surreal in the cold morning. In any case, I was surprised but delighted to be treated by Mother Nature with such a sight so early after we begun our hike.

Once satisfied, we went down the rock to continue our hike. For an hour, our trail went through a forest with a rather flat terrain until a point where trees suddenly ceased to exist on both side of the trail. While the trees gone, an enemy started to appear – mosquitoes.

Actually, even where the trees provided much needed shade for us, the annoying insects were already feasting on our red blood. However, I managed to shake the mosquitoes off me by applying a rather smelly insect repellant. The thing worked greatly at first.

Then, while we were in the open, it seemed that the mosquitoes were making a nest on our shoulders. At one time, there were roughly 20 mosquitoes hanging around on Epol’s right arm. 20! Even when I was in my grandparent grove, never had I ever encountered 20 mosquitoes at one time. We frequently swung our cap from left to right and to the left again so that the mosquitoes wouldn’t have the chance to suck our precious oxygen-rich blood.

As the trees somehow stopped growing at some point, an open space opened up with dried grasses standing almost everywhere. There was nothing worth mentioning about the open space since it was merely sort of a vast field with improper grass.

Somewhere at the end of the field, where the greens started to reconquer the scenery, we took a rest for a few minutes. We did plan to take a longer rest but the insects were getting on our nerve. Consequently, we got on our feet marched from the mosquitoes breeding place with hope that the insects’ would not follow us. On also, from here on, our trail went away from the creek.

It would take another hour or two until we met the creek again. However, the water behavior changed. Rather than the wild dashing white water fighting for its way among the rapids, this time, the atmosphere was relaxing. Calm water as clear as crystal flowing gently towards the Valley.

We stopped and freed our shoulders from the evil fat guys and went off trail to check out the creek. Across it, a fallen timber formed an improvised bridge, allowing us to cross the creek without getting wet unnecessarily. On the other side, the stones looked must like Cinderella’s fair skin with the sand acted like her fumes. A type of plant grew as tall as me, became an artist’s finishing touch to the already masterpiece work. I was so entranced by creek that it made me deaf. I didn’t response to neither Leman nor Epol, who was calling me to get back and carry on. With a heavy heart, I returned to them and carried on.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t long until we discovered a waterhole with a cliff, some place as high as two meters exists on both sides of the creek. The place seemed to be a marvelous stopping place; the water was so irresistible that we decided to make an unplanned stop and take a swim. With properly place the backpacks against a fallen, almost rotting tree trunk, we with an unusual fast speed, got into our swimming gear, ready to jump straight into the water.

Unfortunately, we didn’t realize that the water was icy cold despite the Sun shining at full capacity. The first and only victim was Leman, who jumped from a full two meter high ledge into the water. We were still on the dry ground when we saw Leman was struggling back to the ground. Upon seeing that, both Epol and I put our jumping trip on hold and checked Leman out. Leman later strongly recommend us not to jump; we simply adhered to his advice.

It would be a waste not to take a little swim at such pristine water located in the middle of the forest high up somewhere nearby to the Sierra Nevada. So, we still went into the water slowly. I in particular took a long time to get into the water. Once in the water, I simply found it hard to breathe because the temperature of the water was so low compared to my usual body temperature. Nevertheless, I did enjoy having my whole body submerged in the cold refreshing water.

The time I took to get out of the water was as long as the time I took to get into the water. This was our first bath since we left Ann Arbor and so, I tried to be in the water as long as possible until I suddenly came to realize that something is wrong with our little detour to the canyon. I got out, put some new clothing to my half naked body and asked Leman for the map.

For today, we were supposed to camp somewhere in the middle between Yosemite Creek and White Wolf. I made a few rough calculations and confirmed my fear. If we were to follow the plan, there is no way we could make it to the Valley back in time without missing our flight back to Michigan. After voicing out my opinion, we realized that we must hike more than 14 miles (roughly 23 km). Deep in my heart, I thought it was an impossible hike although I was the one that first raised the issue.

Thus, we got our backpacks and marched with a renewed mission. We left the waterhole sometimes at 1100.

Please read part 1 and part 2.

And so the journey started.

At 1500 hours, we left Curry Village, a quite happening place in the Valley, by bus towards the starting point of our journey, which was Upper Yosemite Fall Trail.

Our full party started the expedition rather plainly at first. We got off the bus and immediately followed a well marked trail closely until at one point, which was really less than half a mile, when we somehow got off the trail. Without a trail, our journey towards our first planned campground, Yosemite Creek was being slowed down tremendously. I believe, every 10 minutes, we had to send out a scout to observe the upcoming obstacle and to make sure that we weren’t lost. As moments passed, we started to figure out that we were lost. Being careful, we consulted the map and decided to go straight upward until we hit the wall that became the base of the whole mass.

Before I go on further, let me explain the topography of our starting point. The starting point is rather flat and the trail goes to the east. The trail heads east simply because northward, a sort of shield wall rises well about 4000 ft vertically. However, a few hundred meters before the wall, a rather tolerable slope persists from the road and the bus stop up till the wall. With that explained, now it is easier to explain why we decided to go up to the base of the wall.

The real trail, the one that we somehow veered from, goes straight to the east and it doesn’t turn north in about a mile. We got off the trail somewhere in between our starting point and the point where the trail heads north. Therefore, through our improvised map (I seriously recommend buying a complete topographical map for a hiking trip. Its benefit far outweighs its cost. Trust me on this), we figured out that if we go up first and heads east later, we will eventually hit the trail again. This way, we would save time rather than having to backtrack our every step. Logically acceptable.

True enough, we hit the trail later.

From here on, the ascent was steep and the climb was slow. Of the entire trail that we pursued, this was the steepest trail ever but it was not the worst since we still had energy. Our muscles weren’t heavily contaminated with lactic acid yet.

While hiking up, we noticed that a blue bird was following us, flying from tree to tree, singing. I thought at first that I was simply seeing a few birds from the same species. Later however, Leman and Epol agreed that it was the same birds that we kept on seeing as we climbed higher. The bird was very resilient in following and I do think that the bird stalked us for more than two hours. And seeing the bird frequently, we implicitly came to a union of naming it Blue Jay, with the Jay was the Jay from “J”-e-ba-i. Macam haram but a cool name for the bird nonetheless =).

The rise was slow and we, especially me, took lots of rest, every time I had the chance. We also talked to a number of day hikers who came just to see the Yosemite Valley up from the Fall.

We climbed and sweated until a person told us to be careful of a snake, located merely around 400 yards away from us. He told us to watch for a bottle placed on a rock where the snake was supposed to be. Interested in seeing the reptile, we quickened our pace but only to be disappointed to see no snake there. The snake could have probably left the place.

We continued our hike and made lots of stop. And Blue Jay was still following us, most probably trying its luck for food from us.

It was perhaps some time between 1700 and 1800 that we reached a lookout point that faces the Valley with the Fall directly behind us. We decided to take a long stop here in order to enjoy the view.

From here, the Valley seemed to be much smaller that it was when we were way down below. I stood at the edge and looked down and it was a feeling that almost anybody would definitely enjoy – the sense of greatness and power, with you standing high above from the other strangers below.

I wonder how it was like back in 1997, when El Nino wrecked havoc almost all over the world, including in Yosemite. El Niño was a natural phenomenon. However, in 1997, due to adverse pollution effect, the weather went mad. The unnatural heat forced the glaciers in the Sierra Nevada to melt more than it should. As a direct result, the usually calm Merced River was forced to make some room for more fresh water. Apparently, the River failed to accommodate the huge water quantity and went over its limit. Thus, the whole Valley was flooded with the water depth was well over 5 feet. With that depth, even a bus would have been flooded.

From where I stood, I would see a lake for certain.

To the east, Half Dome stands silently with the old Sierra Nevada on the background.
The Valley’s south wall was struck by the mighty Sun’s ray and I would imagine the heat was almost unbearable. The other south wall, where El Capitan Fall is located, was very barren compared to its northern counterpart, where we were. No doubt the heat changed the vegetation. Down in the Valley, conifer trees take up the entire place along the flowing Merced River with a small Chapel standing quietly somewhere among the green trees. The wind was also noticeably strong but not too strong. Maybe suited in the moderate breeze classification.

After catching up with our breath, we went on with the mission. By 2030, it was already dark but we were still on the trail, seeing no flat site suitable for camping. Thus, we stopped awhile to perform both the Zohor and Asar prayer before the Sun succumbed to the Luna. Once done, we continued a little bit farther before we met a fork and the time was about 2100. One was heading to the Creek, straight to the Ten Lakes and all the way to the Tuolumne Meadows while the other path leads to Lake Luken, White Wolf and eventually to the Grand Canyon of Tuolumne.

The Sun was nowhere to be found in the sky and it was so dark, that the stars up high in heaven were visible to the naked eyes. I recognized a few of the constellations that I’ve always failed to spot in Michigan or even in Malaysia due to both pollution and geographical factors. As a Vulcan would say, it would be a logical point of action to stop and make a camp rather than risk being lost up in the high country.

Thus, we camped. There were two tents, one for Leman and the other for Epol and I. I had to share with Epol since I had a larger tent.

Firewood was everywhere so we didn’t really have to go far from our camping site to search for it. Once both the camps and the fire were done, we cooked and went directly to sleep. And it worth to point out that we actually slept rather early, at 2230. It was considerably cold. Luckily, the sleeping bag managed to conserve some of my body heat to let me to sleep comfortably.

Total distance traveled was about 4 miles, which is about 6 km. Elevation gained through hiking was more than 4000 ft.

The next morning, we woke up at 0500 and the Sun was already prepared for the new day. Unfortunately, I was not in the same league as the Sun. Nevertheless, I still woke up and tried to to join the Sun’s adventure.

Our first stop was some where near Yosemite Creek, the first blue line, southmost, drawn on the map. For a larger version, click here.errata – Blue Jay is actually the name of the species. Nevertheless, after checking the net for more information, I’m convinced that the bird is not Blue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata). The main difference is the bird that I saw had a sort of noticeable crown on its head while the picture that I found shows that typical Blue Jay has a smoother head, or a simple extension of fur behind its head. And also geographically, blue jay is mainly found on the east side of the Rocky while Yosemite is on the southwestern side of the Rocky. On the other hand, the bird might had migrated here and it really is blue jay and I am wrong about naming it after me. =) Thanks to Epol for correcting that embrassing mistake.

more errata – In order to make out my mistake, I did a little research about the said bird and found out that the bird was not a Blue Jay. As it turned out, Jay has a huge family. The Jay that I saw was Stellar’s Jay (Cyanocitta stelleri), the one species that was mentioned in John Muir’s journal. “Often mistakenly called the Blue Jay, this Jay is a typical member of the Corvidae family, sharing its loud calls, bold nature and scavenging habits with crows and other Jays.”(http://www.naturepark.com/stellars.htm, par. 2)