Friedrich Nietzsche famously wrote, "what does not kill me, makes me stronger." That may be so. Unfortunately neither is fun to experience at the time of occurrence. But we did survive, even though we could barely walk the next day. Amazingly the four of us did the circuit again the next year, with Christie and Mike in tow. I think it was mainly at the behest of the kids because they wanted to see what we saw. So we did, just to show we could do it better the second time around, I suppose. It was still a tough hike for us, but we were better prepared and we managed a lot better.
Regardless, that first trek was a memorable event, and not just for the mortality part. The back country of Yosemite is amazing and I'm glad I got the chance to hike it. I had done high Sierra hikes with the Boy Scouts before where we did part of the John Muir trail, but I was young and perhaps did not appreciate what I was seeing as much as I should have. I did take photos from those trips, though, and will post at a later date. The comparison should be interesting.
But there is something special about Yosemite. That view as you start down from the Glacier Point trail head, as shown above in a photo I took that day, is spectacular. Half-Dome is on the left. In the lower center is Vernal Fall and above it and to the right is Nevada Fall. Illilouette Fall is off the edge of the photo to the right between that big wall of rock in the foreground, across the gorge from where I'm standing. Once we got down to Illilouette, we had to hike up and over that wall to get to the top of Nevada Fall. You can also see how steep the terrain is down the left side of Nevada, and then further on down as you descend the Mist Trail on the right side of Vernal. The footbridge crosses the Merced at the bottom of the Mist Trail and the path continues down to Happy Isle. Allegedly it is about a 10.4 mile hike. I think that must be as the crow flies, because it sure seemed a lot longer than that with all the switchbacks along the way. I've always harbored suspicions about Forest Service mileage markers ever since I was in the Scouts; this only reinforced them.
The view below is on our climb out of Illilouette Fall. At that point you can see across the Yosemite Valley to Yosemite Fall. Glacier Point, where we started our hike, is that big wall of rock on the left. At the base you can see the debris field from the scaling event, or slide, that occurred a week earlier. 
The photo below is a close up of the damage. You can see the swath of downed trees and how close it came to the Happy Isle building. You can also see the pulverized granite at the base of Glacier Point. What you can't see is how much of that dust coated the opposite side of the valley from the slide, especially along the trail between the footbridge and Happy Isle. Believe me, it was amazing to see how thick it was on the trees and ground.
This certainly was a vivid reminder of the power and unpredictability of nature. Yosemite is a wonderful place, but you have to respect it. Indeed, even in the comfortable climes of Burbank, in the heart of earthquake country, you have to respect nature. We lull ourselves into believing we are in control of our environment and we aren't, really. We just like to think we are. And then, BOOM. Reality strikes. And if we're lucky, it makes us stronger.
"Water, water everywhere; and not a drop to drink." Vernal Fall, like all Yosemite waterfalls in the height of the runoff season, disgorges a tremendous amount of water. The Mist Trail is so heavy at times hikers wear ponchos or other rain gear to keep themselves semi-dry. It is especially important if you are carrying a camera that is not waterproof. This shot, taken on our first visit to the Mist Trail, captures the force of the fall. The trees and rocks are almost in silhouette and it reminds me of the stylized Chinese or Japanese art.
The Falls were just as spectacular during the Death March, but by the time I reached the footbridge at the base of the Mist Trail, I was done and the scenery was the least of my concerns. It was only with massive cajoling and threats by my companions that I continued. By this time, Tina's and my water bottles were empty. It was still a good 1/2 mile to the trailhead and the promised shuttle bus to Camp Curry. But night was coming on rapidly. We had to get down before it was too dark to see the trail, which was covered in a thick coat of granite dust from the rock slide a few days earlier.
I had no idea how I was going to make it. But we staggered on down the trail as best we could. Fortunately Roy and Aida had a ace up their sleeves. They knew that part way down the trail there was a natural spring that emerged a few feet up the slope from where we would walk. Despite the warnings, we were reasonably sure that if any water was going to be amoeba-free, it would be at the point were it emerged from the ground. So we drank, and drank, and drank. The water was incredibly sweet. I thought I'd never get enough.
There was only one other time that water has tasted that good to me, and that was also from a natural spring, one on the trail up to the top of Mt. Baden-Powell here in the Angeles National Forest. My Boy Scout troop knew of it's location and made a point to visit it every time we hiked Baden-Powell. Like the Yosemite spring, I could not get enough to drink.
In any event, that small, trickling spring, emerging magically out of the powdery dust on that mountainside, saved me. It was still a long haul, but we eventually made it to the shuttle stop in total darkness. Ironically, there was a couple of hikers behind us and they caught up with our party at that point, but not before spooking Aida into thinking we were being stalked by bears. This will become important later.
I can't really remember the shuttle ride to Camp Curry. My memory says we missed the last shuttle and had to walk. Everyone else says we did make the last shuttle. Perhaps my brain had shut down by then. I do remember making it to the cafeteria at Camp Curry and just getting our order into the kitchen before it closed. The pizza was hot, but I could barely taste it; I was shivering and my body was shutting down. Unfortunately, we still had 3/4 of a mile to go to our camp site. But like any good serial, that part will have to follow later.
Sorry for the long intermission, but I was intensely involved in a special project for work. Essentially I was making a year-end report for our home department as a five-minute music video - yes, it's a long story. And yes, it's my first attempt, so you can imagine the compressed learning curve. Regardless, it is 98% complete and well before the Thursday deadline, so I can relax a bit and get to blogging again. But what would a serial be without intermission, eh?
When last seen, we were at the top of Nevada Fall preparing to head down to Vernal Fall. The trial was steep and strenuous, but I was still lively enough to stop for pictures (I have not scanned those slides yet, but will sometime soon). I also was not feeling the effects of dehydration yet. We stopped at the top of Vernal Fall and rested. Then we proceeded down the Mist Trail.
The start of the trail from the top of Vernal is a bit nerve-racking for someone like me who has a touch of acrophobia. While I'm not particularly nervous about heights, I do get twitchy when I feel precarious and unsteady at a height. I like to feel secure underfoot. That's why it took me several years to learn to ride a bicycle and why I never learned to skateboard or ice skate. I barely could roller skate. The first several hundred meters or so down the trail is against a rock wall. The narrow, deep steps are carved out of the rock and there is an iron handhold that is not very secure keeping you from toppling over into the abyss. If you think I exaggerate, the shot above (from a different trip) was taken at a more secure part of the trail as it wended its way down the gorge. I kept expecting to see llamas in Incas along the way. Yes, that part was an exaggeration, but not by much.
As I intimated, the composition of the bulk of the Mist Trail was stone steps. Many were natural, but some were shaped into platforms. They were irregular in width, depth and length. Going up is arduous; going down is treacherous - and very, very tiring for someone not used to working those muscle groups involved in the act of stepping down between 18 to 24 inches average at a time for over a mile. Add to that the heavy mist of the fall, which was quite plentiful this trip, and you can see how slow the going was for me. Don't forget, I was carrying 50+ pounds of camera gear in a not so secure pack (that would come in a later trip). The fear of a shifting load throwing me off balance and causing me to fall was ever-present on my mind.
By the time I hit the bottom of the Mist Trail, I was spent. The shot below, taken on an earlier trip (same day as the photo above), shows Vernal Fall from near the foot bridge as it crosses the Merced. If you look to the right of the fall, you can see the rock face that comprises the last part of the trail. Unlike this photo, it was dusk when we got down there. We still had about a half mile to go to get to the shuttle bus stop a Happy Isle.
There is the old movie cliche' of the wounded soldier saying to his comrades, "Leave me, save yourselves!" I literally said that to Tina, Roy and Aida. My legs felt like quivering tubes of Jello and I could barely stand. We were out of water (ironic, since we were next to a river - but again, we were warned of parasitic amoebas) and night was falling fast. The landscape beyond the foot bridge was covered in a thick layer of pulverized granite from the Glacier Point slide and looked like the very picture of devastation.
Roy and Aida threatened to drag me down the trail by my feet, so I rose after an all-to-brief respite and staggered on. But you'll have to wait for the next installment to hear the remaining story. That's why it's called a "serial." :-)
For those who are interested in learning more about the Mist Trail, here's a link to the Yosemite website on the subject, with photos: http://www.yosemitehikes.com/yosemite-valley/mist-trail/mist-trail.htm
Friedrich Nietzsche famously wrote, "what does not kill me, makes me stronger." That may be so. Unfortunately neither is fun to experience at the time of occurrence. But we did survive, even though we could barely walk the next day. Amazingly the four of us did the circuit again the next year, with Christie and Mike in tow. I think it was mainly at the behest of the kids because they wanted to see what we saw. So we did, just to show we could do it better the second time around, I suppose. It was still a tough hike for us, but we were better prepared and we managed a lot better. 
The photo below is a close up of the damage. You can see the swath of downed trees and how close it came to the Happy Isle building. You can also see the pulverized granite at the base of Glacier Point. What you can't see is how much of that dust coated the opposite side of the valley from the slide, especially along the trail between the footbridge and Happy Isle. Believe me, it was amazing to see how thick it was on the trees and ground.
This certainly was a vivid reminder of the power and unpredictability of nature. Yosemite is a wonderful place, but you have to respect it. Indeed, even in the comfortable climes of Burbank, in the heart of earthquake country, you have to respect nature. We lull ourselves into believing we are in control of our environment and we aren't, really. We just like to think we are. And then, BOOM. Reality strikes. And if we're lucky, it makes us stronger.
