Yosemite
Awanee '. Links
My memories of going to Yosemite as a child are not clear. My tio Marcos and my cousins took me a number of times. Going down the river in inner tubes with my cousins Stella and Alonso when I was 12 is a very happy memory.
A few more memories…
1970 was the last time there was The Fire Fall. At the top of one of the cliffs they would push over the edge a lot of embers from a big fire up there and the effect was what appeared to be a waterfall made of fire. The ceremony at Camp Curry to summon the Fire Fall was always very stirring. The nostalgia of it is making me tear up.
Putting four year-old Thea on a pony and jogging along with the pony on the trails on the valley floor. Such a happy memory.
Taking Sarah there for her first visit was a privilege. Coming out of the tunnel, the first sight of the valley literally took her breath away. It is rare to hear such a gasp.
Memories of being there with the children makes me so happy. We went once in the winter time. It was so beautiful in the snow. Actually, the only time I have seen real snow falling was there in Yosemite. There were maybe only 200 people on the valley floor. We got to know nearly everyone by sight.
I bought hiking shoes for the occasion. My feet got so hot. At one point I had to take my feet out of my shoes and put them in the snow. The snow steamed and melted just like in the cartoons. The next day only flip-flops for me. Nosy women of many sorts sneered comments saying how stupid it was walking like that in the snow. But the next day there were a dozen people walking around in flip-flops.
There are a couple of days a year, in the winter, when the sun back lights one of the waterfalls. We were on a shuttle bus when the driver saw it. He stopped the bus and we all appreciated the magical beauty.
As a child we must have gone to dinner at the Ahwahnee Hotel many times with Marcos. Now, going there with Sarah, it always makes me feel like all is right in the world.
One summer up at Glacier Point, among a big summer crowd, a wonderful something happened. People were milling about and looking here and there. There was a little boy about five years old arguing with his sister who was maybe nine and they were calling each other names. Then there was just one second, no one in the crowd was speaking, one second of silence, and the little boy in a very clear voice called his sister a “Poopy Majesty!" The whole crowd, all of these strangers erupted in joyous laughter.
The last time we were there, we were there with the extended family. Max had arranged for his in-laws to be there and many of his siblings, my brother and family, and cousins from Bakersfield. We had a wonderful time. It made me very happy.
@ And we did have an adventure on the drive back. Read about it on page
I’m only one of millions who think Yosemite is a special space, a sacred place, a space that despite it being so popular, a place that feels like my own.