Skip to main content

Yosemite (Sierra ) Reflections 2018 - Part 1

Close your eyes and picture this; it's early evening, a cool crisp breeze in the Western Sierras, relaxing in the parlor of Wawona Hotel, masquerading as the Big Trees Hotel, which opened in 1879, a baby grand in the corner, at the keyboard, piano man, Tom Bopp asks,

"Any requests?"

"Do you know any Cole Porter?"

He winked and smiled, "I could play Cole Porter all night." Then he launched into:

"When the little bluebird
Who has never said a word
Starts to sing "Spring, spring"
When the little bluebell
At the bottom of the dell
Starts to ring, ding ding
When the little blue clerk
In the middle of his work
Starts a tune to the moon up above
It is nature; that's all
Simply telling us to fall in love."

"Birds do it, bees do it
Even educated fleas do it
Let's do it; let's fall in love."


That melody stayed with me for the rest of the week. As it will be with you throughout this blog post.

As you will see, this year's annual Sierra adventure completely contrasts our previous trips. This year, Lori and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary; we've been married for 30 years. But we've heard that the 50th is such a lovely celebration, so we decided to celebrate early!

We fell in love all over again - with Yosemite National Park, the luxury and splendor of camping in a Victorian Lodge, not a tent . . . 

"In Spain, the best upper sets do it
Lithuanians and Letts do it
Let's do it; let's fall in love."

Our first day was love at first sight, or should I say early light. We strolled among living giants. Capturing photos of those grand old trees like millions before us had done. During a previous Yosemite trip, we had only visited the trees at lower elevations; Bachelor and Three Graces and the famous Grizzly Giant. But, by climbing to a higher peak, we finally discovered the Mariposa Grove. A grove of mammoth trees scattered abundantly along the mountainside.

Relax, don't drive the winding mountain roads; the Big Trees Lodge has a shuttle from the Grove entrance directly back to the hotel. Our shuttle driver informed us, "the Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoia trees had been closed for two years, undergoing a $45 million renovation. The park service just reopened it earlier this year."

The ride from the hotel took about 30 minutes. "No longer can tourists drive up to the grove's entrance, elevation 5,600 feet? A parking lot with a lovely gift shop, information center, and restrooms now guard the entrance. Shuttles transport guests from the parking lot to a beautifully built entrance with railed wooden walkways to provide access for the handicapped and keep people from walking up to the trees and disturbing their delicate, shallow root structure. Looking to the driver's side, you will see a Sequoia we call "Bigfoot." It's as if Disney himself had set up the attraction. 

We enjoyed a leisurely hike, the seven-mile loop, to Wawona Point, elevation 6,810 feet. The weather was cool, the air fresh and crisp. Shiny new signposts with complete maps and directional markers provided easy directions. And Lo-and-behold, when nature called dramatically, there were restrooms, at the Galen Clark Cabin, with flush toilets to relieve the pressure. No hole digging or squatting is required! A complete renovation.

"The Dutch in old Amsterdam do it
Not to mention the Finns
Folks in Siam do it; think of Siamese twins
Some Argentines without means do it
People say in Boston, even beans do it
Let's do it; let's fall in love."


Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Sunflowers, French Steel, and the Yellow Jersey

Watching Le Tour de France this year, I found myself transported back to August 1983 as the Peloton in Stage 10, Bastille Day, flowed through the French countryside like a brightly colored ribbon. I was in my twenties, visiting family in the Charente-Maritime region of France, completely obsessed with bicycle racing—and convinced I was much stronger than I was. My connection to cycling—and to France—runs deep. I was born in France, and my very first real road bike, at age fifteen, was a Mercier . To me, it wasn’t just a bicycle; it was a work of art made from beautiful French steel. I rode that bike for miles, through high school, into college, and until the day someone decided they needed it more than I did. I hope they at least appreciated the craftsmanship. Its untimely disappearance led me to a Schwinn Voyageur, and later, when I started racing around Illinois, to a Raleigh Competition . But during that summer of ’83, while staying with my Uncle Jean Paul in Lagord, just north of L...

The Big Rip and the First Tee

The telescope (Celestron) sits quietly under its cover, temporarily blinded by Southern California's annual meteorological hostage situation – June Gloom. Somewhere above that thick gray ceiling, photons that began their journey before humans appeared are streaming across the cosmos, only to be intercepted by a marine layer that seems to have veto power over astronomy. Instead of observing the universe, I find myself imagining – The End of Everything (Astrophysically Speaking) by physicist Katie Mack. According to modern cosmology, the universe may eventually end in a Big Rip, a Big Crunch, Heat Death, Vacuum Decay, or some other catastrophe that sounds suspiciously like a rejected heavy-metal album title. Astrophysicists spend their careers calmly discussing the possibility that reality itself could suddenly cease to exist because a quantum field had a bad day. It's a remarkable way to start a Saturday morning. One moment you're contemplating the ultimate fate of spacetime...

The Places You'll Go . . .

Well, the time has arrived. Yes, July's drawing near, And somehow I've managed to last seven years! I've analyzed forecasts and studied the trends, While spreadsheets multiplied without seeming to end. We've planned for the sunshine, the storms, and the load, while Mother Nature kept changing the code. But through all the numbers, the forecasts, and charts, the best part of Cenergy's always been hearts. The people beside me, year after year, Made even the toughest challenges clear. To the bright, talented folks reading this today, The future is yours now—you're well on your way. And unlike my era, here's the key: You’ll work with AI just as smooth as can be. The reports that took hours may take only minutes. The models you build with intelligence in it. The data will flow faster than ever before, While AI handles tasks that are mostly a bore! But here's my advice as I head out the door: Technology changes, but people matter more. AI can predict, calcula...

Rediscovering the Magic of Summer . . .

Summer mornings, especially on a holiday weekend, have a special magic. The air is cool, the world quiet, and the day full of possibilities. This July 4th weekend, Lori and I decided to capture a bit of that magic by beating the holiday traffic with an early morning bicycle ride. We went through our usual pre-flight checklist: Stretched out the morning stiffness. Filled the water bottles. Strapped on the helmets. Checked the tires. Three tires passed inspection. The fourth had apparently declared independence. The rear tire on my e-bike was flatter than a Kansas highway. “Well, it looks like we’re not riding today,” Lori said, with the calm acceptance of someone who had already mentally promoted coffee to the day’s main event. “Why not?” I replied. “I’ll ride my old bike.” She gave me that look —the one that safely translates as, "Are you sure about this? " “Absolutely,” I said. “Why not?” I dragged the bike stand out and surveyed my options. One glance at the aggressive gear...