Up, Up, Up!

We got up around 4 a.m., loaded our packs and headed out. For some reason, I decided to prepare for a hike to Everest because I saw a sign that read "Weather Can Change At Any Minute." I'm sure that if I searched my backpack thoroughly, I would have found a kitchen sink. (One of about 813 lessons I would learn over the weekend.) We had two options up the Valley: either the Muir trail, which was longer but not as steep, or Bridal Veil Falls, which was quicker but the steps all came up to my neck. We went with the "you should been born taller," trail, because we had just one day to get to the top and back.

The year 2000 saw a fair few floods and avalanches in the park, so everything was just a bit askew. I practically crawled to the top of Bridal Veil and quickly decided that all of the giggling twenty-somethings sporting sandals and drinking beer needed to go away. Didn't they know it was rude to show people up? I was sure the long-legged, sure-footed Melissa was just trying to humor me by staying slow and waiting for me at every turn, and won't ever admit it because she is such a good friend.

We arrived at Little Yosemite Valley about 3 or 4 hours into this purgatory, and discovered a gorgeous little clearing with shade, places to sleep and even bathrooms. This was supposed to be our oasis for the previous night and I would recommend it to anyone who wants a beautiful spot to pack-in and camp. I tried to take-in the wildflowers, woodland creatures and amazing views along the way, but mostly I was just staring, even cursing at the dirt in front of me. I even caught myself screaming at a few of the 400 false summits that mocked my every turn.

Then, around noon, something amazing happened. After lugging twice my weight up the boulders, rock beds, valleys and dusty trails we turned a corner and before us stood...more granite boulders. Yet, I wasn't the slightest bit angry or bitter. I was ready, fired up and practically ran up the second to the last leg of the climb. There lie a sort of zig-zag ascent to the back of the face, that only mountain goats and crazy people would ascend. I noticed that many people were conceding defeat, but from this vista I realized why we were doing this and why John Muir must have wept the first time he stepped onto that summit. It's not only where eagles fly, but where they live.

The last part of the journey meant a serious climb up the back using steel cables. It was daunting, but easy considering the hundreds of people who were looking for the ultimate summit at the same time. At the bottom of the cables, rested hundreds of old climbing gloves, the tools used and then passed on from climber to climber, veteran to rookie.