Spring? Are you here?

Seems like there is always that one weekend in the fall where it rains and make the forest floor wet. And it seems like it really stays damp for the next five months. I always noticed it. Then there always seems to be that one day in the spring where the sun peaks through and the warm air swells, getting your hopes up about the coming change.

Deep down, you know you aren’t done with the cold just yet. But for some reason you can’t keep the hope from rising. That’s the wonderful power of Spring and its accompanying theme of renewal. It’s the metaphor of life, and it is beyond suppression.

I had just such reflections a couple of years ago, sitting around an early spring campsite:

Darkness ambled its way over the hilltops and into the deep valleys, vanquishing the day’s bold temperatures as only the cold of a spring night can. The same woods that burst with sound and life during the day, drift off early to bed. The quiet of the night is thick and it quickly envelops the field where we camp. If the spring’s days are being wooed by the coming summer, then its nights still reside firmly in winter’s possession.

The cold that accompanies the dark seems to sting more as well, as if the warm sun with its brief daytime reprieve has charmed the body into dropping its natural defenses. To fight back against the chill, we huddle around a tight circle of ten stones surrounding our bright glowing blaze.

And nothing draws a crowd like a fire.

We sit around it as groups have for thousands of years, enamored by the simplicity and the mysterious contrast it offers up to the night sky. Maybe a few things are different. Technology and different clothes, different hairstyles. But as a people, we haven't changed much.

Just a week or so ago, we had that day. The day where it was warm and bright. Where the shadows were crisp and defined by strong light, a welcome change from the dreariness of the preceding months.

And then hope came.

Of longer days.

Of wild flowers.

Of forest paths once more first and dry.

But I promise myself I won’t be duped again. I remind myself that the cold isn’t completely gone. That’s winter grip, the hardest to break, is still clutching the evening and nights. I know I have before, but this year I won’t allow hope to pull the wool over my eyes.

And then as the cardinal taps at my morning window, I wonder out loud if that is true.  

-JW

Yosemite

All of my life, I have heard stories about Yosemite. When I was younger, I would get it and Yellowstone confused. “Now which one is the one in California and which one has Old Faithful?” For a while there, I often wondered how Yosemite Sam fit into the equation. Soon after, a short lesson at my elementary school straightened most all of those facts out for me. The lesson focused on the valley floor and the prominent features of Half Dome, El Cap and Yosemite Falls. The teacher’s son had been on a trip across country and brought back photos for his mom to use in class. I was 11 and the trip seemed like another world to me. This far off, vast world of giant falls, giant mountains and giant trees.

Thirty years later, when I pulled through the tunnel accessing the valley, the essence didn’t feel all that different. We parked the rental van in the overlook lot and scrambled up the hill across the street to get a better view. There were six of us. As we stood there taking in our first look at the postcard setting, it truly seemed like looking into a world less real that the one behind us.

Over the next week, we adventured around and explored every spot we could get to in the park. We hit all the big points, we drove every road, we climbed around every lake, river, or waterfall we could find. We made plans about where we go next time and backcountry routes we would like to attempt. We hung out in the famous Camp 4. We sat in awe as big wall climbers ascended vertical cliffs. We talked with through-hikers on the John Muir Trail. And we watched a momma bear and her cubs amble through the underbrush.

But mostly, we realized two things: 1) Just how great our National Parks are and 2) the power and beauty of nature is absolutely universal. On the first point, we could have spent three weeks in the Yosemite and had something great to do every day. We were impressed by the park and their employees. The Junior Ranger experience absolutely “top shelf” there. I can’t tell you the number of times we would be hiking out somewhere and a ranger would come out of nowhere, usually on horseback, and would weed through the crowd to get to my son. All because they saw him wearing his ranger hat and vest. He talked about it for months. On the second point, you will never see a more diverse crowd of folks than you do at some of these places. All countries, all areas, all ages. All making a pilgrimage there.

People often ask me about our trip there, much like my teachers’ son back in elementary school. They want to know about the big ticket items, as well as the logistics of travel. A few things I usually mention:

• We found that Yosemite isn’t really close to anything. When you are finding a place to stay, outside a few places within the park, everything is about an hour drive from the valley.

• Traffic in the valley is just like what people say. Wild. Find a parking spot and use the trolley system, for certain.

• Expect the unexpected. Someone told me that there always seemed to be something big going on in Yosemite, it’s so popular. Well, they were right. The third day we were there, some of our plans got changed because of an unexpected visitor: The President of the United States! Evidently it was a Father’s Day gift to President Obama.

And then lastly, Tuolumne. Pronounced too-AH-lum-ee. A meadow on the northern part of the park. The valley may get the headlines, but for me this was the place to be. A world-class beauty of a meadow with a winding river running through it. My favorite moment of the trip was when the whole family hiked to the top of Pothole Dome in this area. Beyond description.