On a beautiful Sunday afternoon on the 6th of August 2017, as I sat on a camping chair surrounded by towering pines. I offer to hold Stan-the-Man’s beer as he climbs into a hammock on day-two of Mammoth’s 22nd annual blues music and craft beer festival. The sky is crystal clear. The beer is cold. The crowd fantastic. The company perfect, and the music sets a pleasant background. As I hand Stan-the-Man his beer back, he sighs, without a shred of pretense, “dang”. In one syllable, he exactly articulated my emotions. A relaxing moment, on a beautiful day, in a great weekend, at the end of a fantastic vacation.
Rewinding nine days, the trip had not started off quite as magical. I arrived to the Newport News airport approximately 40 minutes prior to my scheduled departure, and no sooner had I made it through security were we alerted of a 45 minute delay. With a healthy turn in Charlotte, there is no reason for concern at this point, so I settle in to wait for my flight. Nine minutes prior to the scheduled arrival of the in-bound flight that is suppose to take me to Charlotte, they issued another 45 minute delay. Why they waited so long to issue this most recent delay is anybody’s guess, but alas, this delay was going to cause me to miss my connection in Charlotte to Portland.
I was rebooked on a flight out of Charlotte to Portland for the following morning, and elected to stick with my original flight out of Newport News to avoid any chance of missing the new connection. When one flies “American Airlines, in association with American Eagle, operated by Piedmont Airlines and a ‘partner’” one does not exactly get priority in cases of weather or maintenance delays so it is best to stick with any flight that appears to be going, no matter how delayed. I figured I might be able to spend the night at the USO in the Charlotte airport or in the worst case scenario sit in one of Charlotte airport’s famous rocking chairs all night.
After being rebooked with a plan to get to Portland about 13 hours later than originally planned, I called American Airlines back to see if there were any other options that would get me to Portland sooner. The attendant gave me a number of options that were significantly worse than the option I already had. At some point, I said, “my desire is to get there sooner not later.” The attendant responded with, “Well, if time is your concern, you have the quickest routing….short of getting in a car and driving.” WHAT! Portland is nearly 2,800 miles from Charlotte…how could driving be faster? I felt like Richard in Tommy Boy – “Hi, I’m Earth, have we met?”. In the end, I stuck with the plan I had.
I was also informed during the re-booking process that I would need to check on my bag at baggage claim in Charlotte. This is very non standard, but with about 12 hours to kill in Charlotte, I figured it could not hurt. I was wrong about that.
I exited security in Charlotte and went to baggage claim only to find out that I did not, in fact, need to check on my bag as it was auto-routed to Portland. No big deal…until I tried to go back through security to go hang out at the USO or a rocking chair, and I was told that my ticket was for tomorrow morning, and I was not allowed in…until tomorrow. I explained to the TSA agent the situation and he said that there was nothing he could do, but perhaps the ticket counter would give me a gate pass. Back at the ticket counter, I was greeted by an extremely rude individual who had nothing for my plight. When queried what I should do at that point, he told me I could sleep on the floor here. Why sleeping on the floor outside security is better than sleeping inside security, I will never know.
I was not the only traveler to be in this situation, and aside from a young man with an extremely loud ring tone that was getting a text message ever 10-15 seconds, the night passed uneventfully and I slept pretty much the whole way to Portland the following morning.
After Matthew picked me up at the Portland airport on the 29th of July, we made our way to McMenamins Kennedy School for lunch. The Kennedy School is an old elementary school where they converted the classrooms into bars, restaurants, and some hotel rooms. It is worth a stop if you are in Portland. The morning was beautiful and we sat in the courtyard of the old school, and we had a nice lunch while we planned out the next couple days.
Later that afternoon, we went to Powell’s City of Books in downtown Portland, where we researched hiking in the Three Sister’s Wilderness Area and bought a map. Powell’s is massive. If books are your thing, it is quite a sight.
As luck would have it, there was a beer festival occurring in downtown Portland, and we went to check that out. It was crowded and hot, and there was a significant amount of time between bands on stage. Actually, I do not believe we heard a single song play the entire time we were there. They were forever “getting ready to play”. We had a good time, but I would say as beer festivals go, that particular beer festival is worth skipping.
On Sunday morning, between laundry and a grocery run, we were pretty slow getting out of Portland, and did not get to the Three Sister’s Wilderness Area until about 4:30 on the afternoon of 30 July. We stopped at a Ranger station where we asked about hiking to Moraine Lake with a plan to summit the South Sister on the morrow. We were told that we could certainly hike to Moraine Lake, but without ice climbing gear (crampons, etc.) we would not be able to summit because the snow line was at 7,500 feet while the summit was 10,358 feet. Very disappointed in the news, we decided to continue on to Moraine Lake and hike as far as we could the next morning. The mosquitoes were bad on the hike in and even worse at camp, so we turned in early to avoid being eaten to death.
The next morning we stowed the majority of gear out-of-sight, and set-off with day packs to attempt to summit the South Sister. It is true that there probably was some snow at 7,500 feet, but to describe it as “the snow line” was a huge exaggeration. There was some snow hanging around in shadows and under over hanging rocks, but with the exception of a 20 foot section with 2 inches of snow on it, the entire 4.7 mile trail was dry.
That does not mean it was easy. The upper section of the hike was straight up a ridge line. According to my GPS device, we climbed 2,974 feet in 2.56 miles at the steepest section. That is a grade of about 22%. It was a sustained, soul crushing slog. The thousands of butterflies fluttering around us made the grade and mosquitoes from the night before almost worthwhile. Almost. The views from the top, however, were fantastic, and definitely made up for the effort.
After another night in the Three Sisters Wilderness Area and a short soak in the Green Lakes, we were off again, driving south stopping at Crater Lake National Park. The lake is amazing and the views stunning, but there were dozens of people on the rim near the visitor’s center that were not even looking at the lake. Children and adults a like were beside themselves, not with the awe inspiring views of the ninth deepest lake in the world, but rather in playing in a half-acre of three-inch deep, dirty snow. I guess they can always see the lake next time they take their Griswoldian vacation to Crater Lake.
Next, we were making our way to California and the coast. We stopped in Medford, Oregon for dinner where the Oregon heatwave of 2017 was in full effect. The car temperature read 108 F. I was incredulous that it was a sensor error…until I got out of the car. It did not take long for us to decide that we were going to have to drive out of the heatwave zone if we were going to be able to camp that evening.
By the time we made it over the coast range and were on “the 101” (because we were in California), the temperature had dropped at least 40 degrees….and the trees were enormous.
We followed the 101 and then the 1 over the next two days to the town of Fort Bragg, Ca. Stopping often to look at the Redwoods or the ocean. If you are out that way, I recommend the Avenue of the Giants (the 254) in Humbolt Redwoods State Park. Yes it is pretty touristy, but it is an easy way to get great views of the redwoods with many opportunities to “take a short 0.5 mile hike to see…” Spoiler, you will see massive trees….but they do not seem to get old.
At this point, we sprinted inland to the 5, and drove south to Yosemite. We found a campsite in the Stanislaus National Forest just 15 minutes from the western entrance to Yosemite. This was a big, uneventful day of driving, but we ended it with a cheeseburger on the porch of the cafe in what is now called “Half Dome Village”.
Although there were plenty of people around, I honestly expected it to be much more crowded for an August 3rd afternoon. We were able to drive around the valley with relative ease, and plan out our following day in the park.
Readers familiar with Yosemite might ask themselves…”where is Half Dome Village?” If you have a map of Yosemite that is more than 2 years old, look at it, and find “Curry Village”…..same place. Apparently, there is a trademark dispute ongoing between the National Park Service and the contracted concessions provider. I am not sure which party is at fault in this dispute, but it is truly annoying. First, the fact that the name of a camp ground / concession stand in a National Park can be trademarked is a sign that we have truly lost our minds as a society, and secondly, it is makes finding sites such as the historic Ahwahnee Hotel (read: Majestic Yosemite Hotel) and Wawona Hotel (read: Big Trees Lodge) very difficult. Also, I think it is pretty clear that during the renaming process, they renamed the Wawona Hotel late in the day. Seriously…Big Tree Lodge?!?!? Is that the best you can do?
On that Friday, we took a big hike. We hiked up the Upper Yosemite Falls trail early in the morning, reaching the top by mid-morning for a sit and a snack near the stream. At one point, I watched a young women cross the stream with about 6 inches of water rushing passed her feet upstream of the one of the tallest waterfalls in the world. The upper falls, which she would have come to first, is a 1,430 foot plunge. I was a bit away when I saw this happening, and as I approached her friend, I informed him that that was a supremely dumb thing to do. He agreed.
There are a couple things the Rangers make clear to visitors in national parks. The wilderness is, as the name implies, wild. Do not take unnecessary risks like walking across a river upstream of a waterfall. Also, don’t feed our bears. Alas, without these idiots we would not have the morbidly popular book series chronicling deaths in National Parks. Yellowstone recently came out with a 2nd edition, so business is good….I guess.
After looking at the falls, we continued out to El Capitan and had lunch on top of the monolith. On the return trip, we took a quick side jaunt to Eagle Peak. Aside from the notoriety of hiking to El Capitan, it was not worth the extra 4+ miles (roundtrip). The view from Eagle Peak, however, was awesome. If you end up putting in the effort to climb the Upper Yosemite Falls, it is an easy extension to get to Eagle Peak, and it is worthwhile.
Hours later at about 5:30 pm, when we are 20-30 minutes from the car, after thousands of feet of climbing and nearly 18 miles of hiking, we pass a group going up with what appeared to be one 8 oz bottle of water per person. They were taking a break, and ask us how much farther it was to the top. We inform them that they are not close, and in fact, they had barely gotten started. They are disappointed, but it is important to be realistic with people in situations like that, otherwise they could get themselves into a bad situation.
After dinner at the Whoa Nelly Deli, a must stop just off the 395 on the 120 at the Tioga Gas Mart, we made our way to Mammoth Lakes for the beginning of a weekend with great friends in the Eastern Sierra.
Bluesapalooza, as always, was amazing. We had a couple new folks in our group this year, and we were talking the festival up a lot on Friday night. I was a bit nervous that we were potentially over hyping it. It turns out that that is not possible, and they both admitted that we did not oversell it. Not even a fairly significant downpour on Saturday afternoon could break-our spirit, and with a little ingenuity and teamwork we had a “moving tent” that kept the group dry-ish all afternoon.
By Monday evening, we were in Las Vegas having a great steak dinner with great friends before I flew out on Monday night to return to my real life.
As I reflect on this vacation with Matthew it occurs to me that I cannot remember ever having a vacation quite like that before. Fly into one city and out of another. Have no real plan, except continue moving on. Cover well over 1,500 miles. Hike and camp and spend a lot of quality time with Matthew. I am truly grateful that I had the opportunity to spend 10 days on the road with my brother, and I hope to be able to do something like that again someday. In the end, the only thing I can think to say to sum up this whole experience is… “dang”.
John Philip