It’s the heat that makes things difficult. We parked at the Yosemite Lodge Parking Lot, bought sandwiches, and went to rent bikes. Unfortunately we weren’t early enough and the bikes were already rented. So we decided to walk to Mirror Lake.
Tenaya Creek and Mirror Lake
At first it was lovely. Warm sun, blue sky, a bridge crossing over the melodious Merced River. Then it got hot. Though there are shuttles that take you all over Yosemite Valley, on this day the closest ones to Mirror Lake were closed. So we kept walking. By the time we got to the Tenaya Creek pool just below Mirror Lake, I was “dying.” When we got there, I took off my boots, socks, and hat and plunged into the water–clothes and all. My vision blurred momentarily as I stood up, likely from the shock of the cold water after so much heat. People stared, but I didn’t mind. It was too damn hot to care.
I went and sat next to my hubby who was happily munching on chips in the shade. (He doesn’t get as hot nor complains as much as I do.) After I also ate a bag of salt and vinegar chips I felt a lot better. I decided I was up for hiking from the pool to Mirror Lake (I had mistakenly thought the Tenaya Creek pool was Mirror Lake because that’s where everyone hangs out.) It turns out that the trail from the pool to Mirror Lake is only about an eighth of a mile. That was amusing. And the reason no one was hanging out there is because in late spring and summer, the lake is more like a pond. And a buggy one at that. So I snapped a few photos and we went back to the swimming hole below it.
It felt great leaning against a shady tree, barefoot and cool. I wrote in my journal, and listened to birds singing, people splashing, and one persistent old man telling his entire life story to a young caretaker. Luckily, the breeze carried most of his words away.
I did get up from my spot once to see what animal some teenage boys were talking about. They showed me a tiny tree frog hiding in a little hole in a fallen log. That was neat. I thanked them and sat down again. But then I heard one of the boys say that he’d put an ant in the hole for the frog to eat. And another boy tried to pour a little water into the hole to “help” the frog. Alarmed, I uttered a fake laugh and said, “quit torturing the poor frog,” and “the ant will probably bite the frog!” These were big black ants, about as large as the frog.
The boys were actually surprised, “frogs don’t eat ants?”
“NO.” I said. So then they left the frog alone. Poor frog! I checked on it later and it seemed okay.
The First Argument
Married couples have annoying arguments that can be amusing once you look back on them. Our first one of the day occurred when we were walking back to the nearest shuttle station. We knew it was somewhere near Curry Village, but we couldn’t find it. And like I said before, it was hot. We disagreed on which way the station lay, so we argued, looked at the map, asked some people walking by–they didn’t know either–and finally I sat down on the curb in protest. “I’m not walking anymore in this heat until we know which way to go.”
We debated some more and luckily a shuttle drove by. Bill ran after it and saw it turn down another street that we weren’t aware of. We walked down there and found the station. Yay! Even though we had to wait for the next shuttle, we were happy. I pointed out that the time spent arguing allowed us to spot the wayward shuttle.
The Second Argument
Our next debate was over where to eat. Bill wanted to drive back to the Wawona and have a nice meal. I wanted to eat now, in the valley. Bill called the Wawona to make a reservation, but they didn’t answer, so I won. We ate at the Yosemite Lodge Grill. My cheap grilled hamburger tasted better than the expensive Wagyu burger I’d had the night before. That’s not saying much for the Mountain Room chef. . .
Bridalveil Fall
Driving back to the Wawona, we decided to stop at Bridalveil Fall for a quick look. I think it is the loveliest waterfall in the valley. It’s just so pretty. The walk up to it is only a quarter of a mile. Because it was dusk, hardly anyone was there. We enjoyed feeling the cool mist from the fall and watching water rush down Bridalveil Creek.
Before we left the parking lot, I said I had to use the restroom. Instead of waiting in the car, Bill waited outside for me like a gentleman. Poor Bill! The mosquitos ate him alive (they don’t bother with me).
The Third Argument.
As my husband drove us back on the dark, winding road to the Wawona, he kept removing one hand from the steering wheel to lean down and scratch his calf. It unnerved me. “Would you like me to drive so you can scratch?”
“No, I can drive. I’ll stop.”
“Bill, stop! Do you want me to drive?”
“No.”
“Then at least pull over and put some Neosporin on your bites.”
So he did and finally settled down with both hands on the wheel. But then I kept seeing things in the shadows (my eye stigmatism makes it harder to see at night). I thought he took the curves too fast and complained, and at one tense point in particular, I thought I saw a bear by the side of the road. “Stop!” But there was no bear, just shadows in the pines.
“THAT’S why I don’t let you drive.”
To allay my fears, Bill slowed down, I stopped nagging, and we quit arguing. Back at the Wawona we enjoyed listening to Tom Bopp on the piano. Despite the arguments, it had been another great day in Yosemite.
