Janello Words

words that make it even better
Sep 6 '04
YOSEMITE-SEPTEMBER 2004 I have lived in the bay area for far too long without going to Yosemite. I was there once but not since I moved west from the east coast. I have never gone in solo. So, that is exactly what I did. I was not going on some crazy, insane, backcountry expedition, or putting myself on a 5000 foot cliff that looks as bad going up as it does coming down. I was simply going to relax and enjoy the landscape with some easy day hiking, then hunker down in a cozy campsite at night complete with a water spicket, picnic table and bear box. At least, that was my goal. The road trip from San Francisco started my voyage on a great note. Some kickin’ car tunes, a hot Starbuck’s Columbian Supremo and my pick-up bed loaded with gear got me psyched up. I headed across the state early in the morning watching the traffic build on the opposite side of the highway as I got farther away from the coast. I passed through the immense windmill farm, which marks the end of the coastal communities, and soon found myself in California’s vast Central Valley. Things change drastically when you enter this part of the state. Everything seems to slow and the land almost grows before your eyes. It feels a lot like the Great Plains because you can literally see for miles in every direction. With the last of the coastal mountains fading away in my rearview mirror I decided to stop and do my camp shopping. The town of Manteca would be a very suitable location for this pit stop. The town was simple as you might guess. As soon as you get off the interstate you have the typical pocket of super stores and chain restaurants. Driving further into town the larger than life logos and icons fade and give way to the sleepy mom and pop township that Manteca really is. Forty-five minutes later I was gassed up, loaded with food and water and ready to continue my journey into the high country. Its nice shopping for food when you have no budget, no time constrains and no dietary issues to deal with. Pork chops, a salami and a box of Mac and cheese, to name a few, made it across the checkout scanner without regrets. Back on the road I began a series of turns and merges that took me from one highway to the next. As I drove, the roads got thinner and harder and the traffic dissipated completely until I felt as if I was the only one on the road. About an hour later I was gaining altitude. I had crossed the valley and was starting into the Sierras. My climb was accompanied by some twists and turns and before I new it I was at the door to Yosemite. I passed through several small towns on the outside of the park claiming cheaper gas and cheaper food than you could find in the park. Being in advertising, the signs did not successfully lure me in. Besides my gas needle was still miles away from that ominous letter E. Arriving at the front gate of Yosemite the first half of my trip was complete. I bought a $50 parks pass. I opted for the pass instead of the $20 entrance fee. I did this not so much to use the pass for entry into other parks but to support the National Parks Organization, which is severely under funded. The pass, although, does come in handy when making a weekend run almost anywhere in California. As the gate rose and I began to drive away from the booth I almost immediately smelt the scent of hot Juniper. There is something about a warm forest smell that makes me feel quite comfortable and relaxed. As my truck began winding through the park I began to see the granite domes peek their heads out of the forest. A hard left onto Tioga Road began to lead me to Tuolumne Meadows, my final destination. With the granite now sprawled out in front of me I couldn’t resist pulling over to snap a few shots and soak in the landscape. I arrived at the Tuolumne Campground at around 2pm. I asked for a secluded site as far away from the groups as possible. The ranger assigned me E4 and pointed me in the direction of a poorly maintained dirt road. Before I could drive off he blurted out a warning. “Be good about using your bear box”, He said disimpassioned, “we saw a bear this morning poking around camp” I replied with a nod and drove off. Arriving at my site I surveyed the scene carefully. I saw no critters, or trace there of. The last time I was in Yosemite I left because of bear scare. Yosemite has the worst bear problem of all the parks I have visited, worse than Yellowstone and certainly worse than the Tetons. It was Labor Day weekend and we were in the valley. It felt like Times Square. Cars, kids and coolers filled the landscape until all natural elements became invisible. If you didn’t look up and see half dome looking down at you, you would have been looking for a subway entrance. These conditions mixed with bear signs and bear boxes every 25 feet made for a volatile environment. It seems that bears, more so in Yosemite, are conditioned to a point where they wait for a human to leave out some food and then come slurp it up. With all the cars, kids and coolers around that was not a very long wait. The chaos got to us and before we could enjoy it, we fled. This time I was determined to stick it out but I did not easily forget the chaos of my last visit. Tuolumne was away from the valley and was much less frequented. It was also mid-September and the crowds had pretty much left for the season. Never the less, I finished my inspection and, heeding the rangers request, loaded my food, clothes and smelly things into the bear box. I set up my tent, positioned my gear, and filled my water bottles in preparation for dinner. I spent the rest of the day exploring the meadows and domes in the area. No serious hikes or climbs just some roadside exploration accented with some picture taking. Content, I went back to my campsite to cook. I had some steak with couscous and for desert an apple. I cleaned up promptly and decided to go give Danielle a call from the payphone. This took a while, and by the time I returned to my campsite it was dark. As I backed my truck into the campsite I heard a loud noise. Turning off the car I peered through the window into the dark night. The noise persisted. Banging pots, whistles and screams were coming from the forest just beyond my bear box. As my eyes adjusted I could see nothing but the trees and ground to the perimeter of my camp. The noise persisted at a constant rate for 20 minutes. I stayed frozen in the car, nose pressed to the window, waiting for a giant bear to fly out of the woods and attack my truck. The noise stopped and I mustered up the courage to lower the window. Peering out into the forest I smelt the faint odor of campfire as the cool wet air hit my face. I heard nothing. Silence was now attacking me the same way I had imagined the bear to be a few minutes ago. I rolled up the window, sat back in my seat and waited. I pondered going to the tent, putting my cooking clothes into the bear box and pissing one last time. Just then I heard the banging and whistling start up again. At that point there was no doubt that there was a bear in very close proximity to me. I had made the snap decision that there was no reason I needed to go sleep in a tent when I could stay right here in my very comfortable, fully automated truck. As I nestled into the back seat, double checking that the keys were in the ignition and ready to go if the worse were to happen, I hoped with desperation that I would not have to use the bathroom until sun up. In the morning nothing had happened. My mind had gotten the best of me. My tent and campsite were unscathed by the faceless bandit who was lurking in the night. My imagination was much bigger than that bear. I decided no matter what, I was facing the fear and sleeping in the tent that night. It was still early and I threw on my pack and headed for Lembert Dome. It was just across the road from the campsite entrance, so it took me only 5 minutes to get there. I decided that I was going to scale the southwest face, a class-4 climb that I had seen a few people come down the day before. As the sun grew higher in the sky I grew more and more winded. Forgetting that I slept at 7000ft. and was climbing to 9500 ft my breath became shorter and my rests more frequent. Adding that it was only 7:00am and I had yet to eat breakfast my rests became longer than my climbs. I picked my way from crack to crack to occasional branch, eventually making it to the top. I dropped my pack and had some breakfast on the edge of the dome with all of the meadow laid out before me. After breakfast, I bouldered across the dome until, I found the trail that most people used to reach the top. Following the trail to the road, and the road to my truck, I jumped in the drivers seat and headed 5 miles down the highway to the next trailhead. The Cathedral Lakes trail is a 7 mile round trip. This, I decided, would be my second hike of the day. The trail brings you past Cathedral peak and several other domes. Cathedral peak is aptly named because of its tall, brittle, spire that sits like a steeple atop the massive rock. As you progress on the trail you curl around the back of the rock providing better and better vantage points of the spire. When you finally reach he lake you are rewarded with an unobstructed view of the peak and surrounding domes. I hiked another half mile around the east side of the lake so that I was able to view the lake and peak in one grand vista. As my zeal dissipated my hunger took charge. I managed to find a soft piece of granite to lay my gear on and begin my lunch. After lunch I took a short nap letting the sun warm my bones a bit. Heading back I met up with a hiker whose partner was climbing the spire. She was from New Hampshire and about 55 years old. She hiked at a quick pace which made it difficult to hold a conversation with her. Before I decided to slow up she revealed her hiking history, her AT stories and that she has never been to the Grand Canyon. Parting ways she wished me good luck and I wished her the same. Back at my truck I looked at my watch and noted that it was 4pm. That gave me 3 hours to get back to camp, cook, clean and get into my tent before dusk. Dusk, as I noted the night before, was when the bears show up. Getting back to camp took me no time. I decided to call Dan on the way into camp, that way I did not loose precious light by driving to and from the phone after my dinner. After hanging up I proceeded directly to my bear box and began cooking. Pork and couscous burritos with cheddar cheese were the entrée of the night. I had some cheese and salami as an appetizer and washed the whole smorgasbord down with some cold, freshly shaken, Gatorade. 5:45pm. Right on time. I cleaned up and changed out of my cooking clothes, burying them deep within the bear box. Next, I headed down to the toilets to wash up and brush my choppers. Back at my campsite I dropped the tailgate of my truck and began the waiting game for dusk. At about 6:30pm I closed up truck and decided to head for the tent. Having hiked 10 miles that day, both hikes combined, made me fairly tired and I could have gone to sleep at any second. Never the less, falling asleep in daylight is still fairly difficult on a psychological level. Snug in my bag and protected by the 3mm nylon, that is my tent wall and rain fly combined, I continued to read. As the light disappeared and my headlamp became the sole illuminator of my pages, I heard nothing but my breath hitting the small exposed section of tent floor between my sleeping bag and my book. Then all of a sudden the campers next to me exploded into a pot slamming frenzy accompanied by loud shouts of “Go away’s” and “Get out of here’s”. Before I could react I heard the next campsite erupt into its mélange of defenses. Using whistles and clanging metal they too chased the perpetrator away from their campsite. My hand instinctively reached up and twisted off my headlamp. Sitting still, listening for any sign of noise, I looked into the darkness. As each campsite reacted in sequence I realized the bear, as I now boldly admit, was moving away from me. As I listened for the next 20 minutes I could hear the clattering and whistling move across the entire campground. Eventually it began to trail off in the distance as if you were listening to a thunderstorm pass over your house on a hot July night. Calm, but not settled, I lay my head down on my makeshift pillow. Thankfully those 10 miles were kicking in and in a few minutes I was off to dreamland. I woke the next morning fresh. I made some coffee and ate a cold bowl of Special K red berries. No bears, no banging, no more worries. I had kept my promise to myself and slept in the tent. It turns out the bears in Yosemite are much like stray dogs. All they want is a little grub and they are used to getting it. If you simply shoo them away they will leave and go find an easier target. The only difference is that they can pounce on you, rip off your face and then crush every bone in your body. With the truck packed I gave my campsite a last once over and headed back to the road. On the way out of Tuolumne I stopped at the trailhead for North Dome. I threw on my pack and headed off into the forest. The trail headed south for 5 miles. The hike in was exciting. The forest led to a clearing, which led to pure granite. From there you climbed up and down the granite until you reached North Dome’s summit. From the summit you had a panoramic view of the entire valley. Across the valley stood Half Dome looking down on me like a father does a son. Standing there, a few thousand feet above the valley, allowed me to peek into the place I had once deserted. I did not see the Times Square pandemonium I had last time. No Cars, kids or coolers were visible. All I saw was meandering trails, large pieces of granite and pockets of evergreen trees. Everything was so peaceful both down in the valley and up on the dome. It reminded me that nature, bears and all, is a fantastic and seldom appreciated thing. Most importantly, it reminded me to relax and enjoy, which I did. Heading back to my truck I was mostly alone in the woods. I was soaking up the sounds, sights and smells with a much calmer and observant manner as on the way in. Time mattered none as I sipped my camelback and looked up into the trees as much as I looked ahead onto the trail. When I reached the truck I gave myself a good, water bottle, bath and changed clothes. Back on the highway I meandered back down the Sierras and back into the Central Valley. Once on the flats I stopped at Carl’s Jr. for the traditional after camping pig out. Satiated by my two Famous Stars, a large fry and ice-cold coke I hobbled back to the truck and finished my journey home. As I rode through Oakland, California and began crossing the Bay Bridge it was dusk. The city was lit up like Christmas. I though to myself, there was so much movement and hustle happening in front of me. How drastically different it was from what I had just experienced. Before I exited the highway and buried myself in the city, I though one final time about my campsite. I wondered what was happening there that very second. What parade of sounds and sites were tonight’s campers enduring? My time in Yosemite was thoroughly enjoyed. Although it was not a hardcore backcountry expedition, I learned plenty about being alone in nature and dealing with the creatures it harbors. Most importantly I did eventually relax and recharge my mind in a much needed way. Words and Images by J.Anello (contact: 516-991-3386/j@janello.com)

YOSEMITE-SEPTEMBER 2004

I have lived in the bay area for far too long without going to Yosemite. I was there once but not since I moved west from the east coast. I have never gone in solo. So, that is exactly what I did.

I was not going on some crazy, insane, backcountry expedition, or putting myself on a 5000 foot cliff that looks as bad going up as it does coming down. I was simply going to relax and enjoy the landscape with some easy day hiking, then hunker down in a cozy campsite at night complete with a water spicket, picnic table and bear box. At least, that was my goal.

The road trip from San Francisco started my voyage on a great note. Some kickin’ car tunes, a hot Starbuck’s Columbian Supremo and my pick-up bed loaded with gear got me psyched up. I headed across the state early in the morning watching the traffic build on the opposite side of the highway as I got farther away from the coast. I passed through the immense windmill farm, which marks the end of the coastal communities, and soon found myself in California’s vast Central Valley. Things change drastically when you enter this part of the state. Everything seems to slow and the land almost grows before your eyes. It feels a lot like the Great Plains because you can literally see for miles in every direction. With the last of the coastal mountains fading away in my rearview mirror I decided to stop and do my camp shopping.

The town of Manteca would be a very suitable location for this pit stop. The town was simple as you might guess. As soon as you get off the interstate you have the typical pocket of super stores and chain restaurants. Driving further into town the larger than life logos and icons fade and give way to the sleepy mom and pop township that Manteca really is. Forty-five minutes later I was gassed up, loaded with food and water and ready to continue my journey into the high country. Its nice shopping for food when you have no budget, no time constrains and no dietary issues to deal with. Pork chops, a salami and a box of Mac and cheese, to name a few, made it across the checkout scanner without regrets.

Back on the road I began a series of turns and merges that took me from one highway to the next. As I drove, the roads got thinner and harder and the traffic dissipated completely until I felt as if I was the only one on the road. About an hour later I was gaining altitude. I had crossed the valley and was starting into the Sierras. My climb was accompanied by some twists and turns and before I new it I was at the door to Yosemite. I passed through several small towns on the outside of the park claiming cheaper gas and cheaper food than you could find in the park. Being in advertising, the signs did not successfully lure me in. Besides my gas needle was still miles away from that ominous letter E.

Arriving at the front gate of Yosemite the first half of my trip was complete. I bought a $50 parks pass. I opted for the pass instead of the $20 entrance fee. I did this not so much to use the pass for entry into other parks but to support the National Parks Organization, which is severely under funded. The pass, although, does come in handy when making a weekend run almost anywhere in California. As the gate rose and I began to drive away from the booth I almost immediately smelt the scent of hot Juniper. There is something about a warm forest smell that makes me feel quite comfortable and relaxed.

As my truck began winding through the park I began to see the granite domes peek their heads out of the forest. A hard left onto Tioga Road began to lead me to Tuolumne Meadows, my final destination. With the granite now sprawled out in front of me I couldn’t resist pulling over to snap a few shots and soak in the landscape.

I arrived at the Tuolumne Campground at around 2pm. I asked for a secluded site as far away from the groups as possible. The ranger assigned me E4 and pointed me in the direction of a poorly maintained dirt road. Before I could drive off he blurted out a warning. “Be good about using your bear box”, He said disimpassioned, “we saw a bear this morning poking around camp” I replied with a nod and drove off.

Arriving at my site I surveyed the scene carefully. I saw no critters, or trace there of. The last time I was in Yosemite I left because of bear scare. Yosemite has the worst bear problem of all the parks I have visited, worse than Yellowstone and certainly worse than the Tetons.

It was Labor Day weekend and we were in the valley. It felt like Times Square. Cars, kids and coolers filled the landscape until all natural elements became invisible. If you didn’t look up and see half dome looking down at you, you would have been looking for a subway entrance. These conditions mixed with bear signs and bear boxes every 25 feet made for a volatile environment. It seems that bears, more so in Yosemite, are conditioned to a point where they wait for a human to leave out some food and then come slurp it up. With all the cars, kids and coolers around that was not a very long wait. The chaos got to us and before we could enjoy it, we fled.

This time I was determined to stick it out but I did not easily forget the chaos of my last visit. Tuolumne was away from the valley and was much less frequented. It was also mid-September and the crowds had pretty much left for the season. Never the less, I finished my inspection and, heeding the rangers request, loaded my food, clothes and smelly things into the bear box. I set up my tent, positioned my gear, and filled my water bottles in preparation for dinner.

I spent the rest of the day exploring the meadows and domes in the area. No serious hikes or climbs just some roadside exploration accented with some picture taking. Content, I went back to my campsite to cook. I had some steak with couscous and for desert an apple. I cleaned up promptly and decided to go give Danielle a call from the payphone. This took a while, and by the time I returned to my campsite it was dark. As I backed my truck into the campsite I heard a loud noise. Turning off the car I peered through the window into the dark night. The noise persisted. Banging pots, whistles and screams were coming from the forest just beyond my bear box. As my eyes adjusted I could see nothing but the trees and ground to the perimeter of my camp. The noise persisted at a constant rate for 20 minutes. I stayed frozen in the car, nose pressed to the window, waiting for a giant bear to fly out of the woods and attack my truck. The noise stopped and I mustered up the courage to lower the window. Peering out into the forest I smelt the faint odor of campfire as the cool wet air hit my face. I heard nothing. Silence was now attacking me the same way I had imagined the bear to be a few minutes ago. I rolled up the window, sat back in my seat and waited. I pondered going to the tent, putting my cooking clothes into the bear box and pissing one last time. Just then I heard the banging and whistling start up again. At that point there was no doubt that there was a bear in very close proximity to me. I had made the snap decision that there was no reason I needed to go sleep in a tent when I could stay right here in my very comfortable, fully automated truck. As I nestled into the back seat, double checking that the keys were in the ignition and ready to go if the worse were to happen, I hoped with desperation that I would not have to use the bathroom until sun up.

In the morning nothing had happened. My mind had gotten the best of me. My tent and campsite were unscathed by the faceless bandit who was lurking in the night. My imagination was much bigger than that bear. I decided no matter what, I was facing the fear and sleeping in the tent that night.

It was still early and I threw on my pack and headed for Lembert Dome. It was just across the road from the campsite entrance, so it took me only 5 minutes to get there. I decided that I was going to scale the southwest face, a class-4 climb that I had seen a few people come down the day before. As the sun grew higher in the sky I grew more and more winded. Forgetting that I slept at 7000ft. and was climbing to 9500 ft my breath became shorter and my rests more frequent. Adding that it was only 7:00am and I had yet to eat breakfast my rests became longer than my climbs. I picked my way from crack to crack to occasional branch, eventually making it to the top. I dropped my pack and had some breakfast on the edge of the dome with all of the meadow laid out before me. After breakfast, I bouldered across the dome until, I found the trail that most people used to reach the top. Following the trail to the road, and the road to my truck, I jumped in the drivers seat and headed 5 miles down the highway to the next trailhead.

The Cathedral Lakes trail is a 7 mile round trip. This, I decided, would be my second hike of the day. The trail brings you past Cathedral peak and several other domes. Cathedral peak is aptly named because of its tall, brittle, spire that sits like a steeple atop the massive rock. As you progress on the trail you curl around the back of the rock providing better and better vantage points of the spire. When you finally reach he lake you are rewarded with an unobstructed view of the peak and surrounding domes. I hiked another half mile around the east side of the lake so that I was able to view the lake and peak in one grand vista.

As my zeal dissipated my hunger took charge. I managed to find a soft piece of granite to lay my gear on and begin my lunch. After lunch I took a short nap letting the sun warm my bones a bit.

Heading back I met up with a hiker whose partner was climbing the spire. She was from New Hampshire and about 55 years old. She hiked at a quick pace which made it difficult to hold a conversation with her. Before I decided to slow up she revealed her hiking history, her AT stories and that she has never been to the Grand Canyon. Parting ways she wished me good luck and I wished her the same.

Back at my truck I looked at my watch and noted that it was 4pm. That gave me 3 hours to get back to camp, cook, clean and get into my tent before dusk. Dusk, as I noted the night before, was when the bears show up.

Getting back to camp took me no time. I decided to call Dan on the way into camp, that way I did not loose precious light by driving to and from the phone after my dinner. After hanging up I proceeded directly to my bear box and began cooking. Pork and couscous burritos with cheddar cheese were the entrée of the night. I had some cheese and salami as an appetizer and washed the whole smorgasbord down with some cold, freshly shaken, Gatorade. 5:45pm. Right on time. I cleaned up and changed out of my cooking clothes, burying them deep within the bear box. Next, I headed down to the toilets to wash up and brush my choppers. Back at my campsite I dropped the tailgate of my truck and began the waiting game for dusk. At about 6:30pm I closed up truck and decided to head for the tent. Having hiked 10 miles that day, both hikes combined, made me fairly tired and I could have gone to sleep at any second. Never the less, falling asleep in daylight is still fairly difficult on a psychological level.

Snug in my bag and protected by the 3mm nylon, that is my tent wall and rain fly combined, I continued to read. As the light disappeared and my headlamp became the sole illuminator of my pages, I heard nothing but my breath hitting the small exposed section of tent floor between my sleeping bag and my book. Then all of a sudden the campers next to me exploded into a pot slamming frenzy accompanied by loud shouts of “Go away’s” and “Get out of here’s”. Before I could react I heard the next campsite erupt into its mélange of defenses. Using whistles and clanging metal they too chased the perpetrator away from their campsite. My hand instinctively reached up and twisted off my headlamp. Sitting still, listening for any sign of noise, I looked into the darkness. As each campsite reacted in sequence I realized the bear, as I now boldly admit, was moving away from me. As I listened for the next 20 minutes I could hear the clattering and whistling move across the entire campground. Eventually it began to trail off in the distance as if you were listening to a thunderstorm pass over your house on a hot July night. Calm, but not settled, I lay my head down on my makeshift pillow. Thankfully those 10 miles were kicking in and in a few minutes I was off to dreamland.

I woke the next morning fresh. I made some coffee and ate a cold bowl of Special K red berries. No bears, no banging, no more worries. I had kept my promise to myself and slept in the tent. It turns out the bears in Yosemite are much like stray dogs. All they want is a little grub and they are used to getting it. If you simply shoo them away they will leave and go find an easier target. The only difference is that they can pounce on you, rip off your face and then crush every bone in your body.

With the truck packed I gave my campsite a last once over and headed back to the road. On the way out of Tuolumne I stopped at the trailhead for North Dome. I threw on my pack and headed off into the forest. The trail headed south for 5 miles. The hike in was exciting. The forest led to a clearing, which led to pure granite. From there you climbed up and down the granite until you reached North Dome’s summit. From the summit you had a panoramic view of the entire valley. Across the valley stood Half Dome looking down on me like a father does a son. Standing there, a few thousand feet above the valley, allowed me to peek into the place I had once deserted. I did not see the Times Square pandemonium I had last time. No Cars, kids or coolers were visible. All I saw was meandering trails, large pieces of granite and pockets of evergreen trees. Everything was so peaceful both down in the valley and up on the dome. It reminded me that nature, bears and all, is a fantastic and seldom appreciated thing. Most importantly, it reminded me to relax and enjoy, which I did.

Heading back to my truck I was mostly alone in the woods. I was soaking up the sounds, sights and smells with a much calmer and observant manner as on the way in. Time mattered none as I sipped my camelback and looked up into the trees as much as I looked ahead onto the trail. When I reached the truck I gave myself a good, water bottle, bath and changed clothes.

Back on the highway I meandered back down the Sierras and back into the Central Valley. Once on the flats I stopped at Carl’s Jr. for the traditional after camping pig out. Satiated by my two Famous Stars, a large fry and ice-cold coke I hobbled back to the truck and finished my journey home.

As I rode through Oakland, California and began crossing the Bay Bridge it was dusk. The city was lit up like Christmas. I though to myself, there was so much movement and hustle happening in front of me. How drastically different it was from what I had just experienced. Before I exited the highway and buried myself in the city, I though one final time about my campsite. I wondered what was happening there that very second. What parade of sounds and sites were tonight’s campers enduring?

My time in Yosemite was thoroughly enjoyed. Although it was not a hardcore backcountry expedition, I learned plenty about being alone in nature and dealing with the creatures it harbors. Most importantly I did eventually relax and recharge my mind in a much needed way.

Words and Images by J.Anello (contact: 516-991-3386/j@janello.com)