Long trail a winding

Over the weekend Roommate decided it was time to hit the road, and so I climbed in his small Honda SUV and rode with him to Yosemite, land of really long lines at the park entrance and really big buses of tourists. A hundred or so miles later (a heartbeat in California terms) we reached Hetch Hetchy via long narrow roads built before Tahoes and Hummers were a part of the landscape. And roads in the 30’s would follow the contour of the land, rather than cut through hills and mountains, so switchbacks and digressions were the order of the day. It took around 40 minutes to travel the 16 miles of road in to see the lake.

There’s a movement to restore the Hetch Hetchy valley. The dam was built in the early 1900s and John Muir, among others, protested — it was already a park at that point. If you look at photos of the original valley, you see something not unlike Yosemite Valley itself — huge granite cliffs and a river winding through a gorgeous broad valley. (The photos are black and white, but still.) I can see why people want to do it, but the opposing side says this lake is part of SF’s watershed and needs to continue to exist. There are signs and patrolling rangers to keep you from swimming in the lake, watering your animals in the lake, or otherwise tainting all those gallons of water that will end up in some San Franciscan’s drinking glass.

We hiked part of the way around it, about two miles out and back, to a falls where we found a shady spot under a huge boulder to sit at the foot of the waterfall and drink gatorade. I, of course, sweat away my sunscreen and had to borrow Roommate’s hat for the return trip.

I managed to whack my forehead with the door of his SUV. Lovely knot over my right eye. And then, much to my consternation, I left my Ray-Bans in the restroom at the lake, and realized it only when we’d driven all the way out to the highway, and as they were hundred dollar glasses and a Christmas gift we went allllll the way back and found them right where I’d left them as I changed out of grimy stinky hiking clothes — on the toilet tank in the end stall.

Sunday was quiet and productive, in that I cleaned like a madwoman. And then burnt up my battery charger. If you hear sizzling and smell cooking synthetic material, don’t dismiss it as a dream like I did. When I finally got up to look for whatever it was, I found one toasted rechargeable AA battery and a melted charger. Close call. I don’t understand what that was about, but good deal that I was home to prevent the eventual incineration of the apartment.

I wrote lots yesterday in between cleaning projects. I need to continue writing lots. It’s good for me. I actually find myself looking forward to the week.