Yosemite: The Mountains Are Calling

Featured Photo: “Merced River with View of Yosemite” El Portal, California—2023

Preface: I originally planned to write my inaugural post—the first post after my introductory series, that is—with the story of my earliest trip overseas for work, which took me to Brussels, Belgium and Strasbourg, France. Instead, I’ve decided to start with my most recent trip, while the details are still fresh in my mind. I just returned from an amazing vacation with my eldest sister to Yosemite National Park in California—with its striking and diverse natural beauty—and began writing this post on our return journey. As I wrote, I found myself anxious to share my photos and tell the story of our time there. So, with that background, I’ll begin my tale.

On Thursday night, after the game, I got the text message from my college friend and baseball buddy, congratulating me on my team—the Philadelphia Phillies—winning the National League Division Series over the Atlanta Braves. With the victory, the Phillies would play in the Championship Series and hopefully, after that, the World Series. But I couldn’t reply to my friend’s text.

It was “Red October;” that’s what the City of Brotherly Love calls it when their beloved Fightin’ Phils, with their red-and-white pinstripe uniforms, make it into baseball’s post-season playoffs. As for me, I was on vacation with my oldest sister—a rare get-together for the two of us—that would combine several of my loves: family, friends, travel, music, food, beer, baseball, hiking, photography, and nature…but mostly nature, and the baseball was only coincidental, yet still integral to the story.

My sister and I were staying in a wonderful hotel complex—the Yosemite View Lodge—in El Portal, California.

The facility was larger than we expected—based on the hotel photos we had seen online—boasting eight separate buildings for accommodations and two restaurants. It was also busier than we had anticipated—teeming with people and a parking lot full of cars, including a disproportionately high number of Teslas. I parked our own rental car—a comfortable, gray 2023 Chevrolet Malibu—outside the hotel lobby, and we proceeded toward the entry. We looked up, amazed at the view just beyond the hotel building, realizing we were in for a real treat on this trip.

When we checked in, my sister requested a quiet room, away from the activity around the hotel office and restaurants. The staff, who were most gracious and helpful throughout our stay, sent us to the “Black Oak” building—farthest east in the complex and well-removed from the noise and crowds. Unlocking the hotel room door, we walked straight to the far-side of the room and opened the sliding-glass door.

Our room had a balcony overlooking the beautiful Merced River—the River of Mercy—and was just a few hundred yards from the entrance to Yosemite; we could even see the National Park sign.

Standing in awe on our balcony, we looked to the East, with the entry to Yosemite in the distance (the Featured Photo for today’s post); then we looked to the West, in the direction of the town of El Portal…

…and straight across to the South, where the tree-covered bank and rugged rocks rose high above the river.

Even in October, with the river well below its level in the Spring, the roaring white-water was loud, but calming and somehow peaceful. Later, at night, we kept the glass door open, with the screen door drawn tight, so we could listen to the soothing sound of the river as we fell asleep.

The location seemed like a natural paradise, but there was a down-side: we had no internet connection and no cell phone coverage; we were essentially on radio silence, which is why I couldn’t reply to my friend’s congratulatory text, when I saw it the next day.

Before I go on, let me backtrack to the start of our travel day—Thursday, October 12, 2023. I woke up at 5:00 AM in Philadelphia—that’s 2:00 AM in California—trying (unsuccessfully) not to wake my wife, who (unfortunately) had to go to work that day. I had an early flight from Philadelphia to Phoenix. My sister slept a little longer, but also had a morning flight from Northwest Arkansas, traveling to Dallas-Ft. Worth.

For my journey, I wore what I felt was an appropriate t-shirt. It was brightly colored—somewhere between coral and salmon—and featured perhaps the best-known and most-beloved quote from John Muir…

…the Scottish-born, American naturalist, co-founder of the Sierra Club, and often called the Father of the National Parks, writing to his sister in 1873: “The mountains are calling and I must go.” In the original letter, Muir continues, “…and I will work on while I can, studying incessantly,” which captures his desire—truly, his life-long mission—to understand and protect California’s Yosemite.

After my layover in Phoenix, I boarded another flight headed to the Fresno Yosemite International Airport in California, having the unfortunate airport code FAT, based on its former name: Fresno Air Terminal. As my airplane taxied from the gate toward the runway, I noticed two other planes parked some distance away, with the old-fashioned passenger boarding stairs pushed up to the side door of the aircraft. The image seemed interesting, so I took out my iPhone/Camera and zoomed-in for a photo; I was surprised to see the name and logo of the Arizona Cardinals professional football team emblazoned on the fuselage and tail of the planes.

I imagined the planes might be waiting for players, coaches, and staff to board, so they could travel to Los Angeles for their upcoming game against the Rams on Sunday. For a moment, I was transported back 50 years to my childhood, when the Cardinals, for a while, had been one of my favorite football teams—back when they played in St. Louis rather than Phoenix—back when Jim Hart was quarterback, Jim Bakken the field-goal kicker, and Ahmad Rashad was the wide-receiver (briefly), each selected four times to play in the Pro Bowl. I was pulled back to my present life in retirement, sitting on a plane in Arizona, when I heard the pilot say, “Flight attendants, prepare for departure.”

The jet engines roared to life, the airplane started to roll slowly, then faster, accelerating down the runway; I was pressed back gently into my seat, and with a hopeful leap skyward, we were off.

(To be continued…)