Yosemite: Well, Latte Da!

(Continued from Yosemite: Disregarding Parsons Lodge)

Featured Photo: “Mount Dana, View from Dana Meadows”  Yosemite National Park, California—2023

From where we had parked at the eastern edge of Tuolumne Meadows near Lembert Dome, it was less than ten miles to the Yosemite gate at Tioga Pass. We traveled that distance in about thirty minutes, as I stopped along the way for a couple of pictures. Halfway there, I pulled off the road and walked to a bend in the nearby stream—part of the Dana Fork of the Tuolumne River—to take a photo looking south toward Mammoth Peak. I was struck by the snow and ice still present near the mountain’s summit.

Then I took a photo looking east across the meadow stretching to the foot of another peak, which I didn’t realize until later was Mount Dana (to the left)…

…named in honor of James Dwight Dana, who was professor of natural history and geology at Yale for over 40 years during the mid- to late-1800’s. At an elevation of 13,061 feet, Mount Dana is the second highest mountain in Yosemite and marks the eastern boundary of the National Park.

Before our trek along Tioga Road was finished that day, I took more photos from different vantage points, showing the varied topography of this dramatic peak, unaware they were all shots of Mount Dana. In fact, it was only when I came across this panoramic picture online, and overlayed my own iPhone photo metadata, that I was able to stitch together the slopes, faces, and peaks that comprise the towering Mount Dana.

Farther along the road, I stopped for another photo, zooming in on the unusual, jagged formation on Mount Dana‘s western face (today’s Featured Photo), then shifted my view to capture a broader image of the same mountain, with the Dana Meadows in the foreground.

Driving on, we saw signs indicating our approach to Yosemite’s Tioga Pass Entrance and slowed to the posted speed limit before passing through the gate. We were greeted by a line of cars coming the opposite direction—almost at a standstill—waiting to enter the park on this beautiful day. We were glad we were not in that line. As we drove away from the gate, the long line stretched for half a mile or more—there must have been a couple hundred cars creeping slowly along the roadway.

Looking in my rear-view mirror, it was not lost on me that we would have to re-enter the park through that same gate; Tioga Road being the only route back into Yosemite from where we were headed. Still, we hoped the traffic would clear out before we returned to retrace our drive through the high country to Yosemite Valley below, and our hotel in El Portal.

For now, we began our steep descent from the easternmost entrance to Yosemite through Tioga Pass, dropping more than 3,000 feet over a ten-mile stretch of road, down the slope of the Sierra Nevada Mountain range, through the Inyo National Forest, headed toward Mono Lake and the town of Lee Vining. Our zigzagging path was slightly congested by other traffic leaving the park, which kept our progress at a moderate rate. We didn’t mind since the scenery along the way was spectacular: mountains with sharp edges and lakes with smooth water. On the way down, I didn’t see the turnouts soon enough to stop and take in the views. I wanted to remember where they were so we could pull over on our return trip back up to Yosemite.

At one point, the cars ahead slowed, then stopped, so I grabbed my iPhone/camera and took a quick shot of the forest beside the road: Quaking Aspens with leaves that glowed bright yellow in the sunlight, amidst a palette of evergreens with pointed caps.

Twenty minutes later, our route leveled out as we approached US Route 395. To our right was a driveway that led to a gas station with a deli attached; my sister asked whether we should stop there for coffee. We feared a long wait, as we looked at all the cars already parked alongside the small building and felt doubtful of the breadth and quality of the caffeinated offerings, so I suggested we instead continue to follow our GPS route until we reached Lee Vining. Perhaps the town might have a proper coffee shop.

Turning left at the intersection with US-395, it wasn’t long before we reached the outskirts of town, and began driving along the main thoroughfare that cut through Lee Vining’s small business area. We passed a number of gas stations, shops, restaurants, and hotels, mostly to our left, which offered nice views of massive Mono Lake to our right. The GPS guidance led us a bit farther, going beyond the busy downtown section. Eventually, I turned right into a driveway to reach the destination marked by a pin on our map and saw the sign for Lee Vining High School. Why we were brought to this specific location was a bit of a mystery, but interesting, nonetheless.

My sister and I looked at the small building, wondering aloud how many students might attend the school. There appeared to be four or five classrooms along the front of the building, possibly more behind those. Off to the right, we saw a tennis court and a baseball field; to the left was another grassy area large enough to accommodate soccer and football games.

Still contemplating the high school, I admitted to my sister that I had not paid sufficient attention to any restaurants in Lee Vining to know where we might find coffee. She brightened and said, “I saw two signs for coffee shops as we drove through town.” I told her that was great and asked—half-jokingly—whether one was a Starbucks. She said, “Of course not!” Which was fine since we both preferred something local and unique if available.

I turned the car around and took a left back onto Highway 395 to reach the commercial part of Lee Vining. I slowed down as we approached the first coffee shop, but my sister said the second seemed more interesting. A bit farther, she pointed out the sign for the “Latte Da Coffee Café”…

…which was attached to the El Mono Motel. I agreed it fit the bill as local and unique. I turned right onto Third Street just past the motel and—noting the parking space beside the coffee shop—made a U-turn to parallel park along the road. We got out beside the low stone retaining wall, nearly hitting our heads on the bumper crop of apples still hanging down from a tree in the motel’s courtyard.

Rounding the corner, we got a nice view of the sunny lawn with tables, chairs, and red umbrellas…

…then climbed the concrete steps to the front porch, where signs directed us away from the motel entrance on our left, and toward the wooden screen door to the coffee shop on our right.

The interior of the café was rustic but welcoming, with a few tables and chairs scattered around the creaky, wooden floor and a large fireplace opposite the counter. The barista interrupted his conversation with a co-worker and looked at us, asking what we would like. I thought to myself, “What else would one buy at the Latte Da?” My sister dutifully ordered a medium latte, hot, and I requested the same, then probed, “What flavors of syrup do you have?” (Vanilla, caramel, and hazelnut.) “And what kind of milk?” (Whole milk, two-percent, skim, oat, and soy.) “Okay,” I said, “make mine with soy milk and hazelnut, please.” I was living large!

Simultaneously, my sister and I noticed the baked goods in large glass jars and domed cake stands on the counter: scones, cookies, pastries, brownies, and breads. We looked at each other and nodded in agreement, “…and a slice of banana bread, please.” We waited a few minutes for our order, looking around the small interior of the shop, and decided to sit outside near the apple tree in the grassy courtyard.

We grabbed napkins, forks, and a knife, then carried our treats outside—lattes with an artistic foam design that looked like a budding plant served in shiny white porcelain cups, and banana bread in clear plastic wrap set on a glass plate—and sat down in wooden chairs beside a small steel table. I took my first sip, pleased with the hot creamy feel, but realized the barista had forgotten the hazelnut syrup. I felt too content to complain. My sister told me her latte really hit the spot as she cut the bread in half. Another minor disappointment for me: we had gotten the slightly tough heel of the loaf. But again, no complaint as my sister said she preferred the crusts.

We lingered for 20 minutes or so, enjoying the glorious weather and chatting idly, then I stood up to clear our table. Turning toward the motel porch, I took a photo of the colorful hand-painted “hippie-like” sign above the green garden…

…then climbed the stairs again, carrying the dishes and trash inside the café. Stepping back out onto the porch, the screen door swung shut behind me, and I noticed a large poster in the window showing the 2023 graduating class of Lee Vining High School: seven individual photos—four girls in white caps and gowns, three boys in red—and a group shot with all seven seniors together.

A graduating class of seven! My mind cast back to my own high school graduation nearly 50 years prior, with a senior class of 400 or more. The striking contrast in these scholastic events held me motionless for a moment. Later, back home, I searched online for information about Lee Vining High School.

According to public school review.com, the high school is rated 9 out of 10 (in the top 20% of all schools in California for overall test scores), with 39 students in grades 9-12, and a student to teacher ratio of 8:1 (meaning there are five teachers, described as caring and sincere). I learned that despite its small size, Lee Vining students can play a variety of sports, including track and field, basketball, volleyball, soccer, and football—and some teams, including football, are apparently co-ed. A different experience than mine, to be sure, but I imagine not a bad experience at all. Go Tigers!

Meanwhile, back at the Latte Da, after pondering the graduation picture in the window, I gathered myself and rejoined my sister. I don’t recall mentioning the poster to her at the time; I couldn’t quite articulate my experience and ruminations. It was around 2:30 in the afternoon when she and I walked back to the car and drove away, headed back into Yosemite National Park.

(To be continued…)