Labor Day Yosemite Trip Part 4

Alas, all trips must come to an end. Some endings are better than others.

DAY 4: We woke up late, having stayed up late near the warmth of the fire that neither of us had wanted to leave. Down sleeping bags were wonderful, but it still takes several minutes to warm up.

Figuring that since Michael and Jose had set such a slow pace, we would have quite a bit of time. We talked about our options, wondering what was best.
We could do a day hike to the Red Peaks ourselves, and meet them back at Upper Lake. We could go to Ottoway Lake, which had been talked about highly.

It was Thursday, and I had food through Friday, and maybe Saturday if I rationed well.

My vote was to day hike to Ottoway Lake, come back and meet them at Upper Lake, then hike to Red Peaks Friday, camp one last night at Upper Lake, then hike out Saturday. Good idea, right?

Andrew’s idea: Pack up camp and hike back for them. If they were past halfway, hike back to Upper Lake. If they were before the halfway mark, just turn around and head back.

While his idea was more idiotic, it was more altruistic, and thus the winning idea despite having his idea-making privileges revoked the day prior.

So, we packed up camp and I whispered a silent farewell to the mountain and lake. We hiked down to the Lower Lake, to see if they had made it there. To no one’s surprise, they weren’t, so we continued on down.

Barely two miles from the place we had found them the day before, we met them on the trail. Two miles, and it was already two in the afternoon. While I wanted to go back to the lake and make it to Red Peaks, we wouldn’t make it back until dark at the rate they were hiking. We told them of our plan to head back, and they were quick to agree. We headed down the hill, towards the campsite they had just left.

It soon became evident why they had taken so long. Michael had no problems setting a fast pace, only slowing for pictures and to take in the scenery. Jose, on the otherhand, would ask for frequent breaks after every slight ascension.

As we rested near against a tree, Jose was drinking water between staggered breaths. He set his pack down for some relief. “So, how much does your pack weigh?” I asked him.

“I don’t know. I didn’t weigh it,” he replied, still catching his breath.

I lifted mine, which was down to roughly 25-27 lbs at this point. I lifted Michael’s, guessing it was roughly around 35 lbs. Then I lifted Jose’s.

“Good lord, what do you have in here?” I asked him. I’m no stranger to weights, but I felt the heft in that pack. I estimated he was hauling fifty pounds or more.

“Nothing special,” he replied.

When we made it to camp, I found out what ‘nothing special’ entailed.

As I pitched my silnylon tarp, coveting a cuben fiber one, Jose unveiled his tent. It was a full-dome tent that could easily fit four people. Turns out, on a previous trip, someone had abandoned the tent on the trail (with little wonder why), and Jose had grabbed it.

Then came dinner time. I was still rationing my food, but Michael and Jose claimed they had plenty to share- They had packed food enough through Sunday. I pitched in my spinach, strawberries, and dehydrated steak, while Jose pulled out an old-school whisperlite. Jose made a batch of couscous, setting it to simmer. As lone wolf Andrew dealt with his own food (as he hated to share), Michael, Jose, and I compiled our food into a very elaborate meal.

Our gourmet chefs at work.

Elaborate quickly turned into ornate.

“Want some broccoli in there?” Jose asked.

“Sure,” I said.

Jose then proceeded to pull an ENTIRE bundle of fresh broccoli from his pack, cutting it into pieces and chucking the stem.

“Want some onion?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied once again, still in shock.

Jose reached into his bottomless pit of a backpack and pulled out an onion. Not dried onions, or bits of onions, but AN ONION. An entire onion. He chopped it up, adding it into this growing gourmet meal.

He stirred it around, then said, “It needs oil.” He reached into his backpack, pulling out a container of OLIVE OIL, adding it into the pot. And, of course, the salt quickly followed.

I looked incredulously at Jose. No wonder he took so long to hike- the guy was a walking kitchen!

Spices and a variety of whole foods with cooking skills to match. The meal that night was the best meal I’d ever had backpacking. All thanks to Jose.

Michael was not far removed, as he pulled out a full glass bottle of vodka- Easily three pounds alone.

At this point, Andrew padded up, looking over the map.

“We can still make Half-dome,” he said.

“What? How?” I said.

He laid the map out in front of me, then drew out the path with his finger. I quickly did the math in my head. 

It was seventeen miles to Half-dome from where we were.

“We can go to Half-dome, then meet back with them at the intersection before Mono Meadows,” Andrew said, a glimmer in his eye.

I traced from Half-dome to the would-be campsite- another seven miles.

“That’s twenty-four, twenty-five miles!” I said.

“Yea, sure. We can do it,” he said, his excitement showing. My voice of reason screamed, while Andrew’s was a mute.

That’s where I drew the line.

“We spent this whole trip waiting to meet up with Michael and Jose, now you want to leave them again?” I asked. Andrew’s face was enough of an answer- the pace we doing with them was maddening slow to him. He needed excitement. He needed a thrill. I waved him off.

“Just think about it,” he said.

I consented, but placed a contingency, “If we  do, I’m sleeping in first.” I wasn’t about to do 24 miles tired.

DAY 5: I woke up to Andrew calling my name.

“So, you coming?” he asked.

I groaned, feeling tired. “What time is it?” I asked.

“I don’ t know. Six?”

“You’re on your own, bud,” I said, closing my eyes again.

I woke up later, enjoying a nice relaxing morning. The pace to even leave camp was slow, but Jose insisted on starting the morning with freshly brewed coffee. I didn’t mind so much, as we only had five miles to do that day to reach the campsite we’d meet Andrew at. Jose and Michael had spotted a nice camping spot previously, and our aim was to camp their that night.

We hiked down the trail, getting passed by an elderly man- The first time I had ever been passed on a trail. I swallowed my pride and continued going. Later we passed the same man as he rested on the side of the trail. Pride assuaged.

Jose and his magic backpack.

Michael with his walking stick. Jose's magic backpack to the right.

Passing a large monolithic formation, we decided to stop and explore some. Unfortunately, there was no way to climb the rock mass, but it made for a nice shady spot to eat lunch. Once again, Jose did not disappoint with fresh pita bread, some sort of cheese, and sardines.

Jose making lunch.

After we had ate, we lounged around for a while, enjoying the rock’s shade and the cool breeze.

I watched in dismay as the elderly man passed us once again.

We got back onto the trail, making decent time as it was all downhill from that point. We made it to the river we aimed to camp near, and looked for the spot Michael had spotted previously. Unfortunately, someone had already taken it.

The man who had passed us on the trail.

We pitched camp in the only other flat area nearby. At this point, I had a random nose bleed for who knows what reason- the elevation change wasn’t overly drastic. I rarely get nose bleeds, so I was slightly put off. As I waited for the bleed to end, Michael and Jose said they were going to explore the rivers. Knowing I could catch up easily, I told them I’d meet them ahead.

The river wrapped around a hillside, so I figured I’d cross over the hill and meet them on the other side. Once the nose bleed subsided, I hiked up and over the hill. As I crossed back down, they were nowhere to be seen. I called out for them, but heard nothing. I continued down the river, figuring they were further than I had thought. I followed the river, wading through it, hoping from boulder to boulder. After roughly a mile of traversing the rocky river, frustration was settling in. I told myself I’d just find the next pretty collection of water and stay there.

I had another breathtaking moment as I plunged off a boulder into the water below. In the river was a pool of water, at least ten feet wide and just as deep. It seemed so odd, the way it was formed. It looked as though a waterfall fell there when the water level was high. In the meantime, it was a giant pool for my pleasure. I scrubbed myself clean, leisurely floating around. I regretted not having a camera, but it wouldn’t have survived the wet conditions. Instead, the moment was merely mine to have alone.

I hiked back, crossing over the hill, only to find Michael and Jose at the point I had started- They had only just made it to the other side of the hill. I wasn’t too concerned, though. I had won out in that deal.

As we reached camp, we were in for a surprise.

Andrew stood waiting for us in camp, exhausted. He had managed to do all twenty five miles to Half-dome and back in roughly nine hours, counting his time spent at Half-dome itself. We were in shock, not expecting him until late that night or even the next day.

Andrew crawled into his bivy and took a nap as we made dinner.

We compiled the last of our food, except some for breakfast, into a giant feast. This included fresh red peppers, mushrooms, onions, broccoli, zucchini, pasta, with olive oil, salt, pepper, basil, and other spices. I couldn’t finish all my food, which was fine since Andrew ate enough for four. What I did indulge in was the chocolate Michael offered. I mixed it with some peanut butter that Jose brought. In a jar. A whole jar of peanut butter.

We relaxed for the rest of the day, preparing for the hike out the next day.

DAY 5: We had breakfast, exhausting our food supply, then packed up and headed out. Our plan was simple- hike to the trucks, head into the valley to take showers, then grab lunch in Oakhurst. We had roughly four miles to do, part of it uphill.

Andrew and I decided to just go on ahead, and let them catch up later.

We made it to the truck, finishing our trip. We tossed our bags into the back, headed into the valley, and took our traditional showers. Afterwards, we simply waited until Michael and Jose showed up. We perused the stores, then checked our voicemails and emails. I went into one of the restaurants and watched college football with a group from Oregon. Andrew ordered a pizza and iced cream.

Still no call.

We waited…and waited.

Finally, I got a text. They had just reached the trucks. We told them to meet at the place where we had rented the bear canisters. When they showed up, it was obvious Michael was aggravated.

Now, Michael is a very passive guy. You’d never know if you offended or upset him. But I swear there was a dust trail worthy of a cartoon as Michael arrived in a full speedwalk, bear can in hand. He wanted to drop it off and go as quickly as he could. As soon as he did, he took off, wasting no time.

They never got their showers.

We decided to just leave and get our lunch instead, which everyone agreed to. We drove to Oakhurst, waving our goodbyes to Yosemite as we followed buses full of tourists that wouldn’t use the pullouts. Finally making it to Mariposa, I strongly suggested we get Mexican food. I was craving a carne asada burrito. We googled their Mexican Restaurants, opting to decide on which one as we passed them like Goldilocks herself.

We passed the first one. Too big.

We passed the second one, which was smaller. Still too big.

We found the third one only by GPS, as it was tiny. Perfect.

Pulling in, the place was called Taqueria Plazuelas. My family room is bigger than the restaurant, but everything is homemade. Fair prices, and quality food. I’m not sure if it was the hunger from the backpacking trip, but that was one of the best burritos I have ever had.

It was a great way to end a memorable backpacking trip.