The last time I had been to Yosemite National Park was as a kid. My parents had rented a cabin in Yosemite Valley somewhere - a semi-rustic looking thing, set among tall firs and pines on the valley floor. We went out behind the cabin and there stood an enormous buck with a huge rack of antlers.
My sister, who was around three at the time, was ecstatic. "Bambi!" she proclaimed, and raced over and threw her arms around the buck's neck. My parents were ready to panic - a buck like that could do a lot of damage to a three-year-old girl. But it just stood there for a moment, looked at all of us, and departed.
That and a prodigious quantity of gray granite, are what I remember from my childhood trip to Yosemite.
My wife, who hails from New Jersey but identifies as a Californian, had never been to Yosemite, and I was long overdue for a return visit. Stories of the park awash in tourists had put me off on the idea. After all, we live next to Joshua Tree National Park and get to experience what three million annual visitors is like, so the thought of going somewhere with four million visitors per year didn't seem all that appealing.
But then the COVID-19 pandemic hit. And hit. And hit. We became hermits. I would go out to forage for food in our local grocery stores once every 10 days or so. My wife took her Jazzercise and Qigong classes online in the living room, in between practicing her Greek clarinet music. Our weekly gig performing Greek music at Koutouki Greek Estiatorio in Palm Desert had become a victim of the virus in late March. We almost never went anywhere. A trip to deliver kitty poop to the veterinarian became a cherished outing.
When it became clear that this pandemic was going to go on and on and on because some folks needed their freedumb to spread the disease without oppression (I wanted to get it over with and get back to work on the third season of our travel show, Southwest Stories, but no), and the desert moved into summer, we began to consider day trips to beat the heat - but safely. We took a couple of trips up to nearby Big Bear Lake where we hiked and dined all socially distanced and relatively safe (we chose not to shop in the Village at Big Bear because too many visitors weren't being safe - as if you're immune from a virus because you're on vacation).
As the summer crept on, our thoughts turned to our previous plans to visit our daughter's family with our precious grandchildren, in Ohio. Flying was clearly out. It was quite apparent that the airlines would not be able to do enough to minimize the risk. While some accounts were of nearly-empty planes, more talked about being packed into a flight, with some passengers not taking the situation seriously. While there are reasonable differences of opinion on the levels of risk in flying, some travel media were willing to push airline PR in place of public health guidance. That meant travel media couldn't be trusted entirely and travelers needed to do their own research and make their own, best, decisions for their safety.
We thought about driving to Ohio, but as we did, Arizona predictably began to spike and New Mexico instituted its own quarantine rules for travelers. With hospital beds and ICU units becoming less available in the event of an accident on the trip, our days on the road each way started to seem risky as well.
With all that on our minds, we still thought road tripping it to Ohio would be the alternative that would be most likely to be safe. But we decided we needed to try a shorter road trip to investigate how comfortable - and how safe - a road trip of that length would be.
The Yosemite trip was our trial run.
It was driving north on Highway 99 when the new dimensions of potential for disaster became apparent. A white BMW, driving at or above 90 mph, weaved through the heavy traffic. With a steady stream of trucks in the right lane, we were in the left when he whipped around us, missing us by perhaps six inches. Had I not taken my foot off the gas immediately as he passed - with a truck dangerously close to him in the right lane, I'm not sure we would have had the inches.
Had we collided, the best we could have hoped for is a quick trip to a Kern County hospital. But with COVID-19 rapidly filling hospital beds, we could have had any emergency medical care complicated by the pandemic. These complications rode along in the back of my mind as we continued north.
Mariposa, where we would spend the next two nights, made it feel like the trip would be worth the risk. The front desk clerk quickly pulled on a mask as we entered. Were hotels safe? We booked Best Western hotels for this trip after reading their pandemic protocols. We wiped down surfaces and took our own precautions, then set out to walk into town. Walking was definitely the thing to do, as we probably would have missed The Hideout if we were driving, since it does a pretty good job of, well, hiding out.
While The Hideout Saloon operates with an indoor bar and live music and plenty of fun activities during more normal times, they also offer outdoor dining in a secluded area, perfect for dinner and drinks in a Gold Rush town. We split one of their pizzas and a large salad. It sounds simple, yet it was extraordinary. Both were impeccably prepared and delicious, washed down perfectly by a pint of Heretic Brewing's "Make America Juicy Again," IPA. Dinner on the road really doesn't get any better than this.
The next morning, we hit the road for Yosemite National Park. The pandemic has led to changes in visiting this park. We had to make advance day use reservations in order to enter. Online reservations limit park visitors to half the usual number of vehicles. I had anticipated a difficult time getting reservations under these circumstances, but as the ranger at the entrance gate noted, they often didn't reach the daily limit, even at half the normal vehicle count. Evidently, the pandemic has its upside if you can visit Yo Semite, as the president calls it, with half the crowds.
While mid-summer is not the best time to visit if you want to see the park's waterfalls in all their glory, and Mirror Lake actually mirroring, there's never a bad time to take in the grandeur of Yosemite. We parked at Curry Village and hiked out to the Merced River and then on to Mirror Lake, which was delightful even as more of a stream than a lake. It felt good to be hiking through forests and meadows, enjoying the towering majestic granite monoliths that frame the valley. While the trams that normally operate throughout the park were offline due to the pandemic, it was enjoyable to walk and take in the park's views at a slower pace.
Lunch was back at Curry Village. It's remarkable that one of the world's most dramatically beautiful destinations can have some of the world's worst food, but that's Yosemite. Even the grand Ahwahnee frequently gets panned here, so its $27.50 box lunches didn't seem worth bothering with. We saw that two food trucks were there out in front of the village. Food trucks are often wonderful surprises, run by up-and-coming chefs, with creative menus and an eye for fresh and delicious offerings.
Not in Yosemite. It turned out that one truck only opened for dinner. The Get Yo-Tacos truck opened at 1 p.m. for lunch. We thought this would be our best option. If we were right, that bodes ill for travelers. The $15 three taco plate was a truly impressive disappointment. The blackened generic white fish tacos weren't blackened, or good. The carne asada tacos were mediocre at best, and the rice was akin to some form of building material.
But we didn't come for the fine dining, and won't as long as Aramark is the park concessionaire.
The afternoon was spent visiting various points around the valley, and then on up to Glacier Point, with its incredible perspective high over the valley. While the views are inspirational, looking out over Half Dome and Nevada and Vernal falls, don't miss the chance to stop along the way to the point to take in a mountain meadow, just as glorious and breathtaking in its own way.
As the day faded, we headed back to Mariposa. With Savoury's closed due to the pandemic, we headed to the 1850 Brewing Company for dinner. There was a bit of chaos with the outdoor seating, leaving multiple tables vacant as a number of parties were forced to stand in the parking lot waiting. It was unclear why. We had been served a pint of very average beer while waiting, and standing in the parking lot we came close to just paying for the beer and leaving. While the food and the service we did receive once seated were very good, we would have been happier dining back at The Hideout, especially after a young man at the table nearest us cut loose with a huge sneeze with no attempt made to cover his face.
Knowing the next day's itinerary would bring us through Yosemite's magnificent Tioga Pass, an area long on beauty and short on concessions, we stopped off at The Hideout to pick up a couple of sandwiches for the next day's lunch. We were warned there would be a bit of a wait. An hour and a half later (we timed it), we got our sandwiches. The lack of concern about leaving customers sitting around that long for a couple of sandwiches tarnished the memorably wonderful evening we had there the night before. The Hideout may - or may not be - a great experience if you go. And it didn't help to see employees get meals served while we waited, either. There's no excuse for a restaurant to take that long to put together two sandwiches, and they really didn't seem to think it mattered.
But the next morning erased all concerns as we headed up the Tioga Pass. This is, by far, my most favorite part of Yosemite. The seasonally-open pass sees far fewer visitors than the valley, but has beautiful rock domes, forests, meadows, and lakes. Tenaya Lake was a mandatory stop, as it's crystal clear waters, fed by snow melt, make it one of my wife's favorite places on the planet. We stopped at the eastern end where you can access an actual sandy beach via a short hike through the forest. Fewer people were at this end of the lake, and it's a relaxing, idyllic place to spend an hour, or the afternoon.
