Yosemite National Park, home to indigenous species of all kinds, who manage to live in near harmony with “digenous” tourists. I had been once before with my eighth grade class and it was an okay trip as I recall. One of those school outings that was fun because of the people, but mediocre in substance. However, I was not very much into hiking or nature then and I lacked the perspective to appreciate Yosemite’s beauty. And so, when friends of mine suggested a trip there before we all departed for college, I was more than excited.
We arrived in Yosemite Valley on Tuesday afternoon and stayed until Friday. And what a lovely four days it was! We stayed in a quaint cabin made of a wooden frame and canvas covering in Half Dome, formerly Curry, Village. It was the same place we had stayed at in eighth grade, but it felt different somehow. For one, we were alone this time with no adult supervision. Well, we were the adults now which was odd to think about. Also, I didn't remember so many French tourists being there when I last came. For some reason, there was an overwhelming amount of French families vacationing on this lovely week in mid-August. Why would they come all this way when they have the beauty of Europe in their backyards? My friend pointed out that they have probably been everywhere in Europe, but I still wasn’t convinced.
On our first evening in Yosemite, we shared a large pizza and painted by the river that ran through the village. It was impeccably picturesque as we sat on the rocky sand and painted the sun setting through the cliffs. When the twilight arrived and we started to pack up, we realized that we all painted the same thing, the view from the river, though we did not plan on doing so.
The next day we decided to go on a hike. According to the man at the front desk, Yosemite Falls, the usual go-to hiking destination, had dried up in the summer heat, but Vernal Falls was beautiful this time of year. And so, we began our trek to the waterfall. After much struggle climbing and a set of stairs that our group called the stairs of death, we finally reached Vernal Falls. We watched many travelers tirelessly climbing up the stairs that we had just conquered for a bit while we caught our breath. We then ate our lunches, and watched people swim in the lake that poured into the waterfall.
After about an hour, we readied ourself for our trek back down the mountain. But a more persistent member of our group insisted that we go up to Nevada Falls which was only about a mile and a half up. I had half a bottle of water left and others were completely out and it was getting late, so we were hesitant to agree to going up the mountain. In the end, only the two of us decided to go up to the second waterfall.
Getting to Vernal Falls was a struggle for me, but it was nothing compared to the journey to Nevada Falls. The trail zigzagged up the mountain and was exceedingly rocky and steep. Now I am not afraid of heights, but this trip made me question my courage. It challenged me physically as well as psychologically. I cannot exaggerate enough how rough this hike was for me.
After an hour of stumbling breathlessly up the mountain, we finally made it to waterfall. Standing on what felt like the top of the world, which was actually only the top of Nevada Falls, I looked out at Yosemite Valley. At this moment I realized precisely why the French families traveled across the world. This was why. At nearly six thousand feet elevation, Nevada Falls offers quite the spectacle of the valley and the tops of the other cliffs. I could not believe that an exquisite place such as Yosemite had always been there, and I had only gone twice. Surely, such beauty should be recognized more often. My words cannot do the magnificence of that view justice, so refer to the article picture for a better understanding.
There was a lake at the top of the waterfall, just like the one at Vernal Falls. Despite the no swimming sign, I dipped my hair in the starkly clear water and thought to myself what a time to be alive. With the jaw-dropping view, clear skies and all, I really could not think of a better place to be. Granted, the three point something mile hike, though stunning, was frankly brutal, especially with me being as laughably out of shape as I am. Regardless, my experience traveling to the top of the waterfall was beyond incredible. There were many things to be learned from my journey up the mountain, but one stood out among the rest. I needed the difficulty of the journey to fully appreciate the destination. Likewise, this concept can be applied to any struggle in life. If you just get things handed to you, you take them for granted; so it’s the journey or the struggle to achieve a goal that makes finally reaching it so especially rewarding.
On my way back from that hike, I walked past the wifi lounge and scoffed in disgust. I found it awfully sad that people would need a wifi lounge in such a beautiful place as this. And as the hypocrite I am, I was in the wifi lounge several hours later restlessly trying to post an apparently un-postable snapchat story. So maybe I am still too superficial and maybe I still don’t fully appreciate the natural world. But the point is that this trip helped me make a step toward recognition and appreciation of true beauty.
