A Celebration, a Barbershop Quartet, and a Hidden Canyon: A National Park Odyssey Days 27-29

Durham, CA to Great Basin National Park via Lake Tahoe and Carson City, NV

Forty years of marriage is a great thing to celebrate.  Friends and family of Josh’s Aunt Nancy and Uncle Larry gathered in Chico, CA to honor the couple after more than a year of planning by their three children, Pat, Beth, and Sarah.  The Mexican menu was perfect for feeding a crowd, and the scrolling pictures chronicling this family that is so dear to us was an entertaining way to wait for our turn at the buffet. 

Their wedding picture was on the party invitation.

Aunt Nancy and Uncle Larry were married in Josh’s family’s backyard in Fort Thomas, KY, in 1977, so seeing the wedding pictures that included four-year-old little Josh was especially interesting to me.  Their wedding was a small one since they’d only met three months earlier, and Josh was one of only five people (besides Larry and Nancy themselves) who were at both the wedding and this party.  I wish we had thought to get a picture of those five people with Nancy and Larry at the party!

The main entertainment of the evening was the barbershop quartet performance by Uncle Larry, Uncle John, Josh, and Beth.  They practiced for several hours that weekend and sang beautifully together in spite of the complex harmonies involved in singing barbershop style.  All four of them have been singing their entire lives, but the chord progressions in a barbershop song are very different from those in the traditional four-part-harmony they grew up singing.  I was so proud of all of them!  Watch them for yourself below.

Uncle John, Uncle Larry, Beth, and Josh sing "Always" and "Can't Help Falling in Love."

In this one, they sing "I Love You Truly" and "Let Me Call You Sweetheart."  At the end, Uncle Larry spontaneously invites the crowd to sing along.

But the most impressive part of the evening was when Uncle Larry took the microphone and went around the entire room and introduced every single person there and explained their relationship to him.  I remember at my wedding that the thing that gave me the most anxiety was the fear that I would blank on someone’s name in the receiving line.  The thought that someone would give up their Saturday to travel to my wedding, buy me a lovely gift, and then I would not be able to immediately call their name was terrifying to me.  So while there is no way I would ever have been able to do what Uncle Larry did, he certainly made us all feel special.

Steve offers a poignant toast to the happy couple.

Aunt Nancy thanks her children for their hard work planning the fete.

The second cousins were much more entertained by Kinley's phone.

I love this picture of Uncle John and Aunt Liz.  I'll admit that it was staged, but that's only because I was too slow with my camera to catch the actual smooch seconds before.

After the party, we did what we always do when the Bradley family is together – sing.  We sat around Aunt Nancy and Uncle Larry’s kitchen table and sang hymns in four-part harmony.  Watching the faces across from me with their voices lifted in song, I got emotional for two reasons.  One, we sang one of the songs that was sung at my Daddy’s funeral.  And two, every time we do this I worry that it will be the last.  We just don’t get to see each other that often, and losing a parent has made me much more aware of the value of times like these.  But I wiped my tears and tried to keep singing because I certainly didn’t want to miss out on a single opportunity for my voice to blend with these beloved ones.

Knox was too sleepy to sing.

The next morning, Josh taught the adult Bible class and preached at the Chico church of Christ, and our extended family’s presence significantly increased the attendance that morning.  Lunch at Smokin’ Mo’s in Chico followed, and then we spent the afternoon enjoying more family time.  By late afternoon, the Bradleys packed up leftovers for us and we waved goodbye as we began to make our way to Carson City where we were spending the night.

Before we left, Josh arranged for his parents to bring his blazer with them so that we saved some room in our luggage.  The church in Chico has supported our LST mission work for years, and we were glad to get to share an update with them.

I'm not sure how Uncle Larry got stuck feeding a whole passel of people for an entire weekend just because he's been married a long time, but it sure was yummy!  And at Smokin' Mo's in Chico, if you wear their t-shirt when you come in, you get 10% off!  Uncle Larry wore his over his church clothes.

I was glad we were just sleeping in Carson City for a night because I was less than impressed with it, but we passed though Lake Tahoe to get there.  Now that is a place I’d like to spend some time on a future trip!  There were so many cute little shops and restaurants, and the lake at dusk was serene and inviting.  I made a mental note to look for a time to come back.

Sunset over Lake Tahoe

After our night in Carson City, we proceeded to drive all the way across Nevada the next day to make our way to Great Basin National Park.  The get there, we had to drive on US 50, known as the loneliest road in the US.  And for good reason.  It was desolate.  Gas stations and restrooms were rare so we stopped when each one appeared.  They each sold Loneliest Road t-shirts, but we weren’t tempted.  It wasn’t the sort of by-way we wanted to commemorate.  For hours and hours and miles and miles we drove, through rocky hills and past cattle grazing on land that appeared to have little for them to eat.  Finally, we turned off of US 50 and drove another hour to the dirt road that led to our hotel for the night.  In fact, we had to go just over the Utah line and then back into Nevada to get to our destination.

We had Bradley party leftovers for lunch on the road!  Yum!

We saw a dramatic forest fire along US 50.

Great Basin doesn’t have a lodge inside its boundaries, so we had made reservations at Hidden Canyon Ranch.  The property was located about thirty minutes away from the park at the end of a six-mile-long dirt road that wound its way over a ridge and down into a canyon as its name suggests.  The nearest restaurant was about forty minutes from Hidden Canyon, so we had arranged in advance to have dinner at the ranch for the two nights we’d be there.  There was only one seating each evening, and we were barely going to make it.  We had emailed to let them know we were coming, so we went straight to dinner when we arrived.  A different entrée and accompanying sides were served each night, and on our first night, a potato bar with chili was set before us along with chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

We were so glad that we'd signed up for meals at the ranch since it was so far from anything else.

The building housing our suite was a short walk from the dining hall.

When we finished eating and walked outside of the dining hall to have a look around, the first thing I noticed was the shocking abundance of water.  There was a rushing creek running the length of the back of the property, and, because of the plentiful water, the land was lush and green.  Trees and tall grasses replaced the scrubby, squat bushes we’d seen dotting the parched landscape all day.  Flowers bloomed in brilliant reds and pinks attracting hummingbirds in droves.  An orchard stood just behind the dining hall, and nearby, a faucet with a hose attached was actually allowed to leak.  Here we were in the middle of the desert, and there was this precious resource – water – just dribbling out onto the ground as if we were in some Southwestern Garden of Eden where all plants grew with ease and no necessary building block of life was scarce.  It was surreal, especially after having been in conservation-obsessed Arizona and California for two weeks.

Wild turkeys made their home in the canyon.

This is only one of the many hummingbirds in the canyon.

As we made our way to our room, we saw mule deer and a flock of wild turkeys with several little chicks trailing along behind.  The scene was idyllic, and Josh and I agreed that he’d made an excellent choice about where to stay for our two nights in the area.  Since breakfast was to be served at 7:00 the next morning and wifi was non-existent, we turned in early.  The next day we’d planned to do our longest hike of the trip so far, so we drifted off to sleep, hidden deep in the canyon, while the water rushed on, oblivious.

Sequoias, the Majestic Hotel, Jelly Bellys, and Family: A National Park Odyssey Days 24-25

Yosemite National Park to Durham, CA via the Jelly Belly Factory 

Want to listen to our podcast about Yosemite?  Click here!

Kinley and Knox stand in front of one of Yosemite's giant sequoias.

For our last full day in Yosemite, we wanted to see some more sequoias.  We’d seen them in Kings Canyon and Sequoia, of course, but we needed another fix.  And since Yosemite has a three groves, we decided to take a ranger-guided hike into one.  The Mariposa Grove was closed to visitors while we were there and another one requires a significant hike, so we drove to the Tuolumne Grove for the 10:00 program. 

We hiked about a mile down a relatively steep old logging road to get to the grove where Ranger Sierra and a small group of other visitors were congregating in the shadow of some thousand-year-old sequoias.  It was then that I noticed for the first time that the leather hat band and leather belt on a park ranger’s uniform are both decorated with sequoia pine cones! 

Ranger Sierra began our ranger talk in a spot where sequoias in all stages of development were evident.

Hundreds of potential sequoias lie in these pine cones.

This was one of the best ranger talks we participated in during our entire summer. Ranger Sierra pointed out sequoias in all stages – as mere pinecones, as little baby seedlings, as “teenagers”, in the prime of their lives, and fallen ones. They were just as grand and awe-inspiring in Yosemite as they had been in Sequoia and Kings Canyon.  The forty-five minutes flew by as our group followed the ranger through the grove, and then it was time for the steep climb back out. 

 

Ranger Sierra kneels to point out baby sequoias.

This seedling could live for the next 1800 years.

Josh cranes his neck to see the top of one of the massive trees while Ranger Sierra talks.

Back at the visitors’ center, the kids got their Junior Ranger badges.  Yosemite requires each potential Junior Ranger to pick up a bag of trash, and the kids had done the nasty job of collecting theirs at Lower Yosemite Falls the day before.  Yosemite thoughtfully provides both the bag and a plastic glove for the kids to use, and you aren’t required to prove that you actually did it at all. We took pictures, of course, but the ranger took our word for it.

Kinley gets rid of her bag of collected trash.

Knox looks awfully chipper for someone holding bags full of other people's waste.

Another unique part of the Junior Ranger process at Yosemite is that every new Junior Ranger gets to sign a huge ledger listing all of the people who’ve completed the program.  Our kids have earned many Junior Ranger badges all over the US, and we’d never seen anything like this before.  The ranger told the kids that many of the people who’ve signed this book over the years are now Senators and Representatives and CEOs.

 

Kinley and Knox get sworn in.

They also added their names to the Yosemite book of Junior Rangers.

Badges in hand, we were up for one last hike.  The Vernal Falls Trail is a paved trail that leads first to a bridge overlooking the falls and then on up to the top of the falls.  A sign at the bottom let us know that we probably hadn’t brought enough water to make the trip all the way to the top, so we decided to go to the bridge and see how we felt.  The climb was steep and it was hot, so the bridge was as far as we made it.  Watching the force of the massive amount of water as it surged under us as we stood on the bridge was enough to keep us from wading at the water’s edge, but there was also a warning sign in case the sight of the water wasn’t convincing.

 

The Vernal Falls footbridge was a good place to turn around and head back.

We had dinner reservations at the Majestic Hotel dining room (formerly the Awahnee), and after an aborted attempt to walk that ended with us wandering cluelessly around a nearby campground with the Awahnee nowhere in sight, we took the shuttle to the historic hotel.  We had a little time to look around the lobby before we were escorted into the cavernous dining room that seats 300.  Imagine a rustic, Southwest-themed Hogwarts, and you get a pretty good idea of what the room looked like.  Candelabra hung from the 34-foot ceilings and adorned every table.  Massive pine timbers made up the tresses of the vaulted roofline.  Granite pillars were positioned between floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded views of the surrounding scenery.  The alcove of windows at the end of the room was built to perfectly frame Yosemite Falls.  It was magical.

 

The dining room of the historic Majestic Hotel was like a rustic Hogwarts.

The dining room was built in 1927, and was originally planned to seat 1000.  During construction, the decision was made to downsize, but the kitchen was already too complete to be changed.  Thus, the kitchen is actually larger than the dining room itself and could easily accommodate the staff and equipment needed to feed 1000.

The roasted cauliflower appetizer was our favorite.

Our favorite dish by far was the roasted cauliflower appetizer with curried yogurt sauce.  It was divine, and the addition of purple cauliflower made it appealing to look at as well as to eat.  We also ordered the grilled salmon with white bean ragout and the prime rib with caramelized onions and whipped potatoes while Knox got the kids’ ravioli.  We’ve tried to just order a kid’s menu item for Knox and then split two entrees among the rest of us when eating at nice places on this trip, and most of our servers haven’t seemed to get too irritated about it.  For dessert, we had the Majestic Skillet Cookie, a warm chocolate chip cookie cooked in a cast iron skillet and topped with vanilla ice cream and salted caramel sauce.  It was the perfect ending.

Before heading back to the shuttle, we stopped off in the sweet shop to grab some homemade doughnuts for the next morning’s breakfast.  As we left, I took a moment to dream about staying a night or two at this magical place with its lobby filled with Native American rugs, trophy bison, comfy leather sofas, massive fireplaces, and luxuriously rustic furniture.  And then headed back to our Cabin Without Bathroom, still dreaming all the way.

The next morning, (after hiking to the bath house), we packed up our gear to head to a family celebration in Durham, CA.  Josh’s aunt and uncle would be celebrating forty years of marriage, and we were excited to get to be there for the festivities.  On the way, we stopped in Fairfield at the Jelly Belly Factory for a tour.  We had stopped at this same factory in 2001 with baby Kinley on our way to visit Josh’s aunt and uncle, and we were anxious to share the experience with both kids.  The tour is free and includes a bag of Jelly Bellys and a hat (it is an actual factory, after all, so visitors have to cover their hair to meet regulations).

 

Jelly Bellys are the best!

Things we learned:

*The Jelly Belly company uses real fruit juices and purees in many of their beans.

*The mold used to form the beans isn’t a permanent mold.  It’s just a tray full of cornstarch with little bean-shaped indentations in it made by a machine. 

*Jelly Belly has a new factory in Thailand.

*Twelve pounds of Jelly Belly Belly Flops (the imperfect ones that they sell for a discount) is a reasonable purchase.

*The ratio of matcha-flavored beans to other flavors is far out of proportion in the bags of Belly Flops.  So if you love this flavor, we can hook you up.

*The three most popular flavors are buttered popcorn, very cherry, and black licorice.

*The blueberry Jelly Belly was created specifically for the second inauguration of President Ronald Reagan.  The company already made very cherry and coconut, but they needed a blue bean.

*President Reagan’s favorite Jelly Belly flavor was black licorice.

*President Reagan gave out crystal jars of the red, white, and blue beans all throughout his presidency as gifts.

*Jelly Belly employs a full-time artist-in-residence to create Jelly Belly art.

 

Millions of colorful Jelly Bellys rest before being packaged.

Before being added to variety packs, the Jelly Bellys are sorted onto this conveyor belt.

Knox poses next to a Jelly Belly portrait of the candy company's most famous fan.

A copy of a thank-you letter from The Gipper himself

Equipped with enough Belly Flops to feed an army, we continued on our way to meet up with family for dinner.  Josh’s Aunt Nancy and Uncle Larry own a huge almond orchard and were hosting us in their sprawling, art-filled ranch home for supper.  When we arrived, we were welcomed with hugs and an impressive spread of Southern-with-a-splash-of-Californian foods including ham, mac & cheese, salad, green beans, potatoes, and watermelon.  The food was delicious, but just being with family was the best part.  Later, the kids played in the sparkling pool while the rest of us talked and laughed. 

 

Family time around the pool

Let me just take a moment to gush about this home and Aunt Nancy’s impeccable taste.  This is easily my favorite ranch home on the planet, and I bask in its homey feel and beautiful décor each time we visit.  It is designed so that it wraps around the pool area, so both the master bedroom and guest room have lovely views and doors leading to the beautifully-landscaped garden and pool area.  A redwood grove stands sentinel over a shaded picnic area while fruit and almond trees beckon just outside the fence.  Inside, works by Calder, Picasso, and (my favorite) Wayne Thiebaud as well as countless other artists adorn the walls.  Exquisite pices of art glass by Orient & Flume and David Smallhouse perch precariously on tables and countertops, but the toddlers and preschoolers in the family play nearby, uninhibited, without ever touching a single precious piece.  I love it all and treasure each time that Aunt Nancy pulls me aside to tell me about a new piece in her collection.

After a pleasant evening, warmly embraced in familial love, we snuggled down in our comfy bed in the guest room, ready to visit park number 13 the next day.

What Not to Do on the 4th of July: A National Parks Odyssey Day 23

Yosemite National Park

Our family hasn’t been in the United States for a 4^th of July since 2009.  And this year was only the third year in Knox’s lifetime that we were in the US for the holiday.  He doesn’t remember ever having a traditional 4^th of July.  In fact, last year while doing mission work in Brazil, we mentioned something about sparklers, and he didn’t know what they were.  So this year, since we were going to be in the good old US of A for Independence Day, I wanted to be sure to do something, well, really 4^th-of-July-ish.

 

This is the only picture I have from July 4th, 2009.  And it turns out that Josh and I weren't in the country then, either.  We were on a no-kids trip to the Virgin Islands.  So I haven't been in the US for the 4th since 2007.  In this picture, Knox is watching the parade in Fort Thomas, KY with his grandparents.

To be honest, I had actually forgotten that the 4^th of July would be happening while we were on this trip because I’ve grown so unaccustomed to thinking about it during our summers.  So when I finally connected the dots a week or so into our journey, I Googled “July 4^th events at Yosemite” to find out what the park system would be doing to honor the occasion.  I was disappointed to find that the park had nothing – zero, nada -- online about the holiday.  (Once we arrived in Yosemite, we saw fliers for several holiday events in the park – a talent show, a hoedown, a sing-along – but none of them were listed anywhere online, a fact I was sure to point out to park officials.)  The best I could find online two weeks ahead was an outdoor buffet that I managed to book at a resort outside the park.  The information on the website promised traditional 4^th of July food and entertainment, minus the fireworks, of course, since the park prohibits them and the resort shares park boundaries.  But still, we had reservations for red, white, and blue fun.

We woke up excited to celebrate our nation’s birthday in one of its most beautiful places.  The problem was, we had forgotten how packed state and national parks are for the 4th.  The shuttles were packed, the visitors’ center was mobbed, and the trails were overwhelmed with people.  To make things worse, I made the mistake of checking my Facebook feed using the free wifi at the Half Dome Village lounge and found myself frustrated by all of the posts criticizing and condemning our country and emphasizing its many mistakes.  People were griping about fireworks and politics and the admittedly horrible things that America has done from its settlement until today.  And these posts weren’t from my many friends from other countries, mind you.  They were from my fellow Americans.  Americans who clearly hadn’t spent eight summers in foreign countries while the rest of their friends and family celebrated with cookouts and watermelon and flag-shaped desserts and trips to the lake.  And it put me in a seriously foul mood.  Here I was, actually getting to spend an Independence Day in my very own country for the first time in eight years, and all I felt was angry.

Until I looked around me.

I was surrounded by immigrants and foreign visitors.  I could hear numerous languages.  I could see evidence in clothing choices of multiple cultures.  Here I was, visiting a place of stunning natural beauty that was only protected because of our clearly-imperfect national government, and who was here with me?  People from all over the planet.  And guess what many of them were wearing.

Wait for it.

Old Navy Fourth of July t-shirts.  Droves of them.  Entire families were wearing them.  Over their saris.  Over their salwar kameezes.  Under their hijabs.  They even sported American flag sunglasses.  Proudly.  And, to be fair, these people could all have been fifth generation American citizens.  I didn’t make them produce their passports.  But still.  They were wearing things emblazoned with the symbols of an imperfect country, whether it was their home country or not.  And it made me feel better.

When I first asked to take this family's picture, they were VERY hesitant.  But when I explained that they were the perfect representation of the spirit of the 4th of July, the patriarch (on the far left) gave his enthusiastic consent.  Notice both the Old Navy tee and the American flag sunglasses.

These people came to this country – in spite of its faults – because there is beauty here.  They aren’t here because we’ve got it all figured out.  Or because they like it here better than they like their own country.  Or because our government makes all the right choices.  They came to see the beauty here for themselves.  And while they were here, they wanted to celebrate with us.  And they unashamedly wore their red, white, and blue on American Independence Day.

I know this one isn't an Old Navy one, but I promise there were dozens.  And they weren't on WASP-ish people.

And I was proud.  And moved.  And vindicated.

Some Americans act as if we have a corner on the frustration-with-our-government market.  And to them I’d say, you need to get out more.  Talk to Brazilians.  They are so frustrated that many of them are far beyond feeling any sort of hope for their country.  But does that stop them from singing their national anthem at the top of their voices during a World Cup match?  Does it stop them from proudly sporting flip-flops and t-shirts emblazoned with their national flag?  Does it stop them from genuinely loving their homeland?  Nope.

All countries are flawed.  Because countries are made up of people.  And people are flawed.  And it is possible to love your country while being frustrated with its policies.

Here’s the thing.  I try to give people I know a little more leeway on their birthday.  When a friend experiences unfortunate circumstances, I empathize.  But if something unfortunate happens on her birthday?  Well, that’s even worse.  In fact, most of us try to be nice to our friends and family on their birthdays.  So I just think it’s bad form to criticize America on her birthday.  You want to point out all the ways she’s not yet evolved to the point you (and I) want her to be?  You’ve got 364 other days to do it.  But on July 4^th, I just want to be grateful. 

For things like national parks (which the US invented, by the way).  For wide open spaces.  For barbecue.  For jazz.  For Broadway.  For squirrels. (Foreigners get really excited about seeing squirrels.)  For drinkable tap water. (You think it’s only third world countries that have unsafe tap water?  You’re wrong.)  For recycling.  (You think all developed nations recycle?  Nope.)  For entrepreneurship.  (You think anyone in any country can start a business if they have the skills and the finances?  Wrong again.) For not having to pay for a virtual private network in order to check my email.  (My spring break trip made me grateful for that one.)  For Senators and Representatives who don’t always vote with their party.  (Ask the Australians the last time that a Member of Parliament did that in their country.)  Did I mention national parks?

That evening, we had a great time celebrating our country.  We drove to Tenaya Resort, ate good food, practiced archery (OK, not a typical 4^th of July activity, but fun nonetheless), participated in a sing-along, and made s’mores.  We met some new people and basked in the American-ness of the whole thing.  It wasn’t exactly the Independence Day traditions of my youth, but it satisfied my craving for an American celebration in my own country on July 4^th.

Knox and Kinley aim for the target.

Knox roasts his marshmallow to perfection.

Not sure why he needed sunglasses to make a s'more, but there it is.

Dinner included barbecue, chili, and baked potatoes.  The decor was super festive, too!

Family picture!

Knox sang  on stage with the band!

And then on the way back to our little cabin in Yosemite Valley, we pulled over just before dark to check out a lovely little meadow trail.  There wasn’t another soul on the trail, so we sang every single patriotic song we could possibly come up with.  At the top of our lungs.  Even when we couldn’t remember the words.  (Who has all the words to “This Is My Country” memorized anyway?  It’s impressive enough that we knew the chorus.)  But we knocked it out of the park with “America, the Beautiful,” “My Country ‘Tis of Thee,” “You’re a Grand Ole Flag,” “God Bless America,” and “This Land is Your Land.”  We even made a brief foray into all the state songs we could think of as we drove back to the Yosemite Valley.  We sang and laughed and made fun of each other for messing up the words. 

And we felt connected.  Connected to our families celebrating elsewhere in more traditional ways.  Connected to each other.  Connected to our homeland.  And connected to all those families from who-knows-where who were proudly wearing their American flag t-shirts in one of the most beautiful places in the world. 

And it felt good.  And it reminded me of what NOT to do on the 4^th of July.

1)    Don’t check Facebook unless other people’s complaints don’t bother you.

2)    Don’t plan to be in a national park unless you LOVE crowds.
3)    Don’t worry about not remembering all the words.  Sing loud and proud.  Maybe in an Old Navy 4^th of July t-shirt.

Who Knew That You Could Kill a Day in Fresno?: A National Park Odyssey Day 22

Kings Canyon National Park to Yosemite National Park via Fresno, CA

From Kings Canyon, we drove to one of the most famous parks in the US, Yosemite.

We discovered our problem during breakfast on the porch at the John Muir Lodge in Kings Canyon.  On a trip this long, we have a specific plan for which parks we’ll visit each day, and we have hotel reservations booked in advance for every night.  But beyond that, we don’t have clear plans nailed down until about three days out. So it wasn’t until breakfast that we began contemplating the route we’d be taking that day into Yosemite National Park. 

Josh was checking the hours for the Yosemite Visitors’ Center, looking at suggested hikes, and finalizing driving routes when he discovered an announcement from the National Park Service.  Because of the upcoming 4^th of July holiday and especially heavy summer visitor numbers, guests should avoid entering the park between the hours of 11:00 am and 6:00 pm which, of course, was the time period we’d planned to arrive.  Yosemite was a 2 ½ hour drive away, and it was already 9:00 am.  What to do?

Sitting in a long line of cars to go through the entrance checkpoint didn’t sound like a fun way to spend a couple of hours, so we decided to take our time packing up, take advantage of the free wifi, and blow some time in Fresno on the way.  All of our Grand Canyon gear (cowboy boots, jeans, etc.) were taking up valuable space in the car plus we’d bought some souvenirs at Disneyland that could be shipped home, and we could do that in Fresno.  Additionally, we needed a few supplies, so a Target run would take up some time, too.

In-season, ripe peaches are my very favorite food in the whole world, so we had to make a stop to buy some!

On the way, we stopped at a peach stand to pick up some peaches – this happened right in the middle of recording a podcast – before arriving in Fresno.  We headed for the post office first where packaged up another box of stuff to send home.  And then I majorly geeked out over some stamps we bought there.  And people, if they’re still available, get yourself to the nearest US Post Office and get some of these.  Usually the only round stamps that the USPS makes are for international mail.  A few years ago, they made a round wreath one for Christmas, and we bought enough to send all of our cards to international friends using those for several years. But this summer they have made round, textured stamps featuring different types of balls – tennis balls, baseballs, volleyballs, and even kickballs!  I am no philatelist or anything, but those stamps are cool, people. 

And the other ones you must run out to get a sheet of are the ones commemorating the upcoming total solar eclipse on August 21.  Now, I thought these stamps were cool when we picked up a sheet inside the post office because they showed the moon as a black circle with the sun’s rays streaking out from it on all sides.  But when we took them outside, they became even cooler – the moon appeared!  These stamps change in light!  Now tell me, isn’t that worth geeking out about? I realize almost nobody uses stamps anymore, but try to come up with a reason to send some snail mail using these things. They’re awesome.

 

Shipping home another box of stuff helped to clear out some space in the back of the Volvo.

Once I’d finished being a complete nerd at the post office, we commenced our almost-daily search for a place to eat.  Yelp! had been supremely unhelpful three days earlier when we were in Fresno, so we used the tried-and-true method of just driving around until we found something that looked promising.  That’s how we ended up at West Coast Fish N Chips, a tiny hole in the wall in a strip mall with an even tinier sign.  It may seems that fish and chips aren’t that hard to do, but these people do everything from scratch.  Just look at the sign they post explaining their philosophy.

 

Who makes their own sauces?  Almost nobody!

The sign you see here isn't even visible from the road.

We had to wait for about 20 minutes after we ordered for our food to arrive because everything is made when you order it.  It tasted just like the fish and chips we’ve eaten in England; all that was missing was the traditional mushy peas side dish (which is actually yummy in small amounts).

Fish and chips with a side of battered veggies - yummy!

After dinner, we made a Target run and then checked out the Gibson Farm Market which is a meat, dairy, and produce stand run by Fresno State University.  All of the agricultural products are grown and produced right on campus, and we picked up some fresh veggies and ice cream to munch on.  It was a surprisingly professional-looking enterprise, and it was packed with customers.  They are open every day, and it made me wish that Purdue’s Butcher Block concept would expand to dairy and produce.

Please open one of these, Purdue!

Since by then it was after 5:00, we could safely head to Yosemite without worrying about arriving during the heaviest tourist time.  We made a bee line for Glacier Point to marvel at the imposing vista including both Half Dome and a thundering Yosemite Falls.  This was a complete surprise to me, since I’d heard many friends tell about their summer trips to Yosemite and the way that the waterfalls were mere trickles in the summer months.  A winter of heavy snowfall meant that visitors this summer were rewarded with impressive amounts of falling water that echoed throughout the valley as it fell.

 

The light was PERFECT when we arrived!  Look at those reds and pinks!

We stood in awe at the edge of Glacier Point and began to understand why Yosemite is one of the nation’s most popular and iconic parks.  Of course hordes of people were there for the 4^th of July holiday (and a whole heaping herd of them were perched there on the cliffs with us), but even that couldn’t detract from the stunning beauty in front of us. We stayed until well past sunset before beginning the hour-long drive down into the valley where we’d be staying for the next three nights.

Half Dome looms large in the background of our family picture.

Look at all that water plunging into the valley!

When we finally arrived at what used to be Curry Village but is now known as Half DomeVillage*, it was well after dark**.  We drove around and around looking for a place to park, and Kinley got the fright of her life when the face of a lady, who had apparently been sleeping in her car, popped up in the window next to us just as Kinley was getting out of our car.  Once she’d regained her composure, we all trooped through the dark to our cabin. 

Most of the area that wasn’t filled with parked cars was covered with what the park calls tent cabins.  These were canvas-walled tents with a raise wooden platform floor, a screen door, and cots for sleeping.  They had no electricity, and the occupants of the tents were required to keep all their food in bear-proof lockers outside each tent.  There were 403 of them in Half Dome Village.  Hence the parking issues.

 

This example of a tent cabin was less than 10 feet from our cabin.  You can see many others in the background.

We had booked the slightly nicer Cabins Without Bathrooms.  (That’s what they called them.  For real.  It sounds all noble like Doctors Without Borders or something, but it’s really just expensive and inconvenient.)  There were only 14 of those, and we only booked one because when we called a year ago to reserve a room, that’s the nicest thing that was left.  The Awahnee, the Wawona, and even the 46 Cabins With Private Baths (creative nomenclature, for sure) were all full.  A year in advance.

 

Knox stands in front of our Cabin Without Bathroom.

All of the cabins – tent, without bathrooms, and with private baths -- looked like no thought whatsoever had been given to their placement in the valley.  It looked as if each one had been a little Monopoly house in some designer’s hand who then took 463 of the little buggers, tossed them onto a map of the area, and then placed them at the campground, higgledy-piggledy, just as they fell.  Three bath houses were within spitting distance of each other a few steps away from our cabin, but that left dozens of other cabins without nearby bathrooms.  Why wouldn’t they have spread those three bath facilities out more? I guess the Monopoly pieces just fell that way.

Once we finally located our Cabin Without Bathroom, we hauled in all of our stuff.  These nicer-but-still-expensive-for-a-place-with-no-bathroom cabins had two double beds, electricity, a chest of drawers, a bedside table with a lamp, and a fan.  After we unloaded our substantial amount of luggage, we paraded to the bath house, armed with the keyless-entry password given only to paying guests.  Kinley and I needn’t have bothered.  The door wasn’t even latched.  We brushed our teeth and got ready for bed, hoping silently that neither of us would need to make a bathroom run in the middle of the night.

Poor Knox had been saying the whole trip that he thought he might want to really go camping – like, real tent camping – sometime.  I was beginning to feel guilty, like a bad mom who’s depriving her son of essential experiences.  I was beginning to consider caving in, borrowing some gear form friends, and taking the child on an overnight camp out.  That is, until Yosemite.  Nope.  Not doing it.  This was a rough as I ever care to deal with again.***

We all settled in for the night with the sounds of Yosemite Falls thundering off in the distance.  Even the thought of a late-night bathroom run didn’t take away the wonder of that sound.  I slept well.  All night long.

*The concessionaire for Yosemite used to be Delaware North Corporation (DNC).  Concessionaires work on a 15-year contract with the NPS, and the last time new bids were open at Yosemite, DNC lost the bid to operate the lodges and campgrounds inside Yosemite to Aramark.  Then things got interesting.  It turns out that during the last 15-year contract, DNC trademarked all the names of the historic lodges at Yosemite!  And, apparently, the NPS didn’t give them permission to trademark them.  So now, DNC is basically holding the names of the historic properties hostage!  Yosemite has had to come up with new names for all of these properties, places that are known world-wide by their iconic names thanks in part to the PBS documentary about America’s National Park lodges.  The Awahnee is now The Majestic Yosemite Hotel.  Curry Village is now Half Dome Village.  The Wawona is now Big Trees Lodge.  Until the courts decide whether or not a concessionaire can trademark the name of a facility they don’t actually own, significant expenses have been incurred to change maps, signage, websites, stationery, etc.  And there’s so much confusion!  Seasoned employees can’t break the habit of using the old names, and park guests like us who made reservations over a year ago to stay at one place now find that place no longer exists.  Personally, I hope the courts find in favor of the NPS, but I can’t imagine how they’ll have enough money to fight for the naming rights.

See the part of the sign that says Half Dome Village?  It's a vinyl banner that's hung over the historic wooden signing that reads Curry Village.  The NPS cannot use the Curry Village name anymore thanks to a trademark issue.

**Many of the parks we’ve visited this summer have been designated as International DarkSky Parks.  This means that the parks work hard to keep light pollution to a minimum, so there are no streetlights and few lit signs or paths at night.  While that makes for awesome stargazing and makes the habitat for nocturnal animals much more natural, it is a pain when you’re trying to navigate unfamiliar territory after dark.  Hauling luggage.  And a sleepy ten-year-old.

***If you have a hankering to take a very sweet but also sometimes clueless and possibly very sheltered ten-year-old on a real tent camping trip, let me know.