The Ghost and Mr. Muir

How does one tell a story without conflict? During our travels, I reassure my wife and son that each closed venue, smelly hotel, burnt breakfast, and fender bender will become a tale to share with friends and family back home. These are not the yarns spun on Facebook and Instagram the platforms used to publish carefully curated collections of awesome vistas, leaping into bodies of water, tree hugging, ancient architecture, and the perfect shepherd’s pie. These will be the late night confessions when there is a lull in the conversation and the beer has made my stories funnier.  In order to commiserate with fellow road warriors we will exclaim, “Oh you think that was bad? When we were in . . ."

They are the multi-paragraph parables of epic failure meant as warning, entertainment and encouragement. They will eventually find their way to this website after they have been told so many times that my only true memories are of telling it.

But what happens when nothing happens? When we actually have a day of awesomeness? How do I narrate these fables without becoming as full of sap as the giant redwoods I am describing? This is the conundrum I find myself in when discussing our day at Yosemite.

We actually planned this trip expecting conflict. Sitting on our couch in February contemplating how best to spend our spring break we were torn between visiting either Redwood or Yosemite National Park. We wanted to go to Yosemite but had been warned by the Internet that there was a possibility that during March parts of the park may be inaccessible due to snow and that the falls would be as dry as an overcooked turkey. I placed a call to the park visitor center and tried to persuade the ranger on duty to give their best guess as to the weather situation. Perhaps it is our overly litigious society that compels rangers to be ludicrously vague in their answers. They don’t want to be sued by visitors that fall into geysers, get trapped by flash floods, or amputate their own hands to escape a dire situation, but all I wanted to know is if I should visit the park. All I got was a tentative maybe, but there was a tone in the ranger’s voice that suggested that we should risk it.

Our decision was affirmed at around 6:00 A.M. the morning after our arrival. I was waiting for the shuttle at the hotel to take me to get the rental car. Normally, we would have just picked it up at the airport, but we did not arrive until approximately two in the morning due to engine and icing issues in Minneapolis. While drinking weak lobby coffee, I watched the local news broadcast from Yosemite showing the flowing falls and extolling the near perfect weather predicted for the weekend. It was quite comforting, and I guess if they were wrong we could always sue them.

By the time we made our way to Yosemite we had already visited Alcatraz, Muir Woods, and Point Reyes and had a marvelous time, so we were anticipating greatness. We pulled into the entrance to the park early enough that the pay station was not open, so after our traditional photo at the sign we drove right in. Our first stop was Bridalveil Falls. It was a brisk morning and standing at the bottom of the falls the mist had the effect of making it feel a lot cooler. There was one other family at the falls when we pulled up who were kind enough to take our photo, but that was all. 

We drove toward the visitor center stopping occasionally to take in new views of El Capitan and Half-Dome. We were often the only car on the road. It wasn’t until we heard others tell about the crowds at Yosemite that we realized how lucky we were. When we finally made it to the visitor center the parking lot looked like the scene from Vacation when the Griswolds finally make it to Wally World. Maybe there was not a ranger at the front gate because the park was closed, not normal closed, but natural disaster closed, bear attack closed. While crowds can be annoying, there is a certain comfort that comes from knowing that you are not the only person that decided to visit the park that day. Is there something wrong? Is fire currently racing towards this parking spot? Have bears devoured all of the picnic basket and moved on to consuming humans? Is there something better to do like a parade or sporting event that everyone else went to and I will miss out on? Why are we the only ones here?

We ambled over to the visitor center trying to not be caught tossing furtive glances at the only other family who seemed to be doing the same thing. It was all a bit surreal in the fog filled chill of the Yosemite morning. The sunlight rarely has a direct path to the valley floor so the entire scene takes on a dreamlike state in which no matter how many light switches you flip in your house that is not quite your house, the light is always just a little off. 

Inside offered some respite an island of clear vision and appropriate illumination, but it was as empty as grocery store in a zombie movie with no budget for extras. We walked directly to the counter to talk to the ranger. First order of business was for my son to ask for the Junior Ranger workbook. My wife and I looked at each other, and attempted that thing where people communicate with their eyes, but it was not working perfectly. 

She raised both eyebrows simultaneously. She was obviously asking a question, but I could not determine what. 

I tilted my head to the side and stretched my lips then to indicate confusion. 

She repeated her gesture, but in a much more exaggerated manner like she was shouting at a foreigner.

I shrugged my shoulders and bugged my eyes.

She rolled hers and gestured for me to lower my ear to her mouth. “Is that the guy from the Ken Burns documentary?”

I not so casually glanced over at him while he was talking to Evan. It was a possibility, but I wasn’t sure enough. I did not want to be the white guy that assumed all black people looked the same. 

Once when we were at the Negro League Museum in Kansas City and elderly gentleman came up to us to say hi to Evan who was about two at the time. After some discussion we realized we had been talking to Buck O’Neil the face of the Ken Burns Baseball documentary. I rue my timidity to this day because we failed to get a picture. I eventually made it to Cooperstown to see his statue in the lobby, but it was not the same. I was nervous that the same combination of apprehension and white guilt would lead to similar disappointment.

We stepped up to talk to the ranger still unsure as to his identity. We asked him how best to use our limited time in the park. He immediately suggests that we take a drive down to the Mariposa Grove. It sounded like a good idea since we were not going to be able to go to Redwood National Park we might as well see some big trees while we were here. Not only would we see the big trees, but we would be walking in the footsteps of President Teddy Roosevelt and his guide to the area naturalist John Muir. In 1903 Muir and Roosevelt spent three nights in the Yosemite area, and Muir was able to convince the president that the area should be under federal control for conservation. Their first night in the area was spent under the shelter of the Grizzly Giant which is currently the twenty-fifth largest sequoia and approximately two-thousand years old. Apparently it was much colder when they camped than during our visit because T.R. snuggled in with about forty blankets.

So upon the advice of the ranger that may or may not have been Sheldon Johnson, star of the National Parks documentary, we got into our rental car and made our way to the Grove. The Yosemite website warns that there is limited parking for personal vehicles and that the road will be closed during the operating hours of the shuttle. However, when we arrived it was much like the situation at the visitor center. We were literally the only car driving on Mariposa Grove Rd. Again, the lack of park patrons made us hesitant to drive down the narrow road.

“Are you sure we are in the right spot?” Colette asked.

I obviously did not have access to any information that she had, but she wanted to be reassured and I could not comply, so I just sat silently looking for some sign that we were indeed in the right location. We crept quietly in the car as if a ranger would jump out from the woods along the side of the road and smack us firmly on the wrist for our transgression. I convinced myself that technically we were part owners of the park so we really could not be detained or otherwise punished for our adventures in the park.  We finally spotted a sign that said, “Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias 2 Miles" which offered its reassurance.  A little further and we arrived at the parking lot that had maybe two cars besides our own, but honestly I stopped worrying about the cars when I saw the sequoias towering above us. One of my favorite is of Evan  reading an informational sign while being dwarfed by a juvenile sequoia.

I would like to tell you that we had a transcendental experience that god spoke to us through the ancient timber, that the ghost of Mr. Muir guided us to a sublime understanding of our place in nature, but I can’t. What we had was a nice solitary walk in the woods. We would stop and pose in front of trees named Faithful Couple and Grizzly Giant. We stood at the opening of the tunnel through the tree named Wawona. We paused in soft covering of brown needles (dendro-detritus) while Evan tied his shoe. We loved our time there and frequently wish to go back, but we did not fully understand at the time our special our hike was. We have since talked to several people about the crowds and lines in Yosemite and appreciate our visit even more in retrospect.

After our arboreal amble we drove back to the visitor center yelling at Evan to finish his Junior Ranger book. We also did an image search of Sheldon Johnson and realized that he was indeed the ranger from the Ken Burns documentary. We just hoped he was still there when we returned. 

Not only was he there, but he was the ranger responsible for swearing in Evan. A few years later we got a requ­­­est to use our picture of Ranger Johnson and Evan in a banner to be displayed in the park. It was never verified that this happened, but I like to think that Evan is still inviting other child to join the ranks of the junior rangers.

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