Small world, big scenes.

Day 6: Thursday 25th October

After totalling my legs yesterday and being up half the night with shin pain, I thought today would be a great opportunity for a drive up to Glacier Point to get THE view of the valley and of course, Half Dome, my new one true love.

Whilst my road confidence has been building at a rate of knots, I didn’t quite feel up to driving this one, so – sucking up the $52 tour fee for the luxury of a coach driven return trip – I signed up to the 1.30pm tour departing in one hour, and quickly nipped over to Deglan’s Deli (possibly not what it’s actually called) as it’s the only place onsite that has WiFi and I had days 3 and 4 blog posts ready to post.

There’s been a theft.

Logged on and day 3 post has gone missing. Four hours of work – vanished. Four hours of time – stolen. I’m upset about this because day 3 was a big day and documented a lot for me personally – big drives, big tunes, big feels.

I think it says a lot how calming this trip has been for me because whereas normally my instinctive reaction would be to lose my shit and let this unfortunate situation ruin the rest of my day, I remained surprisingly nonplussed. Disappointed, yes. Annoyed, absolutely. But it’s not the end of the world, is it? I’m lucky enough to be here experiencing All Of This – documenting it is a nice to have.

Of all the joints in all the world.

Sipping the $2 coffee I bought in exchange for WiFi, I felt the presence of someone sitting down at my bench. It loomed closer and closer, and I glanced up when I heard a familiar Mancunian voice saying “Hello Helen” – it was only Howard bloody Harrison on his honeymoon. Howard is one of my brother’s best mates and someone I’ve known for over 20 years.

Genuinely couldn’t believe my eyes. I didn’t even know he was going to be in Yosemite – and even if I had, it’s a pretty massive place: the deli alone is a bloody labyrinth and the chances of being in there at the same time and seeing each other are so minute, I was amazed, and after six days of not seeing anyone I knew, it threw me a bit off track.

We FaceTimed my brother and my dad, and after a lovely little chat about our respective travels, we said our goodbyes and I headed off to meet the tour bus.

It’s lovely bumping into someone you know abroad, but I’ve often wondered what the protocol would be if you bumped into someone you didn’t like or had fallen out with when thousands of miles away from home. It’d be pretty weird to ignore them, right? Do you go to ceasefire mode and exchange pleasantries? I think I would, but that said, I don’t think I actually dislike anyone enough that I’d ignore them. Hmm, maybe I do… must remember this one as a good party question, like my recent favourite “If you could hire a private detective to follow anyone in this room, who would it be and why?” Try it some time.

The most annoying woman in the universe.

No, I’m not talking about myself, I’m talking about today’s Glacier Point tour guide who is a combination of a Blue Peter presenter, jumped up teenager, cheesy am dram student and idealist “go get ’em!” kind of gal.

Nobhead comes complete with cap, shorts, high pitched and relentless voice, as well as a very clearly defined set of passive aggressive rules. In short, the epitome of everything I Do Not Like in Other People.

Her one redeeming feature is that she looks like the legend that is Nicola Willett – a fact that has amused me all day long.

On the edge.

Glacier Point did not disappoint and was definitely worth the mental anguish inflicted by both our illustrious tour guide and the hair-raising cliff bends we were hugging onto for dear life all the way up.

We passengers (or “caterpillars” as Nobhead is annoyingly calling us) were given an hour to roam free and get some peace and quiet in the surroundings of this elevated paradise.

Access to Glacier Point is an easy ten minute stroll away from the car park, and gives sweeping panoramic views of the valley floor plus a string of Yosemite’s peaks and to the north-east, the Sierras. Far and away the money shot, however, is of Half Dome (of course) and the principal motivation for my shelling out for this excursion.

Upon arrival, together with the rest of the caterpillars and other tourists who’d braved the ascent either in their own vehicles or, commendably, on foot, yet again my jaw dropped in awe of the majesty of the mountains and the regal valley carpet.

The granite vista was vast and bright, drenched in the mid-afternoon light, yet somehow, because the shadows picking out the mountain and valley contours became imperceptible, the whole scene rendered almost two dimensional. Despite the perfect blue skies and crisp clarity in the air, the reflection of the sun’s rays bouncing from the mountain fascia somehow managed to obscure visibility: the suspended air hanging in the midst a privileged infinity of particles awaiting an audience with the monolithic kings who sat like giants effortlessly defining their court.

It was all a bit humbling, dwarfing and yet, somehow, in that moment, it all belonged to me.

I stepped over the defined viewing platform onto a series of boulders where others had set up tripods, easels and lunch, and nested myself in a cradle of rock which was safe (ie, if I’d clumsily stumbled and tumbled down a few metres, I would have still been alive), quiet (there was no way parents were letting their kids out to this point) and provided the lower back support I needed to stretch my legs right out and breathe it all in.

Photos definitely will follow for this one.

Return to base.

Nobhead decided to do a Fun Quiz on the return trip.

I didn’t realise when I’d handed over my dollar this morning that it was a guided tour, so when I found out, I was quite pleased… until Nobhead opened her mouth. Jesus Christ, what I said about being calm and zen like – stuff it. (I do not feel zen. I’m writing this on the return journey back and all I keep wanting to do is tell her to FUCKING SHUT UP!, much like I did with the mosquitoes yesterday).

She’s a fount of Yosemite knowledge, I’ll give her that, but I can’t handle her noise any longer and on balance of Learning Stuff vs drowning her out with Joy Division (I couldn’t find anything more antithetical to her chipperness), I opted for the latter.

Nearing the end of the journey, the coach drew to a stop and given I’d been knee deep in Atmosphere for the pervious five minutes, I had no idea why.

I followed my fellow caterpillars out of the coach to walk over to a meadow sat in the shadow of El Capitan. I thought it was because it was a part of the tour and Nobhead was going to tell us some more fun facts, which – sans bus microphone I thought I could cope with. It was NOT a fun facts stop. It was her evangelising over how much she cares about the meadows and how we all had a task to do when we get home which is to tell everyone about how we need to protect the wildlife and in years to come, she and we would be Just Like John Muir. (Google him).

Now – I get it. Conservation is important. Not just important. Critical to the survival of our ecosystem and food chains and the preservation of our earth for millennia to come. But I really don’t appreciate being lectured like a child, especially not by someone who was so fucking annoying and grammatically inept.

I desperately wanted to get a video of Nobhead in full flow though so I contained my eye rolling and concealed a smirk of contempt under my scarf whilst capturing a snippet of her on my phone.

After an horrifically cringey ten minutes, we got back on the bus and whilst we were waiting for a few of our fellow caterpillars to return, Nobhead decided to ask everyone where they hailed from. Aside from myself and a Korean couple, everyone was American and she seemed to have some kind of family or friend connection in quite literally every single small town that was named. When she found out I was from England, she said “Oh I love England!” to which I asked if she’d ever been. She had not. “Oh”, said I. She moved on.

I think she knew I wasn’t a fan. I did, however, tip her. Much as I really couldn’t abide her, you couldn’t argue that she knew her shit and put a lot of effort into her work. Plus, I really respected the way she handled that mountain in a coach whilst simultaneously failing to draw breath for over an hour straight each way.

That said, if you had shown me a video of her before I booked my ticket, there’s not a McDonald’s chance in Yosemite that I’d have signed up. I really wish I’d hiked up or down or both.

Next time.

Leadeth me not into temptation.

I hit up the village store straight after the tour to get my firewood and a fresh bottle of Chianti for the evening ahead. Chili was on the menu again this evening (I’d had a Tupperware box of it in my rock cradle up at Glacier Point as well) which suited me fine because – as with every chili known to man, it tasted soooo much better the next day (today), and also because it meant I didn’t have to do any stove set up or washing up.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely enjoying the cooking side of things but everything else is a bit of a faff and tonight, I quite fancied doing sweet FA. I was even contemplating cosying down in Oliver with my copy of the Puzzler early doors.

ANYWAY, given I was in the vicinity, and also now banking on coming back in he not too distant future, I thought I’d check out the Majestic Yosemite Hotel.

BIG mistake. Big. Huge!

I appreciate I sound cheap and easy when I say this, but I’ve fallen in love AGAIN.

As I walked in, I was ready to abandon Oliver, Upper Pines and even the next leg of the trip but at $511 excluding all the taxes for a basic room for one night only, it wasn’t going to be feasible.

I had a wander around and found myself in the great hall which was so premium, I wanted to do a forward roll and a few backflips through all the tables and ultimately spring up into and across the numerous chandeliers in a gold sequinned catsuit.

There was also a pianist providing a musical backdrop. This’ll sound a bit wanky but a pianist in a restaurant is one of my favourite things. I remember one of my favourite dates when I was in my mid-twenties was in this gorgeous place with a pianist. We were steadily putting away the white wine and I thought the piano music sounded familiar and kept harping on, “what is this beautiful music?” Thinking I was cool and had a great knowledge of piano scores. It was only three weeks later when I was in the car with my mum that I realised the guy had been playing the whole Take That album “The Circus”. Not a bad little album actually, but I definitely didn’t feel as cool afterwards.

Anyway. I decided that, after heading back to camp and decanting Oliver’s fragrant contents into the bear bin and tucking him into site 60, I was going to come back here on the shuttle bus. Lordy – I was even going to MAKE AN EFFORT and put some jeans, a chunky knit and EVEN some make-up on.

Red rain.

Funniest part of the trip so far.

In prep, just in case I missed the last shuttle back from the Majestic, I filled up my water bottle (which has an inbuilt straw) with my Chianti.

Got on the shuttle bus and thought I’d have a little sip.

Flipped the straw and a fountain of red wine sprayed out and hit the back of an unsuspecting Korean chap’s neck, at which point he started looking at the bus ceiling whilst his fingers swiped the scene of the crimson crime.

Snigger.

The poor bugger looked so utterly perplexed and upset, like he’d just participated in some miracle of life which had unfortunately soiled his sweater and flesh.

It took literally every fibre of my being and focus not to full on piss myself, which considering I was also trying to stem the relentless spurting of vin rouge was really rather difficult. I had also got in mind that Warb was there crying laughing and that in turn was making me laugh even harder.

I couldn’t come clean. These were wholesome folk, and a couple a few rows ahead were telling fellow passengers how they’d just got engaged that day (FYI: she looked so miserably doomed, it was tragic but also comforting for a single 34 yo). So I pretended that I had also been hit by the red rain and tried to pretend that I was equally put out.

I appreciate that this was a ‘had to be there’ moment.

Majestic by name, majestic by price.

I’ve had a lovely evening drinking fine red wine whilst sat at the bar on a ridiculously comfortable chair. So I can’t complain. But two glasses of wine and a bowl of chips (aka French Fries) has cost $60.70. Including tip this time. I’m not sorry I came here, but I am sorry everything is so fucking expensive in The America.

Now about to depart to get my shuttle bus back home, and hopefully won’t get accosted by a bear between the bus stop and site 60.

Nighty night campers. Tomorrow it’s Tioga Pass day and I currently have no fixed abode for the next three nights!

ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN.

Today’s highlights:

• Living in a small world and crashing Howard Harrison’s honeymoon.
• Getting one over on Nobhead by putting my headphones in and ignoring the second part of the tour.
• Lying in until 10am!
• Going to bed feeling like my legs aren’t on fire.