After a day or two of chilling out in San Francisco, the four of us headed off in the van to see some hills. First stop, Yosemite. I’d booked a camp site right up in the valley, next to the Merced river. We’d been looking forward to getting some swimming in, but it was freeezing cold so that didn’t happen.
Ant and I wanted to get some exercise and decided that Half Dome was a good target. We’d thought about getting passes to climb the cables right up to the summit, which involves an online lottery to restrict the number of visitors each day. We’d checked out the website but the entries had closed for the day. We decided that it would still be worth hiking up there anyway. Leaving late in the morning meant we had to put the pedal down, and were pretty much at a jogging pace. Three and a half hours in we’d reached the base of the granite dome, poking its head out above the tree line. This was also the half way point – we had another 3 1/2 hours to get back to meet the girls in the car park. After tucking a pot of macaroni salad away, we half-walked, half-ran the 7-odd miles back to the valley floor.
The girls picked us up in the van and we headed out of Yosemite as the sun was sinking below the valley horizon. Which is way, way higher than the real horizon, which mean that we still had loads of daylight. The plan was to head down to Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Park and see some big trees.
We ended up spending the night in a motel in Fresno, and then putting away a big breakfast at Blossom Trail Café just outside town. Every time we sit down for an American breakfast we see “biscuits and gravy” on the menu – which to our British ears sounds less than appetizing. We persuaded Ant to give it a go. What turned up appeared to be something like scones in a hollandaise / vanilla / custardy sauce. Hmmn.
As we headed into the foothills of the Sierra Nevada again, we passed a field full of shining cars and bikes. I spun the van round (that sounds easy, but with its crap turning circle it means a twenty-point turn in the road, which was fortunately deserted) and we spent an hour or so checking out muscle cars, trucks, bikes and lots of hairy christian Americans.
Driving higher into the mountains, we kept passing the usual altitude markers that seem to be so popular round here. I’d read that Americans are into their sports trivia and statistics – I wonder if altitude clocking is along the same lines? Not that it’s much of an achievement; you just drive up the road and you get higher. Not like the old days when these mountains were first being explored – that must have been epic.
We got into the park and turned left for Kings Canyon. Supposedly the second deepest canyon in the lower 48 states, after the Grand Canyon. Yep, some pretty impressive views.
Though I’d booked a campground further south, we figured that it wasn’t worth the time driving all the way down there, so we found a nice place near the King river near the road head. The road winds its way up the valley but doesn’t go anywhere, which made me wonder why it’s here. It’s not like it’s an old trade route. The effort that’s gone into building the road is amazing – can it be just for tourism? There were a load of cars parked up at the head of the trail, and a few hikers packing their kit for a weekend in the wilderness. That’s the way to explore this park – on foot. I don’t think we’ll be coming this way again though.
The drive back to San Francisco was fairly straightforward … a long way though in the heat, and the van is noisy. We had a great time with buddies; camping, mountains, sun…
Road and Ocean 