Chapter Two: Into The Wild

It was accepted long before the trip that reserving a campsite at Yosemite was an impossible task. One would have to reserve almost 6 months in advance. Over 4 million people visit the Valley and surrounding meadows every year. Yup, that's a lot of tourists.

So what was the plan? To get to the park in time to get a spot in one of their "first come first serve" sites. Which, in my mind, is a brilliant idea. It allows those who did not have the chance to reserve a spot to still have a chance. Basically you show up, find an uninhabited spot and you're able to stay for up to a week. Pretty sweet deal.

The plan was set. It was perfect. Six alarms, between two phones. We'd get up at around 4am, be on the road by 4:30 (from San Fran) and make it to one of the above mentioned sites before they opened for reservations, which was 9am.

Boom. Perfect. Right?

Well, I had designated myself driver in the morning. I was more than willing to let my partner sleep on the way. All I'd need was some coffee.

I made one grave mistake. I had too much fun that night. We didn't do anything crazy. We had a late meal at this superb Indian restaurant (apricot curry....mmmm), hung out with the family and residents of the B n B that we were staying at (owned by family), and once curled up in bed, laid there and caught up - rehashing old times, laughing at past bullshit, the occasional thrown pillow. You know, everything you'd expect 24 year olds to do when they reunite.

By the time we agreed to shut our eyes and get some rest, a night's sleep in preparation for the road had turned into a two hour nap. Now, usually, this isn't an issue. For some reason, less sleep allows me to function better the next day. I've done it before and it has worked out swimmingly. But, throw in how tired I had been from my adventures in San Fran, and you have one tired little irishman.

When I felt the sun on my face, I smiled. It felt nice. Warm, inviting. It even prompted me to throw the comforter off of me because I was that warm. Thats when it sunk in. The sun? Warmth? Thats not possible at 4am. Scrambling up and finding my phone - it was 8:30. How in the fuck had that happened!? I roused my buddy and they, in their groggy, post awakened state, just kind of let out a "Ohh nooo."

I don't think I've ever moved so fast and I know for a fact I've never seen her move so fast. Our things were packed, piled, and stuffed into my car by 8:30 and we were on the road by 9.

Super easy trip to Yosemite (aside from the stop for coffee where I looked for my wallet for a solid 15 minutes and had a mini freakout thinking I left it in San Fran and would have to return, only to find it wedged next to my seat, for it had fallen out of my sweat pants [also known as soft pants - for future use]).

So we finally arrived, somewhere around 12:30pm. Ok...a little behind schedule. Lucky for us, because it was the weekday, Monday to be exact, the park was more empty than on a weekend. Driving into town, we asked around and got a list of sites that still had openings. We stocked up on some water, gatorade, and a quick snack and hauled ass to said campsite, hoping it was still vacant. Thankfully, it was.

Basic campsite was all we needed. Bear box. Picnic table. Fire pit. We brought everything else. And was it wonderful. We were nestled right next to a creek, so we feel asleep to the trickling water every night.

We hiked every single day - for four days. We saw four waterfalls, half dome, mirror lake, squirrels, deer, snakes, lizards, and best of all, a hawk knock a pelican (why a pelican was in Yosemite, we still don't know to this day) out of the air, onto the ground, literally RIGHT in front of our car while driving. We had to stop. It was nuts. Mother Nature at her finest! I wish I could describe it in full detail, but at first we thought two birds were flying together, until one just started plummeting after the other swopped at it. The look on the pelican's face was ridiculous - pure confusion and fear. Not something I need to have stuck in my mind - sorry to bring it up.

The sights were amazing. It didn't matter where we were, I was speechless. The vastness of how large to Valley was really struck me. The lushness of the forest, the silence up on the side of the mountains, the sheer scale of the cliff walls, the freshness of the air. It will all be with me for as long as I live. I'm already itching to go back. The change in scenery in Yosemite was breathtaking. At first the forest was burned, clearly by a fire, then upon exiting a mountain tunnel, the world just opens up ahead of you, seemingly never ending. Once on the valley floor, cliffs surround you, the shortest still being at least 1,100 feet tall. Some hikes made it feel like we were in a desert, soft sand everywhere, while others brought you passed hulking red woods. Booming waterfalls would appear on the horizon, miles away, only for you to eventually get up close enough to touch them.

But what mattered most to me was the time in the woods. It had been so long since I had camped, over six years, well before I had went into college. It brought me back to my roots. The serenity of the woods, the clearness it brings the soul. How the lack of cleanliness is soothing, the smell of smoke from the fire baths your skin and plants itself deep in the follicles of your hair. You feel raw. You feel right. The sights, sounds, smells all culminate into peace. It all just erases the stress. My company made it ten fold better as well. Our chats around the fire, the self cooked meals (burgers with fried eggs on top, omelets, tin foil meals -  turkey stew and fajitas - yes, literally pack tin foil balls with ingredients and leave them in the coals to cook, baked apples, irish coffee), laying in the tent giggling as loud as we wanted because we knew we were alone, the sharing of stories from the last two years. It was just pure bliss.

But the highlight of it all?

Finding a massive boulder jutting out of the ground in the middle of the woods and just lying on top of it together, staring up at the night sky. I've never seen stars like I did in Yosemite. There were hundreds of thousands. Those were just the obvious ones. Behind those, much dimmer were the other million. They just stretched on forever, pulling you towards them, proving how insignificant we are in the grand scheme of things. We talked. About life. Our journeys. What was sprawled out on display above us. All capitalized by shooting stars. They were everywhere. As if the cosmos was holding a belated Fourth of July/

It was a perfect moment.

And it was ours.

When it was time to leave, I knew, because it was raining. Just like in Boy Scouts, the day you leave always somehow brings with it the bad weather. Maybe to make your time there seem even more magical.

We packed up and crawled into the car, ready for our next stop, a warm shower, and somewhere to do our laundry.

It was hard leaving Yosemite - it is a place that will always hold a special part of my heart. But the memories formed there outweighed the pain of leaving the wilderness behind.