by Nancy Cupp
According to her book, Half Dome is a huge stone monolith in the park. The hike to it was a popular one with tourists.She wanted to prove to Robin, and herself, that she could do it.
Feeling discouraged, she wandered to the kitchen for a snack. Ignoring the carnage from her supper, she settled on some healthy trail mix. Picking out the M&Ms, Margret let her mind wander over the events of the day as she popped the chocolate into her mouth.
Remembering the bus ride home with all her stuff, she smiled at the kindness of most of the passengers. That’s it, she thought, I’ll take a Greyhound Bus all the way to the park. I’ve got time, it’ll save me some money—and I’ll be able to read on the way.
Soon her round trip ticket and plans were confirmed. In the morning she would shop for food, and pack her bag. It was after midnight when she climbed into bed.
Margret woke up early, and slammed down a pot of coffee and two bowls of Colossal Crunch for breakfast. List and book in hand, she headed for the store to get her supplies.
“Good Morning,” she said to her regular bus driver as she took the seat behind him.
“Where are you off to today?”
“I need to do some shopping.”
“Again? It looked like you bought out the store yesterday.”
Margret’s face colored with embarrassment, remembering her ride from the day before. “Uh— today it’s groceries.”
This driver was always friendly, they chatted every morning on her way to work. He knew to remind her of her stop if she got too engrossed in the book she was living in at the moment.
“I won’t be riding for the next two weeks. I’m going on a trip.”
“You don’t say! A little vacation?”
“Yup, but so far it seems like a lot of work to get ready for it.”
The bus pulled to a stop in front of the grocery store, and the driver roused Margret out of her book, “You have a nice time on your trip. I’ll see you when you get back, and you can tell me all about it.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her.
Margret hurried off to the store with the crumpled list in her fist. She headed straight for the first item, a pound of M&Ms. She thought about the long bus trip ahead of her, and grabbled an extra bag.
Margret spent the rest of the day packing and repacking equipment and food into her back pack. She was amazed at all the stuff needed for a simple hike into the mountains.
The book claimed the hike to Half Dome was a day hike. One day to get to Little Yosemite Valley to camp. Then hike to Half Dome and back to the hotel the next day. How far could it be? The book said it could be seen from the hotel.
Margret had planned to stay at the Ahwahnee Hotel, but when she tried to get a room, it was booked well in advance. The prices were a little out of her budget as well, so she settled for a yurt—whatever that was.
All she needed was a comfortable place to finish the week relaxing and reading. Her plans were to head out for the hike as soon as she got there—to get it over with. She’d snap a few pictures to prove she’d done it, then settle back in her private yurt to read.
With everything stuffed in the pack, Margret tried to hoist it on her back. She staggered under the weight. “I’ll never be able to carry this all day,” she moaned. “I’m going to have to leave some things behind.”
The rest of the evening was spent rummaging through the pack for anything not needed. I don’t really need all this water, she rationalized, I can just use public drinking fountains, or maybe get a Pepsi.
By the time she was done sorting she had thrown out water, her camping stove and fuel, a compass, her map of the park, a rain coat, and some fresh apples. She put three books and a pound of skittles back in.
When she was satisfied that all was ready for the trip, she snacked on cold pizza and cookies, then headed off to bed. She’d need an early start to catch the city bus to the Greyhound depot in the morning.
Margret was eating her third doughnut when she arrived at the busy bus terminal. Gathering her things, she shuffled sideways down the aisle, dragging the pack behind her.
Her eyes opened wide when she saw the lines of people waiting to board busses going off in all directions. Several mothers with small children were trying to herd their little ones along while the kids stumbled and stared at the other passengers. A small group of men and women stood off to the side smoking one more cigarette before boarding the bus.
A burly young man in a leather jacket decorated with silver studs got in line behind her. His hair was long and stringy and his jeans were torn at the knees. “You must be taking a long trip,” he said, eyeing Margret’s pack.
“Uh… not too far, I’m going to Yosemite National Park,” she said, embarrassed that anyone noticed her.
“Let me help you with that,” he said when the line begin to move forward to start the baggage loading process. He picked it up and said, “This is kinda heavy,” with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh ah—Thank you,” she said slinging her tote over her shoulder.
Margret found a seat near the middle of the bus next to a slender young woman dressed in designer clothes. The woman never said a word, but the smell of alcohol was easy to detect over the scent of her heavy perfume.
Margret had planned to read on the trip, but the interesting mix of travelers made it hard to concentrate. All of these people have a story to tell, she thought.
After three hours of riding, Margret woke up to the sound of a crying child. She had fallen asleep shortly after the bus started moving. Her arms and legs were stiff and she had a painful cramp in the side of her neck.
She needed to pee but was reluctant to use the tiny restroom at the back of the bus. She asked a guy sitting across the aisle from her how far it was until the first rest stop, but he just shrugged and pointed toward the restroom in the back of the bus.
Margret made her way to the back, bumping and swaying with the movement of the bus. She squeezed herself into the tiny space, barely able to turn around.
Margret was dismayed when she couldn’t seem to go, It seemed like long time, but when she was able to accomplish her task, the sound rang out loud and clear for all to hear.
Embarrassed, Margret made her way back to her seat, sure the other passengers had heard. Five minutes later the driver pulled into a rest area and announced a fifteen minute break.
The bus traveled on through the night, passengers coming and going. Margret alternately slept and read. But she also watched people, intrigued with all the varieties of personalities.
The trip was long and exhausting, but she actually enjoyed it. Eventually, she was able to get a window seat so she could watch the changing scenery during the daylight hours.
As they wound through mountain passes, Margret was awestruck at the beauty of the place. She saw soaring mountain peaks, huge trees and roaring rivers. The road twisted around hairpin turns with occasional views into deep plunging valleys. The trees were in their colorful fall foliage, making the scene even more spectacular.
5
Patty Waters
Patty Waters hummed as she walked the short path from her cabin to the Ranger’s Office. She loved working in the park system and Yosemite was her favorite.
It was a clear October morning and the sky had a lazar blue quality that intensified the pulsating glow of maples and oaks in their fall colors. The air was filled with a clean pine scent from Incense Cedar mixed with the smell of moldering fallen leaves.
Patty shielded her eyes and looked at the soaring granite cliffs above her. The minor waterways were full due to rain that fell the night before, and water cascaded down over rock faces in small wispy waterfalls.
Even though she couldn’t see Yosemite Falls from where she stood, she could hear the constant roar of water crashing over the double cliff. I don’t ever want to leave this place, she thought.
The Permit Office was already teaming with tourists wanting information on hiking trails and the best spots to view fall colors wh
en Patty got there. Her co-worker, Paul Wilson, had opened the office early and gave patty a friendly wave as she waded right in and got to work.
Paul, twenty-five years old, had been working as a Ranger for two years. He was tall and had reddish blonde hair. Like most new rangers, he was assigned to office work until an outdoor position opened up. The Permit Office was a step in that direction, away from the art museum where he’d started.
Everyone seemed to flock to Patty with their questions. She was always popular with tourists because of her pretty smile and bubbling personality. Because she was barely five feet tall and weighed about ninety-five pounds, children seemed to be comfortable with her too. Patty often took groups of children on nature walks pointing out and explaining things in the park.
Near the end of the work day a shadow crossed Patty’s face when she spotted Curt Coleson across the room. A short gasp caught in her throat. She ran her fingers through her short blonde hair and plastered a smile back on her face. The kids clamoring around her never noticed a thing.
At closing time all the tourists were ushered outside and the doors locked. Patty straightened information brochures and maps and swept the floor. Paul headed for the back room to set up chairs for a meeting that was to be held that night.
“Thanks for staying to help tonight Paul,” said Patty waiting at the door for committee members to arrive.
“Sure, no problem,” said Paul. “I hope you guys can get something resolved this time.”
“It’s really up to them to decide, I’m sure that no matter how it all turns out there will be some that won’t like it,” said Patty.
Three long hours later, the meeting was adjourned. Several people left the building with stoney expressions. A few remained behind to watch as Patty placed signed documents into a black leather brief case. As facilitator, Patty was charged with the task of delivering the documents to the proper authorities.
The case was locked and the key given to Miwok tribal elder, Sam Parks, to deliver separately from the case entrusted to Patty.
She was relieved when the last person left the building and she could lock up. What a long day, she thought, my feet are killing me. Patty carried the case with her on the way back to her cabin.
She took a seldom traveled path that wound through the woods back to the Ranger’s cabins. She’d been lucky to get a cabin, most of the new rangers were assigned to a room in the apartment complex. Her cabin had become available shortly after she started, and she won it in a coin toss.
The log cabin was small, tucked back in the woods by itself. It had one bedroom, a bathroom and a large room that served as living area and kitchenette. Moss grew on the roof, and the steps were made of native stone.
Her yard was a carpet of pine needles. Towering trees sheltered it on all sides, blending it into the woods. Most people that visited the park never knew it was there. It was a relief for Patty to be away from the never ending tourist questions that her uniform drew.
She thought about the meeting as she walked along the familiar path toward home. It reminded her of the arguments she and her ex-fiancé often had about the rights of the Native American community. She hoped the tribe would be at peace with their decision to keep mining out.
Her way was well lit by the moon, the rocks themselves seemed like they were lit up. The phenomenon, called moon-glow by the locals, is created by the moon reflecting off mica embedded in the rock. She could see El Capitan, and other familiar formations towering above the trees, glowing in the night.
Patty was startled by a rustle she heard in the woods. The sound was distinct from the booming of the water fall and the wind in the pine boughs. I’m not surprised the bears are in the valley tonight. With the crowd of people we had today, the picking should be pretty good, she thought.
Patty was not particularly afraid of the bears in the park. Although she had the proper respect for bears, she knew they were more interested in food than her. She shifted the brief case to her other hand so she could reach the radio clipped to her belt. “Security—this is Patty Waters.”
“Go ahead Patty.”
“It sounds like there are bears south of Yosemite falls, near the path between the office and cabins.”
“Okay Patty, we chased a couple of them out of the dumpsters behind the restaurant. They’re probably heading that way. We’ll come down there to make sure they keep moving on.”
“Thanks Doug.”
Patty was standing on her doorstep shifting the briefcase from hand to hand as she fumbled in her pockets for the key. Sensing a presence behind her she jerked her head around and slammed her back against the solid, locked door. A scream never escaped her lips. There was a violent jerk and then all was dark and still.
6
Joseph Parks
Joseph Parks climbed a twisting steep trail that rose above Yosemite Valley. He still moved fast, even though he’d been walking all night. On his back was a tattered handmade backpack. It was woven like a basket, lightweight and sturdy. In it, he carried a few provisions and a scuffed brief case.
It was just beginning to get light, the sky still a milky white. The flat grayness of the landscape started to take shape all around him as the dim light grew brighter. Joseph’s feet instinctively picked their way around, up and over rocks that littered the faint, primitive trail.
The trail he followed was seldom used, except by the local Miwok people. Its path was hard to follow unless you knew to look for blaze marks that had been carved into the ancient trees a hundred years ago.
Joseph barely looked up even though the views were breathtaking in the morning light. He listened to the whispering sound of wind moving through boughs of the huge trees. He strained to hear any sound that would alert him that he was being followed.
Satisfied that he was alone, the young man sat down on a boulder to take a drink out of his canteen. His flashing black eyes scanned the valley below while he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
Thick morning fog hung in the valley obscuring a view of the lower part of the trail. He saw no one, except a bobcat marking territory on his morning rounds.
After a few gulps of water he crammed a piece of a power bar into his mouth and started walking, chewing as he climbed. The sun rose higher in the sky, and when the first piercing ray broke over the massive bulk of Half Dome, the sky burst into color. The shadows were now darker and clearly defined and every rock that felt the sun’s rays reflected back the bright light.
Joseph grew up running the trails of Yosemite National Park. His ancestors were the remnant of Miwok Indians that lived in the park for four thousand years before it was discovered by white men.
A thick braid of shiny black hair hung down his back, tied with a feather and leather strip, a tribute to his heritage. Joseph was proud to be Ahwahnechee, part of the Miwok People.
As the day wore on and the sun beat down, he didn’t stop. He knew it was important get the briefcase to his grandfather as he had asked. He didn’t ask questions, but he did wonder what possible difference it made weather the case got there by car or on foot. He’d been raised to trust in the old wisdom of his elders.
7
Panhandlers
Joyce sat in the driver seat of her truck with a book propped on the steering wheel. She’d been backed into a Sacramento loading dock for almost two hours and they’d just started to unload. Frustrated, she took a deep breath. The California sun glared hot through the windshield. Too bad I’m not getting paid for all this sitting around time.
The trip from Denver went well and she made good time through the mountains. But this delay was going to cause Joyce to miss her next load. She called her driver manager to let him know that she wouldn’t be able to pick up on time. She was waiting for a call back to see if he found another load that would pick up later.
She decided to go back and take a nap, even though the forklift drivers were still bouncing in and out of the trailer every few minutes. Joyce had just gotten comfortab
le when her cell phone rang. “Hello John, did you find me a good load?” she said, “Okay, yeah that’s a little short but I’ll be running out of hours anyway. Thanks.”
She got out her battered road atlas to check her route. Sweet! That’ll be a beautiful trip, it goes right by Yosemite National Park. Too bad they don’t let trucks in there. It’d be a great place for a reset.
DOT regulations mandate that a driver must not drive more than seventy hours in an eight day period. To reset that time, a driver needs to be off duty for thirty-four hours. The trip that was planned would take her south to Bakersfield to pick up, and then back north to Mammoth Lakes.
About an hour later, when the activity in the trailer had stopped, Joyce walked to the office to check on her paperwork. Evening was settling in and the air felt cool and refreshing.
“Are you done with door fifty-five yet?” she asked the lady at the office window.
“Let me check.” The woman spoke into a microphone, “Jessie you got a copy?” There was a garbled response in Spanish. “Is door fifty-five done yet?” she listened as more garbled information came over the speaker. “He says there’s some damaged cases so we have to do some counting and paperwork. Come back in when you get a green light, we’ll have your papers ready then.”
“Okay, thank you,” said Joyce. It figures, she thought as she walked back to the truck, another delay.
“Ain’t got yer paper work yet?” The driver parked in door fifty-three waved her over. “These guys ain’t in no hurry are they.”
Joyce stopped by his truck to chat and pass the time. “Some damaged cases I guess,” she said squinting up at him. His ragged smile was short a few teeth. The smoke from his cigarette curled around and mingled with exhaust from his idling truck while they exchanged small talk. When she could, Joyce broke away, not wanting to be rude, but knowing that most truck drivers will talk your ear off if you give them half a chance.