I had just finished reading “Walden on Wheels”, a delightful memoir by adventurer Ken Ilgunas. Ken forgoes the trappings of a sedate white-collar existence that revolves around careers, paychecks, debt and consumerism in favor of adventure, travel and voluntary simplicity. On finishing this book, I had to fight an overwhelming sense of urgency to run to the mountains. I got started planning my own outing in the woods.
Yosemite National Park in the Sierra mountain range is a place I hold close to my heart. It also happens to be close to home. The northern area of the park - Tuolumne Meadows - sees far less number of visitors compared to the crowded Yosemite Valley. I secured my wilderness permit to backpack Tuolumne during the month of September, 2018. After a week of planning out logistics, I stuffed my backpack with my tent, sleeping bag, bear box, food and drove to the mountains.
The Night Before
It was midnight when I got to Tuolumne Meadows. I parked my car somewhere along Tioga Road, near Tenaya Lake. Temperatures were dropping, so I quickly jumped into my thermals, got into my sleeping bag and shivered through the night, half-asleep in the backseat of my car. My nose and toes were frozen solid when I woke up the next morning. It took a good amount of rubbing my toes to get blood circulation going.
I walked to the wilderness station to collect my permit and kick off my hike.
Day 1 — Tuolumne Meadows to Merced Lake (12 miles)
I hiked 12 miles on my first day, starting at the Rafferty Creek trail-head in the morning. Sparing a few hikers at the beginning of the trail, I had the entire park to myself once I was a couple of miles in.
It was a warm day with clear skies. I walked through beautiful pine and granite back-country. The trail took me through rolling meadows and ran switchbacks over the hills of the Sierra range. I occasionally spotted specks of rock climbers on the granite walls of the distant mountains.
I stumbled upon a secluded spot in the evening as I approached Merced Lake. A tiny fire ring at the clearing suggested that the spot had been used before. I was two miles away from Merced camp but daylight was fading and I had to rest. 12 miles on my first day with a heavy backpack was not a very smart move on my part. I set up my tent and boiled a bag of rice and chicken.
The view in front of me was surreal. Merced Lake lay ahead of me in the valley down below. The sun hung low on the western horizon and had painted the skies a raging red. Resting on a boulder, I watched the sun sink behind Half-Dome, blanketing the high sierras in a mystical silhouette.
As darkness set in, things however took a turn for the worse. I was for the first time so deep in the woods all by myself without another human for miles. The isolation had me yearning for the comforts of civilization. I missed my home, I missed my wife and I missed electricity. The winds howling over the mountain passes only added to my depressing loneliness.
Prior to my hike, I had entertained romantic visuals of myself sprawled out on the grass late in the night, gazing deep into the starlit skies above. I thought I’d be sitting out by my tent, reflecting on life and the insignificance of it all in the grand scheme of things, all while looking up at the sweeping arm of the Milky Way galaxy hanging overhead. But now in the middle of the rolling darkness lit only with my headlamp, my nervousness got the better of me. All I could think of was a bear or a mountain lion ambushing me and ripping my guts out. I couldn’t find the courage to stay out in the dark for long. I snuck into my tent and curled up in my sleeping bag, hoping I’d sleep my fears away.
Day 2: Merced Lake to Sunrise High Sierra Camp (10 miles)
My haunting isolation and the accompanying depression had practically melted away the next morning when I woke up to the view in front of me. The sun wasn’t high up yet but beams of sun-rays were already piercing through the foliage behind me, lighting up the forest floor. I couldn’t wait to break camp and get back to pounding the trail.
This was a pattern I soon grew to recognize. When you’re by yourself, nightfall brings with it a longing for comfort and companionship — you crave to be back home with your loved ones. But come morning, you couldn’t be more excited as you look forward to the stunning scenery that lies ahead of you.
I filled up my water pouch from a nearby creek and had my breakfast sitting on a rock. A group of three backpackers passed me by as I worked through my oatmeal. We smiled and waved.
On my second day in Tuolumne, I hiked from my overnight shelter near Merced Lake to the Sunrise High Sierra Camp, totaling 10 miles. Frequent climbs made my trek harder than my mostly downhill hike the previous day. Although elevation gain is hard on the legs, it gets you to higher vantage points to enjoy sweeping views of the Sierra range. My pack was steadily growing lighter as I worked through the food and water I was hauling. I passed by quite a few waterfalls that were beginning to go dormant with the approaching winter.
I counted less than 7–8 other backpackers over the course of three days. Late September - with its shorter days and crisper weather - brings fewer backpackers, offering a truly solitary backwoods experience.
I got to the Sunrise High Sierra Camp about an hour before sunset and setup camp in the middle of a tiny grove. There was a pall of silence in the empty camp when I arrived. A Swiss couple arrived later that evening and pitched their tent a few yards away. We exchanged greetings.
Sleep comes over quick when you’ve been hiking all day. I was dozing away by 9 PM, and was only briefly awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of coyotes fighting in the distance.
Day 3: Sunrise High Sierra Camp to Tuolumne Meadows (11 miles)
I was up in time and positioned on a rock to catch the Sun rising up from behind the eastern hills nearby. It was a sight to witness the frosty valley in front of me suddenly transform into a balmy meadow, flooded by the early rays of the sun.
I broke my camp and hit the trail after a sumptuous breakfast of potatoes and hash browns. This was my final day in the Sierras and I was setting out with mixed emotions. I was just beginning to get into the rhythm of long distance hiking and would have liked to go on a few more days, so it felt sad to be ending it. On the other hand, I was looking forward to having that hot shower that I hadn’t had in three days, and was excited to see my wife who didn’t have a clue if I was alive or was being digested inside the belly of a mountain lion.
I was very low on water and was three miles away from the nearest lake in the direction of my hike. A fellow hiker that I ran into on the trail was kind enough to let me have some of his water. I imagine I would have had to contend with serious dehydration without this act of generosity.
I came upon Cathedral Lakes on my way. The serenity of this mountain lake captivated me enough to stay for an hour lazing on the spacious granite bank bordering the lake. I cooked my lunch, filled up my water pouch from the lake and had a couple of pictures of mine snapped by a visiting backpacker. The stillness of the warm afternoon — broken only by the lapping sound of the water — nearly lulled me into a nap.
Having been high on nature for three days, it was time to sober up and get back to civilization. I shook myself out of my happy drowsiness on the warm granite banks of Cathedral Lake, gathered my things and got on the trail one last time back to my car. The miles piled on, and the gradual rise in the number of day hikers on the trail was indication I was emerging out of the woods.
Not before long, the paved Tioga road was in sight. Cars and RVs whizzed by - reminding me it was time to return home and get back to staring at glowing screens, poring over credit card statements and maneuvering shopping carts through supermarket aisles. It was time to return back to my petty worries and mundane concerns.
Back To Reality…
During my evening commutes, when I see the sun setting behind a line of cars, I’m reminded of the fact that deep in the middle of wilderness, the sun is also setting behind Half Dome. I remember sitting on the rock and watching the spectacle in silence.
I catch myself breaking into a nostalgic smile…