ARIZONA TO NEW MEXICO

MONDAY

I left Flagstaff this morning, after a delightful three days of work and play and conversation with Carol.  The sky was overcast and rain was falling as I left, though it only last for a half hour. The nearby mountains of our yesterday were shrouded in clouds and fog.

By 3:00 this afternoon I am only half-way to Albuquerque because I stopped at the Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest. I drove around for several hours and probably took a hundred photos -- spectacular views are everywhere.  This place is different than the Badlands of North Dakota or the red rocks of Sedona, but it's related.  The stripes of colors on the land formations and the red of the canyons are awesome. I've been fighting the wind and the rain a bit, but the rain never lasts for long.  I skipped a couple of walks through the petrified forest because of the strong winds.  However, I was able to see some petrified logs without taking a long hike. 

Petrified Log

Cross-section of petrified log

Cross section of petrified log

I hadn't even planned on this side trip today, but did it at the suggestion of Rich and Carol -- and it has been definitely worth it.  The colors here are sage green, dark chocolate brown, purple, rust, grey and pink -- the combinations and stripes vary from formation to formation. Another watercolor day.

I've been listening to Debussy Images Book 2 as I make my return trip through the Painted Desert, looking for my interstate.  The music seems very appropriate -- some of it seems rather ethereal and some of it is very vibrant and some of it is slow and meditative and some of it is very high energy.  It's very much like the desert.  The prairie-like parts are ethereal as I watch the wind blow across the grasses and the sagebrush.  Then I come to a part where there are vibrant colors and stripes and a canyon and big rocks and the more vibrant music is just right. Music has been a theme throughout this trip, whether or not it fit the scenery. Because I've been listening to classical music much of the time, I am just very aware of the mood of the music and the mood of the place where I am driving.  The music enhances the trip in ways I hadn't planned.

The painted desert

Some of the places in the Painted Desert, where I don't see cars or people or buildings, and I look across these huge landscapes, some of which are prairie-like and some of which is red-colored canyons and cliffs in the distance and huge piles of rocks and other formations,  it's an other worldly experience.  It doesn't take much to imagine I'm on another planet like Mars, which is called the Red Planet.  A lot of what I am looking at today is various shades of red.  Or maybe it's the landscape of the moon -- kind of barren and harsh -- except the shrubs are green today because of recent rain. I could easily forget I am just a few miles from another town or a major highway.

After I cross into New Mexico, the scenery continues to be spectacular.  There are red cliffs and cream-colored cliffs and interesting rock formations, similar to the Painted Desert except they are right along the highway.  I was  prepared for a desert ride today and it's been much better than that.  What really makes it nice is the greenery in places which makes it feel less like desert.

I've been thinking that when I get to Knoxville I need to take a route through the Smoky Mountains, particularly through Cades Cove, which I have never seen.  Because I've been through all these other national parks and scenic areas, I think I need to see the most famous and scenic one that's close to home. The end of my trip is changing as I get closer to home.

Sign of the day:  Zero visibility possible.  The second sign says:  don't stop in the travel lanes.  I don't know what this is about -- whether this is an area where there is fog or dust storms or what.  Visibility today is fine.

I am watching a rainbow form above the low hills in the distance.  The red and orange appear first, then gradually the green, blue, and purple next to it.  The pattern is a little fuzzy at first, then the colors tighten and intensify, and within ten seconds it is gone. The colors left in the same order they appeared. I've never seen this phenomenon before.

I've been listening to a little bit of T. D. Jakes on Oprah's radio network as I drive late this afternoon.  He is talking about passion and life purpose and how those two concepts are intertwined. He says you can't be passionate all the time but sometimes you have to be like Peter:  get out of the boat and walk on the water.  Do something you've never done before.  This trip is like that -- it's not that I haven't been to some of these places earlier in my life, and it's not that I haven't driven a lot of miles over the years.  When I  put all the pieces together it becomes something new. This trip is a whole thing, in some way, symbolized by the route on my United States map.  It's a full circle, and I've never done something exactly like this before. So I guess I did get out of my boat and I am walking on the water by myself out here and walking across the desert and over the mountain passes and across the prairies.  I'm loving it because it's a very freeing experience.  I touch base every once in awhile with someone I know.  We anchor for awhile, get reacquainted, talk about whatever is important to us, and then they send me off.  I willing go, but they also send me off to complete my journey.

I ended my day in Albuquerque with a glass of wine created in New Mexico, a pork chop with burgundy sauce, and creme brulee for dessert.

The historic Painted Desert Inn

SPONTANEITY

SUNDAY

Carol and I decided to play first today and work later.  We began our day, after a very long breakfast, at the Flagstaff Farmers' Market.  What I loved most were the natural hand-dyed, hand-spun, Navajo Charro wool yarns. I wish I had had my camera with me to capture the spectrum of yarn colors.  Gorgeous!!

After buying a few veggies, we walked in the woods at Schultz Pass -- one of Carol's favorite places for solitude and meditation.  Listening to the morning wind in the Ponderosa pines was a lovely reminder of early camping trips with my family in the mountains and forests of the Pacific Northwest.  I remember sleeping and waking to the brush of wind through the upper pines.

Asters in the woods

Ponderosa pine cones

A little later we began our drive to Snow Bowl in the San Francisco Peaks area.  Our purpose was to get a higher view of the Flagstaff area.  The road was winding as we climbed the mountain, but it was sufficiently wide and had guardrails most of the way.  Snow Bowl is the largest ski area and the highest elevation in Arizona.  The leaves of the white-trunked aspen trees along the road were just beginning to turn fall yellow.

Aspen trunks

We decided to drive until the road stopped or it got too rutted or rocky for safe driving. At the end of the road we came upon a parking lot filled with cars, a ski lodge, a cafe, and a chair lift.  We chatted with a few people in the parking lot.  They said the chair lift was wonderful, that it was very cold on top but definitely worth the view.  "How cold was it?" I asked.  "Forty-five degrees," the woman said.  We gathered what jackets we had and headed for the ticket area.  Carol and I scanned the mountain, assessing the lift that went several thousand feet to the top.  "Do you want to ride?" I asked Carol.  "I'll go if you'll go," she said.  With no discussion our decision was made. I've only been on one chairlift in my life -- the one at Natural Tunnel in Virginia and it was small compared to this one.  Carol has never been on  a chairlift. We bought our tickets and a cup of hot chocolate for me.  I went back to the car for my waterproof, windproof jacket with hood and cuffs that can be tightened around my wrists.

The view from the bottom

We told the lift operator we had never  ridden a chair lift before so we needed his help.  He told us where to stand, slowed the chair down for us, told us when to sit, how to put the bar down, and we were off. As we lowered the bar, we were grateful for a place to rest our feet.  The ride was slow and easy and quiet up the mountain and it never seemed like we were very far off the ground.  We only felt the slight vibration of the cable that moved us. We started out among the trees and finally rose above the tree tops.

Aspen trees on the way up

Aspen trees on the way up

The ride took about thirty minutes; we could feel the temperature drop as we neared the top. We started at an elevation of 9500 feet and reached an elevation of 11,500. -- the highest I have been on the entire trip.  The sign on the bathroom at the top says it's the highest restroom in Arizona!  The view was fabulous, even though the sky was overcast.  On a clear day you can see the south rim of the Grand Canyon from here, almost 80 miles away.

The view from the top

We stayed  until we got too cold, then we began the descent -- a totally different experience than riding to the top.  We felt higher off the ground and the descent was face first downward, which felt less secure than the ride up.

The view going down

The chair lift was our spontaneous act of the day.  We had no idea it was there or even if either of us was game for such a ride.  We decided in a quick moment and went -- it was an absolutely wonderful ride, much gentler and slower and more secure than we expected -- and we loved it.

We ended our day with a wonderful dinner at a local Thai restaurant.

Tomorrow I am on the road to Albuquerque.

SCENERY AND PONDERINGS

SATURDAY

After working all morning in Carol's office, we took the afternoon off to see the sites near Flagstaff.  Our first stop was at Oak Creek Canyon where we walked the canyon rim, and oohed and awed over the rock formations and the winding road below that we would soon travel.

the road we traveled from Oak Creek Canyon to Sedona

Close up of Ponderosa Pine bark

When we left the canyon we drove a snaky road to Sedona, the site of the red rocks.  Many of the old Western movies were filmed in this area.  We took a loop road near Sedona that provided fabulous views of the red rocks in the afternoon sun.

We finished the day with dinner at Taverna, a Greek grill restaurant.  I dined on beef and lamb kabobs, lemon potatoes, and baklava cheesecake for dessert. Besides fabulous food, periodically the waiters serpentined through the dining room to the beat of Greek music.  Fire-breathing waiters entertained us several times throughout the evening.

During our drive this afternoon, Carol and I talked about what I like about the South (a question asked by my long-time friends several weeks ago). I haven't really thought about the South on this trip, but I promised my friends that I would ponder this question which I could not answer at the time I was asked.  So I pondered today with Carol's probing questions and here is my best attempt at an answer.

Things I like about the South:

• country ham biscuits
• my good friends, none of whom fit the Southern woman stereotype
• I have created a life I love here
• Southern hospitality has taught me gracious entertaining
• an appreciation and love of home decorating in the Williamsburg and Southern Living traditions
• within a small group, learning that answers to prayer and a personal relationship with the Almighty are indeed possible.  This group encouraged and supported my spiritual journey.

I know this is a short list but it feels complete for the moment.

fruit on a prickly pear cactus

DRIVING TO THE ARIZONA HIGH DESERT

FRIDAY

I left Barstow, California this morning for the 350 mile drive to Flagstaff, Arizona and a three day visit with my sister-in-law, Carol. I will be on I-40 the entire day.  Actually, I-40 will take me within an hour of my home in Tennessee.  Of course I won’t stay on it for the entire way, but it’s an interesting thought.  I see signs for Route 66 as I drive.  I could travel some on that route, for historical purposes, but it won’t really change my view. I’m expecting a desert drive today, but there are good hills on both sides of me that add perspective to the desert. 

I had a hard time going to sleep last night because my brain kept right on working after the lights were out.  I kept trying to put all the pieces together:  pieces of this trip, pieces of my life, pieces of my Mother’s life.  I almost got up to write my thoughts down, but then I would never get back to sleep…and I n beed sleep for a long drive in the morning.  When I woke this morning all the brain workings of last night could not be resurrected enough to be coherent. Of course.

Last night was my first night in a hotel on this trip.  All the other nights, when I haven’t been staying with relatives and friends, I’ve stayed in bed and breakfasts.  I’ve always wanted to take a trip where I only stay in B&Bs so this trip was my perfect opportunity.  I see B&Bs as a way to meet people while I am traveling and to have someone to eat breakfast with and share a few stories.  I see it as a way to add warmth and personality to my travels. B&Bs are a bit more expensive than hotels (I limited myself to $130/night), but I only needed reservations for twelve nights so I forged ahead with my reservations.

The B&B experience has been interesting.  In at least three places, I have been the only person staying the night, which makes breakfast really awkward.  Generally, the owner will sit down and chat while I eat – but it’s odd knowing that someone is cooking breakfast for just me.  It blows my whole purpose of wanting to share breakfast with other people who are also traveling. Breakfast is usually served at 8:00 or later so an early departure is not always possible, or it at least complicates things. In a couple of places, the male owners who were also preparing breakfast had questionable personal hygiene and because of my years in the food business, it raised all kinds of questions for me.  In another location I found used washcloths in my bathroom and only family-size soaps and shampoos so it made me question other housekeeping details. One man was a professional chef, turned B&B and construction business owner.  I saw his kitchen.  I didn’t like what I saw.

When I got to my hotel last night, I realized I had several conveniences I had not had in the B&Bs:  controllable room temperature, a desk to work on, adequate plugs for my electronics, and good light. There are fewer unknowns at a hotel, though I have to admit I have been in a couple of hotels in the past that didn’t meet my standards.  I guess in some areas I am not as much of a risk taker as I thought I was.  I did what I set out to do, but I have come to understand the B&Bs have not been the best part of my trip.  What has always been “I really want to stay in B&Bs for an entire trip” has become “been there, done that, don’t have to do it again.” In the future I will stay in hotels whenever possible – one more decision made.

I am running with the trains again, as I drive across the desert, with the mountains off in the distance.  I’ve missed the trains the last three days while I’ve been in Yosemite and the surrounding mountains. My fondness for trains extends to boats and barges on the rivers that parallel my route.  People and materials are moving across this vast country, all day, every day. I lack the words to explain why the trains and boats are important on the journey.  Perhaps it’s the varied means of transportation, perhaps it’s the distant companionship in my momentary geography, perhaps it’s just a point of interest that captures my attention.  I wonder about where they are going and what are they hauling and how long is their journey.

I must be close to Needles, California because all of a sudden I see a row of about twelve billboards, one right after the other, on my side of the highway.  There are a few on the opposite side as well. I’ve been driving for about two and a half hours and these are the first billboards I’ve seen today – not that I had missed such sights – I just didn’t realize there weren’t any until now. About 5300 people live in Needles and the valley is quite green, obviously the result of irrigation.  The Colorado River, though small, runs through this area, providing boating and recreational opportunities. The town name “Needles” sounds like it’s right out of Gunsmoke.

At 11:30 it’s 96 degrees in Arizona – a big change from the cold mornings and cool days in Oregon. Small spindly cactus are beginning to replace the sagebrush.  These cacti have ten or twelve shoots spraying from the ground and are five to six feet high. There are multiple signs for washes along the road – places where the water runs when there is water.  All of them are dry today.  One was named The Holy Moses Wash.  Of course there was no water to be parted so we could walk across, but I couldn’t help but smile at the name.

At Kingman, Arizona I spent some time in the Route 66 museum, watched the movie, and learned about the history of this route.  I actually tried to soak up this place for Fred.  It’s amazing what a mother will do just because she’s thinking about her son, knowing he would love a place like this. I learned that Andy Devine was from Kingman; I read his biographic sheet which brought many early memories. 

Everything here looks very southwestern:  tile roofs and beige stucco houses.  When I leave Kingman I see more mesas in the landscape and hills covered with large round reddish orange rocks. As I climb out of Kingman I reach an elevation of about 5000 feet and everything is green – the sagebrush is green, the ground grasses are green.  I thought all of today would be desert driving so this greenness is a nice surprise.

Farther down the road, at Williams, Arizona I saw a sign for the Grand Canyon Railway Depot.  The Grand Canyon is only about 60 miles from here and this is the interstate turnoff for it.  Off to my right, I see an Amtrak passenger train, about ten cars long, waiting at the station.  This is the first passenger train I’ve seen on the entire trip.  I am wondering now where you start to get here on a train. I’ll have to research that when I have a little time.  Another option for another trip. 

As I near Flagstaff, all the trees are evergreen, the ground is spotted with yellow-flowering plants amongst the grayish green grasses, all as foreground to the peaks in the distance.  It makes for lovely driving, that never tires the eyes or the spirit. Now that I am at a higher elevation, the temperature has dropped to 76.  The Arizona Divide is 7355 feet.

I am anticipating several days of working with Carol, having important conversations and exploring the grandeur of these mountains.

YOSEMITE & BEYOND

THURSDAY

I no longer know where to start.  Ever day the scenery seems more fabulous than the day before and I lack the words and the photographic ability to adequately show you what I am experiencing.  So I will skip the superlatives today and let the pictures speak for themselves.

rocks at Olmsted

Lunch at Tanaya Lake

I spent the morning driving over Tioga Pass in Yosemite, then I exited the park at the east entrance and headed south on 395 toward Barstow where I will spend the night.  Again the day is perfect -- three weeks of perfect!!  The elevation on this pass exceeds 10,000 feet.   My advice on this road is to make sure you have food with you so you can take advantage of great lunch stops.  Food is only available at one location on the entire road.  I will also advise you take advantage of every potty opportunity -- you never know how far it is to the next glorified outhouse.

 At Toulume  Meadows I saw horses in a corral and signs for horseback riding.  There were also riding opportunities in Yosemite Valley.  I'm thinking I may plan the next road trip around trail riding -- seems like a good idea.  I'll just have to get my legs and tush toughened up before such an adventure.

When I exit the park, a historical market says this road was initially a wagon road for miners but was open to automobiles about 1915.  The road was then redone in the 1960's to accommodate increased automobile traffic.  The road clings to the sides of the hills and is girded up in some places by steel beams. After dropping several thousand feet into the valley, the terrain becomes very arid.

 Past Mammoth Lake area, which is a ski resort village, I am surrounded by mountains on all sides -- some bare, some covered with trees.  I am surrounded by mountains on all sides.  The mountains on my right (west) are very jagged and pointy and steep.  On my left (east), they are more rounded and bald.  They look like the "sleeping fat men" -- that's the way I described the hills along the Columbia River when I was a child. In front (south) the mountains are sueded brown. It is clear to me where "purple mountains majesty" comes from; the mountains really do take on a dark purplish hill when the sun and shadows are just right.  The valley ahead of me has purple stretches as well.  This is truly a watercolor day to capture the scenery. The valley floor is very green, the grasses are greenish yellowish brownish color.  There is a strip of pink area out there, but it doesn't look like anything blooming. Then there are some white places.Some of the sagebrush is very dry  but some has obviously benefited from some water. Where are my paints when I need them?

The mountain in my rearview mirror is slate grey and wrinkled like an old person's skin.  Old wrinkles don't go in just one direction:  lines go up and down, other lines go across, some go kind of slanty.  I know those wrinkles because my mother's skin was kind of like that in her later years: wrinkled all over with lines going in several directions in the same places.  It wasn't just her neck, her whole face was wrinkled.  These mountains are like that, covered with great texture.  Like an old person who has lived a lot of years, these mountains have lived well and weathered a lot of storms.

At 3:30 this afternoon I still have more than three hours before my hotel.  I spent more time than I realized this morning, stopping and enjoying, but it's o.k.  I should make it to Barstow before dark.

Today, and yesterday, the drive is totally new to me.  While I expected Yosemite to be spectacular I was not prepared for all the wonderful mountains after I left the park.  Bishop, CA looked like a really cool town where I could have spent a lot of time.  I made a quick stop at a Dutch bakery, ogled over all the pastries, and only bought one for my breakfast tomorrow morning. 

As I'm driving, I wonder how my friends would like these mountains.  If their standard is tree-covered mountains these certainly do not fit that description.  If majestic is their criteria, then they would love these. I was expecting more desert in this part of California but that has turned out not to be true.  Once I picked my scenic routes before I left, I haven't really used my tour books much since then.  I've had plenty to do and plenty of signs to read so I haven't felt the need for more information.  All of my AAA books are still in their tote bag. I moved them from the back seat to the cargo area last week.

I came very prepared and maybe that's why the trip has gone so well.  But then I think maybe it's because I was open to let the trip be what it was going to be. I expected some difficult days or some extra long days and that  hasn't happened, except for the tire issue in Montana late one night.  I've had perfect weather, great scenery, and I haven't minded the drives at all.  How can  a person tire of such great scenery?  I'm going to have to return one day.  This is the stuff that feeds my soul, the grandeur of it all.  I'm grateful for good roads that allow me to see all of this and the time to travel and the new car and the fact I can afford such a trip.  I don't live too high on the hog when I'm traveling.  I don't need to, because the high on the hog is the scenery.  It's not where I am staying or the lavishness of the hotels or the B&Bs.  Those are just a place for me to sleep until I can get back outside, driving amongst this wonderful creation, a creation that changes hour by hour.  I can't say it changes minute by minute, because these mountains are so large it takes a long time to get passed or through them.  Time is irrelevant here.  There's no reason to rush.  There's no reason I want this to be over.  Although I'm ready for whatever comes around the next corner, and I've been surprised many a time on this trip. I feel terribly grateful that I can do this, that I have the confidence to do it, and that I have the support of family and friends.

The naysayers have been very, very few and I believe there are a few people who wish they were traveling with me.  That would have been fun too, but it would have been a different trip.  I'm not sure  anyone else would have enjoyed spending time with my family, not that they aren't wonderful people, but it's different when you are not a family member and it changes the entire dynamic.  Next time I might take someone with me, but I haven't wished someone was with me, I haven't been lonely.  I met three motorcyclists this morning from Germany at the B&B.  They said they had a mid-life crisis last year and decided they would be in the U.S. exactly one year later, so they were biking through southern California for ten days. We had a very pleasant conversation over breakfast.

At Big Pine, gas is $4.29.  Outside Yosemite it was $4.89; inside Yosemite it was $5.00.  And for those of you who are interested, when I got to Barstow the odometer says 5,195 miles and I am getting 27.4 mpg.

I had forgotten that out here in the West, ranchers often use cattle guards (strips of metal set into the pavement with spaces between) to keep the cows off the highways.  I had also forgotten, that once the cows learn about cattle guards, stripes can be painted on the highway that look like cattle guards and are equally effective. Pretty cool.

About twenty-five miles from Barstow I change highways.  For the first time since I left home I am traveling east.  The sun is setting behind me and I'm realizing from here on I will have the sun in my face in the mornings.  That will be different.  In the afternoon the sun will be behind me. The sunset that will be pushing me home and closing out my days until I get home.  I'm thinking about that tonight because the sun is glaring in my rear view mirror as it slips beneath the mountains.

Another tree for Fred

 

YOSEMITE PARK

WEDNESDAY

I left Grass Valley this morning heading towards Yosemite National Park.   I chose the scenic route rather than the quickest route, which means I drive on two-lane roads through lots of small towns on California Highway 49 toward Corona and Placerville. At the beginning of this road the sign said 8% grade.  The road is very twisty and I'm driving right down into the canyon. I love roads like this. It won't be a fast drive today, but my purpose is not to get to Yosemite quickly.  My purpose is to soak up the scenery as I go.  Carolyn told me this morning I am driving through the heart of the gold country, so I am getting some idea of area where the gold rushers did their mining.

Typical gold mining town

In Placerville there are a number of Victorian homes, painted in the usual variety of colors, typical of that time period.  It's a rather picturesque place nestled against the hills.

Serbian Orthodox Church

On down the road I am in Calaveras County where Mark Twain wrote about the jumping frogs. In the town of Angels Camp I saw a junior high school named after Brett Hart and I am realizing I may have Twain and Hart and the frogs all mixed up.  I need to do a little research to get all of this straight in my mind. It's been way too long since I have thought of such things.  A little farther down the road a church catches my eye because of it's architecture -- it seems out of place here.  The sign out front says "Serbian Orthodox Church."  I know from Bill and Carolyn there were a lot of immigrants in the area so I guess it makes sense that it is here.

Also in the area is Carson Hill -- a mountain that has been terraced for mining.  Gold was discovered here in 1854 and the mine was then known as the Morgan Mine.

At Robinson's Ferry there's a high bridge for road traffic, but ferry service was first established here in 1856 to move goods and animals and people from one side of the river to the other.

As I continue winding through the mountains, up and down the canyons, I saw a sign for Mark Twain's cabin.  I must have passed the turnoff because I never saw another sign indicating where to turn. Then an historical marker a little farther on says the cabin is in one mile.  According to the marker, the cabin is a replica with the original chimney and fireplace. "Here on Jackass Hill, the young Mark Twain, as a guest of the Gillis Brothers, 1864-1865, gathered material for "Jumping  Frog of Calaveras" which first brought him fame and for roughing it."  Nearby is a sign for the Brett Hart Trail.  This road is so crooked and narrow with no shoulders so I really can't stop and check things out.

Sometime after I turn onto highway 120 and I am about forty miles from Yosemite, I see a sign to turn off my air conditioner for the next 8 miles.  There's no explanation.  I suspect it is to keep vehicles from overheating as they climb the mountains. This road is very crooked and goes right up over the top of the mountains.  I can barely glance at the scenery because this road is a challenge to drive.  Another sign warns drivers to watch for vehicles coming in the opposite direction.  There are no guard rails for the most part, except on steep blind corners. Occasionally there is a shoulder.  I can see across the canyon where there is a similar road snaking up its side. I first thought when I get to the end of the canyon the road will cross over and go down the other side, but that turns out not to be the case.  At the top, there is a crossroads, with roads going in four different directions -- not what I expected at all.  I pull into the parking lot of a tiny cafe to take a break from the tedious drive and to view the road below.  Not knowing what the drive is like ahead, I decide to enjoy a rootbeer float and watch the cars and trucks winding their way up the mountains. I suspect the elevation here is about 5000, though I've seen nothing to verify that.

After my brief stop on top, the road continues, but is not particularly steep or crooked.  I discover I am in the little town of Groveland where I will stay in the Bershire Inn Bed and Breakfast tonight. I check in early to give myself time to explore part of Yosemite before it gets dark.  The inn is about twenty miles outside the park.

After I stop at the Yosemite entrance gate, the road winds among the hills, much like I drove through all the way from Grass Valley.  I drive for about ten miles, and frankly I am not impressed.  And then...and then I turn a corner and there is the first huge stone mountain in the park.  Totally awesome!!  My plan is to drive the loop in Yosemite Valley, which I should be able to do before dark.  However, a flashing sign says a certain section of roadway will be closed between 5:30 and 8:00 tonight.  I pull over and check my map.  It turns out the roadway that will be closed is the only park exit road that will take me to the B&B.  I check my watch and figure I can drive thirty more minutes and then I will have to turn around and leave the park.  I certainly don't want to get caught for several hours. A couple of miles down the road I see two park rangers stopped at a viewpoint.  I whip in there to find out about the road closure.  They assure me it will probably only be closed for an hour.  When I tell them my driving plan, they tell me to go on and there shouldn't be any problem.  As it turns out they are blasting rock and they want to make sure it doesn't fall on the roadway.

Yosemite Valley

Yosemite Valley is fabulous.  I open my sunroof which gives me a great view of hunks of rock rising from the valley floor.  The only other way to see them in their entirety is to get out of the car for an unobstructed view.   The rocks and cliffs look just like the photos in National Geographic, only better.  Photos don't do them justice -- just like all the other landscapes on this trip.  There are a few crazy drivers out here who decide to stop in the middle of the road to take pictures or who decide to come down my lane to get to a viewpoint on my side of the road.  Thank goodness for slow speed limits.

At one stop on the Yosemite Valley loop trail there's sign that says President Theodore Roosevelt and John Muir camped here to discuss saving America's wilderness.  While I've heard about these meetings, it's very different to stand in their place looking at these gigantic rocky mountains.  I'm so glad they made such decisions so many years ago.

Because I love old historic hotels I located the Ahwahnee Hotel towards the end of Yosemite Valley.  I had hoped to stay there but it didn't work out, so dinner tonight seems like the next  best thing. The dining room is gorgeous, requires reservations, and appropriate dress.  I check the menu and nothing really grabs me.  I don't have the right attire so I don't even ask about a reservation.  The bar at the other end of the lobby has a reasonable menu and tables outside so I opt for that.  I get to enjoy the architecture of the hotel and an unobstructed view of one of the mountains here -- way better than in the dining room which lacks this view.  Indoor ambiance cannot compete with natural splendor.  I order champagne to mark the occasion, caesar salad, and boysenberry pie for dessert.  And to top it all off, the pianist, just inside the bar, played The Great Gate of Kiev from Pictures at an Exhibition and some of my favorite Beethoven.  Majestic music, majestic mountains -- a perfect match.

A tree for Fred

When dusk begins to fall, I snap a few photos of the mountains in sunlight, search the meadows for wildlife, and then head for the B&B.