These are the basic facts about Yosemite, but to my family and me, Yosemite is far more than data and figures. You see, from the time I was about seven years old (1950’s), my family began taking trips to Yosemite at least once each year.
The first several years, we stayed in tents, slept in sleeping bags and prepared our meals over a campfire. When my parents could later afford it, we upgraded to “tent cabins,” which is basically a tent with a wooden floor and cots for sleeping. Years later, we upgraded to cabins with floors, doors, and some even had a bathroom.
More than any other photographs in my families’ albums, Yosemite pictures take up the bulk of the space. We have pictures of the family feeding deer (not smart and no longer permitted); the family spread out hand-to-hand across the width of one of the Giant Sequoias; our car driving through the tree tunnel (long fallen down); crossing the swinging bridge (long gone); and the Fire Falls.
Aahh, the Fire Falls. A Ranger would be located at the top of Glacier Point, one of the highest points in Yosemite. Another Ranger was on the ground in the Valley where visitors stayed. He would yell out “Let the Fire Fall!” The sound echoed through the Valley as we watched burning hot, bright orange coals pouring down the side of the Granite Mountains. It was amazing, exciting and beautiful! Remember, we’re talking about the 1950’s. At some point, authorities realized the danger of this activity, and there were no more Fire Falls.
Then, there was “the dump.” Each night crowds of people, including my family, would walk to the main dump. Crouching on rocks or the ground, we would watch the bears arrive and enjoy their dinner meal in the garbage cans. To my knowledge, no one was ever hurt, because we just sat quietly and didn’t disturb their bears while they were dining. And besides, our Daddy, our hero, would have protected us. It was fascinating and fun while it lasted. I am certain you know that the bears can no longer go to the dump for their meals.
My family had what we called “our rock” located at the base of Vernal Falls. It was a huge flat boulder than hung out over the rushing stream. The entire family could sit on the rock where we would sit for hours, have lunch and cross the stream jumping from rock to rock. The last time I was at Yosemite, about 20 years ago, only one person could have fit on “our rock” since it had been eroded by the water over the years.
During our Yosemite visits, we never stopped. We enjoyed every second. We hiked up the base of waterfalls. We visited the meadows each sunrise and sunset to see the deer came down to graze. They were beautiful to watch. We climbed mountains, rented bikes to ride around the valley and inhaled the clean air and the scent of camp fires. At night, the Rangers had sing-along’s and told stories around a huge camp fire, songs I remember to this day.
Even after all the kids were grown and married, we still got together for our annual trip to Yosemite, by that time bringing our own children. My children love Yosemite too. It became part of them as it did for us all.
The last time I visited Yosemite, I had my children, my husband, my brother and his young son and my parents. By that time, my parents were probably in their 70’s, but they were as game as ever, and we did all the things we always had.
Shortly after that trip, my father’s health declined, so he was no longer able to travel to the high altitude of Yosemite. And, I moved out of California. My parents and one sister have since died. My sons, nephew and brother still visit Yosemite, and for them and the rest of the family, Yosemite is not just a place we visited. Yosemite is family. Yosemite is in our blood. Yosemite National Park is love.
