The shuttle dropped us off at the road to Agnew Meadows campground and trailhead.  An anxious voice whispered rumors throughout the bus that fires and smoke from lightening in Tuolumne Meadows was spreading  about the area. There was reported smoke on the trails that led to many people panicking and changing  their plans at the last minute.  Emily and I departed the bus alone. I felt faith and confidence that the air I breathed would be healing and restorative. No doubts.

We took “The River Trail” to meet up with the JMT planning to camp at Thousand Island Lake. A couple coming down on the trail were leaving the wilderness, cancelling their trip prematurely because of fear smoke might effect asthma health concerns.  

Although we could see smoke in the distance we were not breathing it.  We climbed the trail up and out of Mammoth continuing to walk in clean air throughout our trek. 

After lunch, it started to drizzle and lightly continued to rain on us.  We met other friendly hiker’s on the trail. One woman was helping her uncle check off a bucket list item: hiking the JMT. 

An older couple was full of energy as they and their supplies had been dropped off by pack horses. The elderly man was doing his stretches vigorously in a meadow off to one side. He asked me if I knew the hiking dance step?  He quickly showed me a way to step up the trail with less fatigue.  Hiking dance step! That was a sweet gift. Just what I needed so I could dance my way up to the top of the trail. 

By the time Emily and I arrived at Thousand Island Lakes, the rain stopped. We made camp, collected  water and filtered it clean, cooked and ate dinner and rested after our 10+ mile hike.   We planned to stay here two nights which would give us a zero day to explore, photograph, write, and get used to the high altitude.  We were over 10,000 ft. high. Lots of other people were camping here. It felt a little bit crowded. The afternoon showers that came and went seemed to be buiding up each day. Slept peacefully unable to see the stars because of cloud cover. 

We started hiking at sunrise heading down toward Rush Creek on our third day.  We had two sketchy log crossings over Rush Creek. They were high up over the fast, rushing waters.  It took  a great deal of concentration and courage to trust our feet and just focus intently on putting one foot in front of the other as we crossed the creek on a narrow log.  

We soon settled  into a sweet camping spot and entered our tents just as rain began to fall.  Several  hours later during the night, we were awakened  abruptly by a middle aged man announcing : “Hey are you in there? I’m camping here! It’s been a 22 mile day for me and I am stopping here!”  I was irate.  He woke us up and intruded on our little space with miles  of vast places around to make his own camp in the middle of the night.  He did not ask permission but just camped rudely on top of two women breaking roughly into our quiet and privacy. This was very annoying and creepy to us.  So  now where do we go to the bathroom? Some people are so entitled, discourteous, selfish, and rude on the trail.   Sorry for that rant, it is just one of my pet peeves on the trail.  If you are going to be out here, treat others with love, respect, and courtesy.  Manners are still important in the backcountry. ​

​After the zero day at Rush Creek the rain stopped.  Emily and I woke before dawn and set out with our headlamps to conquer Donahue Pass.  I lost the trail in the night and using my GPS for the JMT forgot that we were actually going opposite from the way I had originally set up my GPS.  I got turned around and ended up finding myself at one of our former log  crossings over Rush Creek. Dawn was just beginning to break forth. Thankfully, I realized my error and headed back in the right direction finally catching up to Emily who was waiting for me by the side of the trail just before the final climb up to Donahue Pass. 

​​We walked up the pass at sunrise needing to remove  our boots and ford a few swollen creeks of icy cold water in our sandals.  The wild flowers along the trail and very few snowy patches  were a welcome sight. After a few photos on top we headed down. 

A ranger was seated next to the trail greeting people and taking a survey as well as checking wilderness permits. He was young with reddish hair and freckles sprinkled over his fresh,  clean face. We answered his questions and I noticed He was reading a book of poetry by Mary Oliver, one of my favorites. I commented  to him about this and he responded, “Would you like me to read you a poem? How about “Yes.. No” by Mary Oliver? 

Here it is for you to enjoy as well.

Yes…No by Mary Oliver

How necessary it is to have opinions.

I think the spotted trout lilies are satisfied standing a few inches above the earth.

I think the serenity is not something you just find in the world like a plum tree holding up it’s white petals.  

The violets along  the river are opening  up their blue faces like small, dark lanterns.

The green mosses being so many are as good as brownie.

How important it is that we walk along not in haste but slowly looking at everything and calling out “Yes” “No”.

The swan for all it’s pomp in his robe of glass and petals is the only one to be allowed to live on the nameless pond. 

The cat briar is without fault.

The water thrushes among the sloppy bank are going crazy with happiness.

Imagination is better than a sharp instrument.

So pay attention. This is our proper and endless work.

 I tape recorded Ranger Adam reading the poem. My eyes teared and I felt deeply moved or rather touched in the depths of my soul.  This was a Holy moment for me. 

As we walked away with the sounds of the poem still ringing in our hearts I remembered:  Ranger Adam was the ranger who gave me my wilderness permit when I started the JMT last year in Yosemite.  It seemed like destiny to meet again. 

Shortly after leaving Adam behind  and traversing two snow fields on the way down Donahue pass making our way closer to Tuolumne Meadows,  Emily and I stopped to talk to another mother and daughter hiking the JMT together. However, this daughter was still an infant about one years old and hiking in a pack covered by mosquito netting on her parent’s back.  This child was overflowingly joyous, cooing, and smiling very obviously enjoying every moment from it’s perch above mama.   Emily and I both related to this sight knowing it was one we both experienced in the past that led to this present occasion of hiking on the JMT together.   This mama showing concern for her child, asked us about trail conditions and we let her know of the conditions ahead and commented about how happy we were to see a child so young enjoying  this beauty and being outdoors on the JMT (note: there is more to this story in my next blog). 

In a few more hours  and after many miles we made it down the mountain to the beginnings of Lyell Canyon.  A storm  was building up and we already felt large, wet drops of water on our exposed skin as we hurried to set up camp.   We jumped into our tents just before the monsoonish downpour began  with intense, loud, thunder and lightning echoing up and down the canyon.  The angels were bowling  again and getting strike after strike.  We slept without dinner. Several hours later,  I woke feeling like I was floating and  quickly noticed water had begun pouring  into my tent from some sort of flash flood. The rain had stopped. I had to pee very badly.  I was able to remove my belongings from where the water was pouring in somehow keeping most of them dry.   

 Half asleep, I jumped out of my tent and grabbed most of my gear and headed toward Emily’s tent begging for entrance. Thankfully,  Emily let me sleep in her roomy tent that night but she has not let me live down the fact that in the morning there was no evidence of the flood and she insisted I made my story all up and exaggerated it so I could sleep with her in her tent.  (I have to admit, I loved sleeping in the same room with my daughter once again.)

The morning weather was glorious and we quickly packed up our wet gear to set our sights on a town thankful that Doug was able to reserve what was probably the last reservations available at the lodge for the weekend for us.  We hiked happily toward our destination looking forward to another zero day, with lodging, food, showers and sunshine to dry out all our stuff.

Eating meat and vegan burgers at the grill was a treat. We shared a bench outside the post office with the local icon, home bum “Woofie” who read a book, chatted little and listened intensely while eating her bags of miniature “Chips Ahoy” cookies.  She  told us she had spent every summer in the Meadows since about 1990.  She was from Scotland.

 We had friendly conversation with two climbers from Romania who shared a 37-year friendship that was cemented through their climbing adventures  all over Yosemite Valley.

Next day we ate dinner at the lodge family style meeting a family who had been coming to the lodge since the early 1900’s. The elderly man reported to me that He was actually in the valley in WWII when Hiroshema  was bombed and then a week later the war was declared over. His description of how the news quickly spread through the valley with cheers, bell ringing,  whistles and word of mouth was an amazing first hand account to hear.   It was interesting to me that this week was coincidently the anniversary of these historical events.  

After a good sleep in a bed, we planned our exit stategy, and readied ourselves and gear for a shuttle and bus ride at 7 AM.  Our kind shuttle driver had mercy on us in the early hour and gave us a complimentary coffee. 

So Thankful for small gifts like coffee, flowers, babies, poetry readings, hiking dance step, restful, restorative sleep, showers with soap, good food, friendly people, family, transportation, and stories. God is truely GOOD all the time.