Granite and Waterfalls
Again, I have been remiss in writing entries of substance. Probably because a lot of the things that I want to remember in a journalistic sense take time and reflection to write.
The weekend before last marked my first camping trip, ever (not for lack of attempts in the past, but plans to do things like canoeing in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area were often thwarted by my mother's illness). Early Sunday morning, eisenbud, chimerically, dag29580863 and I left Berkeley headed for Yosemite national park. We arrived around 10:30 or 11 am, checked into our campsite, pitched our tents, had a quick lunch and chose a hike for the afternoon.
We decided that the roughly 7 mile roundtrip up Vernal Falls and Nevada Falls would be a good choice for the afternoon (as really, my whole purpose in planning this trip was to go hike up a waterfall, having read about Yosemite and its waterfalls last summer when friends were thinking of going and read that May/June is the best season for them since they are fed at least partially by runoff from melting snow) and set off in light rain around 12:30.
We soon discovered why the 'Mist Trail' gets its name. While it is quite likely misty from the falls through most of the summer (as it is a series of many granite steps up the side of Vernal Falls), a short way into the journey up had all of us looking a bit like wet rats...
But, the views were so spectactular that it was completely worth it.
And, the best part about going with dance people is that you have moments of silliness wherein you dance to the roar of the falls behind you.
It was a really amazing trip. I had forgotten how badly I need time spent out in nature, away from everything. Natural settings like that are one of a handful of situations that absorb me completely, where my mind stops racing at 90 miles per second solving work problems and personal problems and friends problems and coming up with endless lists of tasks for myself and where I just exist. Wonderful feeling, that of just being, of taking in the world and being caught by how incredibly beautiful and raw and powerful it can be.
I thought of my mom, a lot, because though I will tell my dad and my brother that I went to Yosemite and camped and hiked up a waterfall, and they will probably think that's pretty cool, they won't understand the way I felt about it. My mom would know exactly how I felt -- energized and completed and totally at peace with everything. I thought of her, and missed her and wanted to tell her all about the waterfalls and how there was so much rain and mist on the "Mist Trail" that climbing the granite steps did feel a bit like climbing an actual, if small waterfall. I wanted to tell her about camping in the rain, and laugh at how naturally, my first time camping would be cold and wet because I never seem to start anything under gentle, easy, perfect conditions. But for the first time since she died, intense missing wasn't intense sadness, because I simultaneously appreciated how cool it is and how lucky I am to have friends with whom I can go off and do these things.