In our years here, we’ve enjoyed numerous trips in the shortest direction out of the Central Valley: into spectacular Yosemite National Park. We’ve savored it in all seasons, best of all in the “off-season” when it’s quiet and calm. With uncompromised love for the lush beauty Oregon exudes, Yosemite holds a magic and a special place in my heart and early memories.
One unprecedented year, the highest roads remained open in January– due to the drought that has plagued California for the duration of our time here– even after Tenaya Lake had frozen over for winter. Children played hockey on the ice; families dragged coolers and chairs out for picnic lunch.
The Giant Sequoia redwoods have stories to tell when it’s quiet enough to listen.
Our daughter’s first trip to Yosemite was at six weeks old, and she’s been on a number of hikes there since. These memories will undoubtedly be lost to the photos that captured them, so inevitably we will return to this place so that Yosemite can be a part of her childhood as it was mine.
(A series.) It’s easier, as we prepare to move, to value the positives of this place, where we’ve subsisted as rather bitter foreigners for the past few years. Our differences with the people here, with the land, with the weather, are great. But we’ve found common ground in places, and I will spend the months leading up to our final departure examining it, and attempt to make peace.