I wake to the sound of human commotion at first light. I hear someone shout ‘bears!’, and pop my head out of my tent to see a black one wandering about twenty feet from my tent. Later, I see a second smaller one, presumably a female. This is confirmed not long later as the pair begin to copulate. Female bears get a better deal, or possibly a far worse deal depending on their view on the subject, than most animals as the proceedings go on for about half an hour while the human populous of the campsite take numerous pictures. Unfortunately, my mall shop pocket camera couldn’t capture the moment in this pre dawn light.
Even though the bears are ignoring us being otherwise occupied, some campers feel the need to scare them away, banging on pots and making a general racket. The bears don’t care, and wander off on the own accord eventually.
A couple of miles from the campsite is Yosemite Falls, a two tier fall almost 2,500 feet high from top to bottom, making it the longest measured waterfall in North America. At this time of year, it is also at its most powerful and my camera gets misted up taking pictures at the base of the lower part of the fall.
I was hoping to drive to Glacier Point before leaving Yosemite, as I had been promised it offered the best views over Yosemite Valley. However, there are roadworks on the road and long jams.
There are a series of waterfalls along the way, and I stop at the most powerful looking, Bridalveil Falls. The path to the waterfall is populated by damp and rueful looking walkers, and the surface of the path is combed by water. I find the viewing point at the bottom of the fall to be empty, as it is in a haze of mist with a little rainbow stemming out of it. It is a warm day and I don’t mind getting wet myself, but am worried about my camera. However, having lost count of how many cameras I’ve replaced over the past year, I ask myself ‘why stop now?’ On the platform, I am drenched within seconds, my camera as damp as I dare to get it.
Meanwhile, the roadworks continue and the road up to Glacier Point is at a standstill, so I reluctantly turn around to start my journey to San Francisco. The traffic out of the south exit is also stopped, so it takes me over an hour to get out of the park.
Besides making a few scenic stops, I am on the highway for four or five hours. On entering SF, I find myself on a one way twelve lane entrance to a toll road. Without the necessary $6 on me and with no way of turning around, I apologise to the toll booth attendant who to my surprise says ‘no problem, bro, have a good day...’ This is the last bit of friendliness I will experience on the road today as, despite a laid back reputation, San Franciscans are not the most endearing of drivers. (NB I find a penalty notice for not paying the toll upon my return home a few weeks later).
Uncertain about where to stay, after a very frustrating navigation through the one way system of SF, and an even more frustrating hunt for a parking space, I find the Green Tortoise Hostel, who also run the National Parks tour I am starting tomorrow night. The attendant for the car park next door wanted to charge me a full day’s fee while I checked in, so I park in the first empty roadside space I can find several blocks away, dragging my suitcase and guitar with me back towards the hostel. On the way, I am approached by a frazzled looking man with a very bad hairstyle who asks me ‘hey man, do you play rock’n’roll with that?’ By this time, any ability I have for humouring people has evaporated, so I ignore him and he curses at me. ‘Just f*** off’, I shoot back angrily at him.
At the hostel, I book myself a double bed in a double bunk. Thankfully, the other bed is unoccupied, so I have relatively luxurious hostel accommodation, though the room is very small. Meanwhile, I find a parking space at an over-night car park down the road. The car parks I have come across are run by Asians, who bring Asian practices to their business. This means the fee for over-night parking is negotiable, though I still pay more than the advertised day rate.
Tired, I venture out only to buy some drinks, the liquor store a few doors down offering discounts for hostel residents. I am surprised to find Magner’s cider in the store, my favoured tipple at home. I also sample a couple of take away pizza parlours nearby, which sell pizza by the slice. The first has a tasty pesto topping, but also a thick base, which I don’t like, so overall a 7/10. The second one has a more traditional stone baked style thin base, and is more to my liking (8/10). I had expected American pizza to win my round the world tasting challenge, but it hasn’t yet turned out that way. Could it be that the best pizza in the world is in Cambodia?
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| run off from Bridalveil Fall coming down the path |
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