July 7, 2010 (late afternoon)
I must be getting a little punchy.
I drove six or seven hours today and ended up back in Fresno. I’m sure Fresno is a nice city, but I didn’t drive out west to spend two nights in Fresno.
Yesterday, my plan was to get a hotel on Hwy 41. Then, in the morning, I could drive out of the hotel parking lot, take a left, and set out directly for my campsite. I might even be able to set up camp in time to make a short trip into Yosemite.
I couldn’t find a hotel right on Hwy 41, so I spend the night a few exits away.
By the time I woke up and started out, I forgot I wasn’t on 41. Happy and clueless, I headed north into farmland. I eventually had that vague sense that something was off. When I stopped to ask for directions at a Gas-n-Sip, the clerk gave me one set of directions and a helpful customer gave me another. Confused, I went back to my car and figured out a third route.
My route made sense on the map. I found a road that would bring me close to Mammoth Campground, where I had a three day reservation. I figured, once I got close, I could ask for directions for the last few miles.
As I was driving straight up the side of a mountain, I came across a cyclists sitting on the guard rail, catching his breath. Then, I saw a small boat abandoned on the side of the road. I guess the owner couldn’t pull it up the steep incline. Then, I saw a mini-van, hood up, steam rising from the engine.
When I hit the top of the mountain, I asked for directions from an old guy sitting outside a tackle shop, relaxing, smoking a cigar. He said, “You got to go back down the mountain.”
I was probably three or four miles from my campsite, but I couldn’t get there.
So, I went down the mountain, found Hwy 41, and started back up the mountain. Hwy 41 was straight. Hwy 200 was full of curves. South Fork had even more. I was moving along at about 30 mph for over an hour.
I passed a large RV on the side of the road, steam rising from the hood. I stopped to see if the driver needed help. The main help he needed was to know the name of the road he was on so he could call a tow truck. I honestly don’t know how a tow truck could pull an RV off that mountain road.
I drove about 10 miles past where the campsite should be and never found it.
About this time, I realized my campsite, even if I could find it, would not be a good base for visiting Yosemite. On the way up the mountain, I saw a sign that said something like: “HWY 573 to Yosemite Closed.” My campsite, which I thought was about 30 minutes from Yosemite, was probably a three or four hour drive from the park. By the time I hit the gate, I would need to turn around.
So, I headed back to Fresno. By this time, about 3:30, I was exhausted. I pulled into an Applebee’s for lunch. I needed a few minutes to decide what to do next.
On trips like this, I usually like making decisions on the fly. I was stumped. Over lunch, I decided to check into a hotel and regroup.
This is the part of the trip that I had planned with the most detail. I thought Yosemite would be the highlight of the trip. I had planned on maps. I had planned on websites. I even tried to talk to a human being, but was soon lost in an automated phone system. I pushed two when I should have pushed three. Now, I wanted to head in the other direction.
Steinbeck wrote, “You don’t take a trip; a trip takes you.” Today, I got taken.
Every trip, short or long, has a day physical or emotional exhaustion—if you’re lucky, maybe even a complete emotional meltdown. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s a release, and what is being release might have been building up long before the trip began.
This has been the first bad day of an otherwise great trip. I can’t complain.
My View All Day Long
