The world of the very big, the very old and the very beautiful

For our second day in Yosemite, we drove about 30 miles away from the main valley to a small village called Wawona, which was the historic centre of the park. Today Wawona is a tiny settlement of about 160 people. It has a large Victorian hotel, a golf course and a visitor centre with log cabins from the old pioneer days of the mid 19th century. (On the right is a photo of one of the old log cabins) Although it's only 30 miles away, it takes about an hour an a quarter to drive to Wawona from Yosemite valley because the precarious road that hugs tightly to the side of the colossal mountains kinda slows things down. The national park authorities have thoughtfully failed to place any crash barriers on the 300 degree corners, which boomerang you out to the edge of the mountain, giving you a few moments to teeter on the edge before the road pulls you back in. Presumably this is so that everyone can get a good view.

So why did we chose to leave beautiful Yosemite valley, with it's highly organised shuttle-bus system and plethora of signposts that greatly appealed to Vincent's desire for order and organisation? Because at Wawona, we would find something just as good: The Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias. I've mentioned Giant Redwoods in a few blog posts and they deserve the mentions - they are very impressive trees. But Giant Sequoias are something else. The Giant Sequoias we saw were about 1,500 to 2,000 years old and about 200ft tall. Just ponder that for a moment. They are living things. They are up to 2,000 years old. That's much older than you and me. It's even older than the United States of America. Two thousand years. They have lived through fires, earth quakes, a mini-ice age or two, and they are still going.

This is before I get onto the size of the Giant Sequoias. Giant truly is the right word. If you look at the base of the tree in the picture above, you might be able to just see me and Vincent with our arms stretched out, trying to make ourselves as big as possible. (Which, incidentally, is what the signs in the park advise you to do if you see a bear or a mountain lion). If you find us in the photo (I'm wearing a red T-shirt and Vincent is in white) you might start to get a sense for how big these trees are. In the photo on the right, we're standing at the foot of a particularly tall Giant Sequoia called "The Grizzly Giant", because part of its base has been blackened by fire. These trees are so big though, that they can withstand forest fires, and they actually thrive when there are fairly regular fires because the fires keep the forest floor clear of other vegetation.

I like the way that several trees have names and defining features that seem to give them personalities. I really liked the pair of trees called "the faithful couple", who have grown together so closely  that their roots have fused together and over the last millennia or so, they have essentially become one tree. This is very cheesy, but seen as I'm on honeymoon and allowed to be a bit romantic, I'm going to point it out anyway: in our wedding ceremony our friend Mona read an excerpt from Captain Corelli's Mandolin  which said that true love was like having "roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom has fallen from your branches, you find that you are one tree and not two". It seemed to us that it was a good omen to have come on honeymoon and found a pair of old trees that had actually done this. 

Once we'd trekked around the Mariposa Grove, we headed back to Yosemite valley again. On the way, we drove up to a famous viewing station called Glacier Point where we found spectacular views of the park. As we drove along through the wilderness, there were other cars on the road, but not that many and we were alone in the forest quite a lot. Suddenly, as we rounded a corner, we were confronted by.....a bear! A real live bear! I don't think it's name was Yogi and it definitely didn't look like the sort of bear that would join in with a civilised picnic, but it was a very cool bear nonetheless. It lolloped across the road with an undulating, but deceptively speedy gait, before trundling off into the woods. We'd already seen plenty of videos of bears breaking cars apart to get at food, so we were quite pleased that it didn't stop to say hello and we simply drove on, intermittently exclaiming - "It was a bear! We just saw a bear!"

Unfortunately, I did not think to take a photo of the bear and I didn't really have time to anyway. So in case you feel short changed by the lack of bear photos on this post, here is a picture of a similar bear, that I found on google.

Into the Wilderness

Water cascades over 600ft falls, trees grow to around 200ft and live for thousands of years, and giant, 8,000ft granite monoliths stand guard over the valley floor. Welcome to Yosemite National Park, where nature rules on a grand scale.

We drove from San Francisco to the outskirts of Yosemite on Monday and entered the park itself on Tuesday. We knew that it was going to be dramatic and we'd seen pictures of the most famous landmarks already, but photographs and videos simply cannot prepare you for how big everything is. We have nothing to compare it to in the UK. I've put photos on this blog post, but none of them do it justice - you have to go and visit for yourself!



When you first enter the park you drive along the valley floor, which is carpeted with Giant Redwood trees, most of which stand over 200ft tall. So you're already feeling pretty small when you round a corner to be suddenly confronted with El Capitan, a granite monolith that stands at around 8,000ft. When me and Vincent first saw it we both started exclaiming: "What! Wow! Oh my god! Oh my god!" And Vincent, who claims that he will never be interested in fantasy literature, immediately compared it to The Wall in Game of Thrones. This photo is a picture of El Capitan, but it doesn't do it justice. It's so much more impressive in real life!




Once we had parked in the main valley and wandered up to the visitor centre to get our bearings, we began by learning how to pronounce Yosemite in an American accent. I had been pronouncing it yu-sem-it-ee, which is an OK pronunciation, but to be all-american about it, you need to say Yo! at the start, then "semit" really quickly, then an elongated "eeee" at the end. Kinda like this: "Yo-semiteee". Once you've got the hang of that, Yo-semiteee is pretty much foolproof. All the trails are very well signposted and there is a free shuttle bus that goes around the valley floor in a loop, dropping off hikers at the start of various different trails. We went for the Mist Trail which takes you past two stunning waterfalls on the way up to Clark's Point, which is 5,400 ft above sea level.The photo here is of Vernal Falls, which is about 1 1/2 hours climb from the valley floor. To give you a sense of scale, look closely at the rock to the top right of the waterfall. Believe it or not, there are people standing there. They are miniscule in comparison to the waterfall.

As you climb the Mist Trail from the valley floor up to Vernal Falls, you start to hear the roar and crash of the water as it thunders down the mountainside into the pool below. For us, as we experienced the power of this waterfall first hand, it was incredible to know that the flow this August is just a trickle compared to what it is typically like in early spring. At the moment, California is currently experiencing a severe drought and some of the largest falls and lakes in Yosemite have actually dried up completely. The park only received about 20% of it's usual level of snowfall this year, meaning that there is only 20% of the usual amount of snowmelt to create the waterfalls.

The photo here shows me and Vincent at the top of Clark Point, which we hiked to from the valley floor. I was very grateful that I remembered to pack my hiking boots as we climbed the trail!  From this point we could see the back of "Half Dome" which is the most famous granite mountain in Yosemite. We could also see the Nevada falls, which are over 600ft long. The temperature was a pretty toasty 30 degrees C, but the Giant Redwoods provide much needed shade most of the way up and down, so it didn't feel too hot.



We made our way back down via part of the 211 mile long John Muir Trail, named after the famous 19th/early 20th century Scottish-American conservationist who persuaded President Theodore Roosevelt to put the Yosemite valley under federal protection as part of America's first National Park. We stopped here for our picnic in the woods (thanks to mum and dad for contributing to this as part of our wedding present!) and we were so dwarfed by the giant trees and rocks that I felt that we'd fallen through Lewis Carroll's rabbit hole and taken shrinking pills. You can now try playing Where's Wally and look for where I am in the photograph.

As we ate lunch I thought more about the differences between the American National Parks which were first created in the mid 19th century, and British National Parks, which were created in the mid 20th century. The American parks are predicated on the need to conserve the wilderness for future generations and prevent over-commercialisation, but National Parks in the UK, specifically the Peak District National Park, have slightly different origins based on pressure from ordinary people who wanted to have access to mountain and moorland that was hitherto held by the landed gentry. When Yosemite National Park was first created in the mid 19th century, America was still a frontier society, where the wildnerness belonged to any man bold enough and grasping enough to claim it from it's original inhabitants - the Native Americans. In contrast, northern England in the 19th and early 20th century was a much more static society, still affected by the process of enclosure which had begun in the 16th century and had stripped working class people of their rights to common land.

It was quite amusing for me to see how commercial Yosemite was when it was first "discovered" by white Americans in the 1860s. They built a cinema, a dance hall, a music hall and various hotels, with lots of enterprising American entrepreneurs hoping to cash in on the magnificent scenery. In contrast, the Peak District in the 19th and early 20th centuries was jealously guarded by the landed aristocracy who wanted to maintain the grouse moors as a playground for the elite. However, despite their slightly different beginnings, one rooted in conservation, the other in access for ordinary people, both Yosemite and the Peak District National Park are based on the recognition that areas of outstanding natural beauty should not be subject to usual property laws: they are heirlooms of the whole nation and everyone deserves access to them. As the Sheffield socialist and freedom to roam campaigner G.H.B. Ward said: "The mountain has no master save the lonely man who stands upon it's highest crag". Or, as demonstrated in the fantastic picture on the cover of this book I saw in the gift shop: "The mountain has no master save the two crazy ladies dancing the cancan on it's highest and scariest crag".

Sunday

Having been so impressed with the first Wild SF walking tour, on Sunday we went on another one. This time the tour took us around the Castro and Mission districts which are two of the cultural centres of San Francisco and home to the LGBT community. These areas are slightly off the beaten path for most tourists, but if you take the time to go up there, you are rewarded with some fantastic views, incredible murals and really interesting history. The tour began with our friendly and humorous tour guide J Jo singing a song in Union Square, then we all had a chance to chat with our fellow travellers as we took the underground up to the Castro area. 

LGBT history in San Francisco is both devastating and uplifting. For the first stop on the tour, J Jo took us to a sculpture dedicated to the homosexual victims of the holocaust. He pointed out that the gay prisoners were the only group of people who were put straight back into prison after being freed from the Nazi internment camps and he talked to us about the terrible persecution that the lesbian and gay communities suffered during and after the second world war. It was all very poignant.

Things never stay downcast for long in San Francisco however, and we were soon on our way with other stops on the tour that gave us an insight into more positive chapters in LGBT history. We stopped at the house where Harvey Milk lived when he became the first openly gay person to be elected to public office in California and we walked through the really vibrant area called the Castro district, which is the centre of the LGBT community in San Francisco today and is a really lively and colourful place. After climbing to the top of the hill in this district, we reached the sunny and beautiful Dolores Park, in the mission district. It was beautiful, so it deserves an extra-large photo!

The history of the LGBT community in San Francisco is the history of a community finding its voice and gaining a basic human right: the right to self determination. It is not surprising that this happened in the same city that hosted prominant members of the beat generation, such as Allen Ginsberg (who I mentioned in another post) and Jack Kerouac. Other groups of people have had similar struggles and triumphs in San Francisco and the art and architecture of the city is a testament to their perseverance and creative endeavour. In the mission district, there are many murals on the walls celebrating the life and culture of different ethnic groups. This photo shows the women's building. It's a dramatic and inspiring place that houses several different women's organisations, but was the subject of intense hostility when it was first founded. The murals covering the building are called the "meastra peace" rather than a masterpiece.

Sadly, by Monday morning it was time for us to leave San Francisco. Vincent charmed some Italian tourists into taking this photo of us by the heart in union square. Hasta La Vista San Francisco! We hope to return again.

Saturday in San Francisco

A visit to Alcatraz, the small island that used to house one of the most notorious prisons in the whole world, is generally considered to be a “must see” experience for any traveller visiting San Francisco. Before we arrived, friends and relatives told us that walking round the spooky old prison was going to be an unforgettable experience and something not to be missed. My lovely colleague Emma, even gave us the money for tickets as a wedding present. What we didn’t realise is that the tickets to get onto the island are about as plentiful as sensible policies emanating from the Department for Education. In the other words, they are few and far between and we didn’t get any. Note to anyone else planning to visit San Francisco – book tickets to Alcatraz at least a week ahead!

So it was with some regrets that we settled for what seemed to be the next best option  - hiring bicycles to cycle over the golden gate bridge, returning via a ferry that passed close to the island of Alcatraz. Having not been to Alcatraz, I can’t really compare the two experiences, but I can say that I really enjoyed the cycling and I would highly recommend it to anyone else. The hills of San Francisco are pretty intense, but the city is surprisingly well equipped for cyclists, with plenty of cycle lanes and very sensibly designed cycle routes. My favourite part was a bit called “the wiggle” which leads you up one of the steepest hills on a route that wiggles its way through various streets, mixing some intense uphills with some restful flatter sections.

When we got to the bridge it was shrouded in fog and caked in tourists. The world and his wife, his three children and his mother-in-law, all seemed to want to cycle the bridge. I felt pretty smug at this stage seeing that most people had hired bikes from very close to the bridge, which seemed a bit of a cop out, whereas we had hired bikes from the town centre and had already tackled some quite significant inclines before getting anywhere near the bridge. The smugness soon disappeared however, when I got on the bridge.

 It is big, it is high up, and there are GAPS. Gaps in the sides, gaps in the floor, gaps where you can see alllllll the way down to the Pacific Ocean, some 200 ft below. Eeeeeek! Vincent managed without batting an eyelid, and I pretended to be equally sanguine, whilst focussing intently on the other end of the bridge and humming, bizarrely, "I want you back", by the Jackson 5 (it was the first song that came into my head). In the photo on the left you can see me looking quite relieved to have got to the other side!

Once we got to the other side, the little town of Sausalito was like another country; warm, sunny and with plenty of terra firma. The smugness returned as we watched most tourists join the ridiculously long queue to get the ferry straight back without cycling any further, whilst Charlotte and Vincent the adventurous set off on a cycle tour of the rest of the bay. We were fortified in this endeavour by a lovely lunch at an American diner, where we tucked into some classic American burgers. A shout out to all my colleagues in the DGS maths department for their contribution to our American diner experience! :-)

We headed up to a place called Mill Valley to find the fabled Giant Redwood trees – the tallest trees on the planet. Naively I thought these would be quite easy to spot and the map suggested that the Redwood grove was well signposted, but  despite their giant size, they actually proved to be quite elusive. Thankfully, Americans are incredibly friendly folk and every time we stopped to look at the map, someone came over to see if we needed directions. In fact, most of the time I was fairly sure of the way, I was just looking at the map to be certain of where to go, but opening the map seemed to automatically attract friendly and helpful Americans who wanted to give us a hand. 

In the photo on the right here, you can just about make out our bicycles in the middle of the image, leaning against the base of a tree. They really are huge!

We finished the day by getting the ferry back to San Francisco from a small town called Tiburon. The ferry passed very close to Alcatraz and the fabled prison and we certainly felt a shivery chill wind pass over us and we sailed by.

San Francisco Part 2b

After the Wild SF tour, we stretched our legs by climbing to the top of a pretty steep hill to see some more murals – this time on the inside of the Coit Tower. Most people go to the Coit Tower to get the elevator to the top so that they can see some good views of San Francisco. It’s true that you get some pretty good views up there, but in my opinion, most people are missing a trick by not paying more attention to the murals in the lobby at the bottom, which celebrate ordinary working life in California at the time that they were painted: 1933-34.

I have to admit that when I first looked at the paintings, I wasn’t particularly interested and I actually completely ignored them and started to read the guidebook instead. I had a cursory glance and decided that they weren’t very well drawn and quite childish looking. Nothing much to see here I thought.

The guidebook kindly informed me that I was being a bit of an idiot – the paintings were actually very interesting, so I decided to pay a bit more attention. It turns out that the murals had been created by 27 different artists and in fact the deceptively simplistic style was intentional and not simply a consequence of lack of artistic talent. I also read in the guidebook that because the murals celebrated ordinary workers, they were considered to be communist images and caused quite a lot of controversy when they were first unveiled. I thought this was hilarious, and a very American reaction, especially considering that the murals include stockbrokers and lawyers alongside farmers, fishermen and miners. 

What I really love about them is that each fresco celebrates gives us an insight into the social history of the 1930s. It’s striking that, even though it shows California less than a century ago, so much has changed in that time. You can see horse drawn ploughs working the land, people still panning for gold by hand, and farmers milking cows by hand too. I love the thoughtful details that have gone into the paintings – in the photo here on the left, I zoomed in to the image of two farm workers carrying boxes of produce. You can really see them straining as they carry the boxes. The other photo on the right here is part of the fresco depicting lawyers and the legal system. The artist had a lot of fun thinking up titles for all the books on the shelves and there is some pretty clever satire going on in these four titles. 

I also really like the fact that some female artists were involved in creating the murals and one of them, Maxine Albro, created one of the biggest and most impressive murals in the entire sequence.  For centuries there has been a dearth of female artists and I have always thought this is due to lack of opportunity rather than lack of talent. The photo on the right is part of Albro's painting and this section shows women working on a flower plantation.