Road Trip: Yosemite and a drive down the California coast

It was like any other morning, waking up too early and too grumpy, but this time I found myself in a strange bed wrapped in strange sheets that smelled like bleach.  A quickening of my pulse and a flash of panic before realizing I was merely tangled in the sheets and not tied up by some psycho.  Oh yeah, and  I was on vacation.

The previous day, I took a leisurely 400-mile drive up US-395 from San Diego, along the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada mountain range.  Passing the historic gold-mining town of Randsburg, I thought briefly of stopping, but the 95-degree heat convinced me otherwise.  Onward I drove through Lone Pine and then a brief stop in Bishop to eat my peanut butter sandwich and then finally rolling into Mammoth Lakes on a beautiful Monday afternoon.  

This road trip was all about getting back to nature and pulling myself out of the funk I’d fallen into.  I needed to hear the chirping of birds and the gurgling of a stream; I needed to breath in the scent of a pine tree and fresh mountain air; I needed to gaze upon the expanse of a meadow full of deer, but what I needed most was simply to get away from the familiarity of an inadequate life. 

Six months after my return from Russia, the world went into quarantine because of a virus called COVID-19, sometimes referred to as corona virus or the China Virus (if you are President Trump).  The virus originated in China, because someone ate a rancid bat at a street market, or some weird thing like that.  It swept across the world infecting millions of people, and killing hundreds of thousands.  Some thought it was a conspiracy, something designed by politicians to influence elections, a ‘super flu’ if you will, while others barricaded themselves in their homes, hoarding toilet paper and thinking it was the end of the world.  At the beginning it did have all the makings of a zombie apocalypse and we were all afraid.

The country went on lockdown, no one could leave their homes except for necessary travel, such as to medical appointments or to Wal-Mart.  People were told not to go to work unless they were considered ‘essential’.  

I work part-time at Amazon filling online grocery orders, which were off the hook because no one wanted to leave their homes.  I was considered essential, but even then, I only worked the 12-hours necessary to stay on payroll for the month.  

Everything was shut down – county, state, and national parks, restaurants, hair and nail salons, gyms, beaches, you name it.  We couldn’t go anywhere or do anything and when we did venture outside, we were required to wear a mask and keep a 6-foot distance from anyone.  Borders closed and travel ceased.  The world was at a standstill.

I was stuck in my 670-square foot, fly ridden, shithole apartment and I was depressed.  Information changed daily.  Places opened, but closed days later.  The experts knew nothing, changed their opinions, and took away our freedoms all in the name of “flattening the curve” to stop the spread of this unknown virus that no one knew anything about. 

Months after the initial lockdown, places slowly began reopening. There is still no vaccine and masks are required, but at least we can go outside without fear of being arrested.  Nothing is as before.  The overused term the media spouts every 3.5 seconds during their nightly broadcasts is, “the new normal.”  Life continues whether we are forced to remain indoors or not, but there is nothing normal about what is happening.  

I was lonely, depressed, and exhausted from life at that point, so when I heard Yosemite National Park was partially open, I wasted no time in securing an entry pass.  However, the soonest I could visit the park was a month away, but it gave me something to look forward to.

It was in Mammoth Lakes where I could find the only affordable accommodations, but it meant at least a ½ hour drive to the park.  Because of the corona virus, the campgrounds in Yosemite were running at only 50% capacity, which was great, less people, but also less availability.  Of course, when planning my trip, the campgrounds were already full and I couldn’t find an open campground outside the park. 

Since there was so much driving involved, I planned to spend most of each day in the park.  I had my photography equipment, my art supplies, food, a book listing some easy hikes I had every intention of using, and even an air mattress for napping in the back of my truck (which I used).

I entered along Hwy 120 through Tioga Pass at an elevation of 9,943 ft.  Tioga Pass is the highest highway pass in California and serves as the eastern entry point for Yosemite.  The views are incredible, but certain areas along the pass are subject to landslides, one of which I almost got caught in. 

During Day 3 of my travels, I exited the park the same as I’d done the day before, but as I came around a curve a thick cloud obscured the road.  Rocks tumbled down the hillside to my left and I couldn’t see if they were falling into the road or not.  For a split second I thought of slamming on my brakes, but I estimated I would stop directly under the falling rocks.  Or, I would lose control of my truck and end up flipping off the side of the road into the unknown.   So, I did the next thing that popped into my mind.  I stomped on the gas and hoped for the best. 

Rocks and earth continued sliding downward on my left and dust obscured my view, but luckily, the brief stretch of road was straight and I sailed blindly through.  I pulled over a safe distance away and watched in awe as the hill slide away.  A moat of sorts was built to catch tumbling rocks, apparently this wasn’t the first rockslide in the history of rockslides in this area, and the moat did exactly as it was meant to do.  Not one rock ever touched the road. 

The following day, I couldn’t find any sign that a rockslide had occurred, not even one tiny pebble in the street.   My initial assumption that I was going to die, now seemed like a bit of an overreaction, but it made for a good story on Facebook.

Although that was the most adrenaline-fueled event to take place during my trip, it wasn’t the only highlight.  

Every day, I saw at least a dozen deer.  At one of my daily stops, a herd was feeding in the meadow.  Quietly, with camera and tripod, I approached, but kept a safe distance.  The deer saw me, but did not perceive me as a threat.  Two of them came nearer and nearer as they fed on the brush.  I was incredibly happy with my photos that day. 

I spent my time in Yosemite meditating, drawing, and of course taking photos.  Twice I thought about hiking.  Once at Tuolumne Meadows, but it was already in the upper 80s and again in Yosemite Valley.  But it was 95-degrees! 

My original plan was to spend the entire 7-days that my pass allowed in Yosemite, but the excessive heat, it was over 90-degrees every day, and the 40-minute drive to and from the park was tiresome.  On Day 4, I checked out of the Motel 6 and drove through Yosemite, visiting my favorite spots one last time.

After Yosemite, I was going to find a hotel in Fresno and visit Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks.  However, it was 100-degrees when I reached Fresno and by then all I wanted was to get somewhere cool.  So, I headed west and to the first coastal city that came to mind.

By the time I arrived in Monterey, California, it was a good 30-degrees cooler than Fresno.  So much cooler in fact, that I had to put a sweater on at dinner.  Thanks to COVID restrictions, restaurants could only remain open if they provided outdoor dining.  

Therefore, most restaurants had tables set up in their parking lot and Denny’s in Monterey was no exception.  Although my view was that of a gas station and busy intersection, a nice ocean breeze kept away the exhaust fumes. 

Unfortunately, the aquarium in Monterey that I have always wanted to visit was closed, thanks again to COVID, but it was a nice two days wandering the city.  

At Fisherman’s Wharf I bought lunch of fried seafood and then found a shady spot along the walkaway to eat.  The harbor is full of seals, so when I saw two little heads bobbing in the water, I didn’t take much notice, but then I did.  They weren’t seals, but sea otters!  I’d never seen a sea otter in the wild before. 

Of course, I left my long lens in the car because it was too heavy to carry (I walked almost 7 miles!), so I didn’t get any pictures, however, they were amazing to see.  They fed on crustaceans attached on the pier pilings.  They’d dive underwater, emerge with something in their little paws and float on their backs while they ate.  I watched them for about 15 minutes and then they disappeared as kayakers and paddle boarders became more abundant. 

Another highlight to an already great trip!

After Monterey I headed south on coastal Hwy 1. 

Near San Simeon I stopped at elephant seal vista point to watch elephant seals. Most were basking in the sun on the beach, but several of the males were sparring along the shoreline.  With gapping mouths, they were quite vocal as they rammed each other with their chests.  There was a lot of loud thumping as they bumped one another, and lots of “ohs” and “ahs” from the attentive crowd, but no casualties were suffered. 

A male Northern Elephant Seal can weigh up to 5,500-pounds, but these were much smaller.  They can also hold their breath for more than 100 minutes, longer than any other aquatic mammal.  They were quite remarkable to watch and I watched for almost an hour.

Further south I stopped for lunch in Morro Bay, but the coast was socked in with fog, so I decided not to stop at Morro Rock.  Instead, I ordered some McDonalds to go and sat in the parking lot throwing French fries at the seagulls surrounding my truck.  

Now that I think about it, a foggy coastline would have made for some good photography and it would have been much better than that soggy burger and aggressive gulls.

In Santa Barbara, I cruised past the beach and Stearns Wharf where I had visited in January.  The weather was beautiful and I thought of hanging out for a bit before finding a hotel for the night.  This time I had my big lens with me and wanted to do some bird photography.  Maybe the Black Skimmers were still around and I could get some better pictures, but it was 3pm on a Sunday.  People everywhere.

I kept driving, still with the thought of stopping, but before I knew it, I was home.

It was a short trip mileage wise in comparison to some of my other trips. I drove about 1,800 miles in 7 days, but it was the journey and experiences that mattered, not the distance. 

And it was exactly what I needed.