Mom, Sarah and I flew into San Francisco where Uncle Ned picked us up to get settled in his house. Now, Uncle Ned's house normally fits only Uncle Ned...it's one room, divided into three sections with no doors. It was a tight squeeze but it was kind of cozy. (And let me just take a minute to emphasize how grateful I am to the inventor of earplugs. Those tiny peices of foam are a godsend. Especially when you're sleeping, for seven days, in extremely close proximity to The World's Loudest Snorers a.k.a. Mom and Dad. The sound, which I can liken to what a swamp monster might make, is ridiculous.)
Uncle Ned lives in an adorable, Hispanic neighborhood called Bernal Hills. If you squinted your eyes a little bit, you could see the Golden Gate Bridge from his porch. We walked through Precita Park, marveling at the gorgeous and elaborate morals painted on the sides of buildings. That day a small concert was taking place, showcasing the work of some very talented graffiti artists. Once Dad arrived (he drove across the country), we went to an authentic Mexican restaurant. Ned pointed out that at this type of friendly venue there was no rush to get us out after we had had our meal.
After dinner we decided to explore the city with Uncle Ned as our tour guide. We traveled up and down some extremely steep streets; it felt like a roller coaster at times. Uncle Ned took us up the steepest hill in the city, 26th Street, and I was baffled at the parallel parking jobs the cars had managed. I would have rolled right down the street. Uncle Ned also showed us some wealthy houses (we passed novelist Danielle Steele's grand mansion), Twin Peaks (the highest point in the city), Haight & Ashbury Street ("Summer of Love" was centered there in 1967), the Golden Gate bridge and the shore.
I've fallen in love with the amazing city.
I love this picture of my Dad. His face is hilarious! I really think this vacation allowed him to become an adventurous little kid again.
The next day the family convinced me to attend the Giants baseball game. Apparently, pitcher Randy Johnson is "amazing," according to Sarah. Too bad he was pitching against the Giants. So the final score was pretty brutal, 7 to 1. I was hardly paying attention to the game because I was distracted by the view from the stadium. From our seats we could overlook the San Francisco Bay, little boats and kayakers dotting the water.
Our next stop was visiting Uncle Tim and Aunt Sue in Stockton for Sue's 60th birthday party. At the party, my dad introduced me to a man wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt named Tom who was also a type 1 diabetic. He was a very cool guy, probably around my dad's age, who had been diagnosed during his first year of college. "Once upon a time I was a freshman in college and I was drinking all the time and I had this unquenchable thirst so I kept drinking more! Which was pretty stupid," he exclaimed, describing the "thirsty" symptom of diabetes. We talked about the insulin pump and when I expressed my negative feelings about the technology, he encouraged me, laughing, "It has pretty much helped eliminate my mood swings...I mean, they're still there, of course my wife notices but not as bad."
The following day, we packed up two cars with camping gear and headed out to Yosemite National Park. The news reported that enormous, uncontained forest fires were raging at the entrance to the park. When we arrived at our campsite it seemed that the fires had discouraged many visitors; we were almost entirely alone for the first day.
In addition to the fires, there was a drought in the park. Normally there are the most beautiful waterfalls cascading over the cliffs in Yosemite. But, to my disappoint, the waterfalls had been diminished to trickles nearly impossible to distinguish from the ground. However, the mountains still looked beautiful and majestic standing alone.
When it grew too dark to marvel at the beauty of the mountains, you could just stare at the stars. Living in the smog bubble of Cincinnati, I have never had the chance to see so many stars. It was mesmerizing and even when my neck started to ache, I couldn't take my eyes off of the sky. Uncle Ned made us a delicious steak and corn on the cob meal over the fire on our first night. When the subject of our stories turned to bears, the five of us glanced at our steaks nervously, silently saying a prayer that we'd have no hungry bear visitors. Luckily, we made it through the night!
The next morning we decided to hike to Cathedral Lake, which is a lake that sits atop a mountain. The hike was seven miles round trip so it took most of the day. As we hiked, the throngs of trees surrounding us would occasionally thin and we'd catch an amazing view of the mountains. We even discovered a natural spring, and despite my extreme thirst, I stopped myself from drinking the water, fearing that I'd get some crazy moutain spotted fever or something.
Once we reached the top, it took my breath away. There was an enormous meadow splayed out in front of us, surrounded by more mountainous rock faces. A series of interconnecting streams weaved throughout the meadow and led to the lake, which was at first hidden from view. The lake was beautiful, with the clearest and bluest waters I'd ever seen stretching for a mile or more. The water was also freezing! However, Uncle Ned was not dismayed (he is accustomed to swimming in the frigid San Francisco Bay) and he dove right in, swimming to a nearby shore. After the tiresome hike, the family just lay on the rock shore, taking everything in.
The next day, which was to be our last day, we drove up to Glacier Point which provides a gorgeous bird's eye view of the park. The view from the top is pretty unbelievable, displaying Half Dome and the giant Nevada and Vernall Falls.
I was amazed to learn that a hotel was once located on Glacier Point but after it burnt down in 1969, they decided not to rebuild because it took away from the Point's natural beauty.
As I sat atop a rock, looking out over the huge mountains and waterfalls, Mom came to sit beside me. "Well, this really puts life into perspective," she said, gesturing to the vastness stretched out in front of our eyes, "It really shows us how small we are."
I found one of the many old pictures showing people standing or dancing dangerously atop this protruding rock.
As we were leaving the park, Dad and Uncle Ned decided to take a dip in the Merced River. We found a beautiful spot on the roadside, with house-sized boulders sitting in the water. The water in the river, as it had been in Cathedral Lake, was so clear you could see all the way to the bottom. The river was also freezing cold but Dad and Uncle Ned managed to convince Sarah, Mom and I to brave the water. When I jumped in, I felt all of my muscles tighten and my breath forced out of my lungs but it was still awesome.
Uncle Ned dove off one of the giant boulders into the water, despite my mother's ardent protests. She looked at me seriously, threatening, "Don't you ever do that. I worked in a hospital with paraplegics and quadriplegics." She then recalled a horrifying story for me, "One time we went around the room for everyone to explain the story behind their paralysis and every single story began with 'Well, one time I was diving...'"
Luckily, Uncle Ned survived.
The route we took that leads out of the park was spectacular. The mountains keep rolling along beside you, gradually softening into hills as you travel farther and farther away. The Merced River, which runs parallel to the road, slices right through the mountains. The forest fires were nearby, located in the town of Mariposa about ten miles outside of Yosemite. Over the tops of the hills, I could just make out the billowing clouds of gray smoke. I saw several fire trucks and ambulances parked on the sides of the road. We even saw four helicopters swoop down to scoop water from the river in order to quell the massive fires.
Smoke from the fires.
Now, on the final leg of our trip, the chaos would ensue. On the day we were supposed to leave, our flight departed for Orange County at eleven in the morning. We arrived at the airport only to find that our flight had been cancelled. Which meant we would not make our connecting flight to Denver and the subsequent flight to Columbus. When we reached the Customer Help desk, the only flight available was leaving at eleven in the evening. It was headed to Chicago and then we could catch another connecting flight to Columbus. We were unhappy to say the least but Mom, Sarah and I managed to still have a lot of fun, paying ridiculous amounts of money for food in the restaurants. I spent an entire day cooped up in the San Francisco airport, reading or trying to solve impossible crossword puzzles. That was the point where I was really ready to get home.
At ten the next morning, after losing an entire night of sleep and nearly missing our connecting flight from Chicago due to delays, we reached Columbus. When we arrived, however, we found that our luggage had not made it on time. So the mood was pretty dark as we drove home to Cincinnati. But the minute I reached home, I fell onto my comfortable bed that I had missed so much, thinking, "Home sweet home."
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