Tuesday: May Lake. This was the day I remembered why I hated backpacking. Still gasping and not hungry from the altitude, I headed up a not terribly interesting steep hill to May Lake HSC. Worse, 2/3rds of the way up is a parking lot.
I also lost my leopard sunglasses while taking a break to catch my breath and cursing going to Yosemite instead of Southeast Asia. But enough grumbling.
I loved May Lake High Sierra Camp. There was a big friendly hiking group from LA, led by a woman in her 70s. They argued over who should carry her water and later drank shots of bourbon and tequila by the campfire.
I learned from my John Muir audiobook that the source of Yosemite Falls is on the other side of Mt Hoffman, pictured above.
And I loved Brian, the manager of the camp and a gifted raconteur who regaled us over spaghetti and meatballs with stories of 19th century hotels in Yosemite Valley including one up s 60' ladder on the mist trail between Vernal and Nevada Falls and another atop Glacier Point (responsible for the famous firefalls). Marlene, the hike leader from LA, had seen the firefalls.
I climbed up the hill for a view of the valley and because I'd heard there was AT&T reception. No go.
And I appreciated the Dadaists who packed my lunch, as I headed off the 8 miles to Glen Aulin.
The Burning Man of HSC: