by Joan Mitchell, CSJ
Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite National Park promises fields of flowers that bloom almost simultaneously in its short growing season at 10,000 feet. So prized are the High Sierra camps that the park service runs a lottery to give out the tent sleeping spaces.
Our climb to a High Sierra camp took all day. The socks and new hiking sneakers came off right away to ford a small stream, then putting socks and shoes back on wet feet took time. The dirt path beyond was soft through trees. Shortly boulders arose to climb, to wind around. Then the rocks became smaller but the path up steeper. At every twist a new vista came into sight. At every stop a new array of flowers surprised us. At a distance a waterfall spilled hundreds of feet down.
Near noon we leveled out and ate our peanut butter and jelly lunch. We walked the ridge higher, passing mountain lakes, crossing soft bogs, traversing long, flat granite outcroppings. The path threads relentlessly up, up, up through the pines.
The beauty imprints the mind as one walks, sits, and stops to breathe. The next day after surviving the descent I sat on the Tuolumne River bridge, watching the clear water glide over the stones. The water, like my days, gurgled on around the bend; my spirit like the mountains soared free of here and now.
- What has wearied you most in the past year?
- What most rests and revives you?