Valley adventuring: an autumn oddball odyssey. Day 1.

It's funny how the ripples of a distant event can influence your life in unexpected ways. Alistair and I had long planned a rematch with the Evolution Range to see whether we could break his other ankle so that he could have matched set (see previous blogs if you missed this epic story). Alas, due to a drunk driver in Auckland, New Zealand, this was not to be:  My father, our designated responsible adult (this is debatable) charged with teen corralling in our planned absence, was struck by a couple of irresponsible idiots while driving with my sister and nephew. Miraculously, there were no serious injuries, but the severe shock and bruising postponed his trip, and ultimately nixed our high Sierra plans. What to do instead? Alistair suggested a fast foray to Yosemite Valley to tackle a couple of oddball outings, the existence of which were hinted at murkily in obscure trip reports buried deep in the annals of Supertopo. We threw together some gear and food, hit the road, and dossed down in the dirt outside the park late at night like the good ole days.

Day 1: Rediscovering the Ledge trail to Glacier Point

Many visitors to Yosemite Valley are familiar with the  so-called 'Four mile trail' that leads from the valley floor to Glacier Point 3000 feet above. Most hikers don't realise that the National Park Service has suckered them, as it actually closer to 5 miles. Perhaps because of this, a conga line of hikers snake up and down the hillside daily. Most hikers also don't realise that the remnants of a much shorter trail still exists. Of course, much shorter also means much steeper...and much, much more FUN.

The old trail begins behind TTCCFKACV (The Tent Cabin City Formerly Known As Curry Village), and follows a ledge system along the base and up the side of the Glacier Point Apron. This natural pathway, known as the Ledge Trail was originally used by Indians and improved as part of the public works projects in the 1930s. Because of a number of deaths on the trail, mostly of hikers heading downhill, the trail was closed to downhill travel in 1952, and finally both ways in the 1960s. Knowing its history, we set off cautiously and in dry conditions. It was initially simply enough, steep but quite manageable with terrific views to Half Dome.

.

Then we reached this ominous sign (ha - did they seriously think this would be a deterrent?)

and ignored it to continue on up the ledge for another thousand feet or so.

Dunno what they meant about 'Dangerous'

Poor Al on his hands and knees

From time to time, we found remnants of the old trail, marked with orange paint, that had not been obliterated  by rockfall or simply by time.

Could just about be the Four Mile Trail

At the end of the ledge, we took a sharp left turn up a steep gully down which ran a stream which supported an abundant variety of plant life. This was the beginning of the 'Hiram Bingham' portion of the ascent, during which it was easy to imagine that we were archaeologists on the hunt through the jungled precipices of Peru for the Lost City of the Incas. 

'Hiram' is my middle name.

Vestiges of orange paint guided us up an improbable path which at times seemed to burrow straight up through thickets of thimbleberries, and at others led us to old cables up rocky steps.

Very impressed by this marker!

Up up and away

An old cable through the thimbleberries - perhaps to aid in bear evasion?

Apparently, the wildlife enjoyed the thimbleberries more than we did.

A bear had left his calling card

We continued through ferny glens, eventually climbing out of the vegetation to get some great views back down the gully.

The orange paint pointed the way

Jungle warfare from above.

Eventually, we met up with the Four Mile Trail  just short of Glacier Point and came across this dire warning .Hikers may have doubted our sanity on witnessing our hysterical laughter.

After kicking back and enjoying the always spectacular views  from Glacier Point, we headed back down to the Valley floor..... by the Four Mile Trail of course. Neither of us had any desire to go back down the short way! 

There were an alarming number of dead trees everywhere we looked. We estimated perhaps a quarter of all pines were visibly dead from a combination of drought and pine borer beetle. Sobering.

No idea why I am sticking my tongue out. Must have been concentrating.

We ended the day in the relative luxury of the Cedar Lodge in El Portal, my concession to advancing age. But don't think we went completely soft as dinner was cooked up, as in the good ole days, on the backpacking stove on the bathroom counter. All in all, a fine adventure.