USA 6 - Yosemite 2

This story continues from USA 5 - Yosemite 1

Another Giant Redwood Forest

After driving for a while and getting all funked out by bland scenery, we arrived at a giant redwood forest. This was the same kind of place as Muir Woods which we visited in SF. But from the marketing brochures, the trees here seemed thicker and taller; they were like the "giants amongst giants!". It was also here that that famous Tunnel-Thru-The-Tree could be found. (A redwood tree so thick that they made a hole so a car could pass through it.)

May and I did not stop to look at these giant trees. We simply observed them from the car as we drove past. Light was fading fast and we could no longer dilly-dally on our way to Yosemite summit.

How far more did we have to go? Well, our map was not very helpful. It was a tourist one, and did not have precise info like 'elevation'. And since this was a mountain climb, distances on the map would be much shorter than in reality. That threw any real ETA (estimated time of arrival) assumptions out of the window. The road signs along the way were helpful as they gave distance-to-the-summit numbers but were rather scarce. The other alternative was to note the every-mile small-pillar markers by the roadside. However, in the gathering darkness, they were getting harder and harder to spot. We would have to stop the car to look at them, and we weren't too keen to get out of the car in that semi-dark wilderness. Aren't there supposed to be wolves in the Sierra mountains? In any case the two-lane road we were on pointed up, so all we had to do was to follow it to its natural conclusion. The good thing was that our car was proving to be very reliable and trouble-free. The odometer was clicking along nicely telling us how far we had come.

By 9 P.M., the sun had completely set and everything was pitch dark outside. I was surprised that there were no street lamps to help light the way. Don't four million people visit it every year? I guess they were trying to preserve its natural environment.

In complete darkness, we could only rely on our vehicle headlights. It was kind of strange driving in such conditions. At every turn our headlight would flash off a rock or hard granite surface. After a while the effect became strobe-like and hypnotic. I had to sing or make conversation with May in order to not fall into a trance. The radio was useless at this point. Shielded by terrain, it played only static.

In some places, the rocks looked huge, and jutted out. However, it was just the glare of the headlights playing tricks. I always had to refrain the tendency to swerve.

Bridal Veil Falls

In any case, we drove on like that without incident. By the time we arrived at Bridal Veil Falls - a lower Yosemite attraction - it was already 1 A.M. We thus couldn't see the waterfall (why the 'veil' reference) but only heard it. May and I took it as a cruel joke and left it at that. (It became a kind of running joke with us afterwards.)

From Bridal Veil Falls, it was just a short drive to the Yosemite Park summit where the Visitor Center and The Village Store were located. There was even a restaurant. And yes, the Village Store sold their souvenirs as well as Gilroy's garlicky ones.

As we sat in the restaurant to perk ourselves up with coffee and a light meal, we learnt more about Yosemite Park itself and its famous sites from some tourist brochures we'd picked up from a rack. According to these write-ups, there were quite a few giant 'domes', i.e. giant bald outcrops that look as if a piece of rock has been cleaved in two. As a result, sheer 90-degree cliffs formed. They rise skywards for a few hundred metres at least and are thus popular with rock wall climbers and movie producers alike. I believe the opening scene from Star Trek movie, The Wrath of Khan, was filmed there.

Another attraction the brochures said to not miss were the waterfalls at Yosemite. These often issued forth from fissures and cracks high in the granite faces of the mountain; they then plummet spectacularly to pools below. As a matter of fact, Yosemite do have some of the tallest waterfalls in North America - Bridal Veil Falls included. In Native American language, the Falls are called Spirit of the Puffing Wind. well, whatever that means!

The last attraction and probably the reason why most folks go to Yosemite are the many hiking trails there. These snake about Yosemite and the Sierra mountain range. The trails total some 840 miles (1351 km), the John Muir one being the most popular.

What's most disheartening was that all the pictures in the brochures seemed to have been taken in summer, where everything looked bright, brilliant, and in glorious colour. So summer was probably the best time to visit the park. Also, looking around the Visitor Center building, we came to realize that Yosemite Park was a very popular destination with schools and families, and that many would make advanced bookings to be able to camp or stay up there! And there we were at Yosemite Park on a whim!!!

No wonder we arrived late and missed seeing Bridal Veil Falls in all its full gushing glory like that seen in the brochure.

Looking at the brochures for stayovers, May and I regretted not bringing our luggage along. We had thought the journey to be short giving us ample time to arrive and then return to Monterrey. Now, we would have to drive back to our Fireside Lodge and then all the way back to the airport in San Francisco.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, we left Yosemite summit at 2.15 A.M. The road down was the same coming up: dark and unlit. But since we had traveled on it before, our journey this time was much faster. Pretty soon, we reached the near-bottom where the redwood forest was. We could see lights around the barracks (or were they dormitories?) some distance further in. Seeing a familiar place gave us comfort and confidence, and so we drove on faster toward the way we had come earlier.

In no time we even passed Merced and was once again travelling through the small towns between it and Gilroy. In the dead of night, these places really looked deserted, and sepia, in their yellow light street lamps. Not a soul was in sight. So imagine our surprise when we were stopped by a police patrol car. It seemed to have come out from nowhere.

Having seen many US police shows on our local TV, I knew to keep still and leave my hands on the steering wheel. I waited until the policeman came up to my side and gestured before winding down the window.

"Yes, Officer, is there a problem?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"Did you know you have been speeding?"

"Er, no. I didn't know we were going that fast." (Honest)

"You see that sign there? This is is a low-speed zone."

"Oh, I thought we were still on the highway," I said, which was true. Some B-roads were part of the U.S. highway system.

"Can I see your license?" asked the cop finally.

I had an international licence but chose to remove my Singaporean one instead and passed that to him. Back then, it was still that green piece of paper.

"Sorry, officer. We were just trying to get back to catch a flight," I said, trying to get some sympathy.

"And where is that?" the cop then asked.

"Monterrey, then SF."

"You're some distance away, aren't you? Where are you from?"

"Singapore."

The cop then walked into the light of a nearby lamp post and looked at my licence, turning it this way and that. And then he walked back towards me.

"Look, I can't do anything with this. Here, you can have it back. Next time, try not to speed through the town area."

I thanked the cop and repocketed my driving licence. I then waved goodbye to him and continued on our way. May, who was roused from her sleep when the cop approached, now closed her eyes again and slept, clutching her woolen wrap around her to keep warm from the aircon. The cop followed us in his police car for a distance and then turned away. I smiled to myself, satisfied that my little ruse worked.

Back to Fireside Lodge

May and I surprised ourselves by reaching our motel, Fireside Lodge in Monterrey in a very short time. We probably took 2-3 times less time than yesterday going in the other direction. OK, we were driving at a leisurely pace going to Yosemite. But to get back to the lodge before 7.30 A.M. meant we took just five hours to cover that 450 km or more distance between Monterrey and Yosemite Park, also driving much of the mountainous roads in darkness as well. Still, that didn't leave us much time to have breakfast or say a proper goodbye to the Lodge's proprietor lady. Our flight was at 10 A.M. and we needed to reach the airport by 8.30 A.M. at the very least. So very quickly, we packed up our stuff, wrote a nice note to the proprietor lady and pasted it on her kitchen door.

I felt sad leaving that Lodge as it was very nicely done up with a fireside place and all. May and I really had a nice and intimate time there.

On the way to the airport, I realised it's not good to be pressed for time in an unfamiliar place. For one thing, I had to return the car to another location, not the same place where I had taken it from (which was at the airport basement car park). Thankfully, my sense of direction was quite good and we managed to find the drop-off place without much fuss. The only problem was that the slip road going in was on the other side of the highway. There I was, barely 50m from the exit of the facility.

So I did what any Malaysian or Singaporean would do under such circumstance. I looked out for traffic and drove against the flow. Heck, it was just that 50m and saved me, well, God knows how many minutes the other way! I mean once you get on a highway, you'd never know where the next exit might be! There was no time to dawdle and so I had to make a quick decision.

The drop-off facility was actually a fenced-up hangar-like building with a sand parking lot. After signing off on the car, we waited there together with a few other customers for a shuttle bus to bring us to our respective flights. Thankfully, the wait was short and soon we were airborne and heading for home. No drama throughout.

I must say that this holiday is one I wished could go on for some more days. Driving with May had been such a pleasure. It always is when that person is good humoured and importantly, able to navigate as well. Years later, when I am old and decrepit, I can look back on this trip and die happy. Wouldn't it be nice to meet May on the other side and start a new journey?

Previous story: USA 5 - Yosemite 1; Next story: March Madness 3 - Pulau Sibu 1

USA 5 - Yosemite 1

The next morning, May and I woke up at the Fireside Lodge in a bit of a funk. It usually is after an unbridled night of love-making. Fortunately, the coffee made by our lovely old-lady proprietor was fragrant and strong. The breakfast she served up was also nice; simple but appetising. Thus refreshed, we sat down and looked at our road map from the Budget car rental company once more..

Fireside Lodge was situated opposite the US Navy's Postgrad School at Sloate Ave, an innocent sounding institution but was actually a top-notch research facility where our own scholars have been to. The Postgrad School was strong in analytics (useful in establishing terror cell relationships) and some say even latter-day defence tech like DEWs, i.e. directed energy weapons. These DEWs could fry you like a microwave oven from a distance, useful for riot control. You'll be red like a lobster and don't even know it until it hurts. The US tended to test their early weapons in conflict-places like Afghanistan. I cannot help but imagine a hapless 'terrorist' combatant lying on the ground burnt to a crisp like a piece of bacon and frozen in extreme pain.

Sloate Ave was just outside of Monterrey from which May and I had come the day before. The distance from it to Yosemite didn't look far. We would be crossing some plains - a bit like travelling from the Shire to the Misty Mountains in The Hobbit. The highway route looked straightforward with few detours. The journey would be a piece of cake.

Besides, May and I both liked nature. The bonus was that we would be driving through part of the Sierra Mountain range too. How lovely was that going to be?!

Of course, being foreigners, we didn't know if it was the season to be there. A colleague of mine used to ask me to buy him Sierra Mountain Club calendars each time I was in the US. He loved the pictures that marked each month, which were mostly brilliant photos of hillsides painted in exquisite autumn hues and shades. The other pics showed indigenous animals such as the American eagle and fox.

We figured if we drove at regular speed, we could reach Yosemite before nightfall. We could even stay the night there even!

So, having reconfirmed our route, May and I returned to our room to freshen up. We then took along a 2-litre bottle of mineral water and hopped into our car. We could return later, spend the night at Fireside again and fly off back to Singapore and home.

Countryside

The first leg of the journey was fantastic. It was very scenic.

Unlike the coast, this was all plains and distant rolling hills. For me, it was classic American countryside imagery come true: Fields of wild golden hay accosted by wind and shimmering in the sun. And where such fields were cut, there were pelts of hay all rolled up and lying in the sun. They looked like lemony log cakes waiting to be devoured.

This stretch of Americana beauty, I believed laid between Watsonville and Gilroy. We had left Monterrey and taken the Cabrillo Highway north towards Watsonville; it wasn't a long drive. Then we headed westwards towards Gilroy, which we saw on the map to be leading to the foot of the Yosemite range or thereabouts.

It was such a pleasure to drive through such scenery.

In Malaysia, when we drove up North via the east coast inland, much of what we saw were palm oil plantations. They were either full trees or chopped and burnt to a stump. Here, in American out-country,  it was all open plains and far horizons. Very much less claustrophobic.

The way to Gilroy was hilly. We often had to wind in and out, dip high and low. Some stretches were isolated but that did not make us feel lonely. For in some distance would be some farmhouse or community. Quite a few had those ubiquitous grain silos.

When we approached Gilroy, we noticed the land flattening out. Now the highway was much tree-lined. We also noticed something else, the smell of garlic. It invaded our senses way before we even reached the source of it, which was Gilroy itself. It made me think of the Doppler Effect; this time applied to smell, not sound.

At the time, May and I did not know then that Gilroy was famous for that vegetable. We only knew after reaching Yosemite and saw garlic-themed souvenirs in its gift shop. 'Gilroy'. Gilroy who?

So, oblivious to its fame, we did not stop at Gilroy town. We did however make a stop at one the many fruit and veggie stands outside the town and beside the highway (which was a B-road, actually) to pick up some nourishment.

What's funny is that I would later dream of visiting a fair in Gilroy and see all kinds of things made out of garlic and its derivatives, just like how some crafts people would abuse macaroni and make inane stuff. I think it was right after watching a food program that featured the garlic town. It's really interesting how your subconscious would make things up to compensate for life's missed opportunities. Oh, by the way, another famous product of Gilroy's was peanut butter. A favourite bread spread of mine.

Fish Museum

One time, after entering a straight stretch of highway, we drove past a huge white sign with red letters and an arrow pointing to a Red Top Fish Museum. Red Top being a place-name. But really, a fish museum?

We were driving fast and did not bother to stop to swing back. I imagined the museum to showcase walls of taxidermied fish. Perhaps even prized trophies of local fishermen.

May, on the other hand, summarised the setup quite neatly: "So, it was just a 'kiam hur' (salted fish) museum. We can skip it then." I think May was worried we would bring the smell back into the car. Good point. But, haha.

I laughed at her comment and expressed the thought that maybe our friends in Kuantan, Malaysia (where we once had great Salted Fish Claypot Rice) should take up the idea. They were after all the kiam hur capital of that country.

Getting Lost

From Gilroy, we targeted another intermediate lankmark to help us get to Yosemite. We picked the large town of Merced located about 100km away as measured on the map.

What we didn't notice at the time were the two highways - No. 99 and No. 5 - that came in-between. On the map, they looked like two faultlines we had to cross from Gilroy. More sinister still were the mess of crisscrossed roads between the two.

Now, after driving on US roads for a while, May and I had come to appreciate the help the many road signs along the way provided. So far, they had been accurate. But that was all about to change.

What we learnt is that in the US, sometimes major highways would rope in minor B-roads as part of its system. This was especially so in helping it connect one highway to the next.

So, although it looked like a straightforward job driving from Gilroy to Merced, May and I got lost in that maze of B-roads between the two.

We made one wrong turn and that burned up an hour going in the wrong direction.

But despite that, we found the drive interesting. We passed really small towns with few people. Real American small towns with their Main Avenue as the main road connecting them to other civilisations.

Many of these small towns were sitting on flat plains, continuing a landscape we had embarked on since Watsonville. But that started to change as we neared Merced. The terrain became more mountainous and the weather more wet than dry.

Merced

As our destination Merced neared, May and I were glad. We were getting hungry so we stopped at a fast food burger joint on the outskirts of that town. The restaurant was a typical single-storey flat-top all by itself off the highway.

May and I had learnt long ago that it's better to eat light when driving so we ordered the least we could.

After the meal we again topped up on petrol just in case we couldn't find any later on. As I pumped petrol and looked at a small community outside of Merced nestled amongst some hills and trees, I couldn't help but think how similar it was to towns featured in movies like The Deer Hunter which starred a young Robert de Niro. Or the one in that horror series called Harper's Island. You know, places that are wet, cold and where folks liked hunting and fishing and carving things up?

Always in these places (in the movies), someone would use a woodchipper to grind up a neighbour or some unwanted trespasser into a bloody pulp. Then they go and welcome another unsuspecting visitor with smiling eyes and a cup of coffee.

Haha...Horror movies are either cautionary tales or fuel for an active imagination! In any case, I felt safer buying coffee from a fast food joint.

Not long after Merced, we entered what looked like Sierra Mountain country, a place I'd seen featured much in sought-after photo calendars and National Geographic features. In these publications, the trees always looked colourful; the rocks imperious; and the streams sparkling. Even the weather was bright, dry and shiny.

Now, what May and I saw before us were all devoid of that. Everything was either in a shade of rust or grey. Most trees and shrubs were "botak", shaved of foliage. I don't know. If I didn't know better, I would say my car's windscreen had switched from Colour to Black & White.

I imagined we must be on our way up to the Yosemite peak, why else would we be driving up an incline, gentle as it was. The road was narrow and two-lane. But really, of what nature we would find, I was beginning to have my serious doubts.

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