One would think that I would have learned the limits of the human body long ago. Sure you can ride your bike 100 miles, run a marathon, drink 30 cocktails, but the next day you have to pay the Piper.
Sunday I hiked over 20 miles and 5,000 feet of elevation gain. It is now Wednesday and I am still having trouble moving. This is concerning as I have 4 important social activities the remainder of the week: The last Pier Concert, The Mindy Project's 100th episode party, the first USC Tailgate and my neighbor's 30th. Heaven help me if I don't get 12 hours of sleep tonight. But whatever, that's future Dave's problem. Let's look back for a moment.
I've long been of the mind that everything will just work out with a positive attitude and some perseverance. Such was the case when I jumped into a car Friday night with the intention to go backpacking through Yosemite. I didn't have any plans for the weekend and since only a loser stays in town for a 3day, I decided to join my friends for a camping trip.
I had never been to Yosemite, in fact only one member of our crew had step foot in the park before.
How hard can it be? I thought to myself. We'll find a campground, pitch a tent, walk around a little bit and then get fucked up on Buffalo Trace it will be fine. I entered Yosemite this weekend a filthy casual, I exited an all-pro. What will follow are some handy tips, to ensure that you don't fuck up your Yosemite trip.
1. Make a fucking reservation.
If you're like me, 29 years of white male privilege have told you that things will just work out for you. My dad used to just walk me into concerts by telling the usher that we had misplaced our tickets. Using this strategy I have sauntered into Cubs games, music festivals and even awards shows. Hence, I thought nothing of it when we showed up at Yosemite on the busiest weekend of the year without a reservation. Surely there will be one spot left if we get in at 7am. The 'all campgrounds full sign' is clearly for fucking rooks who they are trying to keep out of the park.
Naw dawg, those signs are for real. If you can't get a reservation. You're fucked. If you want to be slightly less fucked, pull in Friday night...or even 3am Saturday morning. Not 6, not 7...fucking 3am. Go to the biggest campground and beg the park ranger to let you in. Tell him you drove 16 hours for the opportunity to camp in the greatest national park in the world. Rangers love it when you pump their tires.
If all else fails exit the park at Portal and there is a tiny campground to the right. We stayed there and didn't get murdered. Also there is a mini mart next door with a surprisingly strong beer selection.
2. Have a plan.
The whole 'we'll just figure it out' thing sounds good in theory, but in practice, it's foolish. I just assumed I would win the Half Dome lottery on Sunday and that we would hike to the top, I would take a selfie and get a million Instagram likes and a talking point with outdoorsy chicks for the rest of my life. It would probably lead to 2.5 blowjobs.
Well I lost the half dome lottery, didn't get a good camp site and then had no plan the rest of Saturday. This led to us getting stuck in 4 hours of traffic, abandoning our car to get to a general store and me consuming an entire liter of whiskey and an extra large bag of Jalapeno Kettle Chips on Saturday night. (Still not a bad Saturday night)
3. Tin Meals.
The most magical thing that I learned this weekend and the reason my Saturday was a 7 instead of a 2 is the tin meal. Are you ready for me to blow your fucking mind? It turns out, you can just wrap up meat and raw vegetables in tin foil, throw it in the fire and after 20 minutes you have a delicious stew.
I live in an apartment in Los Angeles with granite counter tops, a nice over, a grill, a foreman, fancy blenders, a Vitamix, a roommate that is dating a FUCKING CHEF and the greatest thing I have ever made in my life was some shitty burger meat and bell peppers wrapped in tin foil that I threw into a fire. Or maybe it was just that I drank an entire liter of whiskey Saturday night. Whatever, the combined euphoria of tin meals, whiskey and my new favorite game 'Mt. Rushmore*' were enough to turn a potentially catastrophic situation, into a tenable one.
* How to play Mt. Rushmore
Ask someone to name their four favorite of something.
i.e. 'Hey Rob, what's your Mt Rushmore of cheese?'
'Brie, Cheddar, Swiss and Manchego'
4. Bring a hatchet.
There is nothing more fun than splitting wood when you are fucked up.
5. Pack Appropriately.
Our first hike Sunday was a Vernal Falls/Nevada Falls/John Muir Mist Trail. Vernal Falls and Nevada Falls are like for real legit waterfalls and they are bad ass. I was wearing $30 hiking boots because I like to allocate 90% of my income to what Mint.com calls 'Entertainment.' 1 mile into our 20 mile hike on Sunday I decided to jump off a 30 foot rock into the waterfall because I #Doitforthestory.
All I could think on the way down was 'I wonder if these Cal State Northridge girls filming me with their GoPro want to fuck me.' And also 'I hope I don't land on a sharp rock.'
I did not land on a sharp rock, but I failed to remember that the waterfalls were glacier run off. I hiked the rest of the day with wet boots, wet socks and hypothermic symptoms. But hey, I have a hell of a picture.
6. Pack Appropriately part 2.
I wore a 'Make America Great Again' hat all weekend because I wanted to have a bunch of ironic pictures that would make people angry. It turns out that lots of Latino folk visit National Parks. I learned quickly that if you are going to ware an offensive hat, turn it backwards. That way people can't hate you until you have already passed them!
7. Research Public Transportation.
After our first hike on Sunday, we decided to chew off a 10 mile loop to the top of Glacier Point. It's a tough-ish hike but has spectacular views of half dome and the entire valley. Everyone was already a little tired and low on water so we decided maybe we would just hike to the summit, get a few photos and take the shuttle down. That would give us time to have a few drinks and hang out at the campground before bed. Two and a half hours later we were at the top. Two hours and thirty one minutes later we were told there is no shuttle to the bottom.
Fuck.
8. When in doubt hitchhike.
We walked to the Glacier Point parking lot hoping to find the girls a ride down. Your best bet when hitchhiking is to find anyone other than an old man with a beard. We found a couple Pepperdine chicks to take our girls to the bottom. The guys sprinted down the mountain and I fell and cut up my arm. Looking back I probably should have hitchhiked with the girls, probably have a better story and fewer scabs.
9. Don't set up your camp like an ass hat.
I insisted on pitching my tent next in the middle of our campground because I am afraid of bears. I also figured that if I was in the middle I would be best positioned to escape my tent and kill the bear with the hatchet. Because of this, my tent was pitched on a slight incline. This led to me rolling down to a corner in the middle of the night and cuddling with Andrew's feet.
Set up your tent on flat ground. Even if it's closer to the bears! Also, bring a lamp, eating in the dark is weird! Also, you can do the tinfoil trick with corn on the cob. Also, I drank 6 more beers and another liter of whiskey Sunday night and briefly forgot about our 20 miles of hiking and my soon to be extremely sore joints.
10. No matter what you do, go with a great crew.
We caught some L's early in the trip. There is no denying this. Half dome fell apart, we ended up at our last choice campground. We put probably 2000 miles on Andrew's car and spent a needless 8 hours in traffic. But despite all of this, we pressed on. The mountain may have defeated us day 1, but we kicked this shit out of it day 2. Only go on a camping trip of this magnitude with solid positive people that can roll with the punches. Also I would suggest a bluetooth speaker that you can hike with. Also I would suggest blasting Girltalk on those trails. Because even though mash up DJs have gone out of style, Feed the Animals is still a masterpiece.
Most importantly, enjoy the ride. California is home to NINE of the 59 National Parks in the United States. You hear that 15% of the national parks in the United States are in your fucking backyard. And they are all dope. This is why nature kicks ass and Teddy Roosevelt was the coolest president.
The things I saw this weekend and the memories forged with great friends are things I will never forget.
No comments:
Post a Comment