Snow in Yosemite

According to other Yosemite Institute instructors, it is hard to get jaded.  Casey, for example, will not wake up dissapointed and say, “Darn, I have to go to work in Yosemite Valley today.”  Or take Andy for example.  Maybe on Wednesday morning, he will not want to get out of bed and meet his group.  And then he promptly smacks himself in the face when thinks about it . . . “Oh yeah, I get to work beneath El Capitan, a wall of rock that towers 3000+ feet into the sky.  There are far worse jobs.” 

I think that if I ever get dissapointed by my “office,” I am ready for another job.  I know this is saying a lot from somebody who has not worked since June 15 of last year, but this place is astounding.  Before today, I had never seen Yosemite in January, other than Ansel Adams photographs.  It is truely a winter wonderland here.  Pockets of misty fog settled into the nooks and crannies between mountains and snow is everywhere.  The beautiful Merced River is full of raging torrents and strewn with boulders.  And the largest solitary boulders sitting in the middle of deep pools are covered with snow, several inches of it. 

Then I look up at El Capitan.  My eyes meet the bold granite face and I keep looking up, and up, and up, until I run out of rock and the cliff face gets obstructed by clouds.  But wait, there’s more: because above that layer of wispy clouds, is more rock face.  It continues to tower above the clouds.

This morning we pushed on through the valley and up to Badger pass, Yosemite’s cross country and alpine ski area.  Did I mention that I love this job?  Today I got paid to learn how to ski, to learn how to teach students to ski, and to lead activities in the snow.  The hardest thing I had to do today was keep warm.  Which actually is harder than in sounds as it was snowing considerably in the morning and the temperature was hovering right around 30 degrees F.  But the weather did not stop us and we skied up to badger summit and then back down.  As it turns out, I am not as good at cross country skiing as I’d like to admit, but I could hold my own and hopefully didn’t injor anything to major!

Also, the people here are all great.  Everyone is helpful and willing to get me up to speed and the people I live with are visiting, making sure I am all moved in ok.  I am living in a house called The Hotel, as it is an old converted hotel in the town of El Portal, just east of the park entrance.  I have eight other roommates, each with our own room and a huge shared kitchen and common areas. 

Tomorrow, and for the rest of the week, I am observing other instructors with student groups.  And then next Monday I get my own students.  It will be my first day of school in a while; just not in my traditional classroom.  I can’t wait!

California Dreaming

The flight was hardly full to capacity, but I decided to sit near the front anyway.  I went for the seat between two women.  Women are usually a little smaller than men; there would be less jockeying for elbow room on the all-too-scarce arm rests.  Turns out, I guessed wrong.  The woman on my left, about my age, turned out to obsessively-compulsively apply hand sterilizer to her hands.  Did she know something about the bacteria on the chairs that I didnt?  And so the hours passed, buzzing through the sky at a million miles an hour, with the pugnant smell of rubbing alcohol, killing, and then re-killing the bacteria on my neighbor’s fingertips.

Needless to say, meeting Naomi and Katie with big hugs and welcoming smiles at San Fransisco International airport was quite a relief to the eight previous hours spent getting there.  Naomi and Katie are both instructors who I met last August when I was here for training.  On the August trip, these were two of the intrepid souls who ventured with me up clouds rest, then half dome, past vernal and nevada falls, and on into Yosemite Valley in an epic 20+ hour, 20+ mile hike.  But that is another whole story that I forgot to blog about when it happened.

Meanwhile, back at the airport,  some cop is giving Naomi a hard time for parking in the waiting area for too long as Katie and I are using our best tetris skills to fit my rediculous amount of stuff into the back of Naomi’s car.  I thought for a second we might have to sell the bicycle.  But soon enough, the 30 or 40 boxes of bikes and useless household crap, and three people were in the car and cruising down highway 101.

Flying past cars and palm trees and the easy 58 degree weather, the next thing I knew, I found myself in the great central valley.  Orange trees, and almonds, and olives were everywhere.  And of course, the other best reason for coming to California: the taco trucks parked on the side of the freeways.

The one we stopped at happened to be Ramon’s.  Katie did not recommend the burrito, much to my dissapointment, but I heeded her advise and ordered three veggie quesadillas.  (No, not all for me–one for each of us).

And then we were off again, to the great place called Yosemite.  It was a long day of travel; after the hillcious flight, the driving part took another four or five hours.  Up mountains.  Past the beautiful Merced River.  Into canyons.  Past the famous rockfall area that has forced drivers onto a one-way stretch of highway for the past three years now.   And then we were there.  My new home, my old friends from last August.  My new life, and nothing but eagerness and excitement to get it all started.