By Saturday morning we knew that the game was up. Amir had drawn the short straw of the leaky door spot, and at 6am his sleeping bag was so soaked that he'd decided to get up and make a cup of tea. The rest of us followed, stepping timidly from the warm tent into the still pouring rain.
What to do? We were definitely going back to Berkeley, but we'd come this far and knew that we would cope with a day of being wet if a hot shower and home beckoned. We could hold our heads high for roughing it out as long as we did, including cooking pretty tasty burgers in a storm that would have drowned small children and the elderly. We packed up our tents and loaded everything into the car, ready to speed back to civilisation after a hike.
By 9am we were in the visitors' centre, and the nice ranger suggested that we wander up the Mist Trail ("you're wet already," she pointed out, showing the ranger's legendary observational skills). This was a nice medium climb to a couple of waterfalls, so around 10am we were at the trail head with ample cheese sandwiches and some cereal bars. Off we went!
The walk was stunning. Huge cascades of water fell over the granite cliffs and we scrambled our way up the mountain on rocks alternately wet with rain and waterfall spray. We enjoyed lunch under dripping trees half-way up, and a celebratory packet of Jelly Belly beans at the top.
A strange thing happened on the way down. Firstly the rain stopped, in what turned out to be the only few hours it managed to the whole weekend. Secondly whispers began to circulate. Did we really want to go home? Could we stay another night? When a call to a nearby motel revealed $150 (before tax) for a double room those damp tents started to look even more inviting.
Haas should commission a study on how a group of people can make a decision in the morning and then, after being subjected to the same conditions for another 12 hours, completely reverse it. I pondered this as Amir and I re-set our two tents while Hannah and Dana put everything - sleeping bags, walking boots, everything - through the tumble dryers at a laundry that serves a much more expensive campground than ours. Hannah even managed to blag a free shower ("which group are you with?" she was asked. "Um...we haven't booked in yet," she replied, was handed a towel and in she went!)
With the leaky tent reinforced by a newly-bought groundsheet, and air mattresses inflated (it wasn't real camping), Amir got the fire going and took on steak cooking duties as the heavens opened again, just to remind us how nice it was when they didn't. What did it matter? We were here for another wet night in the supreme luxury of two-to-a-tent. We celebrated by going to look for bears in the dark (none spotted, surprisingly) and cooking some fire top popcorn.
Boker tov! Everything looks better after a cup of tea.
Now you see them...the camp site with no tents on Saturday morning.
Hannah whips up a British classic - bacon sarnies with red sauce. Good for any occasion, especially one involving rain.
One skinny latte to go.
Someone cleverer than us who decided not to show up. But he'd booked a pitch with a swimming pool!
Hannah gives Amir a guided tour of Yosemite Valley:
"Behind that cloud is Half-Dome, through that fog is El Capitan..."
Really?
Yosemite is full of promise.
It's amazing the feeling of personal achievement you get after walking up a trail for three minutes.
Hannah and Dana ascend.
Look! It's a waterfall!
Wet but happy. And this is before we hit the mist.
Whoa.
Wildlife! And this wasn't even the fiercest thing we saw today...
...look carefully, he really is there! It's a bobcat, or a lynx in proper English. Some guys just in front of us spotted him.
Whoever has shares in yellow ponchos will be weathering the current financial storm nicely.
Ta-daa (again). Re-camped, and no rain!
A cow died to make us happy.
Steak Master Amir at work.
The Popcorn Mistress Hannah takes over.
For the entire weekend we ate only natural foods that we scavenged from the forest around us.
