Stars on El Capitan

As we descend into the Yosemite Valley, El Capitan’s massive granite wall towers over us, and we are captivated by its presence. Cars immediately pull to the side of the road, and people stare up at the Salathe Wall. From this viewpoint no climbers are visible to the naked eye, but when I squint, I see a tiny blot of color ascending the wall. My binoculars reveal the presence of several climbers, and I am amazed at their skill. Do they have suction cups on their hands and feet?

After a day of hiking, Adolfo and I begin to drive out of the valley. But first, we decide to see the moon rise over El Capitan and Half Dome. The valley is now dark, but the sky is lit by the full moon. El Capitan’s silhouette begins to glow with the moon’s light.

As we gaze up at the massive wall, small lights like stars begin to twinkle on the sides of the cliff. First one or two, then up to twelve lights spread across the Salathe Wall. I stare in awe as I realize that each of these lights belongs to a climber who will have to sleep while hanging from a rope. Wow! What courage! What skill! What insanity!

See Adolfo's photo taken at night: http://www.flickr.com/photos/adolfo_isassi/5137784317/?ref=nf

What Inspires Me

A magazine with the lead story "What Inspires Me" sat on the counter at my aunt's house. As I read the words, images of places I'd been and people I've met ran through my memory. Finally, they settled on visions of nature's perseverance.

In the Yukon we drove past some of the most sorry looking pines I have ever seen. These tiny spruce trunks grew to no more than three inches in diameter and seldom grew over 15 feet tall. The taller trees drooped over as if they were drunk. When I learned their story, though, I was amazed. Those tiny trees were probably more than 100 years old. They were so small because they grew in permafrost. These small, black spruce were determined to grow in some of the most inhospitable soil around.

Salmon in Alaska are the most fearless swimmers I can imagine. While we were in Valdez, we watched these intrepid fish dodge humans, bears, eagles, seals, and waterfalls to spawn upstream in the precise rivers where they had been born. How do they know where to go? How do their bodies adjust to the different types of water? How do they swim through such powerful currents? I will never understand the mysteries of these fish. Nor will I forget their fortitude.

In Washington fireweed was in full bloom. Their purple flowers lined the roads and trails. The most tenacious ones, though were the few I saw pushing up though the highway’s asphalt. And in Oregon, beautiful purple and orange starfish hung onto rocks along beaches. Their hardy legs held them steadfast as tremendous waves slammed over their bodies, and children worked to pry the starfish from their rocks.

The coastal redwoods are another example of determination. They grow miraculous burls along their trunks that sprout a new tree whenever the original tree is threatened by fire or any other force. The sequoia are equally amazing. Their thick bark is fireproof, protecting their trunks from fire. However, even when the trucks succumb to the fire and are burned through, somehow many of these trees survive. I walked into openings at the trees' base where the trunk was burnt out. When I looked up, the tree was still growing over 200 feet above me.

Here in Yosemite I see yet another example of nature’s resolve. Mountains of solid granite surround the famous Yosemite Valley. Along the top of these boulders grow trees. Their roots push right through the granite. Even though the wind blows violently, these enduring trees stand firm atop solid rock.

At Peace

When I was a kid, my family and I took yearly trips to the sequoias where we had family reunions. We all loved the rustic campground surrounded by huge sequoias. So, when my cousin Bettina invited us to meet at that same campground for another reunion, Adolfo and I jumped at the chance.

Like old times, my parents, my uncle Duane, and my cousins Bettina and Erik met us there. Unfortunately, my sister Cindy and my Aunt Glenda could not come.

This trip, though, was more than just a reunion. It was a memorial to my aunt Elaine who passed away in January. She had been disabled by MS and had been unable to walk for many years. Uncle Duane, busy caring for Aunt Elaine, had not been able to visit the sequoias, either. So this trip was dedicated to Elaine's memory. It also gave Duane a chance to visit the place they had both loved so much. It was a sad occasion for all of us, but a healing one, too.

Describing the sequoias, my cousin Erik wrote, "I find myself much more relaxed and quiet amongst them than I do anywhere else." The sequoias do have a calming effect. So, wherever you are Elaine, I hope you can finally rest in a place as peaceful as these sequoia groves.

Touring Silicon Valley

What does one do with a couple free days in the Bay Area? Sure, there are all the fantastic tourist attractions of San Francisco, the wonderful seafood and international cuisine, or the beaches and parks...

Na. Not our priority. Instead, we headed straight for Google. After all, we were visiting friends in the Silicon Valley.

Google was not difficult to find. You simply drive to Google Street and there is the red "You are here" icon from Google Maps. Nice touch.

The Google campus is huge, so the company provides Google-colored bicycles for employees to get around on. My first picture was of Adolfo with a Google bike. He didn't want to promote himself to Google employee, so he simply stood beside the bike.

We walked around buildings 41, 42, and 43. All entrances required employee badges, but I was just sure there was a visitor center somewhere. Doesn't everything have a visitor center? Finally, I stopped an employee to ask. He stood looking at me as if I were from Neptune. Finally, he answered, "This isn't Disneyland." I guess I have been on vacation too long.

So, although we were not allowed to enter the buildings, I was impressed with the campus. Google provides electric cars for employees to use as well as the bikes. They have a pool, restaurants, and a community garden.

But there is more. They have weird stuff. This pleased me. They have an on-site hair salon in a truck, a huge flamingo-eating dinosaur, and an electric bicycle that seats eight people.

Clearly the workers here have no lives outside of their jobs.

Do Texans Know How to Read?

Adolfo and I watched signs anxiously as we entered the Bay Area. We wanted to be sure that we bypassed San Francisco. It's not that we don't want to see the city, but towing a 30-foot trailer through such a congested city sounded like a nightmare. So, Adolfo followed his GPS and I followed our map book as we wound our way around the East Bay. We planned to take 580 to 880 and finally to meet up with 101 in San Jose.

Just as we approached 880, road signs became very confusing because a spaghetti of freeways all met up at the same place with green signs suggesting every possible exit. Adolfo headed for 880, but at the last moment, he got confused and took the ramp to 80. When we looked at where we were headed, we both gasped. We were headed for the Oakland Bridge that leads straight into the heart of San Francisco. I reached for my purse because the bridge requires a $8.25 toll for the truck and trailer combo. The GPS started beeping and rerouting. It showed a possible turn around if we got into the far right lane. So, we headed for the far right. There we noticed that there was no toll booth or traffic. Instead, a police officer stood hunched over the passenger window of a BMW. We realized something was wrong and decided to pull up behind them to ask for directions or forgiveness-- whichever was needed.

After waiting some time, the motorist in front was excused and the officer made his way to our truck.

"We made a mistake," I explained. "We were trying to get on 880."

"You made TWO mistakes," the officer said in a very stern voice. "You missed your exit AND you got into the Buses Only lane," he continued.

For the next ten minutes the officer lectured us on what we'd done wrong:

"I'm sure you are from California and went to school here. In California we speak English. That sign clearly reads 'Buses Only' in English. You know how to read English, don't you?"

"Yes, officer," we responded in what we hoped would be an adequately remorseful tone. To provide an explanation, Adolfo motioned toward his GPS.

"I don't want to hear anything about your GPS! There is no excuse for taking this lane. You need to use your own eyes to read the signs. They are in simple English."

"We're sorry, Sir," Adolfo said, deciding not to mention the GPS again.

"There is no way to turn around and go back. You are going into San Francisco without paying the toll. And I see you don't have a FasTrak pass. You will be receiving a $30.00 ticket in the mail." The officer explained. Then he dramatically continued, "But you have a bigger problem. It is a $400.00 fine for using the Buses Only lane."

Adolfo and I choked on that a minute while the police officer continued his rant about knowing English and how to read. Then, for some reason he asked. "Where are you from?"

When we answered that we are from Texas, the officer was caught slightly off guard. "Really?" he questioned as if thinking that being from Texas just might be a viable excuse for not knowing how to read. Then he remembered his rant and continued, "Well, people speak English in Texas, too. Have you been in this area before?"

"No, Sir." Luckily Adolfo answered because I didn't want to have to admit that I went to grad school here twenty years ago.

With Adolfo's answer, the officer took some pity on us and explained how to turn around on Treasure Island rather than going into the city. He continued with the stern voice, but didn't give us the $400.00 ticket. We were glad that the police officer was willing to take our situation into consideration and to give us directions so we wouldn't have to weave through San Francisco. Still, we hope we won't have reason to meet up with that officer again. We certainly won't be taking the Buses Only lane again--in any city.