Yosemite, Here I Come

The author on Yosemite Point with Half Dome behind.

In Fresno, the bus schedules to get to and from Yosemite are not aligned with the city busses.

The first leaves town at 5:30 AM, the second leaves at seven something.

I could have called up a rideshare service, but I can eat for a week on twenty bucks, so I thought, “Which is more valuable? Six days of food outside or one six-mile ride to the bus station?”

I walked. That was Thursday morning, 11 July 2024.

I am a walking fool. I have walked everywhere my whole life. I even have had jobs to which I walked ten miles there or back every day. Not both ways though. Again, it was because there was no public transport at that time of night.

I always see walking as an option to get anywhere, and I mean, “anywhere.”

I would like to walk across the country, for example. I do not think I will do that in the time I have though because there are so many other walks to do. Also, I do not like sharing the road with cars, and I would have to do that to push a cart. Maybe if I can figure out a route without cars.

Regardless, I say all that to indicate I am not “normal” when it comes to walking. Walking six or so miles across town with a backpack to the Amtrak station where the busses all go now is no big deal.

It gave me a shakedown cruise to test my new boots out and see how the load felt on my shoulders.

Fine. Boots a little stiff. No hotspots. Pack straps not quite right. They never were with that pack, but so long as the load was under thirty pounds, I could deal with the way they dug in at two spots on my chest. I brought some foam pad and duct tape to make some experiments there.

The whole trip was meant to be a shakedown cruise. I was testing a lot of gear, and I was testing my own strength, stamina, and discipline.

The week before, I had my van break down in Yosemite on the way up!

That cost me seven hundred buck in towing. Triple A was not honored by two companies! I was parked on the side of the road for three nights before I could get a truck to haul me out too. It was fine. I was in a beautiful spot by a river, and I had plenty of supplies. The van was comfy to sleep in too.

But I was stuck. Fixing the van, no big deal, really, for me, but it would cost me all my spare money, and I’d be stuck in Fresno again with a great van I could not drive anywhere because I was broke.

So before I fixed the van, I looked at busses to Yosemite. I found out that a round trip ticket for the Fresno-Yosemite run was only twenty bucks!

For the cost of a fuel pump, I could get a bus ticket and food for two weeks.

It was off to the mountains then.

I am considering selling the van. It is not giving me freedom. Quite the opposite.

Also, it burns gasoline, and petroleum based fuel is disgusting. I feel degraded every time I fire it up. A great campmobile, sure, but what use is anything you cannot trust? Where next will I get stranded with a three thousand pound tent?

All I did was park it and walk anyway.

I am mid-thought about all this.

Meantime, our topic: Load the pack and head out. No stops.

I did that instead of working on the van. It was a smart play. I got lots of material for art production, and my costs went to a tenth. I stayed out from Thursday night to Saturday of the next week without buying anything but a coffee at the Yosemite Village deli. That was a treat. I still had some instant coffee left, but it was Peet’s Coffee! I like their dark roast drip.

That part of my plan worked well.

And that is why I was walking to the bus with a backpack in Fresno.

Some impressions…

Getting into the old Van Ness area on Gettysburg, I saw to me left facing me a Ford SUV that looked rather like a sheriff’s car, but I could not quite see the sides. There was some shrubbery. I was approaching the street it was on. Yes, I could see that particular green stripe on the side now. But the engine was off and there were no lights.

This being my hood, I knew no deputy lived there. Odd!

Just as I was crossing his direct front, the asshole blasted me with his lights!

Cops do that. They like to startle you. I know why. I actually understand. People with guilty consciences will over-react; they can use that.

I, however, was glad my right eye had remained in shadow so as not to lose my night vision. After that, as I walked, I waved to every single cop I saw stopped.

That is a new thing with me because I generally do not like police because I do not like stupid and rude bullies.

I have to confess that though that remains true, I keep meeting cops who are polite and kind to me, so my anarchist soul is a bit muddled on the topic for the moment.

Nevertheless, I have never feared police, not even the malicious punks that get into some forces.

I sure saw a lot of them as I walked to the train station. My bus was to be there at 5:30 AM.*

I am not sure of the exact distance. I always say, “six miles.” It feels like eight!

It is a good, long walk.

Six miles, eight miles, however long it is, I walked right down the main street this time. The “Y” at Abbey and Blackstone turns one-way. I had not walked that region in years. This is cheap hotel row with all the prostitutes. I purposely wanted to walk through that seedy part.

But even there, after four in the morning, things quiet down.

Any other highlights?

Ah.

I sat right at the edge of the canal about an eighth oh a mile from Shields. The water was so high! Then, when I noticed my time, I flt I had to book it, now, and I did.

That was probably the fastest walking I did the whole trip.

I know. Short post. This is a post between posts to keep the flow up. I got a bunch in various draft stages. Don’t be shy! Drop a comment. It’s moderated by yours truly, ad I am nice to nice people.

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* I always want to use the four digit 24-hour clock, so here, 0530. It’s fucking efficient! But it is hard to read the PM times without practice, and we have stories to tell, so I revert to the archaic form for my dear readers.]