Captain’s Log Big, Dumb Rocks

Vast.

Magnificent. 

Feeble words to describe the breathtaking beauty that is the part of our country we modern people call Yosemite National Park. 

The Drama Queen and I are here for a wedding – Finn and Kate are getting married, which makes Sloanie the last sibling to get hitched. Just one more thing they’ve beaten her to, as the back of her hand rests gently on her forehead and a breathy, eye-rolling southern drawl bemoans her lot in life.

That she is the youngest by nine years is lost on her. They are super-over-achievers who have left a wake of successful footsteps for her to tiptoe through. 

But back to the wedding. Beautiful, breathtaking. What words are left to describe what it is to sit next to a river at the feet of the famous El Capitan all dressed up, with your favorite people, and toast to wedded bliss? It was unreal. And quite enjoyable.

Getting there was also amazing – hyped up on excitement, running away from real life for a few days, anticipating getting to see Yosemite, which we never had. As soon as we saw Half Dome, of course I had to pull over and take pictures. The Drama Queen was completely put out but dutifully posed for selfies in front of the vista. Once we got to our cabin, and everyone asked how the trip went, she said it was fine, but I made her stop for pictures in front of some “Big, Dumb Rock.” 

Yesterday the moms and the groom got up in the dark, made hot bean juice, and traipsed down the valley to Tunnel View – a typically perfectly build National Park-type parking lot on the southwest side of Yosemite Valley, full of tourists who also had the same idea – to come watch the sunrise over the big, dumb rocks. 

It’s a natural amphitheater, a stage of the grandest kind, a set like no other. As the audience in the parking lot, to our left, but what would be Stage Right is El Capitan, and then panning to Stage Left, our right is the Valley, Half Dome, Sentinel Rock, Cathedral Rock, and Bridal Falls. It is the view Ansel Adams made famous with his iconic photography, something we’ve all seen a thousand times, but until you’re there in person with busloads of humanity and seeing it for the first time, you’ve never really seen it. 

Juxtapose the magnificence of nature with the absolutely primitive access to the modern world through extremely limited Wi-Fi. 

When you have to run a paper, this is a major concern. There are no down days, and even though you have a spectacular team back home to make sure it all happens, you want to remain accessible to them should the wheels fall off. Or honestly, you just want to be available so you don’t feel like such a slacker, running off and leaving them all the work.

Our cabin instruction manual actually had a page where the Wi-Fi password would have been that just had a picture of a cell phone with a big red circle and “This unit has no Wi-Fi” message. We all stood there staring at that page and then nervously glancing at each other, with the limitations gradually dawning on us. 

The next page in the manual was a map showing the location of the complimentary “Wi-Fi Lounge,” but accessible only by going back up the mountain on the switchback road. 

We had to let the world know – well the newspaper know – that we were going to be out of reach for a couple days, so up we went, in search of the lounge. Both the Drama Queen and I can still read a real map, but it took some driving around the spot before we realized what we were looking for was just a wide spot on the road where two cell phone dishes were mounted on steel posts next to the bear-protected dumpsters. We only recognized it by the picnic table. 

We use the term “lounge” loosely.

So, while we appreciate the beauty of the Big Dumb Rocks and marry these kids off, we’ll be right here…at the dumpster…

…Keeping you Posted.

Rach