Yosemite in September - Part 1 (Lower Yosemite Fall)

Friday was an impatient kid in the backseat of Mr. and Mrs. Weekend's minivan repeatedly asking, "Are we there yet?"

Saturday was the hysterical mother screaming, "Do you want a time-out? Do you? Ask that one more time and I... Okay, that's it, I'm pulling over! Five-minute time-out!"

Sunday was the matter-of-fact father saying over the cheering child, "See, if we had left him at the kennel like I suggested, there'd be no need to tie him to the roof rack."

That was my weekend - a blue Ford Aerostar speeding down the highway at 85 miles per hour. It just flew by.

M and I were in Yosemite from Friday through Sunday. The weekend after Labor Day is the time to go. Temperatures may be on the high side, but the number of visitors drops precipitously, at least the number of American visitors does.

The park had a definite international flavor this weekend. I heard no less than half-a-dozen languages spoken. In order of popularity, Spanish, German, English, and Japanese were the languages of choice.

An observational aside: Spanish-speaking visitors seemed to stay close to camp, large families hanging near the river and picnic sites. German-speaking visitors were often rugged young men who looked like they had spent days climbing or backpacking and were making a quick stop at the village store for supplies before heading back for more.

The big adventure on Friday was climbing to the base of Lower Yosemite Fall. It's the second time I've done it.

Last time, dozens of people were crawling over boulders and jumping into pools. This time, there were only two other guys bounding about. For a while, I had the entire waterfall to myself (if you don't count the mosquitoes).

From a distance, the waterfall appears to have dried up, but a closer look reveals the truth. Yosemite Falls continues to trickle like a giant leaky granite faucet.

Climbing in the waterfall is both fun and infuriating to me. It's fun because, well, it's like playing in a giant playground that has failed a safety inspection. Scampering over boulders large enough to crush you and everybody in your fave five is more than half the fun. Technically, it's 65% of the fun. The other 35% is the part where you survive the scampering unscathed.

It's infuriating because while I'm hopping from boulder to boulder, I come across discarded trash. People leave behind empty drink bottles, wrappers, socks, and other items. They treat what is one of the wonders of the world like a garbage bin. It's maddening to see.

I picked up whatever would fit in my backpack to recycle when I got back to the viewing bridge. It's apparent that some people still haven't gotten the concept of Leave No Trace through their heads. If I could, I would make the litterbugs spend a day picking up trash in the park.

On Saturday, I hiked to the top of North Dome by way of Upper Yosemite Fall. It was a 16.5-mile round-trip trek with views almost worth every step and slip. (A few less slips and it would have been completely worth it.) An entry packed with special features like words and photos will be up tomorrow.

Sunday was a day for relaxing and recovering. We moseyed around the valley and pretended to be posh at The Ahwahnee (as posh as one can be in hiking shorts and Tevas) before finally surrendering and returning the demands of the "real world" beyond the park's borders.