Hiking and Learning in Yosemite's High Country (Now this is my kind of class...) Text by Susan Seiling Photographs by John Eaton I'm one of those people who always thinks about taking a class, but never actually signs up. One week, I'm convinced I need swing dancing lessons. The next week, I'm looking up ceramics classes in the Yellow Pages. I receive catalogs and newsletters from countless workshop centers, and dream about all the different things I could learn--if I only took the time. Last winter, I was posting the YA seminar classes online, working in my dark office, feeling sedentary in my ergonomically correct desk chair, when I became enchanted: High Country Day Hikes. Three long hikes in Yosemite's high country with a naturalist. We'd go to North Dome, Mono Pass and Gaylor Lakes: areas I'd heard about, but never actually took the energy to see. If I signed up for the class, I'd be sure to go. Before I had the chance to second-guess myself, I pulled out my American Express, and signed up for the August course. We arrived in Tuolumne Meadows late on a Thursday afternoon--just in time for a quick meeting, supper, and rest before our initial dayhike: North Dome. Situated on the North Rim of Yosemite Valley, directly across from Half Dome, North Dome is accessible by three routes: One leads from the valley floor and involves rigorous, unforgiving switchbacks up the Snow Creek Trail. Another route involves scaling the valley walls with rock-climbing equipment: a feat I'm not prepared for. The third method, Our chosen route, leads from Tioga Pass down to North Dome by a meandering downhill trail only 3-4 miles each way. It was on this hike that I realized the benefits of hiking with a naturalist. Lisa Strong-Aufhauser was our instructor. A seasoned Sierra hiker, Lisa lived in Yosemite for several years and taught for the Yosemite Institute as a naturalist. With her assistance, flowers I always refered to as "the white ones" and "those purple daisy things" became Mariposa Lilies and Asters. She taught us how to key out wildflowers and coniferous trees. She had us taste the berries of a manzanita bush (which would only taste good as a tea); had us snuggle up to a Jeffrey pine to smell the butterscotch vanilla scent; and showed us how to use a key to determine the type of tree/flower/bush we were admiring. Learning about the flora brought an entirely different aspect into hiking in Yosemite. I suddenly felt smarter (which is always a good way to ensure participants have a good time). It was like going into a crowd of people--it feels a lot different if you know individual names, instead of approaching a mass of faces. The second hike took us up the gradual incline that leads from Tuolumne Meadows to Mono Pass. The morning was brisk enough to warrant mittens, and the mud along the trail had crystalized; ice seemed to grow like fur on Tuolumne Meadows. By now we were familiar with each other--there was Jeff, a psychologist/golfer from Santa Barbara; Derrick, who works for the City of Sacramento; Meredith, a computer programmer from Silicon Valley; John, a native of Britain who now lives and works in the Bay area; Mallory, who was a ranger from the Grand Canyon--just to name a few. And I don't know any of their last names, but I do know their "nature names." As a way to remember each other's names, Lisa had us concuct nature names for ourselves. There was Jeff Jeffrey Pine, Derrick Duff (who initially called himself Derrick Downpour, then decided it didn't bode well for our hikes), Lisa Lake, Mallory Mariposa Lily, Meredith Marmot, and me...Susan Stream. At Mono Pass, there are several wooden cabins that were from the early mining days. As you looked East, you could see the high sierran desert, and a glacial lake, resting just below the cabins. It was the sort of place that inspired our imaginations--I envisioned myself as a pioneer, who was staying in these shelters, drinking water from the lake below (such dreaming makes me glad I live in the year 2000, with flush toilets, clif bars and fresh fruit readily available from the general store in Tuolumne Meadows). We enjoyed that hike so much, we had to stretch out and take a nap--feeling the wind blow over our knees, and our lunches warming our bellies, we felt quite content. I've never been with a group of 12 people--in the middle of the back country--with everyone resting soundly. It was peaceful. The kind of memory that makes me want to leave the desk I'm sitting at, and return to that specific point in time. The next day, we hiked up to Gaylor Lakes. The hike requires you to scale a steep incline for about 20 minutes--a very short workout, considering the view at the top: the Cathedral Range stretches like a great backdrop and a series of lakes, tucked in above Tuolumne Meadows, sparkle below. We hiked down to the lakes, and since our group had dropped in size considerably (there were only 8 of us on the hike that day), we decided to cross country hike to Upper and Lower Granite Lake. As you sit at Granite Lake, it's easy to see where the glaciers once were. The lake rests at the bottom of a steep cliff that wraps around it like a half bowl. At one point in time, a glacier must have filled up the entire bowl, and as it melted and moved, it scraped away the rock, until it became a lake with piles of boulders and scree surrounding it. After taking in the scenery at Granite Lake, we decided to visit an old mine. We scaled up the cliffs surrounding us, and within 45 minutes, we were discovered an old house, made out of metamorphic rock stacked 3 feet thick and 8 feet high. As we explored, we found a few other remains of buildings, and a deep, dark mysterious pit, which was the former mine shaft. An hour later, and we were back at our cars, ready to return to our "real" lives. But those days in Tuolumne Meadows felt more "real" than most. In three days, I saw parts of Yosemite I'd never explored; I learned about Yosemite's natural history and human history; and I realized the merits of hiking with a group of people who love Yosemite--people find its scenery as fulfilling, invigorating and intriguing as I do. And as I post the seminars for 2001, I'm finding myself searching my purse for my American Express card, ready to experience those days yet once again.