Back to blogging at last
Apologies for the absence: I was in the UK for a week, and was then very busy on my return. Apologies should also be made for the fact that this will be a long one… are you sitting comfortably?
After being awoken early in the morning by a small earthquake and then enduring a caffeine-fuelled day at work on 20th July, I caught a shuttle to the airport, only to find that there were delays and huge queues as a result of the “severe” weather in London. I kept myself entertained while waiting and during the flight by talking to anyone that would listen, including, it would seem, about half the workforce of Google. Upon arrival in London – following a trip on the super-expensive but super-convenient Heathrow Express – I got my first dousing with rain as I tried to figure out how to get to Susie’s place. In spite of the fact that I was delirious with fatigue, we had a lovely evening, as my friend Emily came with her fiancé Emmet and we all went out for a long-awaited gourmet curry. The rest of the week was filled with a few torrential rain showers and many emotional reunions with friends and family: a marvellous barbecue at Dan and Michelle’s – attended by many friends – on the Sunday, during which the weather thankfully played ball and the rain held off; three days in Chesterfield visiting my mum and dad, brothers and aunty as well as Jon’s granny, not forgetting the new dog; then a couple of days visiting Jon’s dad and Pam (step-mum) in Devon, accompanied by a trip to the lovely north Cornish coast and Tintagel. We ended the week with the wedding of our university friends Andy and Dipika: a civil ceremony followed by a Hindu one at a beautiful converted barn near Bicester, Oxon. Again, the weather stayed fine when it mattered, and it was wonderful to catch up with so many chums again.
We returned to a foggy week in San Francisco (just as the weather apparently turned truly glorious in England!), so decided to escape for the weekend to Yosemite, as a group of friends were heading over there. I caught the BART (metro/train) over to the East Bay so that Jon could pick me up there instead of having to drive all the way back to the city from his office in Alameda. I chose a station in Oakland, where, it turned out, there was nowhere to park, so Jon pulled up at the side of the road – without getting out – to wait for me. Unfortunately, it happened to be a bus stop, and within about one minute (I’m not exaggerating) of being there, a police car had pulled up and was writing out a ticket for a $250 (£125) “parking” fine! I couldn’t help thinking that surely the police had better things to do: Oakland, not undeservedly, has the reputation of being a somewhat “sketchy” place – undoubtedly someone somewhere was being shot while the police department were engaged in collecting levies from law-abiding non-citizens.
The journey was otherwise unremarkable, and we arrived at our cabin in Groveland with enough time to spare to check out the local saloon and its interestingly named Friday night rock act, “Hot Daddy”. It was then up very early the next morning to head into the valley (some 50 miles away) to secure a pitch at the campsite. There is just one walk-in campground in the valley: all the others are booked up six months in advance at weekends, so the early start and long wait in line is the only option for those with a more spontaneous outlook on life. While waiting to register, a rumour went around that a car that had been trashed by a bear in the car-park. Of course, I went off to investigate. The car turned out to be only three along from ours. The driver’s side door frame had been pulled back, the window smashed, the back seat ripped to shreds and one of the rear speakers completely pulled out. It was hard to believe that a bear had done all this.
Our wait for a pitch was rewarded, and we all got a spot together on the northern edge of the campground, backed by thousands of feet of granite wall. Having pitched the tents, we headed out for brunch, then spent the afternoon by and in the deliciously cold Merced River: swimming, sunbathing, playing frisbee and splashing around in Cassie’s inflatable raft. After a nice beer it was back to the campsite to cook a barbecue.
Following the event of the previous night, I was determined to bear-proof the car. Instructions are posted everywhere you look to remove all food and toiletries (the furry beasts are apparently attracted by anything strong-smelling), and I had heard horror stories of people having their cars broken into for such items as discarded wrappers and chewing gum. I had almost completed a sweep of the entire vehicle, then finally came to the arm-rest, which conceals a cup-holder. That is when I made the tantalising scientific discovery that if you heat a forgotten can of Coke up to a high enough temperature by leaving it in a hot car all day, it will eventually explode. Suddenly the car became a bear-magnet, and I found myself wondering how those lovely plush leather seats would hold up to vigorous clawing. We cleaned up as best we could, but I was already mentally rehearsing the undoubtedly fruitless conversation with the insurance company.
After a superb barbecue, we retreated to our tents, where I found the new Thermorest I’d purchased to be remarkably comfortable. In spite of my earlier fears, I was drifting into a slumber when I became aware of a car alarm going off. I then heard some shouting and clapping, which I attributed to the high jinks of fellow campers. A few minutes later there was a shout just a few feet from the tent, “Black bear – right there!”, then … I joke not … “Go, bear, go!” It turned out to be a group of rangers, evidently tasked with scaring bears off. By the time we’d managed to scramble out of the tent, there was no bear to be seen, just a very starry night. As I stood in the cool darkness, wondering what to do next, I saw a meteor streak across the sky.
Needless to say, I didn’t get much – if any – sleep that night. I was just remarkably relieved when the sun came up and we found everyone, including the car, safe and sound. We packed up the camping stuff and headed out on a fairly short hike to Mirror Lake and beyond into Tenaya Canyon. We were much bemused as we were initially unable to find the lake: what I remember as being a large expanse of glassy water in the spring of 1999 had almost entirely dried up. It was a pretty hike, however, which we rounded off with another welcome cool-off in the river.
Heading home in the car, we decided to try playing the iPod, filled with trepidation as the cable input is positioned inside the Coke-bespattered arm-rest. Amazingly, it worked. The other potential casualty was the remote for the garage door. This had to be broken: it was swimming in liquid. Almost unfathomably, it functioned perfectly well when we returned, at last and somewhat relieved, to the apartment block. Yosemite is a wonderful place, but I have yet to enjoy a stress-free experience there!
Photos of the UK visit and the latest foray into Yosemite Valley are available at http://public.fotki.com/EllenHardwick/ (password: moocow).
After being awoken early in the morning by a small earthquake and then enduring a caffeine-fuelled day at work on 20th July, I caught a shuttle to the airport, only to find that there were delays and huge queues as a result of the “severe” weather in London. I kept myself entertained while waiting and during the flight by talking to anyone that would listen, including, it would seem, about half the workforce of Google. Upon arrival in London – following a trip on the super-expensive but super-convenient Heathrow Express – I got my first dousing with rain as I tried to figure out how to get to Susie’s place. In spite of the fact that I was delirious with fatigue, we had a lovely evening, as my friend Emily came with her fiancé Emmet and we all went out for a long-awaited gourmet curry. The rest of the week was filled with a few torrential rain showers and many emotional reunions with friends and family: a marvellous barbecue at Dan and Michelle’s – attended by many friends – on the Sunday, during which the weather thankfully played ball and the rain held off; three days in Chesterfield visiting my mum and dad, brothers and aunty as well as Jon’s granny, not forgetting the new dog; then a couple of days visiting Jon’s dad and Pam (step-mum) in Devon, accompanied by a trip to the lovely north Cornish coast and Tintagel. We ended the week with the wedding of our university friends Andy and Dipika: a civil ceremony followed by a Hindu one at a beautiful converted barn near Bicester, Oxon. Again, the weather stayed fine when it mattered, and it was wonderful to catch up with so many chums again.
We returned to a foggy week in San Francisco (just as the weather apparently turned truly glorious in England!), so decided to escape for the weekend to Yosemite, as a group of friends were heading over there. I caught the BART (metro/train) over to the East Bay so that Jon could pick me up there instead of having to drive all the way back to the city from his office in Alameda. I chose a station in Oakland, where, it turned out, there was nowhere to park, so Jon pulled up at the side of the road – without getting out – to wait for me. Unfortunately, it happened to be a bus stop, and within about one minute (I’m not exaggerating) of being there, a police car had pulled up and was writing out a ticket for a $250 (£125) “parking” fine! I couldn’t help thinking that surely the police had better things to do: Oakland, not undeservedly, has the reputation of being a somewhat “sketchy” place – undoubtedly someone somewhere was being shot while the police department were engaged in collecting levies from law-abiding non-citizens.
The journey was otherwise unremarkable, and we arrived at our cabin in Groveland with enough time to spare to check out the local saloon and its interestingly named Friday night rock act, “Hot Daddy”. It was then up very early the next morning to head into the valley (some 50 miles away) to secure a pitch at the campsite. There is just one walk-in campground in the valley: all the others are booked up six months in advance at weekends, so the early start and long wait in line is the only option for those with a more spontaneous outlook on life. While waiting to register, a rumour went around that a car that had been trashed by a bear in the car-park. Of course, I went off to investigate. The car turned out to be only three along from ours. The driver’s side door frame had been pulled back, the window smashed, the back seat ripped to shreds and one of the rear speakers completely pulled out. It was hard to believe that a bear had done all this.
Our wait for a pitch was rewarded, and we all got a spot together on the northern edge of the campground, backed by thousands of feet of granite wall. Having pitched the tents, we headed out for brunch, then spent the afternoon by and in the deliciously cold Merced River: swimming, sunbathing, playing frisbee and splashing around in Cassie’s inflatable raft. After a nice beer it was back to the campsite to cook a barbecue.
Following the event of the previous night, I was determined to bear-proof the car. Instructions are posted everywhere you look to remove all food and toiletries (the furry beasts are apparently attracted by anything strong-smelling), and I had heard horror stories of people having their cars broken into for such items as discarded wrappers and chewing gum. I had almost completed a sweep of the entire vehicle, then finally came to the arm-rest, which conceals a cup-holder. That is when I made the tantalising scientific discovery that if you heat a forgotten can of Coke up to a high enough temperature by leaving it in a hot car all day, it will eventually explode. Suddenly the car became a bear-magnet, and I found myself wondering how those lovely plush leather seats would hold up to vigorous clawing. We cleaned up as best we could, but I was already mentally rehearsing the undoubtedly fruitless conversation with the insurance company.
After a superb barbecue, we retreated to our tents, where I found the new Thermorest I’d purchased to be remarkably comfortable. In spite of my earlier fears, I was drifting into a slumber when I became aware of a car alarm going off. I then heard some shouting and clapping, which I attributed to the high jinks of fellow campers. A few minutes later there was a shout just a few feet from the tent, “Black bear – right there!”, then … I joke not … “Go, bear, go!” It turned out to be a group of rangers, evidently tasked with scaring bears off. By the time we’d managed to scramble out of the tent, there was no bear to be seen, just a very starry night. As I stood in the cool darkness, wondering what to do next, I saw a meteor streak across the sky.
Needless to say, I didn’t get much – if any – sleep that night. I was just remarkably relieved when the sun came up and we found everyone, including the car, safe and sound. We packed up the camping stuff and headed out on a fairly short hike to Mirror Lake and beyond into Tenaya Canyon. We were much bemused as we were initially unable to find the lake: what I remember as being a large expanse of glassy water in the spring of 1999 had almost entirely dried up. It was a pretty hike, however, which we rounded off with another welcome cool-off in the river.
Heading home in the car, we decided to try playing the iPod, filled with trepidation as the cable input is positioned inside the Coke-bespattered arm-rest. Amazingly, it worked. The other potential casualty was the remote for the garage door. This had to be broken: it was swimming in liquid. Almost unfathomably, it functioned perfectly well when we returned, at last and somewhat relieved, to the apartment block. Yosemite is a wonderful place, but I have yet to enjoy a stress-free experience there!
Photos of the UK visit and the latest foray into Yosemite Valley are available at http://public.fotki.com/EllenHardwick/ (password: moocow).
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