Greetings readers. Allow me to regale you with the tale of a secret entrance into the enormously popular and famously congested Yosemite National Park.

This 11.6 mile route begins at Fish Camp, California located just outside the southeast entrance of Yosemite National Park. After proceeding through lovely Fish Camp the road quickly turns to dirt and our adventure begins. 

Although the roads have names they are not signed.

For my journey I chose a mountain bike – specifically an all carbon mountain bike with 29 inch wheels, rigid frame and front suspension fork. In the parlance of mountain biking it is a “hardtail niner”. I do not ride e-bikes – not yet anyhow. There is no shame in that game, though I am proud to still be able to ride a “me-bike”, not an “e-bike”.

Soon into my journey I encountered an Ensatina, or salamander. It is very unusual to see these fellows on the move in June. More often they are taking shelter in burrows or under leaf litter. This guy looked healthy although a little beat up. It appears he has lost his tail.

After a short climb, the road descends all the way to Wawona, where the decrepit but at a distance welcoming Wawona Hotel can be found. There is also a nine hole golf course here. At some point in the history of our National Parks, promoters felt there had to be additional attractions like a ski resort or golf course in order to lure visitors to the parks. Yosemite has one of each.

During my journey I did not encounter any people. I did pass a lovely swimming hole. My entrance into Yosemite National Park was marked by this sign.

There were no lines. There were no rangers. It was cool, quiet and green. 

Once I arrived in Wawona I decided to ride a trail that travels around “Big Meadow”. This is one of the few trails in Yosemite that allows bikes and dogs. Bikes and dogs, together! I soon encountered two leashed dogs. I stopped to praise the dogs and their owners for their good behavior and to spread goodwill among us multiple use trail gentry when the elder of the two dogs bit me in the shin.

As I have very little flesh covering my shin bone, the old dog’s teeth couldn’t really get much purchase so its teeth just sort of bounced off and I sustained only a minor scratch.

I routed my journey so that it would end at the Wawona General Store where I knew I would find big cans of beer from the good people at Jackrabbit Brewing, who have a long history of limited releases. Every time I visit the store there is a new beer to try. The last time I was here it was “Trees Are Dope IPA”. This time it was “Mount Hazemore”.

After drinking my beer on the shore of the Merced River’s south fork I took my usual celebratory swim (perfect water temperature – cool, but not cold) and was then joined by Poppy and Karen for a lunch of PB&J with generous sides of potato chips.

The next day Karen, Poppy and I drove out to Glacier Point to get the lay of the land. One of my fellow Americans pointed to an overhanging ledge and asked his friends “Isn’t that the rock people used to stand on?” Someone in the group replied “I think so. But you can’t anymore.” Finally, a third member of the group said “Trump is president now. We can do whatever we want!” Considering the president’s liberal pardon policy that last statement might be true.

At this point I had a Walter Mitty moment and fell into a trance.

My imagination went wild. In my dream state, I imagined the whole group – two men and two women – asking me to take their picture while they climbed over the railing onto the overhanging granite slab. Once they were all situated on the slab, they held hands and jumped up into the air. Timing was important. I kept taking the picture too late to capture the whole group with their feet off the ground. “Try again!” I yelled enthusiastically. “Ah, shucks. We have to try again! One, two, three – JUMP!” Up and down they jumped. Their red baseball caps were perched jauntily on their heads. Finally, I got the shot! It was perfect! As they came down, an explosive crack startled the visitors who had by then gathered around. The slab gave way. One by one the unfortunate Americans tumbled into the abyss, 3,200 feet above Curry Village. They tumbled through space, slowly rotating around a variety of axes as they clawed ineffectually at the air. It was fascinating. I switched from photo to video. Their expressions ran the gamut from shocked to confused to terrified. The fall takes fourteen seconds. Alas, I couldn’t see their faces as realization set in – the realization that in America we have guard rails for a reason. Fortunately, no one on the ground was injured by the falling masses. Fittingly, all four bodies came to rest on a now severely damaged Tesla Cybertruck.

From very far away I heard someone speaking. “Dave? Dave? Are you okay? Wow, where did you go, honey?” It was Karen. When I regained my sense of place and time, the group of red hatted Americans were gone. Where did they go? Who knows. It is a free country after all.

For this visit we camped at a four star National Forest Service campground near Fish Camp called Summerdale. It was lovely.

Even lovelier were the campground hosts Holly and Jim. Holly and Jim have been married for 36 years. When Jim asked me (from his golf cart strewn with American flags) about my bike ride I assured him that with a full charge he could probably complete it in his golf cart. “There is a short climb and then it is all downhill”, I said. “Sounds like my marriage!” he replied. It was difficult to pass Jim without hearing about the state of his marriage to Holly. She would laugh, slap him on the shoulder and exclaim “Hey!” They are very much in love and were the best campground hosts I have yet come across.

Some final culinary notes:

The Fish Camp General Store makes a good sando.

Reimer’s Candies and Ice Cream (in Oakhurst) has an Affogato made with homemade ice cream and fresh espresso. I had a double: one scoop of vanilla ice cream, one scoop of coffee ice cream, both doused with a double shot of espresso then covered with whipped cream.

Thank you for joining me on this little adventure.

One additional Yosemite secret: even while facing budget cuts, staffing cuts and demoralizing attacks from the executive branch, the National Park Service staff that keep Yosemite safe and clean remain overwhelmingly positive. While at Glacier Point I witnessed a National Park Service employee earnestly answer visitor questions about Half Dome while pumping out a septic tank.

Note: There were no other personnel, volunteer or otherwise, to answer questions about the view from Glacier Point. I overheard many a good question though.

I did not enter any visitor centers during this most recent trip to Yosemite, but I often do. They always elicit a warm and fuzzy sensation from deep in my nervous system, like the smell of homemade bread baking. I can not therefore report on whether or not Yosemite National Park has fulfilled a recent executive order to post the following message:

(Fill in the Blank) National Park belongs to the American people, and the National Park Service wants your feedback. Please let us know if you have identified (1) any areas that need repair; (2) any services that need improvement; or (3) any signs or other information that are negative about either past or living Americans or that fail to emphasize the beauty, grandeur, and abundance of landscapes and other natural features.

To make a submission, please visit go.nps.gov/eo14253.

I intend to make a submission at the above website regarding how inappropriate it is to shy away from the negative aspects of past Americans. We are not perfect. We never will be. Our goal is to continue to strive to form a more perfect union. How can we do that without facing past mistakes and learning from an accurate and honest historical accounting?

The route Karen, Poppy and I took to arrive at Yosemite National Park is roughly the same route that the Mariposa Battalion took in 1851. They were the first white people to see Yosemite. Army surgeon Lafayette Bunnell was a member of that party.

“The grandeur of the scene,” Bunnell recalled, “was but softened by the haze that hung over the valley,—light as gossamer—and by the clouds which partially dimmed the higher cliffs and mountains. This obscurity of vision but increased the awe with which I beheld it, and as I looked, a peculiar exalted sensation seemed to fill my whole being, and I found my eyes in tears with emotion.”

It should come as no surprise that the purpose of the Mariposa Battalion was not exploration, but the removal of the Ahwahneechee (“people of Ahwahnee”) from the area. (You might recall how in 2019 the Ahwahnee Hotel was renamed the “Majestic Yosemite Hotel” after a trademark dispute. After a settlement was reached, it went back to being called the Ahwahnee.) Who were the Ahwahnee and what happened to them? That’s a fair question. Or we could just go back to calling it the Majestic Yosemite Hotel. But then again, even the origin of the word “yosemite” is fraught. (Bunnell adopted it from the Southern Miwok word “yohhe’meti” which he thought meant “grizzly bear” when it was actually how the Southern Miwok referred to the Ahwahneechee: “band of killers”.)

So, history is “fraught”: “filled with or accompanied by something unpleasant or difficult, like problems, dangers, or emotional distress.” There is no way around it. But fraught history is also interesting and illuminating.

I must confess I love interpretive signs and feel like I have to read every single one of them. I can’t say I have ever been shocked or offended by any National Park signage. And I almost always learn something new.

The aforementioned executive order is but a minor issue. It is a manufactured culture war – a ploy to distract us from bigger issues, like the “one, big beautiful bill” that is now on its way to the Senate for approval. Included in that bill is a mandate to sell off three million acres of public land by 2030. The map below shows those National Forest and Bureau of Land Management areas that will be eligible for liquidation. Please let your senators know how you feel about that.

Stay healthy but keep your head in the game. By far the best tonic for these trying times is to go outside. Be sure to regularly turn off your phone and find a nice tree to sit under or even better a gurgling stream to nap by.

Need to know: If you drive this road in a motor vehicle, upon arriving at Wawona you may or may not encounter a closed gate across the road. Either way, be sure to pay your entrance fees. All visitors should also become members of the Yosemite Conservancy. The Yosemite Conservancy is Yosemite’s official philanthropic partner and cooperating association. They work closely with the park to fund high-priority projects and provide enriching educational programs.