Day 6 - Yosemite to Bridgeport 

America the Beautiful is finally used and that is the right name for it

And so to the probable highlight of the trip, Yosemite national park. Everything we had read beforehand had suggested this was going to involve crowds and queuing which was something that we had not experienced to date. The park had one of its main roads closed for maintenance during the summer and was still restricting visitor access to some extent for Covid reasons. In addition to preparing with our America the Beautiful pass, we had bought a three day pass specifically to access Yosemite. This had involved a similar exercise to queuing online to buy some popular concert tickets as there were a restricted number released for each day. Fortunately, California sits on a time zone eight hours behind the UK so the passes were released at 4 in the afternoon being 8am their time. It would have really shown some tourist dedication if they were eight hours or more ahead.

We got up at 6am and, apart from waiting at some road work traffic lights for around five minutes, entered the park after showing all our paperwork at around 7:30 or so just in time to see the first rays of morning sunshine appear across the mountains. "Wow" easily fell out of my mouth again with the sight in front of us. We had parked on the valley floor and looked up from the reflection on the brook beside the car to the pine clad hills, to the light grey stone of the imposing mountain outcrops above, which were by then just beginning to bask in the soft white light of a new day. I knew that wow could not do it justice but was the best I could offer in the good fortune of the timing of the moment we had found ourselves in. 

There are three groups of public trails in Yosemite, one to the West, one in the central valley floor where we were today and one to the North East which we planned to explore tomorrow. Each offers around four or five trails of differing intensity from a physical perspective and, okay this is I appreciate a broad-based and somewhat stereotyped statement, we were not expecting to see so many locals on any gradient beyond a gentle stroll let's say. However, it immediately became clear that Americans won't let a few pounds or more beyond their upper BMI quartile, get in the way of exploring one of the jewels of their many national parks.

The trail we were on led through some fairly steep climbs and odd slippery, gravel-strewn stretches. Space on it was at a premium. Like formula one racing drivers however, we took advantage of the considerable slipstreams in front and overtook as opportunities arose on steeper inclines and tighter corners. It became much hotter as the gentle morning sunshine gave way and stopping for water breaks had to be carefully evaluated lest we lose any advantage gained. We passed a water station where two park personnel were offering common sense advice about drinking plenty of water, the length of the trail to go, its steepness and not feeding the bears. All seemed undaunted by what they had signed up to and the long snaking line continued its, admittedly by now, slowing ascent. 

At the top of the trail was a waterfall that spectacularly plunged some hundred metres or so allowing us to look down on a rainbow created from the vast spray thrown out from crashing onto the large boulders below and illuminated from the now strong and hot midday sun. We selected another trail to return to the valley floor and shortly afterwards found a spot to have our lunch and gratefully sat down. Small furry faces began to appear just above the rocks around us and it became clear that we had attracted the attention of some of the local wildlife. These were ground squirrels which are similar to the grey squirrels we know in the UK but with a less bushy tail and some white mottled markings along their flanks. Some also had a curious habit of lying tummy down on a rock to survey the landscape in front, which strikes an unusual and not very elegant pose. 

After walking 12 miles across the two trails, the car offered a welcome return. Very tired, we sat for a few minutes and absorbed again the scenery surrounding us.

Our hotel that night was in Bridgeport unfortunately an hour or more drive away. On arrival we discovered a quintessential mid-Western piece of small-town America complete with a colonial style courthouse and jail. The elderly man on reception gave us a friendly greeting and a small white dog also appeared to join in the warmth of the welcome. As it was getting late, I asked about the eating options and he advised that there were two establishments in the town a couple of blocks down, one a diner and the other offered the same but "at fancier prices." We followed his guidance and found the former which turned out to be a sports bar called 'Rhinos', a baseball match being shown live on three large wall-mounted monitors. We sat amongst surprisingly crowded tables given this was a Tuesday night.

The Sports Bar experience

A waiter appeared and apologised that there would be some delays because the usual waiter had phoned in sick; service and direct communication, two things America had so far taught us to expect. However, time drifted on and we noticed other diners were looking quizzically about and their faces betrayed that they were wondering when their orders would be taken as well. The waiter kept appearing from the kitchen, moving at a fast pace with trays of food but seemed to be making little progress in satisfying the needs of the majority of the diners to be. Thirsty from the day, I went to the bar and ordered our drinks and stood next to a man seated at the bar who was relaxed and I guessed probably sitting in his usual place. He attracted the attention of the barmaid, and she asked me what I wanted. The drinks were poured and I paid but overheard on leaving the bar, "I did not expect that." Maybe in a sports bar they bet on things other than the sport?

A lady appeared in the dining area carrying food. Dressed in an apron, we presumed she was one of the kitchen staff and, similarly, having to help out on duties that were not her usual ones. After taking her meals to one of the tables she began to look around. Sensing an opportunity to move up the queue and place an order, I caught her attention and she came over. I explained that we were still waiting for our order to be taken and she immediately exclaimed, "Jesus Christ!" The waiter came back very quickly, asked what we wanted and our food arrived around five minutes after that. Our faith in the service ethic of this country restored, we walked back to our hotel and slept soundly with full stomachs.