My family history in the Eastern Sierra and Yosemite
dates back almost eighty years. In 1938, while on a hiatus from living
in prewar Los Angeles, my fraternal grandmother, Dorothy met her
second husband John A. McCollum there. At that time, he was helping
construct U.S. Highway 395 near Bridgeport, California. They fell in love, were married and for the next fifty years returned to fish for trout in Gardisky Lake and Saddlebag Lake near the Tioga Road. In 1944, my mother, Phyllis married my father, Loron N. McGillis. For their honeymoon, in December of that year, they chose Yosemite Valley.
In 1959, I got my first taste of Yosemite National Park and nearby Mono County. For several nights, our family of five camped in Yosemite Valley. When we naively set out one morning to climb the Yosemite Falls Trail,
we took no water or food. By the time we reached the base of the main
falls, we were hot, tired and dehydrated. When my father wisely made
the decision to turn back, at infamous Columbia Rock, I refused to move. The lure of the giant waterfall was too strong for me to admit defeat and return to our campsite.
At night, bears would roam the campgrounds, silently looking for food.
On our final morning in Yosemite Valley, a neighboring camper showed me
where a bear had licked the side window of his old truck. There had
been a melon sitting on the front seat, but bears and people were more
naïve in those days. Instead of smashing the window and taking the
melon, the California Black Bear walked around our sleeping bags and
headed back to his or her domain.
When we left Yosemite Valley, we drove up Highway 120, heading for Tioga Pass
and the town of Lee Vining, California on the far side. Although it
was late June, there was still snow in the high country. Two years
later, in 1961,
construction crews completed the modern version of the Tioga Road, all
the way to the eastern entrance of Yosemite Park, at the top of Tioga
Pass.
Because the construction season was so short and there was no alternate
route, traffic stopped for up to one hour at a time. Traffic would
alternate at the construction sites and then everything would close
down for an hour or more blasting and grading around Tanaya Lake. As a
ten year old, the experience seemed to last forever. Even after the
arduous trip over the Tioga Road of old, we motored on. In late
afternoon, we arrived in the City of Bishop, California. There, we spent the night at a motel with a swimming pool. To me, it seemed the height of luxury.
From Bishop to our home in Burbank, California was about a three hundred mile trip, featuring desert heat and Sierra Nevada views
much of the way. In the late 1950s, most of U.S. Highway 395 was a
two-lane road, with only occasional passing lanes or other safe places
to pass slower vehicles. To this day, one treacherous stretch of road
between Olancha and Cartago remains as it was back in the day. With
completion of a four-lane bypass scheduled for 2022, I guarantee every
day, some fool will pull out to pass, even though there are twenty
vehicles ahead of him.
Since my first visit to Yosemite National Park, it has held a place in
my heart, as it did for my parents and grandparents before me. Over the
decades, I would often visit Yosemite, driving north on U.S. Highway
99 to Fresno and then northeast on Highway 41. Once inside the national
park, the highway becomes the Wawona Road.
From Los Angeles to Yosemite Valley was a three hundred mile trip,
with lots of San Joaquin Valley heat to endure. From Yosemite Valley to
Tuolumne Meadows was only sixty miles, but that took another two hours
via the Tioga Road. In recent years, I realized it was eight miles
shorter to drive from Los Angeles to Tuolumne Meadows via Highway 395
and then over Tioga Pass. In addition, once you leave Bishop, heading
north, you ascend almost immediately into the high country, with its
cooler temperatures and scenic views.
After a decade of drought in California, the winter of 2016-2017 brought
record-setting snowfall in the Sierra Nevada. With a cool springtime
and a late start to summer heat, many Sierra trails and secondary roads
remained blocked well into July. After seeing a complete lack of snow
atop Mammoth Mountain in August 2016, I wanted to see the Sierra
snowpack that remained this summer. In order to avoid July 4th weekend
crowds, I planned my trip to end on July 1, 2017.
When
I left Los Angeles on June 28, my initial destination was the Mammoth
Mountain RV Park. I planned to road test my New Titan XD truck, towing
our travel trailer to that location. From there I could venture to Lee
Vining and then over the Tioga Road to Tuolumne Meadows. Over the
winter, the meadows had received up to thirty feet of snowpack. In
Mammoth Lakes, at an elevation of 7,500 feet, there was no trace of
snow. At an elevation of 8966 feet, nearby Lake Mary was still frozen.
As is often the case in July, the days were warm and the nights were
cool.
After arriving at Mammoth Lakes,
I remembered that it takes almost a week to acclimate to the altitude.
On Thursday morning, I slept late and did not venture away from my
campsite until late afternoon. Wanting to test my four-wheel drive system, I drove my new truck to Obsidian Dome,
just fifteen miles away. One of five volcanic craters in the Mono-Inyo
Craters group, I knew that the Obsidian Dome forest trail was
challenging but not too daunting for such a big truck.
Looking more like a huge pile of volcanic rocks than a crater, I decided
not to hike to the top of the dome. Instead, I drove to a turnout in
the woods and enjoyed the solitude of the place. Soon, two other
vehicles pulled up to my secluded spot and idled for several minutes
before moving on. One might think my spot was the only place to stop in
the Eastern Sierra. After the interlopers departed, I noticed that
there was still snow a few hundred feet above my location.
Upon
returning to the RV Park, I confirmed that the Tioga Road had indeed
opened to traffic on that very day. The next morning, I started out for
the historic town of Lee Vining
and then up the Tioga Road to Yosemite National Park. While talking on
my mobile telephone, I became distracted and missed the Tioga Road
turnoff. That was a lucky break, because a trip through Lee Vining on
Highway 395 is always a treat. Just north of the town, there are
spectacular views of ancient Mono Lake, so I stopped to take pictures.
In all my years of visiting Mono County, I had not seen the lake level so high. This summer, there was more water available to the City of Los Angeles
than it could divert. As a result, Lee Vining Creek and other streams
in the Mono Lake watershed appeared to disgorge directly into the lake.
After
researching historic water levels at Mono Lake, I determined that the
July 7, 2017 elevation of 6380.4 ft. was up 2.1 ft. from the same date
the previous year. Even at that, the lake level was forty-seven feet
lower than it was in 1919. Today, the City of Los Angeles and the Mono
Lake Committee have an agreement regarding diversion and partial
refilling of Mono Lake. With its gently sloping shores and shallow
depth, even a small rise in water level covers a vast expanse of the
original lake-bed.
After gazing at Mono Lake, I realized that I had driven right past the
Tioga Road Junction. Soon, I turned around and headed back toward
Highway 120, also known as the Tioga Road. When I stopped at the
service station just off Highway 395, I could see that it was busy.
Inside the store and deli, several hundred people milled around and
blocked every aisle. Luckily, I had brought my own snacks and did not
need to wait in line for food.
Back
on the Tioga Road, I used the torque of the Titan XD’s turbo-diesel
engine to glide up the steep grade. I was passing slower vehicles and
appeared hell-bent to get to the high country. Then, I saw the first of
two large lakes visible from the highway. It was full to the brim and
the spillway was open. I stopped to see a cascade of water plunging
down the rocky slope into Lee Vining Creek. At each subsequent stop, I
positioned the truck off-road, so I could and take pictures through the
open side window. On the return trip, I would photograph points of
interest on the other side of the road. One place I stopped, the Tioga Pass Resort,
founded in 1914 was flooded and partially destroyed. That was my first
taste of infrastructure destruction in the area. Later, I learned that
the resort would not open for the season in 2017.
By
the time I reached Tuolumne Meadows, I realized that I had missed the
sign for the Tuolumne Meadows Lodge, which is located in the woods, to
the east of the actual meadows. Strange… I thought. Did they cover or
remove the signage? Before long, I arrived at the Tuolumne Meadows Store.
I should say… what was left of the store. In the late fall, the store
is stripped of its canvas roof. As winter snows fall, they drift and
accumulate inside the skeleton of the wooden structure.
This year, over thirty feet of snow accumulated on the concrete floor of
the store. We perceive that snow melts vertically, disappearing into
the earth without a trace. The reality is that deep, wet Sierra Nevada
snow-pack behaves like a slow-motion glacier. As the snow-pack
accumulated in the store, it could not melt through the concrete floor,
so it pushed sideways, contorted by both wind
and gravity. The result was about ten-years of weathering in only one
season. The ends of rafters snapped under the load. Anything left
standing looked decrepit and derelict.
Compared to the summer drought of 2016, this year Tuolumne Meadows
looked green and lush. There was no remaining snow in the upper meadow,
but high water flowed down the Tuolumne River. When I headed west
another mile along the Tioga Road, I came to the lower meadow
that gives the place its plural name. There, the river had backed up
at the entrance of a small canyon, creating a seasonal lake. A later
check of Google Maps showed no lake in that location, only a wide spot in the river.
Traveling
back to the east, toward Tioga Pass, I turned right on to the Tuolumne
Meadows Lodge Road. At a fork in that road, temporary barriers blocked
blocked vehicle access. Parking in the adjacent parking lot, I began a
short hike up the closed road. My goal was the Tuolumne Meadows Lodge,
with its famed tent-cabins, dining hall and general store. With no one
else in sight, my hike alternated between hot sun and gentle shade from
the pine and fir trees. When I arrived at the lodge parking lot, I saw the first signs of destruction.
During the spring melt, the Dana Fork of the Tuolumne River had breached
its natural banks and an errant stream had cut through grounds of the
lodge. Below, mud, rocks and gravel lay fanned out across the parking
lot. Closer to the wood-framed lodge, the new stream had cut a v-shaped
channel in the pathway. Although a dozen of the tent cabins had their canvas tops and sides installed, there was no sign of any additional work or work parties.
On August 25, 2016,
I had visited the Tuolumne Meadows Lodge. By chance, it was the
centennial of the U.S. National Parks Service. On that date, the lodge
was bustling with activity. Some people sat in the shade, reading,
while others had lunch in the dining hall. Hikers and visitors crowded
the little store, buying backcountry supplies. Unless one had a prior
reservation, no lodging was available. After ten years of drought and
insignificant snowfall, the lodge had opened early in 2016.
On the Friday before the July 4th weekend of 2017, the scene was quite
different. No other humans were in sight. Almost nothing of the old
wooden lodge had received attention. The white-painted structure looked
like the bleached
bones of a beached whale. The shed roof in front was broken and
falling down. Many of the hand-made trusses that supported the dining
hall roof were broken. One dangled over the concrete floor, hanging by a
length of old electrical conduit. No one had yet taken a broom to the
floor, let alone repaired any of the extensive damage. It appeared that
the many layers of flaking white paint were all that held the
structure together.
Out back, I had the cascading falls of the Tuolumne River’s Dana Fork
all to myself. I could see where the river had jumped its banks and
toppled an enormous old tree. Steel lunch tables, where campers had sat
reading the previous year lay crumpled and broken by the weight of the
winter snow-pack.
With
no one working and the road so recently opened, repair of both the
Tuolumne Meadows Store and Lodge appeared to be an overwhelming task.
With California experiencing the lowest unemployment figures in a
decade, I wondered who would endure the hardship of living in a tent
cabin in order to rebuild derelict buildings that might not be
repairable. With meager federal government funding for the National Park
Service, where would the money come from to repair structures that my
parents had first visited seventy-five years ago?
At the old Tuolumne Meadows Service Station, I noted that there were no
gas pumps. Where once had been a concrete pad and a service island was a
large patch of gravel. Nearby, I photographed an old roadside sign.
For motorists heading west to Yosemite Valley, it read, “No Services
Next 39 Miles”. The irony
was that there were no motorist services for the seventy-five mile
stretch between Lee Vining and Yosemite Valley. As I departed Yosemite
National Park, I realized that high country visitors would find no
food, fuel, campsites, wilderness permits or lodging any time soon. As
with everything else in Yosemite and Mono County this year, unprepared
travelers could be in for a rude shock and a very long wait.
By James McGillis at 05:32 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link