We enjoyed Yosemite with Caleb the following day after that big breakfast. The day was warm enough that we swam in Tenaya Lake, and experienced Caleb’s water filtration apparatus on the spot. In the evening, Caleb and Mike fished along the Tuolumne River and tried out the small portable outdoor sauna we’d bought for the trip (Caleb was game to be our guinea pig!)
But early the next morning, he was packed and ready to hit the trail an hour before I even woke. Like his father, Caleb has an internal engine that revs all the time. After two and a half days of rest and good eating, that restlessness to be back on the trail was clear.
We rolled out of our campsite by 7:30 a.m. to drive him out of Yosemite via Tioga Pass along Highway 395 past Mono Lake, and then up Highway 108 to magnificent Sonora Pass where the Pacific Crest Trail intersects. He had made plans to rendezvous with his trail family near there; they’d left the day before.
The drive was splendid as we rolled through high desert chaparral, passing through new daisies, flowering sagebrush and lupines as we wove down the road to the exit out of of Yosemite via Tioga Pass.
We drove slowly through the area of Lukens Lake, telling Caleb our story. The area was charred for a miles around, but the undergrowth and trees that hadn’t died were recovering from the fire, throwing out greenery. The bright sunlight beaming down and and clear air couldn’t have been more different than that terrifying drive through the forest as it burned.
We made conversation with Caleb: about the people we’d met so far and the idiosyncrasies and subculture of PCT hiking. We reminisced, telling stories of family vacations we had taken together. We laughed at his stories, he smiled at ours.
And all along, I vibrated internally with awareness of the impending separation from our son.
An unwelcome surprise of parenthood is that, no matter how grown your child gets, saying goodbye never gets easier.
Highway 108 up to Sonora Pass was not for the faint of heart; it consisted of several twenty-six degree grades and hairpin switchbacks that put our new SUV’s engine to the test.
“I’d never want to bring the trailer up here,” I declared, pointing to a sign saying “Trailers Not Recommended.”
“And I’m glad I don’t have to get to this elevation on foot like my friends do,” Caleb remarked. “Ten thousand feet is painful.”
We finally reached the camping/departure intersection with the PCT at the top of Sonora Pass; the earth was marked by patchy snow that had fallen in the last day or two.
We all used the outhouse, then hiked with Caleb out of the parking lot for a bit. Mike soon turned back after giving Caleb a hug, but Koa and I decided to keep going, wanting to see the view from a nearby ridge and get a feel for what “Wizard” was experiencing on his hike.
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