I was hiking in Yosemite last year, and I decided to hike to the top of Yosemite Falls, an eight mile round trip with an altitude gain of almost 4,000 feet. Fully equipped with water, compass and camera, I began the trek only to find that my start up the daunting switchbacks coincided with the start of four groups of high school students who had traveled to Yosemite for what is called “the Outdoor Ed experience.”

I debated what to do. It seemed I had three choices. I could delay my start by an hour, hike with the students, or attempt to forge ahead of them. As I considered the possibilities, the students were meeting in their groups. I did'nt want to wait for higher temperatures, and the thought of four miles listening to people who say, “Dude,” “OhmyGod,” and “For sure” while trying to soak up the solitude of Yosemite’s grand vistas was'nt an option either. Reluctantly, I decided to try to stay ahead of them. I started up the hill.

The challenge of the steep trail and its forty plus switchbacks quickly exhausted me, and as I had no other choice but to stop and rest, I drank some water and hoped for the arrival of a second wind, I could hear one of the students coming up behind me. He was about 100 feet below me, cutting straight up the switchbacks, a cardinal no-no in hiking because it erodes the trail.

“Hey, don’t cut the trail,” I said. “Didn’t your leader tell you that?” I said.

“What are you, the trail police?” he asked, but he did stop cutting.

It didn’t help my impression of this kid that he was a smart mouth eighteen year old. I started up the trail but he caught up to me in a few minutes, and I vaguely considered throwing him over the side when he said,

“See you at the top. . . . If you make it.”

I was really tired, and I had no snappy retort. I just put my head down and resumed my trek. About 45 minutes later I passed the kid. He was sitting off to the side of the trail, and with considerable satisfaction I noted that he was breathing heavily. As I passed by him I suppressed the urge to say something. I did catch a second wind, and although I stopped on several occasions to take some pictures, the rest of the hike went well and I actually felt pretty good when I reached the top. I didn’t see another soul on the way up, a bonus of starting early.

The waterfall was spectacular, even in November, its lowest point. I was in no hurry to make the descent, so I enjoyed the scenery and my lunch. Then I took a few more pictures of Half Dome and the Yosemite Valley. At last I started down, and about 30 minutes later I passed the kid and some of his friends sitting off to the side of the trail. They still had about 45 minutes of uphill hiking, and I confess I enjoyed the fact that they looked completely exhausted. This time I was unable to suppress a comment,

“See you back at the bottom. . . . If you make it.”

Well, Jim, you met one of the the video game generation.  Smart mouth but out of shape.  I think throwing him off the trail was a real option, but your way was better!  I compete in several mud runs every year and there are always some smart **s youngsters at the start who have humorous comments about paramedics, "will you need a wheelchair,?" etc.  Last year I had the pleasure of hauling one of these flabby cuties out of a mud pit after he slipped back and went in over his head.  I am old and not very fast, but I have never failed to finish a race in the top 1/3rd.

Old guys may not rule, but we do all right.

Good story Jim.  About 3 years ago I did Half Dome.      .           .               .     sounds good until I tell you I went up the back and not the face.   We drove our 64 Porsche coupe up there with a car club.  I left the car at Glacier Point about 5:30 a.m. where my wife would pick it up later when the club visited.  I was by myself across Illilouette (sp?) creek to Nevada Falls where I was joined by hundreds of my closest friends on the John Muir Trail.

Did I mention it was Memorial Day weekend?  Anyway, I had a similar experience.  Thank God I managed to get up there early (and well ahead of a bunch of smart asses who had poked fun at this old fart when they passed me early on at a way too high rate to sustain) and back down the cables before the main herd got there.  Would you believe a bunch of people on top of that rock were fooling around with cell phones?  Anyway, I was passed by no one all the way down to the Valley where I eventually found my wife and vehicle at Camp Curry. 

An interesting sidelight found also by Ken Burns was how the National Parks belong to ALL OF US.  There were many obvious recent immigrants apparently from everywhere, proudly decked out in stars and stripes and related stuff and chattering away in who knows what languages and who at least attempted to converse with me in English.   My lousy Spanish worked with a few of them.  It felt great to see them with their families as all of us do, enjoying a resource that is fabulously and uniquely ours - even if they couldn't keep up with me.  :>)

Meanwhile, just to prove there is no fool like an old fool I'm headed for Mt. Hood in June and if I can squeeze in the time, Mt. Rainier in July.  Denali will have to wait until I can be airlifted up and down.

Best

Bill Sampson