Cold Balls and Waterfalls (2 of 2)

I sat motionless as we sped further into the blackening forest. After an eternity the truck began to slow as the road opened into a clearing. Scanning desperately for signs of rescue I saw nothing but a beat up old trailer, the dirt around it littered with refuse, and a small child’s tricycle, which awoke the panic inside me. “These people eat children!!”. I reached for the petrol can that lay beside me, ready to pummel the head of whoever stepped out of the pick-up.

The truck ground to a halt and the driver’s door swung open, my grip tightening on the petrol can when… an old boy of about eighty in his dungarees stepped out of the truck.

“Sorry you had to ride in the back,” I think is what he said. I said it was fine and we helped his wife, who had emerged from the passenger side, with the shopping. Two minutes later he drove me back to the hostel.

On my second day in Yosemite I caught a bus into the park with a young Manchurian fella and a Dutch lady, whom I had entranced the night before by spitting my story of the previous day’s excitement at, after downing three pints and a couple of double whiskeys to calm my shredded nerves.

After leaving the bus I found the pure country air soon sorted my head out and, feeling cocky after almost being butchered, I convinced the others to attempt the Yosemite Falls Trail. The guidebook said six hours but we convinced ourselves we could do it in three, with half an hour to spare to make sure we caught the last bus. Our ascent began at a pretty brisk pace and we only stopped to go “ohh” and “ahh” at the spectacular views of the Valley Floor and surrounding mountains. It was not long before the top was in sight and we were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves.

Just as our legs began to sag, with the top of the mountain in reaching distance, we turned a corner and found that some tit in God’s creation department had decided to chuck in a second tier to the waterfall, which was higher and steeper than the one we had just climbed. Needless to say I thought of sticking my fingers up at the waterfall and walking back down the mountain.

However, I am extremely glad to say that I didn’t, because although there were times I thought the muscles in my legs were going to burst through my skin, the view from the top of the world’s third highest waterfall was spectacular. The river feeding the falls had created a vast gorge that engulfed me as I walked down it toward the lip of the falls and once at the lip the sight below of a thousand shades of green and blue emanating from the valley floor was fantastic. At eye level for three hundred and sixty degrees were fantastic views of vast rock formations, including The Half Dome and El Capitan. On the ground I could just make out the thousands of insect people milling around the Valley Floor. This might make you vomit but it was nature at it’s grandest.

Once I had finished taking pictures of the spectacle I thought I’d impress some of the ladies by throwing myself off some of the rocks into the deep rock pools near to the mouth of the waterfall. They didn’t seem too impressed with my actions but I was having too much fun to care and the glacier water certainly was the tonic for my aching bones. I was having so much fun in fact that I lost track of time. Eventually one of my compadres realised and with only an hour to spare before the last bus, we proceeded to fly down the mountain. We made the bus but only just and slept all the way back to the hostel.

On the final day I awoke too late to head into the park with my new friends, so I caught the later bus. I decided to take the Vernal and Nevada Falls Trail as they were the only two waterfalls working and the climb looked easy enough. The walk proceeded with very little incident until I reached the Vantage Point for Vernal Falls. The trouble was that the falls were a long way off and I wanted a closer look. The path looked like it was veering away from the waterfall, so I decided to risk almost certain death, brave the torrent of water and clamber up the trickling stream to the foot of the falls.

It took me a while but the climb was well worth the effort. As my head emerged from the last boulder I encountered the most breathtaking scene that I have ever seen. I was so excited I almost wet myself. Below me was a pool of clear blue, into which fell a constant and powerful crescendo of water, which caused an eerie mist and a perfect circular rainbow. It wasn’t long before I realised I was entirely alone and soon convinced myself that I had found my own piece of private paradise. I felt like I was at one with nature….so I got naked.

After shedding the skin of a capitalist society, I scrambled up the rocks like some demented old mental patient and threw myself into the pool, white arse and belly flapping from the force of my descent. As I was falling, a huge flash exploded above my head and for a moment I thought I had arrived in the Garden of Eden. As soon as my head broke the surface I realised I wasn’t. The air exploded with bright flashes of light but it was no divine being that created them. It was Japanese tourists. In an instant my proud natural state had was reduced to a beer belly, saggy man breasts, two Sun Dried Raisins and a Twiglet (Glacier water is very cold).

I quickly crept out of the water and put my clothes back on. However, the rest of my hike and time in Yosemite was now marred by this embarrassment and I was afraid to stop and investigate any other beauty spots, for fear of being surrounded by camera wielding tourists.

After all the effort in Los Angeles, I had finally become a celebrity. The trouble was it was not the sort of notoriety I wanted.

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