Yosemite Reservations

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A HIKE IN YOSEMITE HELPS YOU CONNECT WITH NATURE
Eric Peterson
NY Daily News
9 September 2007
‘The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness.” - Preservationist and writer John Muir, aka “The Father of Our National Parks.”
Ditto.
I discovered Muir’s writings on a trip to California’s Yosemite National Park some years ago and was instantly grabbed by his vivid descriptions of nature in action. For me, too, a good hike in the woods is a favorite psychological getaway.
In honor of Muir, I’m also looking for the universe in a forest wilderness. The centerpiece of my visit to Yosemite this year is a three-day backpacking trip in the southeastern section of the park and the adjacent Ansel Adams Wilderness Area.
I’ve got an ambitious plan: A 35-mile loop starting on the John Muir Trail, which runs for more than 200 miles through the mountains of the Sierra Nevada range.
Two days before my backpacking begins, I stay at Evergreen Lodge, a vibrant cabin complex in the forest near Hetch Hetchy Reservoir that’s a great base camp for families and couples alike.
The next day, I take off into the park, spending much of the afternoon in splendid (albeit bustling) Yosemite Valley. Later in the day, I check into my canvas tent cabin at the Tuolumne Meadows Lodge.
By 8:30 a.m. the next morning, I am hiking up Lyell Canyon, a long, green finger cut by the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne River that leads the way to the 11,056-foot Donohue Pass.
It gets cooler as the trail starts to climb Donohue Pass, and on the final steps up and over the pass, the views crystallize into an ornate fantasy of granite, snow, meadow and water.

Leaving Yosemite for the Ansel Adams Wilderness Area, I descend into the valley below, stopping at a campsite near a babbling brook and under a spectacular collection of peaks. The sky is perfectly blue, the sunlight perfectly golden.
Tucked in my sleeping bag later that night, I read myself to sleep. But the night is cold and windy, and my rest fitful.
As I eat breakfast the next morning, a steady stream of hikers heads in the opposite direction on the trail. It’s time to get going. Soon I’m on the shores of Waugh Lake, a mirror of water reflecting the snow-crowned peaks above, a picture that is perfect in every way.
Next - more than half a mile above - is 12,260-foot Koip Peak Pass. On the preceding plateau is a crystalline series of lakes, seriously wild and beautiful country.
The mountains loom higher and higher as I approach. Finally, a set of daunting switchbacks comes into focus, almost invisible amid the shards of rock that make up the surrounding surface.
Then I’m on the mountain, toiling my way skyward step by step by step. The higher I go, the better my view of the Sierra Nevada.
It’s no cakewalk, but I make it to the rocky saddle separating the route up from the one down. Atop the pass, there is an entirely new, perfect view of rocky canyons, waterfalls and Mono Lake below.
The hike down is even longer than the hike up, but I make it to the meadow before dark and find a suitable campsite. At an elevation of 11,000 feet above sea level, I set up my tent. Expecting another cold and windy night, I make sure the stakes are pounded snugly into the rocky earth. Tired and content, I drift off.
Waking in the middle of the night, I’m surprised to find it’s not cold at all, nor windy. It’s strangely … warm. Outside, I look into the sky and see everything - planets, stars, the Milky Way.
It’s the universe - and it’s staring right back at me.
The night sky and my consciousness briefly connect. Everything is at once infinitely vast and microscopically small, and I’m irrevocably at the center of it. I took a walk in the woods and somehow arrived at the doorstep of the universe.
I rise at the crack of dawn. Immediately reentering Yosemite, I make a quick retreat to civilization through a forested valley with numerous deer along the trail. It strikes me that I haven’t seen another human being in more than 24 hours.
Soon enough, I’m back in the real world, sitting in a booth at the Whoa Nellie Deli in Lee Vining, Yosemite’s eastern gateway town, with a plate of delectable lobster taquitos and a huge pink lemonade before me.
It’s one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time. As good as finding the universe is, civilization has its merits.

COMFY DIGS AT YOSEMITE’S HIGH SIERRA CAMPS ARE A GIFT AFTER A LONG DAY OF HIKING
Clint Swett
Sacramento Bee
20 September 2007
There’s a place for those of a certain age who cling to the conceit that they can knock out 10 miles a day in the Yosemite backcountry, yet have grown too soft to miss a shower, sleep on the ground or, John Muir forbid, fire up a camp stove for a freeze-dried dinner.
For us - and sadly, I fit the description - there are the Yosemite High Sierra Camps, a string of five rustic havens in the heart of the Yosemite wilderness.
Linked by a necklace of trails that starts off Highway 120 near Tuolumne Meadows, about an hour’s drive from Yosemite Valley, the camps welcome weary hikers with beds, showers, hot meals and spectacular scenery.
After a day on the trail, the fee of $140 a night per person seems a bargain.
Though the High Camps aren’t advertised, word of mouth is enough to force Yosemite officials to set up a lottery, in which only about one in three applicants gets a spot.
During a typical season, which runs from July to mid-September, about 3,200 hikers will sleep at the camps.
“I think that, more and more, people want to get away from things, and this is an easy way to do it, especially if you aren’t an experienced backpacker,” said Dee Dee Smith, who’s been handling reservations for the camps for more than two decades.
“When you go backpacking, you might have to carry a 40- or 50-pound pack. With the High Camps, you might only carry 25 pounds.”
That’s because campers can leave their sleeping bags, tents and food at home. Instead, they bed down in tidy, concrete-floored tent cabins that have either four or six metal bed frames with mattresses and pillows, chairs, a table, candles, a wood-fired stove and even bookcases that serve as nightstands.
While pillowcases and heavy wool blankets are supplied, each camper must bring a sleeping bag liner to use instead of sheets. And because there’s no electricity, campers should pack a flashlight for those late-night trips to the outhouse.
Though the walls of the cabins are made of vinyl-like material stretched over metal frames, don’t worry about soundproofing. Because hikers are so bushed by the end of each day, the only late-evening disturbance is likely to be the wind through the trees or the snoring of your campmates.

A staff of mostly college-age workers maintains the camps and prepares breakfast (usually fresh fruit, hot cereal, pancakes, eggs and bacon or sausage), and dinner (green salad, soup, vegetables, a main course and dessert), all served family style and in generous portions.
No one ever goes hungry.
You can even buy a sack lunch to tide you over on the trail. And while $12 for a sandwich, a piece of fruit, a juice box and a cookie might seem steep, it starts to look like more of a bargain as your appetite blooms after four or five hours on the trail.
All the food and other supplies, including propane tanks for cooking, are hauled in twice a week by pack mules.
No alcohol is served at the camps (though more than a few young staffers can be seen clutching cold beers after their shifts end). So those who don’t want to haul cabernet or Coors in their backpacks can arrange for a wrangler to bring it in by mule at $4 a pound.
Hiking through Yosemite’s backcountry, it’s easy to see how this section of the Sierra Nevada inspires such awe and reverence.
Treks in the northern Sierra around Lake Tahoe are lovely, to be sure, but there’s something grander, even transcendent, about Yosemite.
Bold vistas framed by steep granite peaks materialize around nearly every corner. The paths often traverse broad meadows of grass and lupine. Squirrels, chipmunks and fat marmots are your trail companions. And because many of the well-marked trails follow rushing streams, hikers have plenty of opportunity to pull off their boots and cool their feet in icy torrents.
With a typical distance between camps of eight to 10 miles, at altitudes often ranging between 8,000 and 10,000 feet, such rest stops are a constant temptation.
Each camp has its own personality and charm. The largest, and at 7,150 feet the lowest, is Merced Lake Camp, which sleeps 60 in orderly rows of tent cabins. But the camp is laid out in a spacious way that never feels crowded. Merced Lake Camp also features a spacious dining hall and the opportunity to swim or toss a fishing line into the relatively warm lake that gives the camp its name.
Sunrise Camp, at 9,400 feet, is perched on a granite bluff overlooking a sprawling alpine meadow. After a strenuous day on the trail, campers, fresh from a shower, will drag chairs from their tent cabins to sit and watch the shadows lengthen on the surrounding peaks and await the dinner bell.
After the evening meal, a National Park Service ranger might lead a group up a nearby granite face to point out nearby peaks and, as the sky darkens, provide an astronomy lesson.
The highest, most rugged and arguably the most severely beautiful camp is Vogelsang. At a lung-searing 10,300 feet, Vogelsang exacts a steep toll from hikers, who must reach the camp via a 1,700-foot climb from Tuolumne Meadows to the north or a 3,000-foot ascent from Merced Lake to the south.
Tents are scattered among scrubby evergreens that somehow take root in the granite, but the landscape is softened by Fletcher Creek, which flows just feet from the doorstep of many of the cabins. And it’s a brief stroll to the grassy banks of Fletcher Lake, where campers can wash off the dust and sweat if, as happened this summer, the Vogelsang showers are shut down because of a water shortage.
At May Lake, tent cabins line the shore and sit in the shadows of nearby Mount Hoffman, looming to nearly 11,000 feet.
Glen Aulin Camp sits in a valley at 7,800 feet, and campers are rewarded with a view of the spectacular White Cascade falls fed by the Tuolumne River.
Savvy campers often spend the night before their first day on the trail at Tuolumne Meadows Lodge, another cluster of tent cabins with shower facilities and a dining room just off Highway 120.
Because it’s within a moderate one-day hike of most of the High Sierra Camps, the lodge is an excellent launch pad for a trip into the backcountry. And by spending the night at its 8,600 feet, campers will be more acclimated to the altitude before they hit the trail.
When applying to the lottery, campers pick their own dates and routes, and each application can cover parties as large as eight people.
They can opt for a seven-day trip guided by a ranger that hits all five camps, with a rest day at Merced Lake. A five-day guided trip hits three camps. Or they can apply for self-guided trips to the camps of their choice. But Smith, the reservationist, said that if hikers plan a route that is too long or strenuous, she’ll call them to suggest a better alternative.
For those who win the lottery, it’s like, well, winning the lottery, with the prize being comfort camping in one of the most beautiful places on the planet.

HEADED TO YOSEMITE? HERE’S WHERE TO STAY
Christopher Reynolds 11 July 2007 Los Angeles Times
By day, you gape at falling water and soaring granite. But when night comes, do you stoke a campfire or repair to a formal dining room? Sleep on the ground or in an upstairs suite?
This summer, Yosemite National Park offers nine kinds of lodging and 13 campgrounds. You can pay $5 per night (for one camper in the rock climbers’ haven of Camp 4) or $984 (for the best suite in the Ahwahnee Hotel).
Yet, most of the best places, especially those in Yosemite Valley, are grabbed within hours of becoming available, from five to 12 months ahead.
Here’s the story on sleeping in Yosemite in 2007.
Lodging in the park
The village includes 100 heated wood cabins with private baths (no phones or TVs); 70 have propane heaters, 11 are outfitted for disabled visitors; 80 wood cabins sharing central bathhouses (no phones, TVs or plumbing); 18 motel rooms (in the building known as Stoneman Cottage); and three one-bedroom wooden “specialty cabins” with private baths, DVD players and monitors. Summer rates run from $74 for an unheated canvas tent cabin to $249 for the largest specialty cabin, known as the Foster Curry Cabin. (No cooking is allowed anywhere in Curry Village.)
Housekeeping Camp includes 266 units near the Merced River, with cinder-block walls and canvas roofs. Units have no phones or TVs, and showers and bathrooms are shared and cooking is allowed on camp stoves. Rates are $72 nightly.
Yosemite Lodge at the Falls, which has 245 rooms, is a classic trade-off: not much character but plenty of convenience. The swimming pool is open from Memorial Day to mid-September, weather-permitting. And many units have impressive views of Yosemite Falls. Rates are from $98 to $176 per night.
The Ahwahnee Hotel has 99 rooms and 24 cottages, and if you’re going in high style, this is the choice. Along with its fancy restaurant and clubby Great Lounge, the hotel has a pool that’s heated summer and winter. Rates are $426 for standard rooms, up to $984 for a suite with balcony deck.
The Wawona Hotel is the oldest hotel in the park. But it comes with two drawbacks: First, it’s about 45 minutes from the attractions of Yosemite Valley. Second, because it dates to 1879, about half of its 104 rooms share bathrooms. (There are also no phones or televisions in rooms.) But it has character, and a nine-hole golf course as its front yard, stables and the Mariposa Grove of giant sequoias six miles away. If you’re headed into the park from the south, you’ll pass it about four miles after the entrance. Rates are from $119 to $183 nightly.

Camping in the park
All but one of the park’s campgrounds accommodate recreational vehicles, but length limits vary. For those and other details not specified here, try www.rec reation.gov.
In Yosemite Valley: Most of the 238-site Upper Pines and all 35 sites at Camp 4 are open year-round. The 60-site Lower Pines area is open March to October, and the North Pines area is open April to October. All require reservations except Camp 4, which is first-come, first-served (the window usually opens at 8:30 a.m.) and RV-free. Rates run $20 per site, $5 per person at Camp 4.
Northeast of Yosemite Valley, Hodgdon Meadow, 25 miles from the valley, 105 sites, $14 to $20 each, is open year-round, with reservations required May through September.
Seasonal campgrounds include: Crane Flat (17 miles from the valley, 166 sites, $20 each, June through September); Tamarack Flat (23 miles from the valley, 52 sites, $10 each, June through September, first-come, first-served); White Wolf (31 miles from the valley, 74 sites, $14 each, July through early September, first-come, first-served); Yosemite Creek (35 miles from the valley, 40 sites, $10 each, July through early September, first-come, first-served); Porcupine Flat (38 miles from the valley, 52 sites, $10 each, July through September, first-come, first-served); Tuolumne Meadows (55 miles from the valley, 304 sites, $20 each, July through September, half advance reservations, half first-come, first-served).
South of Yosemite Valley: Wawona (27 miles from the valley, 93 sites, $14 to $20 each, reservations required May through September) is open year-round. Bridalveil Creek (25 miles from the valley, 110 sites, $14, July through early September, first-come, first-served).