Ever since my twenties, when I really began to take photography and other art seriously, I have loved Ansel Adams, Alfred Eisenstadt, Georgia O’Keefe, and the naturalist John Muir. I was well familiar with these names where they were associated with the West, in particular Yosemite. It was Ansel & Alfred’s photography, as well as John Muir’s urging, that were part of the reason Yosemite became a national park. I had dreamed of seeing Yosemite for 30 years, and now here I was. This was to be the crown jewel in my whole trip. Or so I thought.
The drive to the upper northeast entrance for starters from Lee Vining, CA did not disappoint. Being from Colorado, I am quite used to and at ease driving up steep inclines in the mountains. Piece of cake. Hammy weighed in at a little over 1100 lbs. fully loaded, and the Tahoe was capable of towing 5000. So I was more than a little surprised when we hit the slope upwards and the Tahoe struggled; the grade was at least 10%. Wow, I thought, how does anyone towing anything heavier even make it UP this thing? There were a couple of scenic turnouts, but I opted to keep my momentum going and trudge onward. Besides, like I said, I’m from Colorado and the vistas were just merely “meh” at this point.
I finally arrived at the entrance, paid my admission fee (which is good for a week), took the obligatory photo of the “Yosemite National Park” sign and was on my way. “I’M IN!” I reveled, and, camera on my lap, drove on, in heaven. It took me over 5 hours to drive the 87 miles to the Highway 41 exit out of the park. I stopped so many times to take photos that I lost count, my mouth hanging open the whole time. We stopped at streams so Bella could wade and the dogs could drink, we stopped at meadows and forests to walk and wonder.....I never wanted to leave. But it was getting late and I knew I would be back many times over the coming week. I hit Rt. 41 south and made my way to the Coarsegold KOA.
They had given me a shady site, but I was having difficulty backing in and I was also very tired. The owner, Pam, saw my repeated attempts and walked over, asking me where I was trying to get into. She had her own vintage camper that she was in the process of restoring, so she was a kindred spirit. She directed me instead to a deluxe pull-thru site that had even more shade than the previous one. I thanked her profusely and got to work getting set up. It had been very cool up in the mountains, but it was quite hot down here, around 98. I was sweating by time I got done. I turned the A/C on in Hammy, got the dogs settled, and headed for the pool, which I was right next to. Again, heaven. I made a light dinner and fell into bed. Boy had I been sleeping great since leaving Denver - camping is hard work but it sure is worth it! End of Day One, Yosemite.
The next 2 days, Sunday and Monday, I opted to stay at the campground and get stuff done and just relax and further unwind from my harrowing drive of the day before and long day in the park. Tuesday I drove the 25 miles north back to Yosemite and spent the day at Mariposa Grove seeing the Sequoias. Wow. I love trees immensely; I think they are wise and strong and they give me a sense of hope with their longevity and the ability to just endure whatever is thrown at them. To stand there and be in the presence of still living things that are in the neighborhood of 1800-2000 years old truly brought tears to my eyes and left me in awe. Old Grizzly, the biggest of them all, has to be seen to be believed.
Having left the dogs in the Tahoe for over an hour to hike up the trail (dogs were not allowed), I hustled back. I had lunch in the parking lot, snacking on watermelon and a roast beef sandwich, letting the dogs have some watermelon as well. I would hear it many times on the trip, but people walked by and commented on how good, well behaved, patient, and cute they were. This made me proud to hear, for I had trained them myself. If there is one thing I cannot stand, it is people who own yappy or aggressive dogs who are poorly socialized and don’t behave. If you’re not controlling your dog, then he is controlling you. After lunch it was getting late (my lunchtime usually happens anywhere from 2-4 pm), so I decided to call it a day and head back to Coarsegold and the cool of the pool. End of Yosemite, Day Two.
On Wednesday morning I performed my usual morning routine - walking and feeding the dogs, and preparing a nice warm bath for Oogie, our baby Greek tortoise. I had brought him along on my trip since my daughter was going to be very busy for the first part of her summer with her militant, control freak of a father. For the second part with me, she would then fly to Cali to visit her aunt in Redondo Beach in late June, where I would then pick her up. I had planned my route and timing to coincide with this, as my time with her is precious. So it only made sense that Oogie come with me so that she could see and be with him and enjoy him for the remaining 5 wks of summer.
Oogie had not been eating much since even before I left Golden, so each morning I would spend a considerable amount of time with him, trying to coax him to eat. In Moab he had enjoyed the hot temperatures and had eaten a little, good signs. Then his heating pad that he relies on to keep him warm, especially at night, gave out after Moab and I had taken to putting him in bed with me at night in an effort to keep him warm with my body heat. He seemed to enjoy that as well. He stayed active and I was keeping him hydrated with his daily soaks, so I didn’t worry too much. When he had first been shipped to us back in December he didn’t eat very much in the beginning either, and we were told by the tortoise place that this was normal.
This particular morning, however, he seemed lethargic to the point that I WAS beginning to worry. I contacted my daughter and asked her to look up the phone number for the tortoise place and give them a call and ask them what we might do or what the problem might be. I then packed everyone up and we were off to the park again.
I continued my drive northeast through the park, towards where I had originally come in. I saw the turnoff for Glacier Point and thought, “Hmm, let’s check this out”. Oh. My. God. Arriving at the scenic view after 16 miles, I quickly discovered why this is one of the most favored spots in the whole park. The view is undeniably one of the best and most beautiful in the world, and has now taken over my #1 spot which was formerly held for over 15 yrs. by the view from the summit of Mt. Haleakala on Maui, Hawaii. You just stand there and want to look at it forever and never leave. It is so breathtakingly beautiful that it looks fake, like a painting. There is Half Dome right there in front of you, along with 2 waterfalls spilling over the cliffs and a vista from there 180 degrees from left to right. Truly Mother Nature at her finest.
When I do finally retreat, I go a little farther down the road to another viewpoint, and there of course is the obligatory gift shop. I wander in and am overcome with tourist fever - I buy a Yosemite coffee mug, magnet, hat, and T-shirt and I even find some woman's credit card for her. It’s 5 pm and the gift shop is now closing, the tour buses are heading out to take everyone back from whence they came, and I decide to head out as well. I decide that tomorrow, since it will be a full moon, I will come to the park late and stay until midnight to watch the moon rise over Half Dome at Glacier Point. It will be the grand finale of my vist to Yosemite.
On Thursday morning, I again do my usual routine. Oogie again doesn’t eat, but he is much more active than yesterday. I have become complacent at this point about his not eating, but in the back of my mind I know something is up. All God’s creatures must eat to thrive. It is at this point that I start to blame myself for not taking better care of him since leaving Colorado; he is, after all, on my watch and he is dependent on me and only me to take care of him. After today, I say to myself, I will find a vet and take him. After today. After I fulfill my lifelong dream of being in Yosemite, let alone witness a full moon rising over Half Dome - for an artist, the beauty of that to me is a precious gift, a once in a lifetime occurrence. After today.
I head back to the park, dogs and Oogie in the back, for my 4th day out of the 5 that I have expected to spend in Yosemite. Tomorrow my 7 day pass expires and then I intend to spend Saturday preparing to leave on Sunday. Today I wind up in Wawona, where the famous and equally historic Wawona Hotel is located. I am blown away, as I have a thing for old historic hotels that are still in operation from the 1800’s. They contain so much history, ghosts & spirits of the past, both roaming the halls and in the wood of the hotel itself.
Keep in mind that back in the day stupid humans thought nothing of chopping down these huge sequoias and redwoods for building their homes and towns. There are several trees in Mariposa Grove where ignorants have made tunnels through some of these great trees. Yes, some people suck - something that has never changed in a million years and never will. The mentality of anyone to do their best to destroy the very thing that they are standing on will never cease to make me shake my head sadly. From the annihilation of the Native Americans by purposely giving them smallpox, the buffalo, the beaver, the trees, you name it, the good old white man has descended on everything like a locust, a cockroach, and just consumed until it is gone - scorched earth gone.
I hadn’t left Coarsegold until after 4 pm, arriving Yosemite around 4:45. I had planned to go the farthest away today, to Yosemite Village, which meant passing again through the long tunnel that I had come through my first day. I got through the tunnel and pulled immediately into the Tunnel View parking lot from where you can also see Half Dome and the 2 waterfalls, albeit farther away. I had no interest in the view as I had already taken my photos here the first day. And after Glacier Point nothing really compares after that anyway. I needed to make some calls; I hadn’t spoken to any of my peeps for a couple of days, so I wanted to see if I had cell signal here while I was up high before dropping back down into Yosemite Valley.
The signal was only fair, 2 bars, so I called my husband. Yes, him. He and I had begun to “speak” regularly via text for about 5 days or so. I needed someone to share my good news with, and sadly, besides my children, I had no one else besides my estranged husband to call (I am, by nature, an introverted anti social hermit who shuns the outside world except when I have to go out to get gas or groceries). I excitedly told him how the Denver Post editorial department had called me the previous day, informing me of their intention to publish my comment to a juvenile justice editorial that had appeared the week before. I know it’s not a big deal, but it kind of was to me, as it was my first and I needed any sort of confidence booster at this point that I was, indeed, a good writer. I know I am not alone in being a writer who doubts their ability and prowess with the written word, so I was proud of myself for the accomplishment.
As hubby and I were wrapping up our conversation, I had gotten out of the Tahoe and opened up the door behind me to check on Oogie. Still saying goodbye to Michael, I lifted Oogie out of his habitat and noticed that he wasn’t moving - at all. With a rising panic and sickness in the pit of my stomach I jumped back in the driver’s seat and called my older daughter. “I think Oogie’s dead!!!”, I screamed and cried into my phone when she answered. I started trying to move his little legs and move his head, to no avail. I then picked up the squirt water bottle I keep in the car to squirt Bella with while I am driving and she has one of her people fits and sprayed cool water on him. He moved and opened his eyes! Oh God, thank you thank you I prayed. I asked Taylor if she could look up the closest vet from where I was, as my signal wasn’t strong enough to get on the Internet on my phone, not to mention I was hyperventilating and in a panic.
I began pressing ever so gently on Oogie’s undershell in a rhythmic pattern, as if to give him tortoise CPR and keep his blood flowing. I had him wrapped up in the bottom of my t-shirt to keep him warm. Taylor was extremely quick in looking up the info I needed - the closest animal ER was in Fresno, 70 miles and 2 hrs. away (you can only go 35 mpg when driving through the park due to the winding roads). While Taylor was relaying this info to me, I lifted Oogway up to eye level again to check on him. He suddenly opened his eyes, looked at me one last time and just...........faded away. I screamed again into my headset, telling Taylor that I believed he had just died. I was BEYOND out of my head with grief and panic at this point - oh my God, how can this be happening, stuff like this isn’t supposed to happen when you’re on vacation.
Taylor calmed me once more and told me that I had to at least try to make it to the vet; maybe he still had a chance, maybe he WASN’T gone yet. She was right. I glanced at the clock - 6:24. I set out for Fresno, going as fast as the roads would allow and screeching those poor tired tires around every curve in the road. I hit the Fresno ER almost exactly 2 hrs. later and ran in, carrying Oogie in my NY Yankees ball cap. I told the lady behind the counter that my daughter had called earlier about me coming with a sick baby tortoise. I handed her the cap, she removed Oogie and rushed away.
That wait in the waiting room was the worst of my life - I didn’t want to believe what I already knew in my heart. When the receptionist returned, she had a beautiful purple box in both hands, carrying it reverently. “I’m so sorry", she said, “he’s gone”. I burst into tears anew and cried that “I hadn’t gotten there in time”, lamenting my stupid selfishness all over again. I was in a black hole of despair - I had killed our baby; how would I ever tell my youngest? I sat slumped in the waiting room. The receptionist had handed me a bottle of water and told me to take my time. I have no idea how long I sat there in a fog, the purple box in my lap.
When I finally made it back out to the parking lot and into the Tahoe, I opened the box. There, in the light of the full moon that I was supposed to be viewing from Glacier Point right about now, lie Oogway on a soft cloud of cotton, three tiny pink and white flowers around his head. I bawled again. How incredibly sweet and wonderful, I thought to myself, that the Fresno Pet ER that didn’t know me from Eve, had still had the compassion and love to prepare my beloved in such a way. I was touched and moved beyond compare, and I will never forget them. They could have just handed him back to me in the same ball cap he came in on, but they didn’t. They will forever be on my annual donation list. I called Taylor and sat there yet some more, bawling into the phone. Oogway was gone and it was all my fault, I let this happen.
On the way back to the KOA, I rolled all the windows down and took off into the night and back out onto Rt. 41 north, going the full 65 mph limit and then some. I railed and cried and screamed along the way, letting it all out. Suddenly something exploded and instantly my mouth and hair and eyes were filled with something. Not knowing what the fuck just happened and not being able to see, I pulled over and looked down. The lid of Oogie’s habitat had shot off of the container, filling the air and every nook and cranny of the Tahoe with cedar shavings. It was as if at that moment an evil spirit had found me in my grief and decided to take delight in adding insult to my injury. Too stricken to even react, I simply rolled the windows up and continued the rest of the way in numb silence.
When I finally got back to Hammy, around midnight, I couldn’t sleep. I spent 2 hrs brushing the shavings out of the car while the rest of the campground slept. I didn’t even give a fuck if I made noise or bothered anyone. In fact, I would have welcomed someone coming out of their camper and telling me to be quiet. The rage I felt inside at myself was enormous and I was good at taking it out on others; I’d been doing THAT since I was 12.
The next 2 days were spent in a fog and haze of tears. Friday I did nothing but cry and clean out the Tahoe, which took hours (I am OCD about clean cars). Twice a day, I would allow myself to look at Oogie in his box, even taking him out to hold him while I sobbed incessantly. I had made the call to my youngest and it was awful, to break the news to your child that their pet has died. She bounced back quickly; I, however, did not.
The truth is, I had been busy. There are a million little tasks and chores associated just by itself of pulling a trailer behind you. Each time it must be hooked up exactly right, lights checked, safety chains, etc. Then when UN-hooking it, another list. Couple that with the fact that I am doing all the driving, food gathering, cooking, washing dishes, hauling water when I don’t have hookups, taking care of the dogs 24/7 & making sure their needs are always met, seeing the sites, swimming, relaxing, writing, and taking photographs everywhere I go, PLUS keeping up with my emails, business & personal Facebook postings........busy. Oogie had taken a spot at the very bottom of the totem pole, because such a tiny little thing was not capable of letting me know how very sick he was, and I hadn’t paid enough attention.
Guilt seeped into every pore of my body. I had killed Oogway and no matter what anyone said to me, I know I could have done more and should have. Being busy with unimportant crap is no excuse for letting a baby tortoise die. I sucked and was right back to that place of self loathing, I can’t do anything right, what is your fucking problem for losing sight of what is really important just because I was on vacation, you fucking selfish bitch, yep the whole nine yards I gave to myself, all of the things that I had previously thought I had rid myself of before embarking on this trip. I was learning to love myself, to let go and forgive myself and others, and then this, the worst test of all and I had failed miserably. The most basic of all life’s lessons - that everything is connected and everything needs the other - I had chosen to overlook because I had gotten caught up once again in all the trappings of everyday life that I had supposedly forsaken when I left Colorado. I was no better than when I had left, all my “progress” simply an illusion. Feeling defeated in every single way, I spent those 2 days not giving a fuck about anything and heavily self medicating.
Saturday morning I spent my last moments with Oogie. He needed to go home, back to Colorado. I had located the post office in nearby Oakhurst the day before, and they were only open until noon today, so this was it. Cupping him in my hands, I sat on the picnic table and we listened to the birds sing one last time, as we had so many mornings. I would never get another one, and neither would he. The sadness of a tiny life only getting 7 months and 11 days to live was too much for me to bear, and I couldn’t keep this up. After the box was safely across the counter at the post office I still felt no better. In fact, I felt worse. Now Oogie was REALLY gone and no more would I ever look upon that sweet face. Still feeling and looking like shit, my reddened eyes hiding behind my dark sunglasses, I spent the rest of the day aimlessly wandering around Oakhurst and Coarsegold, going in antique shops, eating BBQ and checking out a small car show that was going on, anything to keep my mind off of my loss.
When I finally arrived back at Hammy, I was exhausted but refused to sleep. I punished myself by not eating and making myself stay up and get everything packed to leave the next morning. I took down the awning, hooked Hammy up to the Tahoe, cleared off the picnic table, removed the wheel chocks and support jacks. Yosemite was over for me and I couldn’t wait to leave. No sight, no experience, could ever be large enough at this point to overcome what I had lost.
You died on a typical summer’s afternoon, a Thursday, at 6:24 pm, in my hands in the parking lot of the Tunnel View Vista in Yosemite National Park. Tourists had buzzed about the Tahoe like insects, oblivious and uncaring to the drama unfolding in my vehicle. Just like that, you were gone. You had chosen to go into the ethereal at one of the most beautiful places in the world, and for that I was happy. I vowed that I would never again take precious life for granted, and would live fiercely on in your honor and the honor of all that have gone before me. There have been many of you. And I will miss you all until my dying day - then I know I will see you all again.
Oogway “Oogie” Hunter - November 1, 2013, June 12, 2014.
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