Day 16 - 17: The Grand Canyon is on Fire!

Day 17: Side Quest - The Petrified Forest and Main Street America

Please don’t forget to “Like” and “Comment” this really helps other people find us! Route 66 - July 15, 2025 - We could really feel that this trip was ending. Not because we were close to home, but because we had seen what we had come to see and we had done what we had come to do. After leaving the Grand Canyon, boating on the Pacific Ocean, and backpacking in Yosemite, and despite the vast wonders to explore in the remaining 89% of America that lay before us, we had a mutual urge to put the frequent gas-station stops, showerless days, and spotty internet connections behind us. Still, we had over 2,500 miles to go and there were certainly places I wanted to see. The homebound leg of our trip was much more loosely planned. Unlike the outward-bound leg, I didn’t have meticulously researched daily plans. I didn’t have a two-page, minute-by-minute schedule with multiple options and background documents prepared. I think I had a feeling that after we had achieved our biggest goals, we’d likely want more flexibility in getting home. Still, I held out hopes for bison, rodeos, horseback riding, Nashville, Petit Jean State Park, and a few other once-in-a-lifetime stops that we would pass through on our way to meals that didn’t include turkey sandwiches. But I could read the room—or the Jeep. All along our drive, we would pass the famous brown National Park signs tempting us to stop at Meteor Crater or the historic Route 66 sites. However, I couldn’t resist when I saw the sign for the Petrified Forest. Only the fourth National Monument in U.S. history — later redesignated to a National Park in 1962, the Petrified Forest was integral to the history of our National Park System. I don’t know how this completely escaped me in my planning. I had done absolutely no research on it. The Most User-Friendly Park A quick check with Siri wasn’t very helpful. We eventually learned that the south entrance is only 20 miles off of I-40. As we drove toward the park, I remembered hearing kids in school talk about their visits to the Petrified Forest. I had pictured a dense and eerie grove filled with trees frozen in time. Maybe a thick mist weaving through the woods. I probably even thought there were ancient creatures living in the branches above. And despite my wild fantasies, I was still skeptical that the trees were actually stone. We approached the gate. I deployed my America the Beautiful pass for the last time on this trip—cementing it’s return on investment. We asked the ranger, “How does this all work?” He went on to explain the most user friendly park in the system. You enter, drive north to some key sites, and exit back on the highway we had just left — a few exits down. The whole visit could be accomplished in under an hour without missing any of the major stops. I was guessing that many visitors also experience the the Petrified Forest as a side quest. In all honesty, this visit felt a little more like an obligation compared to the lifelong dream of visiting Yosemite. Of course, we weren’t just going to pass by the Petrified Forest and all of its wonders. But we also weren’t going to spend hours in the scorching desert heat examining each and every quartz log that dotted the Martian-like landscape. We’d see a few and get out. No disrespect to the National Park—it was more about our headspace at the time. On the positive side, we would get to visit Route 66 — which the park had memorialized toward the end of our tour. The Vistor Center was interactive and fun—oh, and air conditioned. There were plants and birds and rocks and things. There was sand and hills and rings. The curators did a great job of explaining how the landscape looked millions of years ago. There were fossils and casts of ancient creatures that kids (and adults) could play with. They even had an exhibit where kids could brush sand and ‘find’ fossils. Though Banana Bread only found more brushes. We got our passport stamps and headed back out in the heat to see what we could see. The heat was hot, and the ground was dry. We would soon discover that there were many wonders in the park. Quartz, Funky Worms, Tepees and Getting our Kicks Our first stop was the Crystal Forest Trail. After driving for a few miles, we hopped out and were able to closely examine the many petrified logs and trees that dotted the desert. They really did look like logs and feel like stone. There was also a sign advertising ice cream at some vague location. I was unclear whether Banana Bread was more interested in the ice cream or the ancient stone trees. On the flip side of the ice cream sign was a notice that reminded us to be sure to leave the park by 7:30—oddly decorated by a rainbow and a cloud, two phenomena that probably rarely occur in this park. After about 15 minutes, we went back to the car and continued our trip. Our next stop was the Blue Mesa, an impressive landscape formed some 220–225 million years ago. This was also the home of the discovery the oldest caecilian fossil, which paleontologists named Funcusvermis gilmorei or “the funky worm”. Who says scientists can’t be fun? The next few stops we enjoyed from the car. Eventually, we came across—what was to me the most impressive part of the park—the Tepees. These are striped, conical-shaped hills naturally decorated with blue (mudstone with iron), red (rust), and white (sandstone and volcanic ash) stripes. The colors were so vivid, my most advanced cameras couldn’t pick up their beauty. We stopped at a few overlooks, but the heat quickly pushed us back into the Jeep. We continued on to the monument for Route 66. Where this famous Route used to be now stood a monument — complete with an old Studebaker. I assume it was meant to represent the types of cars that traveled this famed road. They also left the old telephone poles that used to line the “Mother Road.” The tarmac itself was completely gone — swallowed by the desert—perhaps intentionally, perhaps not. The end was in sight. There was the Painted Desert—which stretched from the Grand Canyon that we had left 5 hours ago, to here in the Petrified Forest. We stopped at Pintado Point to view this impressive landscape. Nearby was the Painted Desert Inn—a 1930s hotel. Banana Bread tried to get water from the fountain, which came out so hot he couldn’t drink it. And—we were done. Just a few miles after leaving the Painted Desert, we were back on I-40 racing to New Mexico and our last night of camping. Would I recommend the Petrified Forest National Park? Absolutely! Would I make a trip to the American SouthWest just to see it? Banana and I agreed, probably not. They don’t even have camping!Next up—ok now, really our last night of camping. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit toebox.substack.com [https://toebox.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Day 16 - 17: The Grand Canyon is on Fire!

Somewhere in the California Desert, July 14, 2025 - “You can’t do everything—you can’t do everything.” A mantra I repeated to myself as we passed Death Valley National Park and again as we passed the Mojave Desert. It was over 107°F (41.7°C), we were exhausted, and the road ahead was long. We had spent the night in another hotel. My plan had included camping in the Mojave National Preserve, but I just couldn’t see doing that in this heat. We also had no reservations, as making them was impossible. The Preserve campground was first come, first served and only had what they call an “iron ranger” which is a box where you deposit your registration and payment information. I know that, despite the heat, the snakes, and the scorpions, it probably would have worked out fine. Despite missing the iconic National Parks, we did see Joshua trees everywhere — with U2’s iconic album soundtracking our drive. A Food Desert The hotel we stayed at Yermo, California sat just off of Interstate 40—the road that would take us most of the way home. There were no real restaurants open when we arrived. Peggy Sue’s 50’s Diner attached to the hotel and much boasted about on their website had a broken oven. The charming local dive bar attached to Desert Springs RV Park had closed its kitchen just fifteen minutes before we arrived. The only other option was fast food. And not just any fast food, but Jack in the Box. I had only heard of Jack in the Box in movies. It is a chain out west like In-N-Out Burger or Der Wienerschnitzel, the latter is of particular interest to me. Besides having the article wrong (it’s Das Wiener Schnitzel), they don’t actually serve Wiener Schnitzel. I became familiar with this restaurant through the Descendents’ 12 second song “Weinerschnitzel” (also misspelled). While I’m not a fan of fast food, I had to agree with Banana Bread when he declared that Jack in the Box was his favorite junk-food burger. He mentioned it several times on the trip. By the next morning, I had hoped that Peggy Sue’s 50’s Diner had fixed their oven problem so we could get some breakfast. I hadn’t slept well, having nightmares all night about the car breaking down. And while Peggy Sue’s still hadn’t addressed their culinary issues, they did have hot coffee and a few cakes and pastries. Banana Bread opted for—well—Banana Bread! He would later regret not buying one for the road. We tanked up and were on the road. I note that we still had to buy premium gas because the regular gas on this side of the Continental Divide was still only 85 octane—and we had some serious altitude gain ahead of us. As we left California, we passed through large oil fields and wind farms. The Arizona welcome sign highlighted our destination — one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World — according to some lists but not others. On the journey, we had been listening to news reports about the fires on the North Rim. Yesterday, they had destroyed the iconic and historic Grand Canyon Lodge. If I’m honest here, it did occur to me to skip the Grand Canyon entirely. We were so tired and so ready to be home. This fire could really dampen our experience. Driving there would add additional days, and it was 2.5 hours out of our way. The other voice in my head made the succinct, persuasive, and well-articulated, “C’mon! Really?” argument that eventually won the day. Not long after crossing the state line, we approached the Park. The impact of the fire was obvious. The otherwise blue skies were grey with smoke—so much so that we initially thought it was about to rain. The air smelled like a campfire. Banana thought it was more like hot dogs and asked me if it was safe to be here. I really didn’t know. Banana Bread, My Junior Ranger We entered the Park — now getting the full value of my “America the Beautiful” pass. The ranger at the gate confirmed that the South Rim was still open— “probably.” Now I was starting to get excited. We checked in with the enthusiastic ranger at our campsite - “Mather Campground.” He told us the air quality was safe for one night. He also told us that we were still permitted to have campfires—which surprised even him. He gave BB a Junior Ranger book and the badge — though he would have to honor getting the badge in advance of completing the book. I could tell Banana Bread felt too old for this project. But he loved the Mad Lib section in the book which he continued to read and laugh about for days to come. Our site was great: good bathrooms, scrub bushes, and cacti everywhere. Being able to walk to the Rim from here, with shuttle buses plentiful, I was grateful to let the car cool down for a significant time. Random and terrifying warning lights were still popping up. Once again, I was shocked at how empty the campground was—and it wasn’t due to the fires. I had booked this site with ease weeks before they started. Here we were at the Grand Canyon in the middle of summer, and it was deserted. We set up camp and hung our towels—which had gotten thoroughly soaked when one of our water bags leaked in the car. It was a small miracle that BB thought to put two towels as a precaution underneath the the 4-liter container. We were told that the walk to the Rim would be one mile. Banana Bread questioned aloud why we trust people when they give us distance estimates. So far on this trip they’ve never been accurate. I was proud that he picked up on this life lesson so early. Today, I’m not sure if it even occured to me to trust anyone who told me how far away something was. But I didn’t figure that out until my 20s at least. That View! I got us lost and then found again. The map wasn’t to scale and missed crucial buildings and landmarks. There was a small village/shopping center near our site that seemed like a great hangout—if we were staying longer. It was also mostly empty. Tired, cranky, and slightly lost, Banana and I were bickering for most of the walk. As we neared the Rim, I told him to stop. “We are going to one of the most iconic places in the world. You will remember these next few minutes for the rest of your life — and so will I. Let’s pause and get in the right frame of mind.” So we did. We took a breath, reset, and started up the last incline. I was about to see yet another sight that I had waited my whole life to see. A quote from the West Wing stuck in my head as we neared the Rim: “You know when you go out West how they say, ‘Don’t miss the Grand Canyon—it’s one of the few things in life that, when you see it, it doesn’t disappoint?’” — Toby Ziegler, The West Wing, Season 5, Episode 7 (The Separation of Powers) And suddenly there it was. The Grand Canyon! The actual, real-life Grand Canyon! I couldn’t decide where to focus—on the splendor in front or me or on Banana’s reaction. The haze from the nearby wild fire didn’t diminish this timeless view. Toby Ziegler was right. It held up —even through the smoke. I instantly regretted that we didn’t have more time there. It was vast and endless. If Banana Bread was faking his reactions to impress or placate me, he deserves an Oscar. We only had 45 minutes of light left. So we raced across the Rim to what was considered the best viewing spot for sunset, Hopi point. We were also trying to lose an obnoxious French family whose laughing interrupted all of our videos. I thought we could make it on foot, but the sun was moving faster than we were. We made it to Grand Canyon Village where we saw a local news crew covering the fires. We jumped on the shuttle bus. It was the same as the ones in Yosemite and Mariposa Grove. A couple of German kids started whispering about Banana and me—like they knew us. We openly hoped that they had recognized us from this newsletter. More likely, we had said something inadvertently in German or we just had schmutz on us from setting up camp and looked ridiculous. The shuttle was catching up with the sun, and we were going to make sunset. We hopped off and walked to the edge. I was surprised when Banana told me he had never seen a sunset before. I’m not sure how I had missed providing him with that experience. I told him that there is a green flash right at sunset that you can see if you don’t blink. He was skeptical. We recorded the sun setting while he shared with me his thoughts on the event. “It looks like a molten metal ball.” “It looks like a pixelated sun from a video game.” And, “My God, what is that woman doing over there?” I turned to my right and there was a small group of people who had snuck under the protective guard rails and were sitting right on the edge. I told BB that people die every year here, and their last act is taking a selfie. We discussed what would kill her first, but eventually turned our gaze back to the sunset. The smoke from the fire was in full force. We could kind of make out the Colorado River below but the rest was just shapes and shadows. After what seemed like an eternity, the sun set. No green flash. Maybe someday. Banana Bread expected it to be completely dark. We talked about the difference between sunset and last light. I failed in my attempt to explain why. Steve’s Lava Chicken In line for the shuttle bus on the way back to camp, Banana joined a group of kids singing “Steve’s Lava Chicken,” a song in the new Minecraft movie. Banana Bread, two brothers and their sister comprised the rousing chorus. They laughed and compared Minecraft projects, shared tips, news on upcoming updates, and told knock-knock and fart jokes. Banana was immediately a kid again. Silly, obnoxious, happy. I realized what was missing from this whole trip. Other children. On that shuttle bus, he was having the time of his life. I took note of this for future adventures. I thought of what it must be like for him to be stuck with a middle aged adult for three weeks. Did I expect too much of him? Was I forcing him to be an adult? Did I make this too serious? Was he even having fun? These questions rattled around my head as we made our way back to camp. Our towels had dried completely in the short time we were gone. This would have taken half a day at least back home. I reorganized the Jeep for the 100th time as Banana Bread set up the tent and boiled water for dinner. Several cans of Coke Zero that we had picked up at Safeway earlier in the day, fell out of the back door and exploded. I was thinking, ‘Thank God we aren’t in bear country anymore.’ Good morning, Grand Canyon At 6am our camping neighbor decided that this was the perfect time to talk to her mother about her relationship with her boyfriend back home. We were treated to his commitment issues, job problems, and terrible taste in music while she packed up her site. After they drove off, I decided it was time to get up. I unzipped the tent and, unlike every other morning, I woke Banana Bread up. The skies had cleared! We were going to see the full majesty of the Grand Canyon. A quick coffee and oatmeal, we retraced our steps back to the Rim. Sure enough, the views were there. We made our way to the Visitor Center, got our stamps, and checked out the views from Mather Point. On the way we saw warning signs about hiking and camping down in the Canyon. Another activity for our next visit! Another nice German family agreed to take our photo. We didn’t let on that we spoke German as the younger of three daughters complained about her appearance in their photos. “I didn’t have time to put on makeup. I look like an egg!” When we burst out laughing at this teen tirade, the jig was up. The father turned to me and, in German, said, “sons are easier.” Off in the distance we counted the fires on the North Rim. Fortunately, their smoke hadn’t reached us today. We bid the Canyon farewell, and promised to make it back soon with the whole family. For now, it was time to go. The mysterious warning lights on the Jeep had disappeared, and it was literally all downhill from here to our next destination. Next: Our last night of camping and plan to get home! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit toebox.substack.com [https://toebox.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Day 14: Part 2: We Made it! We Really Made It!

Monterey Bay, CA- July 12, 2025 - I have to admit something to you. There were many days - especially in the beginning - when I questioned this whole endeavor. Whether it was when the check engine light came on, or missing important job openings that I really should be applying for—or hearing Banana Bread wax fondly about home. Some mornings were miserable - hungry, tired, and spending more money than we had planned. What kept us going? Willpower, guilt, inertia — but mostly it was all of you—and your kind words about enjoying our adventure. You reminded us that you were along for the ride and it didn’t go unnoticed. I realized that even though we had made it to California and would be at the Pacific Ocean by the end of the day, we really were only halfway through. We still had to get back to the East Coast. As we left Mariposa Grove and Yosemite, it started to sink in: while only halfway, our adventure would soon be over. The return trip would be shorter, and the inertia that pulled us west, would shift, grow stronger and start pulling east. But for now, we were descending from the Sierras and into a drier, lower biome. From 8,200 feet to sea level in a single day. We also had phone service again and were able to call home and reassure my wife that we were okay. It was about five hours from Yosemite to the coast. It was still pretty dry, but the orchards and vineyards of Central California, were much more welcoming than the deserts of Nevada. The drive was mostly uneventful, but we did see some unusual sights—most notably, an actual car with a Nickelback sticker on it. An actual Nickelback sticker! California is strange. As we neared the Pacific, the weather started to get foggy and cool. We were both looking forward to the hotel — and hot showers. I also had promised BB a meal of his choosing. We debated the whale-watching plan and desided that we would go first thing in the morning and just relax today. In fact, the ocean is typically calmer and whales are more active in the morning. We found the hotel — which turned out to be a motel, and it was a bit shabbier than it’s price tag would indicate. Still, it was clean and had hot water. We checked in and cleaned up. My iPhone was completely full. For the first time since Colorado, I would have the ability to really dump my photos and movies and make some space. Against my better judgment, I allowed Banana to watch YouTube on the Wi-Fi. While the files (hopefully) copied, it was time for dinner. We found an acceptable restaurant—Banana’s favorite: sushi. It was in a shopping center, but I love sushi too, so no real complaints. Still, I had hoped for a nice meal on the Bay. So we hopped back in the Jeep and headed over to the Wakatobi Japanese Grill Hibachi and Sushi. The salmon rolls were the biggest I had ever seen - each piece “as big as my fist,” Banana Bread would later explain. He had two rolls (one for the fridge in the motel) and miso soup. I still haven’t had the chance to tell him it was seaweed—though, honestly, I don’t think he would mind. We ate way too much and headed to the Bay to check out Municipal Wharf 2 as the sun started slowly setting in the west. Exhausted as we were, the lights and colors and crowds and sounds of civilization brought us out of the wilderness where we had slept for the last five days. He immediately became a kid again! No worries about survival, the purity of our drinking water, fending off bears, or where we will pitch out tent tonight. We hit the candy store, the ice cream parlor, and I even allowed him to spend his own money on advice from Zoltar. Here, I’ll save you a dollar: We stayed on the wharf for about an hour, but exhaustion caught up fast. We headed back to the hmotel—after one quick errand: Dramamine. I had done this whale-watching trip before (25 years ago!) and one of my friends was seasick the entire time. Since you go out for a couple of hours, we figured, better safe than sorry. We found a Target and started searching. I had no idea what section it would be in. I asked BB to check the locator screen at the end of the aisle. He came back almost immediately — aisle 18. I was shocked at how quickly he came up with that. While I was wondering if he was just guessing, he told me that the people before him were also looking for Dramamine. That seemed odd. It’s a huge Target with hundreds of people in it. Or maybe I should have made a reservation for the whale-watching trip given how popular Dramamine was today. When we got to aisle 18, there was a woman who was also going on a boat ride tomorrow. I guess we’ll chalk it up to coincidence. We made our purchase and checked the label. Two things stood out: you have to take it before you get sick—and it makes you drowsy. We would deal with that in the morning. Back at the motel, we discovered a biker convention had taken over—and the hot water was out. All of a sudden, I started to see how really shabby this place was. Too tired to care—and knowing there was nothing we could do—we turned on the TV for the first time this trip and promptly fell asleep. Next: The Whales and the Desert and the Zenith of Our Journey This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit toebox.substack.com [https://toebox.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Day 13: Emerging From the Wild

I told Banana Bread on this trip that my best memories all began with an early wake-up: fishing trips, or missions in West Africa to remote villages. When you intentionally get up before the sun, you are going to remember that day. Somewhere on the Yosemite Creek, Yosemite National Park, CA - July 12, 2025 - . 5:29 am and we were up. Like checking a mousetrap placed the night before, I was curious to see if a bear had attempted to break into our bear can while we slept—and ultimately disappointed (in the forgiving light of day) to learn that it remained undisturbed. Where were these legions of bears that we were said to have to wade through to get to and from our backcountry campsite? Or, maybe all of the tactics we employed, under duress, had worked. The Ascent I had no trouble rousing Banana Bread. He was anxious to get to the car again. So we quickly packed up the camp, strapped our backpacks on over hoodies and started our ascent. Typically, hikers will tell you, “be bold, start cold.” The idea being that when you wear extra layers, you’ll eventually work up a sweat and then your clothes will be wet. This can lead to bigger problems. But we kept our hoodies on for the entire hike without issue. They served to protect us from whatever biting, insect-filled cloud engulfed us as we hiked. Memory is funny. I forgot or didn’t realize that the entire hike the day before was downhill. Banana pointed out that I had been complaining about that the day before. Either way, I shouldn’t have been surprised that the entire trek back was uphill. Not the most strenuous hike I’ve done. But toss in the fact that we hadn’t slept properly in weeks, were carrying a lot of extra weight due to the bear necessities, had over 1,200 feet of elevation gain, and were still not adjusted to the altitude of 8,200 feet, it was a little rougher than a typical strenuous uphill hike. Despite having taken the exact same trail just hours before, it remained difficult to follow. Torrential dew soaked our feet and we couldn’t stop for a short break without being mauled by mosquitoes. Poor BB was definitely carrying more than the recommended weight for someone of his body size—I would find out later. As for me, the excitement that we were going to be in Yosemite Valley and my months-long fear that we wouldn’t find parking were strong motivators. I was definitely handling the altitude better than I had in Colorado just a week before. Plus, I didn’t want to look soft in front of any other seasoned backpackers — though we were absolutely alone. We made excellent time — not being able to rest helps. Our footprints from the previous day assured me that we were on the trail. Sooner than I expected, we were at the first landmark, a gravel road — one that we had debated hitchhiking from the day before. It also meant that we only had a little over half a mile left. So we wrung the dew out of our ankles and quickly finished up the balance of the trail — with Banana Bread taking point. Success! We made it to the Jeep! And we had plenty of time to get to the Valley before the rest of America piled into our well-earned Valley with their cheap trekking poles, camelbak water bladders, fanny packs, and clean socks. We looked terrible. BB’s face was so dirty, I couldn’t tell if he had sunburn, new freckles, or Nutella smeared under his eyes like an outfielder who the bears had missed. And me? I just smelled. In truth we hadn’t showered since Colorado almost five days before. And we weren’t going to shower until we eventually reached the Pacific. Despite our relatively basic backpacking experience in Yosemite, we would fit right in at the backpackers camp. Had we had more time, I would have hiked into the Valley. It was only another few miles ahead by foot from our campsite. By car it was about an hour. The Jeep was where we left it and so was our cooler and our food bin in the bear locker. I tossed them back into the car with our packs on top and we headed South West toward the Valley. The Descent Immediately, the drive was exactly what I wanted. Unfamiliar with the details, I thought every granite protrusion was El Capitan or Glacier Point. Every waterfall was Horsetail. Though now I realize Yosemite Falls is what I meant. I’m still not sure where Horsetail Falls is. There were incredible vistas on the way down. Tunnels and turns—each revealing a new postcard view upon our achieving them. It was at this point when I realized I didn’t really have a plan beyond, ‘find parking!’. I knew there was a shuttle bus and endless things to see and do. There was an electric construction sign telling us that the Curry Village lot was full. You see, if you have a wilderness permit, you are entitled to park in Curry Village which serves as an overflow lot—regardless of whether or not you are staying there. Also I had a hunch that our backpacker campground was somewhere nearby. However, if the overfill lot was full, I assumed that the main lot was also full. We pulled into a camp called “Housekeeping” to try to get some directions. The woman who greeted us from reception could only be sure of one thing. This was Housekeeping. She didn’t know where the backpackers camp was. She didn’t know where Curry Village was or where the shuttles stopped. But she was 100 percent, absolutely certain that the place we were standing in right then and there, the place we were asking her questions from was “Housekeeping Camp.” Yosemite has strange place names like Hetch Hetchy or Dead Giant Tunnel Tree, Zigzag Creek, and Lost Bear Meadow — I mean—if the bear was in that meadow, why was it lost? It’s in Lost Bear Meadow—obviously. So I didn’t even occur to me Housekeeping Camp was a strange name, but I didn’t have time to get into that. I still needed parking and Curry Village lot was closed. Banana, bored with this pointless conversation, had wandered over to the camp store to find sweets. The cashier at the camp store, though managing a long line of tired campers, was much more helpful. She was able to recommend where we could park and a complicated set of instructions as to how we would eventually get to the backpackers camp. She lost me after the third or fourth bridge. In the GPS age, I’ve lose the ability to retain more than three turns before I run out of RAM. Armed with a huge bag of Skittles and wad of random bills that he had been squirreling away, Banana made his purchase and we were back in the car. “You let me buy way more candy than Mama does,” he said to my embarrassment. Thus ending his candy buying career — at least for this trip. Quite shortly thereafter, we found the main parking lot by the Visitor Center, and parked without incident. We would come back to the Jeep several times throughout the day to re-supply or re-apply sunscreen, and there were always spots available. My two biggest fears, parking and bears, were for naught. Soon we found the entrance to the Visitor Center, picked up some postcards, stamped our passports, debated with the Ranger which granite we had camped under the night before - never did get a clear answer on that, but “there are a lot of granite domes in Yosemite,” he reminded me. I should set him up with the Housekeeping Camp woman. Yosemite Valley We found the shuttle stop and waited forever for the bus to arrive. Since it was free, we figured we could enter through the back door. We were wrong. I wager that there is a surly bar one has to surpass to be selected for a shuttle driver. This continued throughout the day. “DO NOT ENTER THROUGH THE BACK DOOR!” It was as though we were back in NYC and people were trying to sneak on without paying. Like buses everywhere, they had the issue of buses getting stacked up. So the bus we were on was standing room only while the next shuttle was almost completely empty. Eventually, we found some handicap seats and relaxed as the shuttle stopped at all of the various places we couldn’t afford and weren’t staying—until we started the real loop around the Valley. Occasionally, we would offer our seats to older folks who deserved them more than us. But they were all in Yosemite to hike and refused our half-hearted offer. Maybe they just didn’t want to occupy the places where this unclean duo had just been. Once we cleared the lodgings the Valley really opened up. Waterfalls, granites, and the Merced River (pronounced mer-SED) that bisected the valley floor. Lacking any real idea of what to do, we hopped off and got some iconic photos, and quickly made it back to the shuttle. I had heard of Curry Village through some prep-podcasts I listened to before the trip, and, even though it is named after the two teachers who started it, it made me think of food. It occurred to me that we hadn’t eaten anything at all today. Chungus The lot was still full, but the line at the Meadow Grill—which boasts the best burritos in Yosemite—was short. I felt like we earned take out and a big meal. Oddly, there were also tables available where we could gorge on beans and nachos, and sit in the shade for as long as we wanted. Maybe they even had Wi-fi? Yeah, no. We parked on some picnic tables in front of the Yosemite Mountain Shop. As we ate, we watched climbers going in and out with new replacement gear and t-shirts depicting all the ways you can be eaten by these elusive bears. Over my left shoulder, I heard the strangest sound. When I turned to examine it, I was surprised to see it emanating from what I thought was a crow—later a five year old would correct me. It was a raven. Here I thought they only said, “nevermore.” While the raven distracted us with its recounting of volumes of forgotten lore, the squirrels approached. It reminded me of the night market in Bangkok where over indulged cats would swarm your table for scraps. Though in that case, I was happy because the particular beef I ordered was too tough for a human to chew. Clearly, these animals in Curry Village had been spoiled by tourists, probably for over a century. I started to notice all the signs about not feeding the wildlife. It was clear to me that these efforts had failed when we both saw ripples in our fountain soda à la Jurassic Park. The planks on the boardwalk beneath us started to creak and the contents of our cup sloshed around the sides as our table dipped under the weight of the biggest squirrel anyone had ever seen. Children were fat shaming this poor creature in English, French, German, and Spanish. It was universal. But Chungus — as Banana Bread would name him - was only interested in nachos that had fallen to the floor. He was so formidable that he didn’t even try to grab his loot and nervously scurry away like most squirrels I know. He just sat there eating with us like he was an honored guest, invited to join the family meal. This whole animal interaction is something I would have just ignored as an annoying distraction. But for BB, it was central to not only his experience at Yosemite, but this entire trip. When strangers asked him what he liked most about our journey so far, he would start with Chungus. Spiders, prairie dogs, and cave crickets would get an honorable mention, but Chungus was the star of our cross country trip. Chungus became central to all of our road trip imaginations. He was seen driving trucks as we left Yosemite. He was featured in a story that somehow combined BB’s latest video game with a collection of pipes that, in his mind, looked like rocket launchers. Chungus even featured in Yosemite Valley’s origin. Apparently, he fell off of Half Dome and created the Valley itself. Probably 37th on his list of sites would be the magnificent waterfalls, or the mindblowing abandoned pueblo villages. Maybe the formations at Monument Valley, the endless caverns at Mammoth, the peaks of Colorado, the 3,000 year old giant sequoias, or the blue mountain lakes of Nevada would be worthy of a footnote. We would pop into the Curry Village a few more times throughout the day for 8 dollar bags of ice or bathroom breaks. Each time we noticed that a new child was resting in the shade that Chungus provided, fat-shaming him and being more impressed with an extraodinarily-large but, otherwise, run-of-the-mill gray squirrel. And I don’t even have a photograph of him. The Merced Unfortunately, when asking for directions to the bathroom, Banana Bread learned that swimming was an option. So back to our Jeep for swimming gear and a shuttle to Sentinel Beach to swim. Scolded by the driver for God-knows-what, we found our seats. This time we sat in proper chairs not stolen from disabled tourists trying to enjoy the Park. I started to notice how hot it really was as we walked from the shuttle stop to the river. Everything in the Valley has an incredible view. Our lunch tables were under Glacier Point. So close, in fact, that a rockslide in 2008 almost killed a bunch of tourists. Fortunately, there were only three injuries—nothing short of a miracle. Sentinel Beach was no different. Sentinel Rock towers above the river and you get incredible views of Cathedral Rock and a bit of El Cap. BB was already in the river while I set up our chairs in the ever shifting sliver of shade. I waded in, but was less interested in swimming. I just welcomed the chance to stare at the scenery and was, for the first time, grateful that I didn’t have any phone service to distract me. Banana collected driftwood and rocks while other families played nearby. At one point he left my line of sight, only to return carrying large sticks that were converted into weapons both ancient and modern. We were told that after 3:30 or 4:00, the Curry Village lot would clear out a little and we could move our car closer to the bear lockers and the purple shuttle that would somehow get us to the backpacker campground. So after about an hour, we headed back to the shuttle stop where we huddled with other tourists in the thin strip of shade cast by a small pine tree. It took forever for a shuttle to arrive. Sure enough, the electric construction sign indicating that the Curry Village lot was full, was no longer illuminated. We made our way to the Jeep and were able to find a prime spot in the lot, right next to the bear lockers. Plenty of signs warned us that it was a 5000 fine not to use the bear lockers. Oddly, our original parking lot made no mention of bears—nor did it have lockers. So I guessed this was the right place. We grabbed some supplies from Curry Village, reorganized our backpacks—and once again, put our food in the lockers. We’d take the shuttle to North Pine camp and figure it out from there. Unusually, I wasn’t so concerned about not having a verified plan for where we would sleep that night - something that would typically drive me crazy. I figured it would work out fine. Backpackers’ Paradise Since the campground was no where near parking, we would have to hike in with our packs. I was fine with this. I liked feeling like one of the adventurers on the shuttle. At every point where we wanted to ask where the backpacker campsite was, we found a sign full of details. I had pictured this campground to be an open field with tons of crammed-in tents, but when we crossed the bridge and rounded the corner, I realized, it was a regular campsite. There were bathrooms and, of course, bear lockers, and all of it was in the shade of Glacier Point with the breathtaking views that we had been seeing all day. We filled out the registration form and put in 20 bucks (no change) and found a site with a bear locker and a view. I was ecstatic! Everywhere were backpackers and all of the gear I had been reading about. All of them fresh from an adventure or about to start one. Thru-hikers and climbers, loud groups of 10 or silent groups of two sharing stories and advice. It was the Woodstock of hiking. Perhaps a little bit like what Trail Days on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia is like. We unpacked our packs on the picnic table and started setting up our tent. Immediately a ranger came over and scolded us for not using our bear locker. “But we are right here.” ”It doesn’t matter—in five seconds they can come up and snatch your food.” I think Yosemite put a higher value on our food than we did. I would totally sacrifice our terrible backpacking meals to see a bear and have that story. But I got their point and started to put our food in the locker. And that’s when I noticed that BB’s horrible, unfinished meal from the day before had exploded in our bear can—coating all of our food, toothbrushes, and lip balm with a variety of beans and cheese. Fortunately, everything in the bear can, save some packets of oatmeal and our tea, was also stored in Ziplocks and we were able to (somewhat unethically) rinse them off in the river. No tea tonight, but our toothpaste was no longer bean-flavored. Our next Readywise meals were just as horrible as the night before— despite some tweaking we tried with water amounts and cook times. Thus confirming that it wasn’t us. I’m not particularly picky about food, so when I say it’s bad, well it’s bad. The bathrooms in the camp had very squeaky doors. One reminded me of the harmonica piece in “Once Upon a Time in the West.” We chatted with a couple of brothers who we invited to camp near us. They had been climbing all day and were very knowledgeable about Yosemite. It only made me want to stay longer when I learned about all of the things we still could do. As the sun set, we were ready for bed well before hiker’s midnight and crashed pretty quickly with Glacier Point watching over us as we slept. Next: The Grizzly Giant, sushi, and our ultimate goal! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit toebox.substack.com [https://toebox.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Day 12 Part 2: Yosemite's Backcountry

Yosemite Creek, Yosemite National Park, CA - July 10, 2025 - With our wilderness permit secured and some time to enjoy the front country, we continued down Tioga Road to Tenaya Lake. If there’s water, Banana Bread is going in. Despite my concerns about crowds, the lake was surprisingly quiet—just a few people meandering on the beaches: some German tourists and one guy who ruined the serenity by inflating his kayak with an electric pump for a solid 30 minutes. Tenaya Lake None of this fazed BB, who was in the water before I could say, “sunscreen!” Some kind folks took our photo while he waded through the crystal-clear lake, collecting stones and driftwood. I love a mountain lake. While I waited for BB to finish his swim, a hiker approached me—someone who apparently makes a habit of talking to everyone he meets to hear their story. Something I wish I’d done more of. I told him we were crossing the country and heading into the Yosemite backcountry. He seemed impressed. He lives nearby and spends a lot of time in the park. “They told you there are a lot of bears on that trail, right?” he whispered, as if BB shouldn’t hear. “But they’re cool. You just shout at them and they go away.” Honestly, at that point, I was hoping to see a bear—the hype was getting to me. Wait. I take that back. As we left, he shouted to BB, “Hey! What your dad is doing for you is something very special!” BB gave a half-teenage grunt, “I know.” I thanked him for saying it. I think BB knows this is special—intellectually, at least. But like all Type 2 fun, the magic will hit with distance and time. Still, even a cynical teenager has to be impressed with these views. Olmstead Point We jumped back in the car. I promised him another lake ahead—and possibly a signal strong enough to call Mama. They said AT&T had service near May Lake. Next stop: Olmsted Point. Named for Frederick Law Olmsted, the designer of Central Park and the first chairman of the Yosemite Commission. He, along with John Muir, is considered a founding father of the national park concept. Must’ve done something right to get this view named after him. Once again, no crowd problems. Though busier than Tenaya, we found parking immediately. BB scampered up the granite before I could say, “shoelaces!” While he played, I chatted with a family from Arizona who convinced me to visit the Grand Canyon on our return. “It’s one of the seven natural wonders of the world,” they reminded me. I was considering a different route home, but now… maybe not. I also got to speak French and German up there—something magical about that rock. As we walked back to the car, a woman from the Yosemite Conservancy invited us to look through her binoculars aimed at Half Dome. Invisible to the naked eye, a steady line of climbers was ascending to the summit. May Lake At May Lake, BB changed back into his bathing suit while I chatted with a German family. BB rejected this lake—it was colder. But I got a signal strong enough to call my wife. She confirmed that she’d received my earlier satellite messages. We didn’t linger. The backcountry was calling. Two miles down Tioga Road, we realized we’d left BB’s Crocs at May Lake. One U-turn later, we were all reunited. Backpacking on Yosemite Creek Next stop: Lukens Lake pull-off, where our trailhead and bear lockers were waiting. Unfortunately, the trail was called “Yosemite Creek,” which is also the name of a standard campground. This caused a few… tense moments. I assured BB that I’d spent months planning and knew where we were going. The permit said Lukens Lake. Eventually, with the help of a friendly day hiker, we found the right trailhead. We stashed our food in the bear locker, double-checked our packs, refilled our water bottles (we’d have spring water too), and set off. I was immediately concerned about trail markings—or the lack thereof. There were no blazes, and the trail itself was barely visible. My GPS apps weren’t showing anything. But I had a paper map and a sense that we were going the right way. The trail was just a faint band of matted grass. Across rocks or rivers, it disappeared entirely. In over four miles, we saw only two signs—and one group of hikers who confirmed we were on track. I knew that keeping the stream on our left would get us there. BB was very concerned about ticks in the high grass. I was more concerned about snakes and bears. I later learned he insisted I lead so I’d “get all the ticks.” Along the way, we shouted our names to warn off bears. Most people yell “Hey bear!” but BB has always yelled “Banana Bread”—which is how he got his trail name. We passed vast areas of burnt forest, likely from the 2023 Blue Jay Fire. But wildflowers still bloomed. Eventually, we hit Yosemite Creek—the headwaters of Yosemite Falls. After crossing, we looked for a campsite. I knew we’d need to be back at the Jeep by 8:00 a.m. to have any chance of parking in Yosemite Valley. That drive, all within the park, would take over an hour. We found a pine needle clearing and dropped our packs. I fetched water to make our dehydrated “ReadyWise” meals. This time, we opted for commercial backpacking food. Mountain House is too expensive—over $12 per meal. I found a deal: several ReadyWise meals for $50. And now I know why it was so cheap. The entire time we were cooking, we could hear the classic screeching of golden eagles overhead. That iconic eagle cry — often used in movies — actually comes from golden eagles, not bald eagles, whose real call is a more subdued chirp. At first, I thought BB was just being picky. But no—they were terrible. Some bits were crunchy, others soggy, none good. This was confirmed on a later attempt. We stashed everything in our bear can, including BB’s mostly untouched teriyaki chicken, sealed in its pouch. I had a bear bell on my pack, so we leaned the can against a tree with the bell on top. If it rang, I guess we’d… go fight the bear for some awful food? By hiker’s midnight (9 p.m.), we were ready to sleep. I knew I’d wake at every sound if I didn’t distract myself, so I played our audiobook of The Lord of the Rings. Sometime around midnight, I woke to “YOU CAN NOT PASS!” echoing through the tent. I know in the movie it’s ‘shall not pass’—but not the book.) Otherwise, it was a peaceful night. Next: The wost hike back, our fight with the squirrels, and the unimaginable beauty of Yosemite Valley. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit toebox.substack.com [https://toebox.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]