By the second or third day, the trip began to feel like a men’s retreat, one of those events where guys head out into the woods to get back in touch with their sacred masculine, to ground themselves again and bond with their fellow men. It was a feeling I quite enjoyed, and it provided some amazing moments of honesty and camaraderie amongst the guests and the guides.
But, before we get too touchy-feely, let’s talk about the weather some more. Because that bomb cyclone created a spectacle in Yosemite I’d never seen before, and one that even the locals could hardly believe. By the time we entered the park at the south entrance, the rain had turned to snow and was accumulating. We crossed the park’s southern reaches, following the winding route 41 towards Yosemite Valley watching the ground turn white and the road disappear under the fresh snowfall. It was beautiful to behold.
Once past the highest reaches of the highway, where the road begins to descend into the valley, the highway became clear and travel much quicker. We did a quick stop at the always awe-inspiring Tunnel View to find a whiteout, the famous peaks of Yosemite Valley completely obscured by thick clouds. We continued down into the valley to find the tranquil Merced River in full flood. Water surged and jumped the banks, creating rapids and flooded meadows.