The Perfect Day

Of course, we won’t have any truly perfect days until heaven, but besides that obvious fact, yesterday would qualify as a perfect day for me.

This last week, I stayed with my brother, Donnie, and sister-in-law, Rachel, who conveniently live in Yosemite National Park. I conveniently have wanted to visit Yosemite my entire life, or at least since I saw a picture of a car driving through a giant tree in National Geographic when I was about five or six. During the past week, I had been able to do a little exploring on my own, through Yosemite Valley to see the famous Half Dome, El Capitan, and Bridalveil Falls. And a few days ago, Donnie dropped me off at the Mariposa Grove—that’s right, the one with the giant Sequoia trees! The same grove of the infamous tree tunnel! However, after hiking to the top of the hill, about two miles, I took a wrong turn, and never saw the darn thing. Apparently, it fell over anyway, so I’m sure it wasn’t that cool. Whatever, I didn’t want to see it anyway. But the Sequoia trees were incredible, and so was my hike down to the entrance from the parking lot, about another two miles of narrow roads, dodging buses and cars. (We all get our adrenaline rushes from different things.) I also enjoyed hanging out this week with the remnant natives of Camp Wawona—Kristina, Derek, and Anthony—and am slightly jealous that they get to live there.

Anyway, all of that was good, but the perfect day was yesterday. We woke up bright and early (9 a.m.), packed a lunch, and hit the road by 11. Our destination: Tuolumne Meadows. This meant about an hour and a half of driving through the mountains, with the windows down—me with my head and tongue practically hanging out the window the whole way like an excited dog. The air was certified mountain-pine scented, cooler and fresher as we ascended to higher elevations. We stopped at an overlook, to see a different side of Half Dome in the distance, then continued on past Tanaya Lake, arriving at last at Tuolumne Meadows.

This place was beautiful. A flat, grassy expanse with some hints of previous wildflowers; a small, clear river flowing through; surrounded by mountains on all sides. A great place for a picnic lunch. Afterward, we hiked up a little trail to Soda Springs. There was a cute little lodge and cabin that somebody built, and in fact, someone still lives in—probably a park interpreter, according to Rachel’s hiking book. But we did not disturb them. Instead, we checked out Soda Springs—a mineral springs close by that was supposedly popular with animals and people alike. Despite the warning of contamination, we all tried a sip, and decided it tasted like carbonated, rusty-pipe water. Not sure why people loved it so much.

We started back, but stopped at Tanaya Lake, with its golden beaches, and clear, blue water. It was a little chilly, but eventually we got used to it (except Rachel, who gave up and stayed warm on the beach before she got to that point : ) and soon it felt refreshing, and warmer than the breezy air.

We made it back to Camp Wawona in time to grill out with the natives. (A few more year-round staff had joined recently). Nothing like some marinated grillers and good conversation to make a good summer evening.

The skies darkened, so we cleaned up, and then Donnie and Rachel and I headed out to Glacier Point. This apparently offers a spectacular view during the day-time, and even at night, the ghostly outline of Half Dome and surrounding peaks mysteriously hinted at grandeur. The lights of Yosemite Valley danced below. But our true purpose in coming out here was to behold the heavens. And it was spectacular! Such an understatement! I don’t know how long it has been since I’ve been able to see so many stars—covering the huge, moonless sky. It struck me while we just took it all in for awhile that science sometimes robs us of the romance of nature. I would much prefer to think of the stars as sparkling diamonds, scattered across the wind-blown night, rather than huge, gaseous orbs that can supposedly fit so many billions of earths in it. I suppose both descriptions have their majesty, but somehow I still prefer the diamonds.

Truly, there are few things that are so humbling, so peace-provoking and awe-inspiring as a full night-sky. Life both seems to make sense and be incomprehensible at once. God seems so close yet so enormous at the same time.

Before long, it was time to leave. As we drove the hour-long curvy, mountain roads back to Wawona, all I could do stare up through my open window and let the fresh air refresh me a little more, the stars dazzle me a little longer. God heard a lot of thank-you’s from me, even as I wished I didn’t have to go home the next day, like a kid at the end of a fantastic week of camp facing the return to normality. But part of making a perfect day truly perfect is a seed of hope for the future, a satisfaction that God will still be close tomorrow, even if it’s not in the same way as today.

So that was my perfect day.