In 1972 our family went on a road trip to California.  It was to attend my uncle’s wedding.  Having just completed his service as a medical officer in the Navy, he was marrying a California girl from a well-known family.  I had to look up the word debutante.  

The wedding served as an excuse for my dad to extend our travel to California for his brother’s wedding, by adding on a backpacking trip to one of the premier wilderness areas in the world—Yosemite National Park.  He had become fascinated with hiking backcountry trails ever since some backpackers emerged from the forested slopes of Glacier Park into a clearing —a roadside stop where our family was, at that moment, enjoying the amazing view.  We noticed them from within our rented Dodge “motor home”, an early incarnation of what today is the ubiquitous recreational vehicle.  As we watched the hikers organize themselves for the next leg of their backcountry journey, I remember Dad’s respect and curiosity about them.  Clearly, the backpackers made a strong impression.

In the following years, Dad took each of his kids in turn on a backpacking trip to teach, and to learn further for himself, the techniques and pleasures of hiking in remote, beautiful settings with nothing more than what you carry on your back.

And now he was ready to go on a backpacking trip with the entire family.  This time he needed to be more nimble and have more flexibility than a giant RV could offer.  And now that more family members were licensed to drive, we would take both of the family cars:  a high-capacity Pontiac Bonneville, later referred to as “the White Whale”, and the compact, but near-indestructible Volkswagen Beetle, which had survived numerous stick shift training sessions of young drivers.

I think this is a picture of us in front of the Bonneville, with the Bug showing slightly in the foreground, perhaps as they are being loaded.  The fashion styles of the day are clearly displayed.

My dad was the consummate planner and it is to his credit that he could pull off a complicated trip like this, with his children ranging in ages from 9 to 18, some of whom had never backpacked or camped in the wilderness before.  Still, it is not possible to anticipate the events that can derail even the best-laid plans. 

The unplanned event happened as we headed up the Tioga Highway toward the high country of Yosemite on our way to Tuolumne Meadows: the Bonneville suddenly lost all power and coasted a few feet to a dead stop.  The VW bug, underpowered for such mountain passes, was behind, and noticed the White Whale beached on the shoulder of the road.  In the times before cell phones, this was extremely lucky.

The Bonneville was truly dead.  We had to improvise.  Using our one working vehicle with a passenger capacity of three (plus driver), we ferried family members and backpacks to the next available campground, “Smoky Jack”.  Dad then drove back to civilization to a garage and arranged with the mechanics for the retrieval and repair of the crippled car. 

Remarkably, this did not scrub the vacation plan.  We went forward with the resources we had, transporting everyone to the trailhead, and spending the next five days hiking into the beautiful high country of Yosemite Park.

There is a picture of us on that backpacking trip.  I don’t know how Dad took it.  Selfies back then were notoriously difficult–  placing the camera, setting the mechanical timer, and getting into position before the shutter tripped.  And there were only 36 frames on a roll of film, so there would be one, and only one take. Convincing his family to tolerate the interruption and delay was another part of the task.  Somehow, he did it.

Unfortunately, the original slide is lost, but a low-resolution scan survives.  It shows a band of willing, if not enthused, backpackers in the lush forests along the trail to Young Lakes in Tuolumne Meadows.  I recall that we later entered an open area and the trail continued to gradually climb.  The map showed a lake ahead, and we could see the clearing of trees around it.  At one point, our heads were at the exact same elevation as the lake.  It is a strange experience to be hiking along and suddenly see a lake surface at eye-level!

We made our camp at the first, Lower Young Lake, a pristine and crystal clear body of water catching the melt water of the remaining snowfields that clung to the shadowed rocks of the crest rising to Ragged Peak.   The next day, we would be clinging to those snowfields.

The ascent looked trivial to the minds of teenagers, but we found that the scales were quite different when we actually got up there.  Dad led the way, as best he could with my siblings all scampering and seeking the route that seemed best to each.  But we converged when the climbing became a challenge of finding foot and handholds.  And traversing near-vertical snowfields that we didn’t trust to stay anchored.  We actually made it nearly to the top of Ragged Peak, at least to the crest of the ridge.  I recall climbing over that last rock and as I was exclaiming about the magnificent view, brother Eric climbed over and heaved a sigh of relief that there was finally some solid footing.  

We then sought a way back down.  For some reason, probably shaken from the unexpectedly risky climb, reversing our route was not considered.  Instead, we hiked along the flat section of the ridge until we found a less scary view of the way down.  It took us back onto the snowfield, which was no longer a vertical wall.  We were able to glissade down almost to the lake’s shore and triumphantly march back to our campsite.

A few days later, after exploring the other lakes in the chain, we hiked back, returning to our VW shuttle bug at the trailhead.  It relayed us back to Smoky Jack campground, and then to civilization at Yosemite Valley, where the Pontiac Bonneville had undergone a transmission transplant and was now ready to resume its part in transporting the family.  

We spent the next days exploring the attractions of the valley, including views of Half Dome and El Capitan, as well as its artistic heart of galleries and studios.  It was a wonderful end to a trip that included an unplanned event, qualifying it as truly an adventure. 

See some photos taken on this 1972 backpacking trip:

The AllTrails review of the hike to Young Lakes: https://www.alltrails.com/trail/us/california/young-lakes-trail-loop

And a more official review:
 https://highsierratrails.com/young/young_overview.html

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