But first my other former nemesis of alcohol. At Half Dome Village I bought crappy champagne, and poured it into my morning’s coffee cup. It was certainly not the best receptacle, but screw it. In the oil fields I’d take the worst-tasting instant coffee and mix it with cold water using my nasty index finger just for an afternoon caffeine pick-me-up. So what if my champagne tasted like coffee?

And it did. And it tasted awful. But down it went.

Thereafter my destination was the Wawona Tunnel. Though the afternoon light beckoned me to stop here again, nah. Oakhurst called.

However, a couple of miles after leaving the tunnel there was sign for a road to Glacier Point. A friend had recommended going there. Ok. I will be spontaneous.

The shoulders of the Glacier Point road were packed with snow. Some piles were four feet thick. At the highest elevations of the Sierras, snowpack can easily reach 25 feet.

Though I had concerns of parking at Glacier Point, there were plenty of spaces. Then, lo, the Yosemite Valley below. Here you stand at 7214′ above sea level. Half Dome Village is 3200′ below.

The view is enormous. To the right and far below one could see the Nevada and Vernal Falls. Yosemite Falls and others were visible too.

In the eastern horizon were snow-capped peaks. There the waterfalls are born. There were the glaciers – maybe. Beyond them, eastward, the mountains fall quickly to the desert. Knowing this adds appreciation to the view.

Glacier Point’s view is spectacular. You must go there if you got to Yosemite. Muir agrees. In fact, in his book The Yosemite, he makes this the first destination of the day if you only have one here.

Perhaps I should have stayed longer, but, nah. It was now 5pm. Zeal had waned. The drive back would be two hours, and Mr. Tummy was getting quite persnickety.

So, bidding farewell to the Valley, knowing I’d not head back in the morning for wanting to sleep in, and not deal with insane crowds for a late entry, I headed back south on 41 to Oakhurst.

It would have been cheaper to stay on Sierra national forest land for free. But, I wanted to spoil myself in a motel. So, after checking into the Rose Pine Inn again, Mr. Tummy ate shrimp tacos with beans and cream in a gluttonous frenzy.

But… but… I’d earned it, right?

Well, whatever. I then headed back to lie under the breeze of the ceiling fan within windows open while the world outside turned to black. My eyes closed. The day ended.