Yosemite National Park
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Wapama Falls Yosemite National Park |
June 9, 2010
It is a 3-hour drive to today's trailhead at Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, in the
least-utilized section of the park that is accessible by road.
At the entrance station a ranger gives me a parking placard and records my
auto license number. Unless one has a backpacking permit, this area is
restricted to day-use only.
Preview of coming attractions
O'Shaughnessy Dam
It is well-known that this controversial reservoir is the water supply for San Francisco. Even though the Hetch Hetchy gorge already was part of the park, in the early 1900s the city twice had petitioned the federal government to dam it. John Muir consistently and vigorously opposed the proposed dam; and, as legend has it, he died heartbroken over its creation.
Teddy Roosevelt himself, struggling between his commitments both to preserve wild places and to support development, eventually declared that Hetch Hetchy Valley should be protected and "the scenery kept wholly unmarred". But panic set in when San Francisco burned down in 1906, partly because its water supply had been disrupted by the earthquake.
A massive political boondoggle ensued, with Congress failing both to honor the integrity of national parklands and to recognize the facts that the Bay Area water pipes had been broken by shifting earth rather than by any choice of water source, and that water for firefighting would logically be drawn from the nearby bay itself in any case. The "Oh Shame On Me" Dam is the unconscionable result.
The bathtub ring isn't too unsightly
This trail begins in quite an unusual fashion, by traversing the dam right into a long tunnel!
Some puddle-hopping is necessary in here
⇔
Yerba Santa bushes are everywhere
The trail proves unexpectedly interesting, since for some reason I had
anticipated just a glorified lakeside stroll. Instead I find a
verdant shelf along the reservoir's northern shore. People of all
shapes, sizes, and abilities are out here today, trying their luck.
Unfortunately for some, the wide, flat bunny trail ends abruptly.
Those walkers in flip-flops and the like already are beginning to
regret their choices of footwear; of course, they get no sympathy from me.
At the Laurel Lake Trail junction
A pretty cascade appears on the hillside to the left, but it is not to be mistaken for the greater attraction just around the corner.
One of several smaller trailside cascades
It feels good here
On the Tueeulala Trail
Beautiful Tueeulala Falls (pronounced "too-ee-ee-oo-la-la") is 600 feet high on top, plus 280 feet on the bottom:
"..descending like thistledown.."
–John Muir
Zooming in on the upper fall, where color seems eerily absent
A significant breeze stymies my macro-photographic efforts, but I do what I can. These guys are new to me:
Layne's Monkeyflower
Harlequin Lupine, plus a blue variety
I can hear the roar of unseen Wapama Falls; but the sounds are coming from the other side of the lake, echoing off the cliff directly opposite the falls! Finally, the source of the noise comes into view.
Kolana Rock, 5774', stands 2,000 feet above the water
Overlooking the falls is Hetch Hetchy Dome, 6197'
Some local trail maintenance is in progress. The pretty, slender woman in the red hardhat is busily wielding a sledgehammer on the rocks. Go figure.
Under construction
The finished product
The last couple hundred yards of trail are built of solid stone. Doubtless the route would otherwise be prohibitively difficult to maintain, due to the constant water erosion.
The only downhill section on the route
Stairway to paradise
Hearing Wapama Falls is one thing; being there is quite another. This place
is exhilarating! Excepting at Niagara Falls, I have never been this close to such
a volume of falling water, which purportedly has the greatest flow of any river in
Yosemite. The falls themselves are approximately 1,300 feet
high — 300 feet less than before the valley was drowned.
This is why I go hiking
There is so much streamflow that water spills over the tops of the footbridges. Most of today's visitors are terminating their trek right here, being unwilling to incur the bath that they would receive if they were to venture farther.
Water is splashing onto the walkway and all over the place
I observe with interest as a few backpackers and several teenagers dare to run the gauntlet. I am anxious to follow them, because I just know that the best viewpoints are on the other side.
Am I really going to do this?
Finally, I steel myself for the ordeal, zip up my pack, and take the big
plunge — literally. Twenty seconds and a five-inch
puddle later, I have completed the crossing. The four teenagers giggle
at the sight of me as I emerge from the spray totally drenched.
It was cold in there, too!
But I was right! There are great photo-ops over here. I scramble down to a good vantage point and whip out my camera. Which doesn't work.
Since I had previously applied a good dose of Scotchgard to my pack, its contents are not particularly wet; yet the camera is lifeless nonetheless, and wiping off the battery and memory chip does not help. Bummer. There is nothing for it but to make a return crossing, take a break, and cry a little.
The only part of me that remains dry is my left foot, which did not make the acquaintance of that deep puddle. None of the other hikers present are aware of my predicament, because I am too dismayed to share my plight. Needless to say, there will be no more photos on this walk.
These folks are amused by my antics, yet are unwilling to emulate them
§: Subsequent analysis suggests that my camera had started to die even
before I crossed the creek. Apparently the few drops of spray incurred from
close-ups of the bridge had managed to kill the electronics of my virtually new
Panasonic FZ-35. This is a real downer, for I thought that I finally
had found the ideal hiking model.
For me, being without a camera is like being at a Chinese buffet without a
plate. A lot of good photo-ops were missed today, so I have unfinished
business here. Shopping is underway for an ultra-compact backup
unit to pack in the future — perhaps even a waterproof one!
In any case, failed hardware has little to do with the merits of this trek
itself. Even though it is difficult to get a good view of the cascade
from any location, being up-close-and-personal with Wapama Falls is an
exceptional and unforgettable experience. In contrast to the incomparable
Mist Trail and the bases of Bridalveil and Upper Yosemite Falls, only here does
one actually get to stand amid the rushing water itself. I am aware of no
other trail destination that can match Wapama's 'spray-factor' at high water.
Try to plan your visit early or late enough in the season to avoid peak streamflow, yet not so late that Tueeulala Falls has dried up. And don't be a wimp. Bring your rain jacket if you must; but make the stream crossing; otherwise you will lose out.
To be continued...
| Scenery |  |
| Difficulty |  |
| Personality |  |
| Flowers |  |
| Solitude |  |
by Brooks Anderson
That painting formerly served as a link to some of lecturer Ron Good's fascinating accountings of The Grand Landscape Garden, the modern Fable of Tueeulala and Wapama, and the Hetchysburg Address. As of 2022, however, those links have been removed. What a shame. I should have copied the texts when I had the chance.
