A couple months ago, we blasted south to Yosemite for a couple nights to help our friend Matt celebrate his, um, thirtieth birthday.
Instead of stumbling from forgettable pub to forgettable pub, we recreated in the High Sierra amongst granite, trees, and lakes. And drank some wine.
TJaye booked us a cabin at the Tioga Pass Resort, a place I've always driven by while both wondering what it was like and envying the lucky few who have used it as a winter base camp in otherwise barely-accessible terrain.
After depositing our stuff at the cabin, we popped over the summit and into the park for a quick evening on the side of a cliff. Also accompanying us were Riley and Erin, so there was critical mass for some rockclimbing fun.
I was still nursing my stupid broken foot, and while hiking up to the base of the climb went OK, it took all of about 5 feet of climbing to realize that continuing would Not Be OK, so I retreated and used a glass of wine to help me lick my wounds.
Thus, with nearly everyone else climbing, Murphy and I babysat Zoe and watched the daylight wane from Polly Dome high above Tenaya Lake. There are worse ways to spend an evening.
Naked hippie far below
The tannest Murphy has ever been
Sir Maclean, Esquire
Thus began a couple fun days in the park; I've got a few more posts to share so hang tight, vampires.
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