Lake Tenaya, located within Yosemite National Park, is named for a chief of the Yosemite Valley people, the Ahwahneechee. Granite monoliths surround the lake and one particular dome stands out. It’s called Pywiack (PIE wee ack), which was the Indian name for the lake. (It's there nearest the center of the picture, with a line of trees between it and the lakeshore.) I’ve always been drawn to that dome because of the magnificent tree that grows from a crack in its surface. It clings tenaciously to the rock and defies the elements and gravity. It’s hard to estimate how tall it is, but I’ll hazard a guess, 40 feet?? More than likely I’m off by several feet in either direction. Imagine its roots that bored their way through a fissure in the rock. They couldn’t have gone too far. So how in the Hell does it stay upright? Every time I go over the Tioga Pass, I pause for a moment and gaze in wonder at that tall pine. And as I drive by the lake I usually reminisce about the times we camped at this wonderful alpine lake...
Back in the early days of our marriage Linda and I were not quite as poor as church mice, but our budget was pretty darn tight, so what to do for a vacation became somewhat of a challenge. Linda, having been a Girl Scout in her youth, was good at primitive camping, so we put her merit badges to good use. At first all we had was what we could stuff into our Austin Healy Sprite. Not much room there, so our camping equipment consisted of a large tarp, two sleeping bags, a Dutch oven, and a couple #10 cans, leaving just enough room for some food and a few articles of clothing. Things got pretty luxurious when Linda’s folks gave us their old White Stag canvas tent. When rolled up with its wood supports tuck neatly inside, it weighed a “ton,” but it had that elegant musty smell of good canvas. We needed something bigger than the tiny Sprite, so when we could afford it, we purchased a Volvo station wagon. It had just enough room for the tent, some extra equipment, food and child paraphernalia. Our son, Greg, had come along and young kids require a lot of stuff, including a red Flexible Flyer wagon. The red wagon wasn’t for Greg; it was for hauling all our camping equipment. The campground at Lake Tenaya was not accessible by car. You had to pack in your camping gear about a quarter mile. Our favorite site was located right on the lakeshore. For a hundred feet out the water was only about a foot deep, perfect for, five-year-old Greg. He could splash around in it and because it was so shallow it was warmer than the rest of the lake, which is definitely an advantage considering Tenaya is an alpine lake filled with melted snow, in other words...brrrr.
As I said we were primitive campers in those days, just the bare necessities and a comfortable tent for sleeping. Linda made fabulous stews and soups in the Dutch oven and boiled water in the cans. Ah, but the baths for Greg were even more of a tribute to good primitive camp methods. After a day of playing, he was usually covered head to toe in dust, dirt and grime. The bath had to be done quickly, the night air was cold, so a good fire, nice warm water in the Dutch oven, Greg standing on a flat rock, a dash of soap, a little scrubbing, a quick rinse, a dry off with the big beach towel and he was as good as new and ready for bed in a matter of moments.
The lake, the Dutch oven, that tree, Greg getting a sponge bath and tent camping together make for some wonderful memories. Doesn’t get much better than that.
Q
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