longest road tunnel in California since 1933. She wondered what possible use she would ever find for that information.
‘You heard of the Ahwahneechee tribe, Angel?’ Ty asked.
She shook her head.
‘Original inhabitants of Yosemite. They thought that breathing the mists of Bridalveil would give you better marriage prospects.’
‘Pity Mom didn’t come here earlier, in that case,’ Angel replied. She grinned at his reflection, to show that she was joking.
Ty grinned back, to show her that it was OK. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘They also believed an evil spirit lives by the falls, and you should never look directly into its waters when you leave the valley.’
‘Or what?’
‘Or you’ll be cursed,’ he told her.
‘Fascinating.’
‘Yeee-up.’
They followed the road east, alongside the inky waters of what Ty explained was the Merced River, behind a steady procession of cars, RVs and motorcycles.
It seemed to Angel that half of California had descended upon Yosemite today. She turned in her seat as they passed the waterfall, anxious for one last look.
They reached the campground a short while later. Ty slowed the RV to a crawl before hauling on the wheel and swinging the vehicle in through the entrance. Lining the road, the cinnamon-red trunks of huge ponderosa pines soared a hundred feet and higher, their ancient bark split into thick crusted plates. The forest floor was a field of dead needles, cones and smooth grey boulders.
After jumping out at the ranger station to pick up their camp pass, Ty steered their vehicle around the looping campground road, searching for their site. They found it easily – the only vacant slot – and parked up, swapping the steady rumble of the RV’s diesel for the muted hiss of the Merced. She could see it there, glinting between the trees.
Marked by a half-circle of five giant ponderosas, their site consisted of a flat patch of swept ground for their motorhome, two picnic tables, a fire ring and a food locker. Up front, Ty rotated his driving seat so that he faced the RV’s living space. ‘OK, Bradies. Quick safety briefing. Need you all to be careful about food while we’re here. Why’s that?’
Angel’s brother shot up his hand.
‘Elliot?’
‘’Cuz of bears will eat you,’ he said, puffing out his chest.
On the couch opposite, Angel’s sister Hope picked up her magazine. ‘Just great,’ she muttered.
Ty clapped his hands. ‘Well, bears is correct, Elliot. But there’s no need to worry. We treat ’em right and they won’t bother us. There hasn’t been a fatal bear attack in Yosemite, ever.’
‘What about non-fatal?’ Hope asked, eyes never lifting from her magazine.
Ty paused at that, and then he brightened. ‘Well, like I said – we treat ’em right, and they won’t bother us. Most people who get tangled up, it’s because they didn’t follow precautions.’
‘Which are?’
‘It’s our food they want. Smell drives them crazy. They’ll do anything to get their paws on it. And I mean anything.’
‘Ty . . .’ Angel’s mom warned, laying a hand on her fiancé’s arm.
He twitched. ‘You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, got carried away again. OK, simple rules. We keep all the food in the RV, and we keep the door and all the windows shut. You put your uneaten food back in the RV. Don’t drop anything outside or throw anything out. Simple. Let’s hope we’re lucky enough to spot a few.’
‘Did you bring any pepper spray?’ Hope asked.
‘It’s not allowed in Yosemite. If you see a bear too close, you just shout at it to back the hell up. Now, who wants to come outside and barbecue a couple of steaks?’
Later, after Ty had coaxed them out of the motorhome and suffused the forest with the kind of roasting meat smells which, had Angel been a bear, would have driven her into the midst of their camp ready to tear the head off anyone prepared to get in her way, they dragged the two picnic tables together and ate.
It
‘You heard of the Ahwahneechee tribe, Angel?’ Ty asked.
She shook her head.
‘Original inhabitants of Yosemite. They thought that breathing the mists of Bridalveil would give you better marriage prospects.’
‘Pity Mom didn’t come here earlier, in that case,’ Angel replied. She grinned at his reflection, to show that she was joking.
Ty grinned back, to show her that it was OK. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘They also believed an evil spirit lives by the falls, and you should never look directly into its waters when you leave the valley.’
‘Or what?’
‘Or you’ll be cursed,’ he told her.
‘Fascinating.’
‘Yeee-up.’
They followed the road east, alongside the inky waters of what Ty explained was the Merced River, behind a steady procession of cars, RVs and motorcycles.
It seemed to Angel that half of California had descended upon Yosemite today. She turned in her seat as they passed the waterfall, anxious for one last look.
They reached the campground a short while later. Ty slowed the RV to a crawl before hauling on the wheel and swinging the vehicle in through the entrance. Lining the road, the cinnamon-red trunks of huge ponderosa pines soared a hundred feet and higher, their ancient bark split into thick crusted plates. The forest floor was a field of dead needles, cones and smooth grey boulders.
After jumping out at the ranger station to pick up their camp pass, Ty steered their vehicle around the looping campground road, searching for their site. They found it easily – the only vacant slot – and parked up, swapping the steady rumble of the RV’s diesel for the muted hiss of the Merced. She could see it there, glinting between the trees.
Marked by a half-circle of five giant ponderosas, their site consisted of a flat patch of swept ground for their motorhome, two picnic tables, a fire ring and a food locker. Up front, Ty rotated his driving seat so that he faced the RV’s living space. ‘OK, Bradies. Quick safety briefing. Need you all to be careful about food while we’re here. Why’s that?’
Angel’s brother shot up his hand.
‘Elliot?’
‘’Cuz of bears will eat you,’ he said, puffing out his chest.
On the couch opposite, Angel’s sister Hope picked up her magazine. ‘Just great,’ she muttered.
Ty clapped his hands. ‘Well, bears is correct, Elliot. But there’s no need to worry. We treat ’em right and they won’t bother us. There hasn’t been a fatal bear attack in Yosemite, ever.’
‘What about non-fatal?’ Hope asked, eyes never lifting from her magazine.
Ty paused at that, and then he brightened. ‘Well, like I said – we treat ’em right, and they won’t bother us. Most people who get tangled up, it’s because they didn’t follow precautions.’
‘Which are?’
‘It’s our food they want. Smell drives them crazy. They’ll do anything to get their paws on it. And I mean anything.’
‘Ty . . .’ Angel’s mom warned, laying a hand on her fiancé’s arm.
He twitched. ‘You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, got carried away again. OK, simple rules. We keep all the food in the RV, and we keep the door and all the windows shut. You put your uneaten food back in the RV. Don’t drop anything outside or throw anything out. Simple. Let’s hope we’re lucky enough to spot a few.’
‘Did you bring any pepper spray?’ Hope asked.
‘It’s not allowed in Yosemite. If you see a bear too close, you just shout at it to back the hell up. Now, who wants to come outside and barbecue a couple of steaks?’
Later, after Ty had coaxed them out of the motorhome and suffused the forest with the kind of roasting meat smells which, had Angel been a bear, would have driven her into the midst of their camp ready to tear the head off anyone prepared to get in her way, they dragged the two picnic tables together and ate.
It
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