from Wawona, with love

We came back from a week of camping in Yosemite with profound appreciation for laundry and refrigeration. After six nights of sleeping, playing, and eating by the South Fork of the Merced river in temperatures ranging between the high 80s and the mid 90s, we understand better than ever before that washing clothes efficiently and keeping food cold are two major advantages of the modern world.

our happy place: Wawona campground, Yosemite

On the other hand, we also bring back with us the uncomfortable awareness that much about the quality of our daily lives--the noise, the busyness, the lack of spontaneity--detracts from, rather than enriches, our humanity. In Yosemite time, breakfast happens some time after sunrise, lunch comes together in the shade of pine trees, and dinner is a drawn-out affair, conducted mainly around the fire. Major dilemmas at the start of the day range somewhere between going for a hike and lounging by the river. Communication involves talking to people face to face or communing with one's inner self while contemplating the rushing water. Evenings bring a sky brimful of stars and the kind of quick, effortless drifting off to sleep that only the sound of a river can accomplish.

the butterflies this summer were the size of birds

When they look back on their childhoods, I hope that our kids will remember our summer camping trips--especially those in Yosemite--as the central experiences that will have shaped the people they have become. I hope that in young adulthood and beyond, they will yearn for the smell of a warm forest. I hope they will pack their bags when it's been more than a few months since they smelled a campfire, and I hope they will seek out friends and partners who are willing to share with them the beauty of the outdoors. I hope they will work and (pro)create inspired by the urge to protect our common spaces.

Yosemite falls from Sentinel Dome

dipping in Mirror Lake

So, on this third annual camping trip to the fabulous Wawona campground in the southern corner of Yosemite, we brought three other families along. With a total of eight adults and eight children, something seemed to be happening at all hours of the day. Without intending to, Rado and I found ourselves in the unexpected role of "hosts," so our site served as the frequent gathering point for both meals and conversations.

Kids ranged all over the place, doing everything from building forts, to writing stories, cracking up with MadLibs, discussing urgent preteen issues, and who knows what else. Truthfully, we didn't always know where all of them were, but we did talk to them repeatedly about the dangers of the raging river.

immediately upon arrival: two teams of fort-builders

Unlike the previous two years, when we played and swam in the water, this June of the year 2017 the South Fork of the Merced was a potential instrument of death. Various park officials repeatedly told us to stay far from the water--both fast and cold, having melted just a few hours ago--and while we did dip our toes to fend off the oppressive heat, no one really swam in the river.

admiring the water as we bike around the valley

the path to the Swinging Bridge: clear one day, under water three days later

40,000 gallons of water per second

in front of Sentinel Meadow, flooded

a real first: taking a dip in a flooded meadow

As a photographer, I had real fun capturing the various social mutations of our large group, especially among the kids. The boys cracked jokes, biked, threw stones, built forts, and who knows what else (there is *always* something else). The girls read together, wrote stories, talked (why not), played cards, and who knows what else (there is *always* something else). Every now and again, boys and girls played together, as when Andreas organized a soccer game.

three girls who love to read: what else can a parent want?

trying out the RV on the way to Glacier Point

hiking to Sentinel Dome

80-degree weather and snow on top of Sentinel Dome

such good friends

hiking from Sentinel Dome to Glacier Point

girl talk by the river

madlibbing: these two have so much fun

playing mud near the flooded river in the valley

climbing rocks on Mirror Lake

hammock shenanigans

girl talk

boy play

madlibbing

cards and books

apparently, there is no rule against cartwheeling during a soccer game

I can honestly say that I never heard anyone say, "I am bored," and I am pretty sure that no one really ever was. I can also honestly admit that, after our friends left following the fourth night and our kids insisted that we stay two more nights, it felt really nice to be just the four of us. Sava and Raya reunited, as though they had not seen each other in a while, and Rado and I spent a couple of hours the first night, after the kids had gone to bed, just talking. It is amazing what spaces for conversation open up when technology is not an option. It is also amazing how often those spaces seem smaller, more cramped, when we are home.

the uncapturable view from Glacier Point

another view from Glacier Point

Yosemite Falls

a hike in the high country to Bridalveil Creek

the sky before thunder and rain

he only needs to ask nicely in order for her to carry his fishing rod

Repeatedly during this trip, I found myself wishing that I had a journal to write in. I had many spontaneous thoughts and a host of seemingly deep impressions, but I knew that all of them would be gone as soon as we exited the park. My resolution for next year: bring writing implements.

learning how to draw birds, with Sava's newly purchased guide to doing so

This camping trip felt easier, more manageable than any other camping trip we've done so far. Around the fire, Rado and I spent some time reminiscing how earlier camping trips always caused us both anxiety and stress. Compared to then, we are now a well-oiled machine. Each of us has responsibilities and knows them. Each is unafraid to ask for help. While he packs, I wash dishes, and while he washes dishes, I get kids ready for bed. At the end of each day, I feel that I want more days like this rather than that I look forward to being home. Now that I am home, I miss the dirt, the fire, the river, and my stinky sleeping bag. I miss knowing that I will wake up to the sound of a rushing river. I miss not having to worry about how to entertain my kids. I miss also the sublimity of a landscape that feeds my soul in every way. I hope the kids miss Yosemite in the same way, too. I hope these camping trips are getting under their skin forever.

exiting her tent on the last morning: her mom just happened to be there, camera-ready; really--

my happy place; our happy place