Kiwis and Fairy Bread

25 June 2025

Alternative subtitles for this post:

Falling for waterfalls

Falling beside waterfalls

Steps? Who calls these steps?

Blood on the map.

Yosemite people are SO nice!

Go slow or….die.

Should have taken the John Muir trail instead.

Never underestimate the value of a pocket first aid kit.

We didn’t know this was the deadliest trail in Yosemite!

Whoever wrote this episode should die!

Yes, dear readers, we had QUITE the adventure!

Mike had first learned about The Panorama Trail from a colleague. This four and a half mile trail starts at Glacier Point and ends at Nevada Falls where it splits into The Mist Trail or The John Muir Trail, both of which go another 4.5 miles to the valley floor. Decent hikers should be able to do it in six to eight hours.

Getting to Glacier Point is a bit complicated. After exploring the options, several months ago we booked one way tickets from the Valley floor to Glacier Point at $40.00 each. The one and only bus left at 8:30am and would take between one and two hours.

SO at 7:30am, with two backpacks of water and supplies, we left our apartment, drove thirty five minutes to Yosemite Valley Lodge, parked there for the day, and got on the bus.

It was freezing! The A/C was up way too high for our tastes. Mike and I huddled together for warmth as the bus driver/tour guide drove back up the mountain (right past our condo complex) and handled curves, cliffs and park anecdotes with equal ease.

The bit about wild fires was what really stood out for me. Along our route were miles of burned trees. Our driver/guide told us that that particular fire was set by the heat of a car that had gone off road. Yosemite was fully evacuated. Fires set by humans tend to burn fast, and go all the way up to the tops of trees. It takes a much longer time for forests to recover from these, as opposed to fires set by lightening which leave trees mostly alive.

Our guide told us about a Teddy Roosevelt’s camping trip with John Muir. About the winter cross country skiing route. He took us past the surprisingly narrow brook that feeds Bridalveil Fall. We learned that Yosemite was the first land in the United States to be set aside for recreation. It helped create the concept of National Parks. Although Yellowstone is technically the first of those, Yosemite paved the way.

Out of the bus and we wasted no time in getting on our way. It was 10am and after a bit of confusion in finding the head of The Panorama Trail, we set off. It was pretty straight forward. The switch backs took us gradually down paths of dirt, through shade and the morning sun. We found a go-pro and were able to return it to a worried hiker on her way back up to find it (I feel that with this, we had at last returned a favor to the universe, who found something of even more value of ours on the Tongariro trail in New Zealand).

Up ahead we chatted with a man who had an umbrella set up over his pack. It looked awkward to me, but maybe it kept him cool. Upon finding out we were from New Jersey he quipped “You’re my favorite kind of Californians: those who leave”. I hope I satisfied him by making a hasty retreat.

Then up the trail comes a Mule Train. Yes, an actual, old fashioned mule train. The woman on the lead horse really looked the part: long dark braided hair, and a woven hat. Asking us to stay still, she led three mules balancing heavy packs. Following them was a bearded mountain man, also leading three loaded mules. It was a scene out of the past. We followed the trail of hooves for miles and later found out they were bringing supplies to people on the Muir Trail.

Mike hike’s at a faster pace than I and trying to catch up I slipped on a patch of granite. A minor scrape, but a reminder that when I take the lead, we do set an easier pace for us. The trail went up and around and had few shady spots. Taking it slow, we hiked for a time with a very nice family of five.

We took a break at Illilouette Falls, a spot I will forever remember as the place where I said “This is it. This where I want to live. I want to build a house right here.” There was a cool rushing brook leading to a boulder filled water fall, a wall of striped granite lined with trees, a pale blue sky and a nice breeze. Sigh. Later we would talk to others who felt the same way passing through that same spot. It was just perfect. But we were pretty well keeping to the pace that we had set for ourselves. If we wanted to be done before dark, it was time to move on.

The views continued to be, of course spectacular (am I using the word too much?) Flowers scented the air. Giant pine cones littered the trail. Butterflies flitted. Lizards darted. But after a few hours, we were getting tired and looking forward to our lunch break at the half way point: Nevada Falls. A sign stated it was one mile away. Super! We can usually hike that in twenty minutes or so, but this was a very long mile. Dusty dirt switchbacks went on for probably another three quarters of an hour. Hikers coming the other direction assured us the end was near, and there would be shade for our picnic.

Gratefully, we arrived at the wide floor of granite the lead to the edge Nevada Falls. Liberty Cap loomed above, and we could see Glacier Point. Wow! We succeeded in coming down all the way from up there!

Finding that shade, we sat on a flat boulder and relaxed for the first time in hours. Mike enjoyed his packed salad. The grilled chicken and vegetable sandwich I had made from last night’s leftovers really hit the spot. It was a busy area. People were swimming up stream, despite the signs pointing out the dangers of doing so. I carefully dipped my scarf in the cool water and put it around my neck. It was midday and quite warm, even at this elevation.

Lunch done, we went to see the view at the very top of the six hundred foot Nevada Fall. To do so, we walked back up that slab of granite at an angle of at least 30 degrees. Fortunately there was a sturdy railing at the top and we held onto it to the edge and looked down. Such wide, roaring water! Cool! Time to head down to the base of it.

First we stopped in the rest room, which happened to be the nicest, cleanest one in the entire park. A shelf to put your pack on, plenty of hand sanitizer and toilet paper and no stink. How do they keep it that way way up here?!

As we approached the head of The Mist Trail, a young woman named Elise stopped us and kindly advised us that it was closed. That confused us, as there were plenty of people coming up. She advised us to take The Muir Trail instead. We should have listened to her, but at that time we were determined to take the steps to the base of the fall. A few more people we spoke to confirmed that it was indeed open.

Steps. We’ve been on plenty of trails with steps before. We thought we could handle it no problem. But who calls these steps? They were granite, worn, dusty and steep. For six hundred feet. I took it slow. Go slow or die, I said to the patient hikers passing me. None disagreed. Barely looking at the water rushing in torrents next to me, I steadied myself on the granite wall when possible, and on rocks when it wasn’t. Somehow Mike not only managed the steps with ease, but also continued to take some amazing photographs. What a guy! Personally, I watched my feet at every single step for at least a mile.

Then, I saw hope. Ahead of me was several feet of trail that was flat dirt and I was so excited that I watched it and not my feet and ahhhhhh! I think I screamed. I was on the ground, well, not ground exactly but on a rock with a boulder in my face.

My vision was immediately filled with a half a dozen pair of hands. Headless voices called “Are you all right?!” “Here’s your glasses” “Breathe” “Drink some water”. “This is my wife”. “Wiggle your fingers” “Take this to soak up the blood”. Blood?! There’s blood on the map. And on my hands. “Oh you’ve got a bump on your head”. “And a cut on your nose”. Do I need stitches? Oh, please don’t tell me anymore.

To those faceless people, who stopped their hike to help me and who assisted Mike in getting out the first aid kit and patching me up, we send out sincere thanks and appreciation. I do hope the rest of your hike was pleasant and uneventful.

Never underestimate the value of a pocket first aid kit. Blood stopped, cuts sanitized and bandaged, a good rest and I slowly stood up. No dizziness. Phew! Didn’t look like a concussion, yet. No stitches needed on my nose, hand and shin. Joints all working. Double Phew! I was very lucky. It could have been so much worse.

Time to get off this mountain. One slow step at a time. And we weren’t even at the base of Nevada Fall yet. Another painful mile or so and we had made it, to the top of another wonder, Vernal Fall. We took a rest. Mike soaked my scarf in the cool water and I bathed the bump on my head, which fortunately was not getting much bigger.

Not knowing there was another three hundred and seventeen feet to go down, another mile at least, we boldly, and slowly, continued. What choice did we have?

More steps. Both dusty and wet in this section. I could not believe what we now had to walk down. A line from the film Galaxy Quest came to my mind. Sigourney Weaver, after a harrowing passage through a space ship tunnel says to Tim Allen Whoever wrote this episode should die! I was really in disbelief that this trail existed at all. And that it is the most popular in Yosemite.

It is here where The Mist Trail gets its name. Vernal Fall shoots out a mist, giving the plant life a drink and making the steps slippery. Thankfully, much of this dark granite staircase has a sturdy railing. Although I was grateful for it, we were both getting very tired. Through the mist and the sweat the bandaids on my hand just wouldn’t stay on. So Mike wrapped it up in our handy ace bandage.

Around us were lots of people, most going up. Some said, “You’re going down? That’s tough”. In my view going up would be equally hard, I could imagine my heart pounding every few dozen steps. Although at home I jog/power walk five 5Ks a week, my heart is still not that hardy. I admired those who were effortlessly climbing up and down this waterfall, especially the kids, some who were hiking it barefoot!

Finally, we made it to the bridge that crossed Vernal Fall and lead to a somewhat less stepped path. A young backpacker who we had seen throughout the day was staggering and limping ahead of us. We noticed he was without his pack so stopped to see if he was OK. He’d hurt his knee, he said, and his friend had taken his backpack down for him. Showing my own wounds we offered him understanding, food, ice packs, and my ace bandage, but he refused, insisting he would be OK.

With a mile or so still to go, we came across a watering spot. A water station had been installed near some huge boulders. Hikers going both up and down, took a break, got some cool, delicious water, had a snack and chatted. Ground squirrels gathered crumbs. A young man cheerily told me “You did OK. I gotch you”. It was typical of the spirit of that hike and indeed in all of Yosemite. People in Yosemite are SO nice! They feel blessed to be here. They are happy to talk, to cheer each other on, to share and to help, to soak up the vibes of this unique and beautiful place.

The sunlight was waning yet many people were still heading up the trail. We shared our knowledge and warnings and wished them well.

When Mike and I finally staggered into the bus stop at 6pm, we had hiked a total of twelve miles that day and done the trails in exactly our eight hour goal. Well done, us!

On The Mist Trail, from the top of Nevada Fall to the bottom of Vernal Fall, we had gone down 900 feet of steps over three miles. To put that into perspective imagine The Washington Monument. On top of that put The Statue of Liberty. On top of that put three, yes three, Lincoln Memorials. Wow!

On the bus were many weary hikers, including the young man who had banged up his knee. He was relieved to be back with his friend and his pack. I do hope he recovered enough to finish his journey, wherever it was to take him. A cheery five year old got on the bus with his family and sat next to Mike. They got talking and the little one took a great photo of us. Mike does this sometimes: let’s little kids use his Fujifilm XT-3. camera. Again, what a guy!

Back at The Yosemite Valley Lodge we decided to order dinner from the cafe, which was terrible! I didn’t know you could mess up hamburgers that much. Hagen Daas ice cream bars made up for it somewhat. There was still the half hour drive back to our apartment, which Mike, of course, handled brilliantly. We even pulled over to watch a glorious sunset.

A convoy of firetrucks passed us, heading down the mountain. No sirens, and we saw no smoke. Perhaps it was a drill.

Back at the apartment, we put our dusty clothes into laundry bags. I took a long hot shower to scrub my cuts and bruises. Iced my head where i was getting a black eye. But it was all OK. Mike and I were together. We were safe and comfortable.

The next day in The Ansel Adams Photo Gallery, we would come across Elise again. She apologized that she had told us The Mist Trail was closed. It wouldn’t be happening until Sunday. Oh, that’s OK, we said, We should have taken The Muir Trail. Elise then told us that The Mist Trail was the deadliest trail in Yosemite!

This is a tale we would be telling for the rest of the trip and probably, the rest of lives. We are proud to have hiked the Panorama-Mist Trail combo.

It’s been a hard days hike. But then I get to come home and when I get you alone you make me feel all right.