It was time for my tri-decennial trip to Yosemite, having not visited in over thirty years. Someone, and I won't point out that it was Mia, made overnight reservations at Yosemite Lodge, plunked down the money, and commandeered my schedule, so off we went at 5 am driving through night and dawn until we reached the tunnel entrance to the Valley where we gawped and blinked at the amazing, never-before-photographed (except for millions) vista of El Capitan, Bridalveil Fall, and Half Dome in the distance.

If I could bottle the air I would, so as to remind me what a waste my life is working and scheming when I could be in Yosemite instead. The Valley is, unfortunately, a crowded mass of humanity anywhere asphalt is to be found, and it's a shame they allow cars, but even in the core of the Valley you can find hiking trails that the walking-averse seem not to discover. We walked along an unpaved path from Lower Yosemite Fall, stopping for lunch at the Ahwahnee Hotel, and continuing on to Mirror Lake.

Mirror Lake was, in my childhood, a magical mirror reflecting the massive Half Dome above, but as the rangers promised back in 1972, it has transformed almost entirely into meadow. The walk around the edge of the Valley along the way was lovely, with the rock cliffs springing out of the ground to the left, and Half Dome preening through the trees until it opened up its kimono for a full, jaw-dropping frontal view in the meadow.

I entertained Mia with complaints about the distance of the hike, the surety of our leaving bleached bones behind, smooth but for the scratches of bear teeth. I stopped though as I heard instances of conversation, recognizable in any language.

He, a gritted teeth smile: I'm going on ahead. I'll meet you back here.

She, red faced and fake smile: I'm coming. Just give me a minute.

He: Really. You don't have to come. I'll come back and meet you here.

She: I want to come. Just wait a minute.

He: (Eye roll and marching off)

The only thing more potentially damaging to a friendship than playing a game of Monopoly™ is a long, hot hike. Fortunately, this conversation has never played out between Mia and me. Never.

I thought about giving the woman a commiserating wink, but I saw a score of other hikers recognizing the theme and nodding sympathetically. Instead, I smiled at Mia and told her how bracing the fine walk was.

The next morning we woke up early and strode out into the sunny but chill morning air and walked from the Lodge to the Ahwahnee for breakfast in its beautiful, huge dining hall, back from its cameo role in serving Hogwarts School of Magic. The Ahwahnee is like visiting your wealthy grandmother, a little faded around the edges, feeling more glamourous than she looks, but magnificent in her history and heritage. It is exactly the same as when I was young and I wouldn't want it any other way.

We later hiked, scaling a thousand feet up to Vernal Fall so I could write about it in another post, limped our way back to the car, fought our way through Valley floor traffic like we were battling Boston commuters, found a snow globe from the Lodge gift shop, crawled under the foot of El Capitan, and waved good bye to Yosemite Valley as the road lifted us up like a wave over the rocks.