Was I really taking this kid on my rustic RV trip to Big Sur, expecting him to HELP me instill the love of nature in my 11 and 13 year olds? I mean, the kid has a Mohawk, and sometimes, he stripes it.

On the 12-hour drive from San Diego, Anthony “helped” by finding all 5 beach balls in the back of the RV, inflating them and then using the baseball bat to hit them all over the chassis’s interior. The kids howled with joy.  Hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel, I grumbled and tried to keep my eyes glued to the asphalt’s crumbling edge.

Once at the gorgeous natural glory of our Big Sur campsite, Anthony walked through the Sequoias, past the banks of the sparkling Big Sur River to ask the nearest groundskeeper about any “cool clubs” nearby.

I threw the boogie boards from the roof of the RV with extra force.

For the first three days, we played in the Big Sur River and hiked. But by the fourth day with three more days to go, my clan was getting restless. Too bad, I growled, another Pfieffer hike was our destiny that day.

As I was finishing getting snacks ready, I spied Anthony through the tiny kitchen window, elbow on the sill of the campground’s check-in booth, chatting up the young, female gatekeeper. His Oakley sunglasses just edged up against the carefully folded bandana over his forehead which rimmed his loosely-placed Volcomm cap. By now, he’d had to wash out the Mohawk, and was completely ashamed of his curly locks in their typical, appealing disarray. Conventional hair shamed him.

“What?” I asked when he sauntered back. “Got yourself a date?”

“Her?” he asked with a wave of the thumb. “She’s too BIG SUR for me. Know?” Perhaps he objected to the Sherpa-inspired, woven wool cap she wore, tassels at her collar bones.  “She did tell me the best hike around, though.”

I started to dig in my heels, but suddenly bored of my own fascism, decided to give the kid a chance.

We started south down Highway 1, passing Pfeiffer State Park and the famous Detjens, two places SAFELY LISTED in my Camping in California book. Anthony’s hike off of a supposed “Salmon Creek,” didn’t appear anywhere in the pages of my trusty guide.

But we kept going.  At one point Anthony shouted for me to turn the RV around because he thought he’d spotted some Condors. Do we have to prolong this useless trek? I wondered.  More, turning an RV around on the windy (sp?) Highway 1 is no treat, particularly with loose kids in the back.  But the kids clamored to do what he said: Anthony is six feet of skate-shoed cool, after all.

Round about we went. At the next turn out, a crowd had gathered.  Crawling from the RV, we quickly spotted  eight Condors perched cliff-side. The other spectators were silent and nearly immobile as the red-headed adults and their grey feathered babies hopped and flapped on the craggy granite.  The male’s body was as long as my leg, its wing span, 10 feet. The babies were already the size of Thanksgiving turkeys, although more lithe.

We were almost to the guard rail when my daughter’s words broke the communal reverie. “They’re starving!” she cried. Gravel crunched as she spun to run back to the RV. “I’m gonna get them barbequed potato chips!”  I quickly barked, “NO!,” but  Anthony’s voice was louder. “Dude! Get those MARSHMELLOWS for them too!”

My fellow Condor-sentry onlookers and I simultaneously went berserk.

“Guess not, dude!” Anthony barked to my daughter who had frozen in her tracks.

Luckily, we got a good twenty minutes watching and photographing the condors before the Ventana Wildlife Society ranger came along with a turbo squirt gun to gently spray the condors from the cliff.

“They’re  losing their natural fear of humans,” the ranger explained to the crowd. “Kids want to feed them everything from their cabinets.” Struggling to deflect the burning gazes of the other tourists, I stiffened, turned and in a pinched voice quipped,

“Say! Let’s get back on the road, kids.”

On the route to this supposedly exceptional hike, Anthony had me braking at several points only to recant with:  “Here. Here! No. No! Go go! Why are you stopping?” We finally pulled over on the west side of Highway 1 by a small street sign on the opposite side of the road that said “Salmon Creek.”

As I’d suspected, the hike’s entrance promised the typical California coast deal that we’d already been on, two  hundred yards through chaparral down to the beach.

But then wait . . . about 100 yards into it, a bridge stretched over a gorge cradling a noisy stream a hundred feet below. Beyond that, a cool tunnel pierced the shrub-covered hillside. The kids were amazed at both, spitting into the stream and yelling in the tunnel in lame attempts to scare each other. We were still high up, not descending to the beach at all.

At the trail’s end, we found ourselves on top of a bald cliff face, looking 100 yards down into a cove . Clearly, the ocean had been working for eons to sweep out this near-circle from the sheer granite face, that or the powers that be had come down with one swipe of a giant, powers-that-be-style ice cream scoop to make this cove. At the base of the granite hollow, a beach studded with glistening black rocks accommodated mellow waves. No one but a kayaker or a Pelican could ever land there.

Big Sur Cove

Amazed as we were, I barked at the kids to sit at least ten feet back from the cliff’s edge. They promptly began a gradual fest of forward butt-scooting. In about thirty minutes, we all had feet dangling above the Pacific’s gentle waves.

Best of all, however, the water far below our feet held a sparkling ball of small fish–anchovy, a ranger told us later. The ball, at least ten feet in diameter and most likely holding thousands of fish, seemed to be a single entity as the fish turned, spread and balled up again in unison. Suddenly, a hole punctured the ball and through the middle came one silvery seal, followed by another, smaller one.

“MOM! MOM!” I heard that word a thousand times from two different directions as we sat on the cliff that afternoon for one and one half hours. Close behind, “DUDE! DUDE!” rattled almost as continuously. I was to look at how the mother seal flipped a fish to the baby, how the two mammals, sea-dogs, double-teamed the school, shattering them; how fish flanks caught the light and sparkled our eyes, even so far above.

“Sick, dude!” Anthony said. “Did you catch that?”

“Yeah, Dude. I caught it,” I replied, feeling a sudden rush of appreciation for a mind and bearing so different from mine. We’d never had been here if it hadn’t been for Anthony.

He grinned. “Whaddya think they’d do if I threw this water bottle in there?”

A flash of anger dissipated quickly enough.

“I don’t know what they’d do, but I’d strangle you!” I barked with enough harshness to cover the overwhelming tenderness I felt for him, my kids and the gorgeous Big Sur Coast.

3 Yosemite Videos to Excite the Kids Before Going

Bears Breaking into Cars

Young People Discussing their Jobs in Yosemite

General Overview

Do you have any video links you’d like to add in the comments below?

Two meals tops, whiners.

Screw Cooking Option 1: Luckily, walking right through the campsite gets you to Tuolumne Meadows Grill, a breakfast and lunch place where you can get ham, eggs, potatoes and toast and coffee for @ $10. Same price for a hamburger and French fries. There are vegetarian options and salads as well. Tables for outside dining. Counter, no waitresses.

Screw Cooking Option 2:  Tuolumne Meadows Lodge makes breakfast and dinner only, NO LUNCH. You usually have to make reservations for dinner as the facilities aren’t as Lodge-like as you might expect. In fact, they have NO ELECTRICITY! The dining room is a screened in deal with red gingham tablecloths and what looked to us like folding chairs. They call it “rustic.” I call it a far cry from the other lodge I like—the Torrey Pines Lodge in La Jolla. (Frank Lloyd right; arts & crafts style; you get the picture).

Those looking for grilled Tuscan artichokes in basil aioli and the like may have to go to the Valley at the Ahwahnee or down to the Wawona.

And that’s it folks; that’s all she wrote when it comes to having someone else cook for you while camping at Tuolumne Meadows. I’ve heard that at the trailheads, food stands sometimes appear. Anyone have any experience with this?

The Problem: I have to cook for 5 adults and 9 kids, including four, 13-year-old, voracious boys? Augh!

The Solution:

Main Dish: 6, skinned chicken breasts and 20 chicken thighs parboiled in two big pots for twenty minutes on my stove in my kitchen before leaving. After cooling, all chicken placed in two Ziploc bags with lots of barbecue sauce. Chicken stayed in my RV refrigerator very well. I then heated it over the firegrill in the fire ring at the campsite.

SIDE 1: 3 lbs small golden potatoes in iron Dutch Oven

Washed and then shaken in Ziploc bags with olive oil and salt.  Placed in lined Dutch Oven one hour before putting chicken on the fire ring’s grill.

SIDE 2: Baby bok choy split in half and then stir fried in olive oil, salt and garlic and a little soy sauce. Done in two skillets on RV stove.

Family 2 brought 4 quarts of homemade chili and set out carrots and celery.

Family 3 had hot dogs, hamburgers and premade salads from Tupperware containers.

Trick: The metal bear boxes make great buffets for the hot dishes coming from the fire grill, allowing more room on the picnic table for diners.

We pulled it off.  Do you have any mass cooking recipes for our next trip?  Something easy, partially prepared ahead of time?

With the spectacular vistas and many activities available in Yosemite and Tuolumne Meadows, it’s hard to imagine you can have a bad time. But fighting through the cars and pedestrians makes any camper crabby. Familiarizing yourself with the shuttles and buses available puts the responsibility in the hands of experienced drivers.

Tuolumne Shuttle hits many of the trail heads from Tuolumne Lodge to Olmstead Point.

Transportation around Yosemite Valley

Park as far away from Yosemite and Curry Villages as you can and bus it in. The bus takes you to many trail heads and all the important stops in the villages. As of this writing, the web page was down, but they answered the phone (209) 372-1240!

• Phone: (209) 372-1240
• Website: http://www.yosemitepark.com/html/tours.html

Yosemite Area Regional Transportation System

“We like to say, ‘You Could Drive, But Why?,’ but it is so much more than just that. Get out from behind the wheel and you will see Yosemite in a whole new way.”

— YARTS brochure

I agree with the above.  I would have liked to have been able to peel my eyes from the asphalt’s edge while driving down Tioga Pass Road (highway 120) from Tuolumne Meadows to Yosemite Valley. These guys will do it for you, but just June through September. Other than that, they stick to the western side of the park.

While their schedule’s web page was down at this writing, you can call them at (877) 989-2787 or email them at yarts@yosemite.com.

As they lay it all out for you, you may as well take advantage.

1. The National Park Service’s “Plan Your Visit Guide.” Take the time to explore “activities.”
2. Comprehensive Tuolumne County Visitors Guide with a lot of ads and business listings.
3. Parking Tips! Crucial!Virtual Tourist ‘s Guide to the Yosemite Valley  Shuttle.
4. And here’s a Yosemite Area Regional Transportation System  bus schedule so you won’t have to drive the 55 scary miles along Highway 120, also known as Tioga Road.

2.  Water Shoes for more comfortable stream walking

3.  Scooter – quick transportation around campground

4.  Mountain Bike & Helmets – some great trails

5.  Bug Spray – hit ankles and neck in particular

6.  Inflatable Inner Tube – Inner Tubes are permitted on the Merced

7.  Inflatable Boat or Kayak – Take your own to Tenaya Lake’s smooth waters close to Tuolumne

8.  Air Compressor for filling inflatables

9.  Sun Shower – no showers in Tuolumne Campground so it’s either sun shower or pay “Housekeeping” campground in the valley $5 to get clean

10. Full tank of water and charged batteries – no electric or water hook ups in Tuolumne but you can manage!

3 shallow, easy miles appropriate for all skill levels. Calm enough for under ten and a few white water patches to keep the older ones happy.  Four to a raft. $20 per person, unless you have a military id and then it’s half price. At the end of the trek, you and the raft get bussed back to Curry Village.
Various Bus Tours This open trailer pulled by a tractor could be the ideal thing to stop a perpetually tired teen or middleschooler from complaining about being tiiiiirrrrred! Taking two hours, it looked like an efficient way to get one’s bearings before launching into the Valley’s activities. If we had taken it, maybe I would have found the restaurants in Yosemite Village in the first place!
Easy Biking:  Ooo  AaahhWhile biking for us just seemed too hot at two o-clock’s 95 degrees, I bet by 4:00 peddling under those sheer granite faces would have been sublime. More: no hills! Just 12 miles of flat, gorgeous paths.  Costs are reasonable and with a military pass you can get half off.

4. Guided Photography Walks. . . FREE! Can you believe a Yosemite photographer will spend two hours taking you around to Yosemite’s most spectacular vistas and give you shooting tips for free? For the shutterbug who wants to do something constructive, or “work on their skill” like my 8^th grader, this could be just the ticket.
Call the Ansel Adams Gallery at 209-372-4413 for details.

Our 13-foot high Minnie Winnebago, which scares me enough on the turns to Target, seemed ready to roll on every hairpin turn.  Worse, just two feet from the edge of the crumbly road, the mountain drops straight down:  “Twenty-four inches to air” as one dad in our crew told me later (thanks Dave!).

Halfway along, constant questions like, “will we die fast or slow if we go over?” and “will the RV stay together or explode all over the place down there?” began.   I tried to answer rationally, nurturing their curiosity and all that, but about hour two, I demanded SILENCE and watched my knuckles go whiter on the steering wheel.

Soon, the kids began mewling about their hunger and imminent death by starvation. We’d expected the 90-minute ride promised by park service literature, and now we’d been driving well over two hours. Further, all of our food was locked back at Tuolumne Meadows campground in the bear locker. The RV’s cupboards offered only cracker dust.

When we finally reached Yosemite Village on the Valley floor, I was looking so hard for a restaurant sign I’d pulled my chest to the steering wheel. Its ring turned under my clenched jaw. I rode the brake as streams of pedestrians and cars broke all around us. There was not a single parking space to be found.

My son’s sudden wail that there were no restaurants and they would all surely starve sent me into a steering-wheel-banging fit. I gassed it, seething, out of Yosemite Village and into Curry Village.  Spotting a patio with some chairs, I slammed on the brakes and barked, “OUT!” shoving a $20 bill into the nearest whiner’s hand.

Parking spaces for a Minnie Winnie were scarce. By the time I joined the kids on the patio 45 minutes later, however, they had some food in their bellies and I’d had a BREAK. Curry Village has several amusement park-like “snack stands” that serve Mexican cuisine and pizza from windows. They also have an ice cream station which went a long way in soothing everyone’s mood. After that whipsaw drive, it was Nirvana.

I learned later that Yosemite Village has a similar food set up. We just hadn’t been able to spot it from the jammed roads and parking lots.

Typical day in Yosemite

Ressurected by food not prepared by me, we ventured forth. Close by stood the bike and raft rental buildings. Easy! The raft ride would be a sweet deal. They’d put us in right there on the Merced for a gentle three mile ride. At the trip’s end, we’d be loaded onto the truck to be ferried right back to Curry Village. Nice! Afternoon accomplished!

Although the line didn’t seem long, a sign hanging on the shed beside us read, “from this point, the wait is two hours.” Within seconds of reading the sign, we realized how incredibly hot and humid it was down there in the Valley. The sun soaked all standing in the line. We realized that we were still wearing the warm clothes we’d dressed in for the cold morning in Tuolumne. Our sweat pants, t-shirts, socks and tennis shoes turned heavy and oppressive in the damp 95 degree air. An attendant told us our best bet would be to return the next morning before ten. We all went quiet. We’d have to make the same long, precarious drive all over again within 18 hours.

Having behaved badly before, I knew it was up to me to rally the troops. We were too hot and sweaty to hike or bike.

I said in a high, strained voice, “Hey everybody! Let’s get our bathing suits on, check out the river to see what we’ll be doing tomorrow. We can wade? Find a fish!” To my surprise, the kids perked up.

We got our swim suits on and found a short beach over the bridge from where the rafts launched. While the water was freezing, challenging each other to go deeper was fun. Having other swimmer yell at us to just dive in all at once was fun, too.

My skateboarder son found a decent sized log on the edge of the water and the kids all took turns foot-rolling it into the gently sloping bottom of the Merced. In the end, we had a wonderful time under the gaze of colossal Half-Dome’s granite face. We giggled the whole way back to Tuolumne, the return ride a surprising breeze.

Take-Away: It takes longer to get to the valley from Tuolumne than the literature states. Yosemite Valley is incredibly crowded. Get to the raft rental area before 10:00 a.m. when it opens to avoid lines. We returned early two days later and got a raft right away.

Did any of you reach through the modem to slap me?

Yosemite itself blew my neurotic plan out of the water. There was so much for middle-schoolers to do at Tuolumne Meadows campground , I barely orchestrated anything. Hallelujah!

In order of fun-ness (with #1 setting a new fun standard high) . .

1.  Off the campground’s A Loop, you’ll find the Lyell Fork or stream which eventually ends up in the Tuolumne River. You can ask the ranger or other campers for specific directions. The exposed granite and rushing water makes for an AWESOME WATER SLIDE. My kids could have spent several days there while I drank myself silly fireside.

They wore wet suits because the water is cold—very cold: 50 degrees or so—even in July and August. The wet suits bolstered their stamina. It would not have been so successful without the suits.  Note: no flotation devices allowed. If kids are under 10, an adult should stand in the pool where the short falls end to catch them. Photos here.

2. Hikes that begin right from the campground. Just across Tioga Pass Road (hway 120) and east 200 yards from Tuolumne Meadows campground entrance stands the trail head to Dog Lake (not so impressive), Lembert Dome (impressive!) and Tuolumne Meadows Lodge, (surprisingly basic and they don’t serve lunch! So don’t plan a lunch hike there).

All of the hikes around Tuolumne Meadows campground can be found here  Make sure to scroll down to page 2

3. Tuolumne’s Natural Raw Materials Play. Richard Louv’s Last Child the Woods puts into words how natural materials offer fantastic opportunities for inspiring kids’ wonder, creativity, expression and confidence. No duh, Richard,  and here’s what’s available in Tuolumne:

Pine Cone Kick-Catch: The kids grooved on standing in a circle, picking up the spool-sized pine cones and kicking one at a time to a receiver’s hands. They just naturally fell to this game themselves. Kick-Catch went along in an orderly fashion until the whole thing deteriorated into all-out throwing handfuls of pine cones at each other–a coney food fight. In some places, these pine cones are shoe-lace deep so relocating a few isn’t going to upset Tuolumne’s ecosystem.

Rock-stacking: Plenty of opportunity for rock stacking in the nearby streams and on the granite fields throughout Tuolumne Meadows. At the top of Lembert Dome, you’ll likely find a stack of balanced rocks. The one we built is probably remodeled already. And what a studio in which to work! Breathtaking vistas on top of Lembert Dome serve as the artistic muse. I’ve seen some beautiful examples of rock stacking and check out how some even turn this enterprise into an art .

Log-Chicken. At times, we found a log or two small and loose enough to wiggle. With a kid planted at each end, feet shoulder-width apart, they challenged each other to see who could wiggle the other off first. Great fun.

Log-balancing in Tuolumne

Rock-skipping on Dog Lake. What a perfectly flat lake with such easy access! Perhaps a contest for longest or most skips? Even 13-year-old boys are still into this.

More photos of our Yosemite Trip are on themadcamper.com’s Facebook page here.

Can you share your natural materials play in the comments below? Did it arise spontaneously?