It was spring break and my aunt invited Christopher and I to accompany her on a trip to her favorite place on earth, Yosemite. I had seen photos and heard tales of the wonders of the valley, of the glacier-cut giants spilling magical falls into the pristine valley. Seeing first hand, however, was what ignited my love and made me believer. On our drive up, the weather patterns shifted unexpectedly and when we arrived, the valley was abuzz, bracing itself for an abnormal spring snow storm rolling in that night. Christopher and I met nervous glances at check-in and the memory of our planning conversation replayed with sinking remorse. “Do you think we should get the tent with a heater? Or no? Do we really need a heater?”…. “nah. We’re hearty. We met working at camp in the wilderness, for goodness’ sake!” Sparing the desperate and embarrassing details of the first night, I can proudly say we survived and we still like each other. So, win!
That first night, no snow fell despite the tremendous drop in temperature. We rose with the sun, stumbled our popsicle-selves to the bathroom with a water kettle and made some heavenly piping hot coffee with my Bodem travel french press and Bonavita kettle (see my travel coffee post for more details on my saving grace). All morning, we explored around the valley, completely in awe at the sheer rock faces that were impossibly tall. Around lunch time, we were exploring around the historic Awahnee Hotel when all of a sudden, snow started to fall. Little flakes of white flittered from the sky and the forest was silent. While I was not a stranger to falling snow, unbeknownst to me, Christopher was. Somehow, in all our years together, he had failed to mention he’d NEVER EVER EVER seen snow falling in his whole life. It was just pure magic watching him experience snowfall for the first time, a moment I’ll treasure my whole life. What a gift!
