We are now into the middle chapters of Russell Bittner’s novella, Something Special. Read chapters one and two. In chapter three, now in Yosemite, Bruce’s carefully-laid plan begins to unravel, and things take a dark turn.
I put on my hiking boots, get some advice and a map from Meredith at the front desk, and set out into the woods. The path—an old carriage road—is quite clearly marked for most of the way. Lack of observation or adequate light might get you easily lost—at which point there’s no telling where you’d end up—but the trail is a well-trodden one, and a bit of attention to others’ boot-prints leaves you in little doubt about your destination. Well over an hour later, I see a sign telling me I’m still .7 mile away from the lake, and I realize this hike represents something more than a comfy Sunday stroll. I may have to embellish a tad with Angie—not exactly a sportswoman from what I’ve seen—but the end will most assuredly justify the means.
My first view of water is no less stupefying than my first sight of the Redwoods and Sequoias as we entered the park. And yet, my sighting of what I believe to be the lake is in error; the spot I want is still a quarter of a mile off. I move on—and in the meanwhile, gaze occasionally up at what my map tells me are Mt. Watkins, Ahwiyah Point and Half Dome. The names have all the poetry of lentil soup, but the view can’t be denied. I wonder only how it is that Christian missionaries didn’t immediately throw down their crosses and go native when they first stood where I’m now standing.
