Nestled in the southern part of Yosemite National Park, Wawona has a unique charm—quiet yet rich with the raw beauty of nature. There is a peaceful rhythm of forested creatures and the simplicity of walking beneath a canopy of green. Each tread touches the ground that holds ancient roots of towering pines. There is the soft rustle of leaves underfoot, and the subtle whispers of the wind that carry stories of the land’s long history. It’s magic on a pathway.
Wawona’s allure isn’t in its grand vistas or the dramatic cliffs that are characteristic of Yosemite’s more famous areas. For me, Wawona offers the intimate experience of placing my feet on a pine needle path as if that’s all I will ever need to do. Every step leads walkers deeper into the forest’s embrace. The earth gently pulls me closer to its heart. I have aged forty years since my first time walking these paths, but the forest of Wawona is ageless.
The loop trail that starts from the backside of the golf course is one of my favorites, offering a glimpse into the history of the land. It is a level walk away from modern day life and into a natural setting that seems to be comfortable with its own steadiness. I may feel small in comparison to the giants that surround me, but that realization brings comfort. The trees—some over a thousand years old—offer a reminder that life is cyclical and constant, even as many other things change. Including me, in these forty intervening years.
The sound of my footsteps on the soft earth is broken only by the occasional call of a California Towhee, or the soft murmur of an unseen creek. Time seems to slow down in Wawona. Even the façade of the grand Wawona Hotel, now closed for remodeling, makes a walker feel a part of past centuries. I imagine people from my grandparents’ generation sitting on the expansive grass areas, and people even further back in history living with seasonal knowledge that I have never possessed. I wonder how these first peoples used the fine grasses I step around and what they did when the snow came. The trail is not challenging, so I take advantage of the ease of the walk and enjoy the aroma, the moisture, the soft crunch of my footsteps and the occasional call of this mountain’s Stellar Blue Jays. I pass moss draped from tree limbs, budding silver Aspens, and step over a fallen branch. For a safe hour or two, I let myself forget that fire came close to this area, and that I saw the scars on the drive here. I let my thoughts instead settle on the new growth that is recovering the burn scars and the promise of nature.
By the time I reach the end of the trail, there is a golden sun in the sky casting a soft glow over the forest. The trees shimmer in the afternoon’s wind. Light filters through the leaves, causing the forest to seem to move as I walk my last steps along the path. I feel both a sense of peace and a deep gratitude, not just for the beauty of the world, but for the moments of stillness that allow me to connect with it.
Walking in Wawona reminds me there is power in stillness and beauty in age. The greatest of life’s adventures may not lie in reaching a distant destination but in simply being present on the journey at hand in all the decades of life.
Susan Vasquez 