Hiking Upper Yosemite: A Journey to the Falls

Upper Yosemite and Bear Country

If I had to pick a favorite place, Upper Yosemite Falls would take the crown—no competition. But let me warn you, this isn’t one of those glamorous, Instagram-perfect trips where everything goes smoothly, and you come back looking like a model. Oh no, this was sweaty, achy, and downright humbling. Yet, somehow, it became one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.

Let’s start with the hike. Upper Yosemite Falls is not for the faint of heart. It’s the kind of trail that starts off charming, luring you in with gentle slopes and picturesque views, only to turn into a relentless uphill battle that makes you question every choice you’ve ever made. Every switchback had me muttering, This has to be the last one, only to round the corner and find another one waiting for me. It’s like the mountain was playing an elaborate prank.

But then you reach the top, and it all makes sense. The view is nothing short of magical—a sweeping panorama of Yosemite Valley, with the waterfall roaring beside you like nature’s own applause. It’s the kind of moment where you forget about the burning in your thighs and just stand there, soaking in the grandeur.

The Gear Chronicles: Lessons from the Trail

Now, let me talk about gear. If you’re planning to hike to Upper Yosemite Falls, let me save you some trouble: get the right shoes. I made the rookie mistake of wearing my trusty sneakers, the ones I’ve had since college. They’ve been with me through thick and thin—gym sessions, casual strolls, even a few dance floors—but they were not prepared for this. About halfway up, I could feel every rock, every pebble, and every ounce of regret. My toes were staging a mutiny, and I was pretty sure I’d lose at least one by the time I got back down.

Proper hiking shoes are not just a luxury; they’re a necessity. You need something with good grip, solid ankle support, and enough cushioning to make you feel like you’re walking on clouds, even when you’re really trudging through dirt and rocks.

And then there’s the backpack situation. I thought I was so prepared. I packed water bottles, trail mix, sunscreen, and an overly ambitious paperback (because clearly, I thought I’d have time to ponder Dostoevsky on the trail). Spoiler: I didn’t. Instead, every ounce in that backpack felt like a lead weight by the time I hit the steep sections. Lesson learned: pack light but smart. Bring what you need, leave what you don’t, and for the love of all things sacred, don’t skip the snacks. Trail mix is a hiker’s best friend.

Camping in Bear Country: An Adventure in Paranoia

Now, let’s talk about the camping part—specifically, camping in bear country. When they tell you to store your food properly, they mean business. I followed every rule: kept my food in bear canisters, hung them away from my tent, and resisted the urge to sneak a granola bar under my pillow. Because let’s be honest, waking up to a bear rifling through your midnight snacks is not the kind of encounter I was looking for.

That night, as I lay in my tent, I became hyperaware of every sound. A twig snapped. Bear. A gust of wind rustled the leaves. Definitely a bear. My own stomach growled, and for a second, even that felt suspicious. It’s funny in hindsight, but at the time, it was like being in a live-action thriller where the villain could sniff out your peanut butter crackers from a mile away.

But here’s the thing: despite the anxiety, there was something deeply grounding about being out there, surrounded by nature. The stars above were so vivid they didn’t look real, like someone had sprinkled glitter across the sky. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine. And for the first time in a long time, I felt completely present.

The Takeaways Beyond the Trail

So, why is Upper Yosemite my favorite place? It’s not just because of the views (though they’re stunning) or the sense of accomplishment (though it’s real). It’s because this hike taught me things about myself.

I learned the importance of preparation—because good shoes and a well-packed backpack can make or break an adventure. I learned to laugh at my own paranoia—because, spoiler alert, I did not get mauled by a bear. And I learned that sometimes, the best moments come after the hardest climbs.

This hike was a perfect metaphor for life: full of challenges, surprises, and the occasional misstep, but ultimately rewarding. It reminded me that even when the path seems steep and never-ending, there’s beauty waiting at the top.

Would I do it again? Absolutely. But next time, I’ll make sure my shoes don’t feel like medieval torture devices.