Good Blood, Bad Blood

We were married in a snow storm. The date: February 1st, 1975. The place: The Wawona Hotel’s Sunroom in Yosemite National Park.

The winter weather caused road closures. One invitee didn’t make it in. All those who did spent an extra day stranded in the snowy ambiance of Yosemite.

Our friend, Bill Cahill performed the ceremony. My brother, Tom, served as Best Man. Marilyn’s sister Janet acted as Maid of Honor. Joe Howey, Marilyn’s Dad, walked her down the steps into the room. My Mother, Lillian, accompanied me. 

An Italian jeweler in San Francisco fashioned silver rings with mountains and pine trees engraved in relief on the surface. Music played on a reel to reel tape machine. We entered the Sunroom to the reverent sounds of Pachelbel’s Canon in D.

Friends provided a vegetarian feast. Guests carried Marilyn’s Uncle Cecil, who was frail, from the parking area to the Sunroom. Though the hotel had closed for the winter, we were granted access by the caretaker who lived in the manager’s cabin.

Marilyn and I lived together all of 1974 in a cottage in North Wawona. I dreamt up a crackpot idea of immigrating to New Zealand. Becoming immigrants required we be married. Hence, the ceremony. Consequently, gifts included a money tree and donations to our upcoming adventure. Three months later, with permanent entry visas stamped on our passports, we departed from San Francisco.

So, the first two years of our marriage required us to navigate a strange country without the support of friends or family. We did make friends, two of whom became life long travel companions. However, Marilyn and I needed to rely on each other. From this experience, a foundation of togetherness formed. We discovered activities in common. Hiking became our most enduring shared pastime.

In fact, we recently returned from a short getaway to Barrego Springs in Southern California. On our first day, we hiked the Palm Canyon Trail in Anza-Barrego Desert State Park. It’s an easy out and back jaunt through the desert scape. We chatted with numerous other hikers. Later, we soaked in a hot tub at La Casa del Zorro, where we stayed during our visit.

The following day, we drove 45 minutes to Aqua Caliente County Park. There, we hiked the Moonlight Canyon Trail. We met only one other couple. It’s a short loop up and over a saddle in boulder strewn foothills. The couple commented, “It’s only 1.6 miles but feels more like 4 miles.” They admitted having done it before but lamented, “We had forgotten how tough going the going is.” They were older, like us, and headed in the opposite direction. We laughed and agreed, the loop is challenging.

The trail features sandy stretches, narrow defiles, and awkward bouldering. Teddy bear cholla, barrel cactus, and palm tree oases, populate the hills. My neuropathy disguised the purchase on footholds. I approached the climbs and descents with caution. My tendency to get short of breath with exertion occurred on numerous occasions. Quite difficult, but we persevered.

Afterwards, we soaked in a warm mineral pool. I reminisced on how hiking acts as an adhesive holding our union together these 50+ years.

Our final adventure in Borrego Springs was an evening of Dark Sky Astronomy. There were two other couples with us under a breezy clear sky. The darkness flummoxed me somewhat. My neuropathy can challenge my proprioception. If I can’t see where I’m stepping, the numbness in my feet causes unsteadiness. Marilyn and the astronomer helped me get seated at the telescope. We looked at Venus, three of Jupiter’s moons, the Orion Nebula with its four stars of the Trapezium, the North Star, the double star cluster in Perseus, and Mars.

This getaway acted as a gift. An anniversary gift to commemorate five decades of marriage. Just us, on our own, in a strange place, hiking.