Amy George

I grew up coming to Yosemite every year with my family. I reveled in stories of my grandparents making their way to the Valley before the roads were paved. Despite the fact that Yosemite held a special place in my heart, I never did much hiking and only camped a handful of times — and never in Yosemite.

All that changed in September 1987, a couple of weeks before I started college at University of California, Santa Cruz. As part of UCSC’s wilderness orientation, we went from Glacier Point Road into the Clark Range. We spent time orienteering, reading topographic maps, and finding our way when there was no trail. We traversed Illilouette Creek, gazed up at Mount Starr King, and jumped off granite slabs into freezing lakes. I had never done anything like this before, and I was falling in love with all of it.

The high point of the trip was a 24-hour solo outing. One morning, leaders dropped each of us off alone along a creek below Grayling Lake. I’d never spent the night alone before, much less by myself in the wilderness. I was scared, but I spent the day exploring, reading, and taking pictures with the 35 mm camera I brought with me. That night, I slept out under the stars, waking to the gentle whistle of one of our leaders who had come down the mountain to pick me up.It was my 18th birthday. The impact of turning 18 by myself in the wilderness was not lost on me, and when I woke, I felt a huge sense of accomplishment, independence, and pride. We walked silently back to the lake where we were greeted with a pancake breakfast and a sauna made from hot rocks and sleeping bags thrown over a frame of branches. When it got too warm, we jumped in the lake, invigorated, refreshed, and renewed.

To this day, I make a point of camping by myself in Yosemite on my birthday. When I start feeling nervous at night, alone in my tent, I channel that brave 18-year-old, I picture myself jumping into a cold mountain lake to start my new year, and I know all will be well.

Amy George, Volunteer