When Kristen retired, we thought to take an adventure.

We went to Yosemite, where Dad had taken me and I had been a Dad to mine.

One of the rituals was to take the walk to the viewpoint for Nevada Falls.

Vernal  and Nevada.

With my little ones I had walked to the top of both  falls and lingered there,  and came down in near darkness on the wet narrow Mist Trail of fame,an adventure of marginal safety and much  to the great annoyance of their even tempered mother, who blamed the whole adventure on me as though she had not been there as it unfolded.

Kristen, at 5foot 4 and over 300 pounds simply had no upness to her stridel

She walked on level ground for distances, but lifting her bulk each step up the fairly easy slope was infinitely demanding, and we stopped every fifty steps.

Families with young children passed us, but we kept on.

Kristen is determined, and we made kept on to the goal of the viewing point, the bridge over the rushing water from the falls that, one after another, roard down with the snow melt, even in the drought year.

Up we went so slowly

To see the memorable

Water rushing down