Zealously guarding my virginity in Camp 4.

No point to this. Just some Monday nostalgia.

1980 on a late summer trip to Yosemite. I was there with a couple older friends, Rick Lynsky and Todd Gordon,to climb the Prow on Washington Column. As ensuing events would demonstrate, I mighta been as horny as hell but naïve as an angel.

I started to feel guilty the climb would carry over to the Sabbath. I was a pretty devout kid. Or maybe I was just scared to be back up on a big climb, but, really, I liked that sort of thing. After helping Rick and Todd fix the first pitch or two, I asked them if they minded if I bowed out. Two is an adequate climbing party. Three is something between a luxury and a crowd.

They were cool and granted me leave. Next morning I helped them carry their loads up to the base of the cliff and bid farewell. Now, all of the sudden, I’m 17, alone in the most stunning National Park for the next two days, and in command of Rick’s Pinto Wagon with cassette tapes like the hits of Fleetwood Mac at my disposal. Livin' large.

What to do? I don’t remember how I wasted the initial hours, but, as a young man’s heart will, mine turned to finding a climbing partner.

After trashing most of a day, I drove by Curry Village. I saw a very cute blonde wearing climbing gear walking along the road. I pulled over, accosted her, explained my solitary status, and asked if she’d like to climb tomorrow.

I don’t remember “Jennie’s” name, but I do remember her pretty eyes and calm, level demeanor. And her wavy blond hair. She said her boyfriend was on a back country hike for a few days, and she’d love to climb. But she had something to do with some girlfriends in the morning, so I should meet her at Yosemite Village about 1 in the afternoon.

I don’t remember what I did until 1. That actually surprises me. But at one, I pulled into the Lodge parking lot, and there was Jennie, ready to climb. She was bereft of suggestions, so I proposed La Cosita, a fun, steep, moderate-but-not-easy climb at the base of El Capitan.

Okay with her. As we hiked up to the base of the Captain, we exchanged odds and ends. I don’t recall much, except she was 23 and sort of between plans about school and work and all. I understood vaguely her boyfriend was hiking with buddies up near Tuoloumne Meadows.

My only memory of climbing La Cosita is that the thin lieback crack was way slipperier than I remembered from a few years previous, and I called down to Jennie, “A chalk bag! My Kingdom for a chalk bag!” I hadn’t brought the magnesium powder because I wasn’t expecting to do much gripping on Washington Column. She yelled up “Keep climbing, Shakespeare!” I’m not sure she knew which play I was alluding to, but I don’t know if I did, either.

Fun climb. Fun visit. I was just thrilled to be in a beautiful place with a cute girl, 6 years my teen senior, and loving it all.

We got back to the car, and I was driving her to her campground. The gray sky closed and started to pit-a-pat. Oh no… I had been planning to camp illegally by sneaking into the woods and sleeping in isolated places. Even 34 years ago, Yosemite was an overcrowded resort with a waiting list. But I had no tent and wasn’t sure what do about a downpour.

“Oh no!” I repeated, out loud this time, as the window filled with splatters and I flicked on the wipers
“What?”
“Well, I’m not sure where I’m going to sleep tonight, since it’s raining.”
“You could sleep in my tent.”
“Wow! Really?”
“Sure. My boyfriend won’t be back for a few days.”
“Oh, thanks! That would be great.”

I don’t even remember what campground Jennie was in. But we parked, ate something…did we cook? Go to the cafeteria? Probably camp slummed it, since I was on high school wages. I remember making our way through the pines and needles and tents—I think she was probably in Camp 4, the classic grubby climbers’ camp—and throwing our packs and my sleeping bag into her tent.

We had a long talk about everything under the sun and moon. I told her I was a wrestler, and hoped to be league champion, but had sprained my ankle and missed out on most my junior season. I told her I was high school student body president, and was going to attend an upcoming school board to speak in favor of the teachers and against the district’s position on some labor issue (it shocks me to remember that—what a dupe I must have been).

We talked late into the night. I don’t remember falling asleep. I do remember waking up early the next morning, and she was gone. Where? I don’t know. I tried to arrange an assortment of pine needles into “thank you” on the floor of the tent, but I’m quite sure my pathetic effort was invisible.

I left to poke around the grandest place on earth for a day and then hike up in the afternoon to meet Rick and Todd as they topped out on the Prow.

It was at least a decade, maybe two later, before I had a flashback of lying in the tent with Jennie. I slapped my forehead. “No!! Do you think she meant…she wanted…she would have…??”

Maybe she left so early because she concluded I was hopelessly clueless.

LOL awesome story :)

Ah the missed opportunities of a young man in his naivety :)

ps I really liked the story a lot, one suggestion that came to my mind to make it more alluring would be to describe her physical form during your climb together on casita.

was she hot? Was she wearing short shorts? (lol) etc etc etc

really fun reading, just rolled through my mind at a real nice pace :)

...ahhh the one that got away . Great story , reminded me of working at the Ahwahnee back in 01' . Girls and Granite and endless summer nights .

Sounds like a craigslist missed connection to me.

She changed her mind and left early when she realized you were a dupe of the teachers. :-)

just call her and ask why. her number is 867-5309

^^^^

Agreed!

Great story, thank you!!!!
We've all been there, amazing how many details you remember!!!

Haha I think she really looked like this and turned you into a Tea Party reptiloid while you were sleeping.

Belay as foreplay?

They all 'have a boyfreind'

Thanks for sharing!
'Twas a good read!

Thanks guys. Thanks for the suggestions, Samadhi.
All these years...why didn't you tell me you had her number, Darren?
I guess I wouldn't know if you were right, Christian--alien mind control and all.
Yeah, David, it does occur to me to wonder if there was a boyfriend.
Wendy, long time no talk. Are you still getting out? I'm quite a slug of late.

LOL. Why don't I ever meet such friendly women climbing?

Great story!

So let me get this straight, you saw a pretty girl walking along the side of the road with climbing gear and you just pulled over and invited her climbing and she said yes?
Is this one of those 30-years-ago things or one of those Yosemite Valley things? Or have I just been missing out?

Jacob Smith wrote:Is this one of those 30-years-ago things or one of those Yosemite Valley things?

Says the 5.14 dude my lawyer daughter calls "unreasonably beautiful." But Darren might be right, Jacob. Before becoming an angry old white dude, I was a strapping, boyishly appealing 17 year old. Tragic I didn't realize it!

"no way, back in 1980 there was this guy I met in Yosemite. We climbed, he was kinda cute and all. He 'said' he had no tent and so forth, so I was nice enough to let him use mine in the rain. But, holy cow, he farted all night long and I just couldn't take it any more. I just bailed on the tent and hitched back home...."

Nice story, Shawn. Thanks for sharing. Sorry to ruin your fantasy, but when you are a 23-yo female, a 17-yo male might as well be 10 in attractiveness factor. Heck even if you were 19 or 21, you would have seemed decades younger to her. Women don't start seeing younger men as men till they (women) turn 30. Oh, and if you are a 23-yo female, you'd rather die than be seen first thing in the morning just rolled out of bed. She was probably in the bathroom, putting a makeup on and brushing (teasing?) her hair. It was 80s after all, the au naturel look was not in I think...

The voice of feminine insight. Cold, Doligo! Cruel...*whimper* :)

I don't know, doligo. Maybe lots of women view male age the way you describe, but what about all the 20 and 30-something female teachers who get busted for having sex with students?