When Things Don't Go As Planned

We recently returned from a “one last getaway before school starts” camping trip to the eastern Sierras. If you’ve never been there before, you’re seriously missing out. It’s the sharper side of the Sierras, where jagged mountains topping 14,000 feet plunge dramatically into deep and verdant valleys.

One of our favorite places in the eastern Sierras is the Yosemite high country. It’s visited by only 10% of the crowds that the more famous Yosemite Valley hosts, but it boasts a dramatic landscape of mountain meadows, glacial lakes, and tall peaks.

It’s where the Tuolumne Meadows are – one of the largest subalpine meadows in the west. Through the meadows runs the Tuolumne river.

Maybe the verb “runs” is a little generous. It’s where the blue river lazily meanders through green meadows. The whole thing screams peace. You can’t encounter it without involuntarily slowing your breathing, relaxing your heart rate, and just absorbing all of the serenity in its largesse.

This camping trip was one with friends (don’t worry – we were in separate campsites and being COVID-safe), and as the only family in our little group that had been to Yosemite, it was up to us to be the tour guide (a role I absolutely love, by the way).

During the entire planning stage, I kept singing the praises of Tuolumne Meadows—specifically the north side of Pothole Dome, where the Tuolumne river suddenly grows fierce, changing from meandering to cascading down canyons that run over 20 miles long. It’s that section that gives the river its Wild and Scenic designation, making it particularly special.

Now, I’m one who really enjoys the anticipation of a moment. It’s a great quality in that I naturally generate real excitement about an idea. The problem is when I build up so much hype, either within myself or others, that sometimes the experiences don’t measure up to the buildup. Ever been there? 

It happened at the Tuolumne. 

My grand declarations of the river turning furious didn’t take into account the fact that we were visiting it in August, and after a rather dry winter. 

To say the water level was low would be generous.

Typically, you hear the turning point of the river before you come upon it. In this case, we came upon the transition from meadow to canyon, and were met with a much lighter water flow than I’ve ever seen before. It’s as if the season served as a psychologist for the river – where it was furious before, it was docile. 

This is a great situation when we’re talking about people, but not so great when we’re talking about people experiencing the grandeur of nature. Especially if you’re the tour guide who’s been hyping this very spot up for weeks.

But I learned a valuable lesson there.

First of all, the friends we were with had no frame of reference to draw upon. Where I knew the water level was 50% of what it usually is, they didn’t. And they thought the place was beautiful. And they were right; it was beautiful.

Watching them experience it reminded me that, though this didn’t meet my personal expectations, it did not diminish theirs. And their experience actually helped me pause to appreciate the beauty I was in danger of missing out on due to my unmet expectations.

We hiked down river a bit and came across a spot where the river cascades around a bend – the water pours into a pool which cascades into another pool, which cascades into yet another, and so on.

Typically, this section of the river is flowing so rapidly that it makes for incredible pictures.

But on this occasion, this section of the river made for incredible swimming holes.

The lower water level removed the danger of the river, allowing us to spontaneously jump in to an icy cold river, swimming in deep natural pools – even taking some of the cascades as natural water slides!

It was one of the highlights of my lifetime.

 And this taught me my second lesson: when we’re open to exploring the different, sometimes hidden gems are revealed that blow the lid right off our expectations.

 My issue is embracing the different long enough to discover the gems.

 You may find yourself in a season of different right now.

 Maybe it’s distance learning with your kids. Maybe it’s endless Zoom meetings at work. Maybe it’s the process of finding new work as the old work has dried up.

 I don’t know what your different is, but I’m guessing there are hidden blessings in it just waiting to be discovered.

 Don’t fall into the trap I often find myself in, which is focusing too much on the areas where the expectations aren’t measuring up, pouting that things aren’t as they should be.

Instead, work hard to find the now-revealed pools of blessing.

And. 

Dive.

In.

It just might provide one of the highlights of your lifetime.