Chilnualna Falls Road connects to Highway 41 (Wawona Road) near the bridge spanning the South Fork of the Merced River in Wawona. From there the road bends eastward towards North Wawona, climbing slightly in elevation for about two miles, passing many private homes and rental properties. It narrows significantly once it crosses over Chilnualna Creek via a steel and concrete bridge. Eventually, the Road culminates at a dusty cul-de-sac where Wawona ends and the Yosemite “wilderness” begins.
The road has not always been as smooth as it presents itself today. As a young boy, I remember how the pine trees along either side of the road pushed their roots underneath the road, creating bulging waves of asphalt. These undulating obtrusions in the roadbed kept my family and I entertained as our car bounced playfully up and down toward our destination.
Many of the memories I have of being in Wawona include Chilnualna Falls Road as a backdrop. It is the main thoroughfare through North Wawona; almost every other road in the neighborhood connects to it. Naturally, our first stop always included a check-in at The Redwoods office, which is prominently located on Chilnualna Falls Road. The Redwoods acted as the primary property management company providing booking and registration, supplies, cabin cleaning, and the keys to the rented cabins.
For many years, a snack shop operated at one end of The Redwoods building. It boasted an ice cream machine that produced ice cream cones which powerfully zeroed in on our ice cream receptors and soothed us immeasurably. Although offering limited flavors, its satisfying essence gave us reason to keep returning, especially during the evening hours after dinner.
Chilnualna Falls Road also guided us to our favorite vacation pastime: swimming in the cold waters of the Merced River. Sometimes we spent our entire day engaged in the river’s friendly flow. It kept us occupied and delivered pleasing fatigue that we happily succumbed to by snoozing on the granite slabs along the river bank. Our bodies gratefully absorbed the heat deposited by the summer sun onto these smooth but hard “beds.”
Although our favorite swimming holes changed over the years, Chilnualna Falls Road remained the gateway to whichever location wooed us that summer.
On Chilnualna Falls Road, one can also find the Pine Tree Market. Its central location makes it an easy walking distance from almost every home in Wawona. Its storehouse of supplies easily helped us satisfy any unexpected want or need.
One of the most important walks to the Pine Tree Market served to get my father a copy of the newspaper, The Fresno Bee, which usually arrived in the afternoon. Not only did I look forward to those purposeful walks to the market, but the collection of newspapers over the week also strengthened a growing love of reading for me. Those daily news items also broadened my view of the world by presenting news with a local “Fresno” slant, especially in regard to Major League Baseball teams and their success or failures.
Chilnualna Falls Road brought me freedom. From this long stretch of asphalt, I could go forth and freely explore. I knew that no matter where I went in Wawona, I could find my way back “home” by its anchoring guidance.
Yet, with the freedom it brought, it also provided a reminder that not all shared in accessing this portal of liberation as I did. One home, in particular, an A-frame home located off Chilnualna Falls Road and just east of The Redwoods office, provided that reminder. It differed in two ways from most other homes in Wawona. First, its dull yellowish color stood in contrast to most other “cabins” which possessed a more rustic and outdoorsy brown. Perhaps its color could easily have been dismissed had it not been for the second identifying feature of this home that contrasted with the freedom I enjoyed.
During evening walks on Chilnualna Falls Road, after the sun had dropped below the pines and the heat of the day had dissipated, my siblings and I walked by that A-frame home. There I could see a young man, lying upright in a gurney of sorts, who had been wheeled out to the middle of the deck from inside this A-framed home. White sheets covered his body while his face remained exposed. A lightweight mosquito net draped over his head. He appeared strapped to the gurney for support. The gurney faced toward Chilnualna Falls Road in view of all passersby traveling past the home.
I do not remember any of us saying anything about him as we walked by. Perhaps our pace slowed a bit, like being on a freeway when traffic inexplicably slows only to finally see an accident off to the side of the road. One gazes at the mishap, and then moves on, quickly forgetting what one has witnessed before reaching one’s destination.
But I needed to keep looking. I tried to camouflage my peering, of course, by looking away periodically, but I had so many questions about what appeared to be tragic circumstances. Perhaps the longer I looked, the greater the likelihood some of those questions would be answered.
But few of my questions about him were answered. He rested there, quiet, motionless, and alone. Around him, squirrels speedily transferred themselves from tree to tree with unhindered leaps over great swaths of space. Blue jays swooped up and down above him and squawked with frenzied liberty. As I passed by the young man, I also moved about with the freedom of the squirrels and jays, unrestrained in traveling from here to there, going where my heart and mind desired. As I passed by, I noted the contrast between the road I traveled on and the one traversed by the young man on the deck. I felt grateful to be walking along Chilnualna Falls Road and to have every one of my steps accompanied by freedom.
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