Yosemite: Why Ansel Adams is Not The Greatest Photographer of All Time

There, I’ve said it. He just isn’t. He’s not even the greatest landscape photographer of all time. He came among the very first, and he introduced the world to some fantastic landscapes, and he developed the zone system. All true.

But, with modern technology, some skills, and a bit of luck, it is possible to get images which are at least comparable to Adams’ most celebrated work.

Many people do, and I wanted to try my own hand.

We set off from San Francisco to Yosemite, a national park and Adams’ playground. In a white Ford Mustang convertible, no less — booked as a “Ford Focus or similar” but upgraded because the lady in the car rental company liked us.

The Mustang’s roof down; blues, rock-n-roll and swing at full volume; sunscreen on; elbow on doorframe, — as we drove out of San Franscico, over the incredibly long bridge which we’d overflown a few days earlier on our way from London, we were presenting a great picture of an American success story.

A tracking helicopter shot would have been appropriate.

And then we hit traffic on Highway One going South.

All guidebooks will tell you that driving the Highway One along the Pacific is one of life’s great experiences.

But not a single guidebook mentions being stuck behind a truck which struggles up a hill at 30 mph. Or sitting in a queue at a set of lights (a signal, in American) for three whole songs.

Either side of Highway One were small villages and rows of buildings which looked like holiday cottages. Some were cheap and cheerful; some — over the top, expensive and tasteless. Parades of small shops popped up every now and again, offering groceries, beach goods and cheap sunglasses.

As we crawled along in our Mustang, I had a keen sense of déjà vu.

Horrible traffic; unnecessarily big cars; holiday cottages and shopping centres packed in by the roadside ridiculously close to each other. This felt exactly like something you might see 10 miles out of Moscow, on your way to somebody’s dacha for a barbecue.

So we gave up and turned off onto the Interstate. And, a few hours later, we were in the Yosemite area.

You drive in, past the checkpoint where they take your money, and you slow down to a crawl. Not because driving becomes dangerous, but because you’re instantly overwhelmed by the sheer magnificence of everything around you. The views are so spectacular that you struggle to remain focused on the winding mountain road.

And then you emerge from a tunnel and into the famous Tunnel View.

Yosemite was unknown to white Americans until 1851, when a settler battalion entered the valley in pursuit of Ahwaneechee Indians. Members of the battalion return to sing praises of what they saw, and Yosemite soon became known as a scenic wonder.

From Tunnel View, once you’ve gawped enough, it’s a short drive to a meadow with easy access from the road and beautiful views of some of Yosemite’s iconic mountains.

Signs tell you not to stray off the path, so as not to damage the grass. Many people obey. Some photographers don’t.

And then, it’s a fairly short drive to the visitor centre.

Much as I dislike the idea of visitor centres, tourist infrastructure, signposted forests etc., this one is necessary. Yosemite is full of trails. Not all are always open. The time of year, the weather, the regeneration work, — all may lead to a closure of a trail, or part of it.

So it’s wise to ask.

A system of shuttle buses connects most of Yosemite’s trails. Like many people in the tourist industry, drivers of these buses are chatty, happy and energetic. They make simply getting from one trail to the next a guided tour in its own right.

Our driver, a cheerful but very large woman in her thirties, intoned:

“On your left, the Lower Falls trail, eeee-asy hike, haaaaaa-lf an hour tops; beauuuu-tiful views; a walk in the park; get off here for Lower Falls; or stay on my bus for Upppp-er Falls, moderrrr-ate to strennnnn-uous, I wouldn’t be able to do it”.

We stayed on her bus.

The hike to the Upper Falls began with a small, easy climb. Soon, switchbacks appeared. Steep steps set into stately rocks followed.

And then, the crowds of tourists started to thin. The last to go were Chinese families, whole households, from eight to eighty-eight years of age, turning up on the trail in an orderly fashion.

Finally, we were into the mountains proper.

Ahead of us, a lone jogger trundled on, jumping from boulder to boulder without breaking his rhythm once. We panted heavily after him.

We were right. He was wrong. This trail should never be rushed.

You really need to linger in the narrow band where the nature transitions from coniferous forest to mountain meadows. Single pines stand out against jagged, threatening rocks. The mist from deafeningly loud waterfalls covers them.

This is Yosemite’s Alpine beauty at its most powerful.

I said Alpine for a reason. This landscape is very similar to what you might see in Switzerland, Austria or Southern Germany. Except — everything here seems bigger, more powerful, more in-your-face. More American.

Ansel Adams certainly had a fitting model for his photography.

As I did, for mine.

At the top of the trail, all this glory gives way to snow, and then to naked rock. After a grueling climb, you sit down on the ledge, dangle your legs over the precipice, and feel a master of all you survey.

And then you have a sandwich, because — what’s the point of a grueling hike if there isn’t a picnic at the end of it?

Practical Advice: Yosemite

Hotels

We stayed in a Comfort Inn, a chain hotel in the area. It was just fine. There are many other similar hotels and motels all around the area.

This, by the way, is where I sing an ode to American motels. Whoever came up with the idea of a separate door to the street from each room was a genius. And, in every hotel we visited, you get a coffee machine in each room, with a supply of both regular and decaf coffee and tea. The internet, however, was dreadfully slow, at 512 KbPS. Oh, and the sink is still in the bedroom, not in the bathroom. Go figure.

Money and spending

It costs $30 per car to drive into Yosemite. This fee is good for a week. Gift shops are available in visitor centers — as a guide, a baseball cap with the logo of the national park was $15.

A simple meal for two in a local restaurant was $32. American portions are big. For a party of two, one main and one salad should be enough.

Roads

Not all roads into the park are always open. Some passes remain closed until May or even June.

The park may introduce a requirement for snow chains, sometimes at short notice. You can buy chains in big supermarkets, or rent them by the day in villages outside the park. I don’t know how easy it is to fit snow chains — we did not need to try. But it can’t be rocket science.

The speed limit is 25 mph. It is, allegedly, enforced quite strictly, especially in the warmer months.

Trails

There are dozens of trails around the park. The most popular are listed on Yosemite’s official website. Others appear in dozens of guidebooks and on hundreds of maps.

If hiking as a group, carry two-way radios. Mobile coverage is almost non-existent. There is a reason why this is called the wilderness. We bought ours in Walmart, for $29.99 for a pair.

Make sure you have proper hiking shoes. Mine, for example, turned out to be a bit too slippery. This, combined with the fact that I’m afraid of heights, made for some hairy moments.

Unless you want to do very serious hiking and overnight in the Yosemite wilderness, don’t bother buying trail maps — simple printouts which you can pick up at the visitor center are more than adequate.

Bears

Yes, there are bears in and around Yosemite. Most Americans don’t panic about it; neither should we. On the day we visited, a paper carried a mobile phone photograph of a bear standing forlornly in front of a local shop. There was also a piece on “respecting the bears’ rights”.

It is best to put smelly food into airtight containers so as not to invite trouble. Some people carry pepper spray — but, really, if you see a bear on the trail, fumbling around with spray is probably the last thing you’ll want to do.

The advice is, instead, to yell loudly, wave your arms around, and generally to appear big and threatening. The bear should leave. It is a good idea not to start tweeting until after he is gone.

Next stop, — Sequoia National Park, the scene of Drama in a Laundromat.

Or go back to the preface and the front page