Moments from Yosemite
As the long lights of summer dim and move slowly toward the heart of fall, I find myself wandering the trails of Yosemite National Park in Northern California, caught in the middle of a conversation of colors between the seasons. It’s my second trip here and I arrive just past the tipping point. The crowds of summer are not long gone, but only an occasionally echo reminds me I’m not completely alone. The river is running low and the mountains themselves, showing fresh scars from summer wildfires, seem anxious to see the end of a thirsty season.
From my vantage, I see El Capitan, Half Dome, and Bridalveil Falls in a single camera frame — undoubtedly one of the most magnificent single frames possible in nature. In the valley below, the rising sun warms away the mists of a cool, moonlit night. I step behind the citrine yellow leaves of a nearby shrub to capture the sharp contrast of muted and vibrant colors.
Not far away, a flock of birds emerge from the trees and weave their way down they valley. I pause to wonder what they are and where they’ll end up before turning back to the trees at the end of the day. I’m making my way back from a pre-dawn pursuit of the moon and, while the birds and I may be heading in different directions, I’m certain we’re all on our way to find something to eat.
I breathe deeply and look around. New sights, colors, and sounds mix into my memories of the previous trip here and I am in awe all over again.
Visiting a place more than once intuitively forces us to compare. It’s a reminder of how much wildness has changed outside and inside of us.
Arriving at the car for the trip back to Half Dome Village and something to eat, I think of a friend’s warning the day before. They’d heard a person died in a rock fall at Yosemite and were concerned for my safety. When I asked why I wasn’t afraid, I responded that there were no guarantees of safety back in the city, either. In the days before the rock slide, more than 20 people died in a train station in India and more than 50 died in a fire in China. Not to be morbid, but I really don’t want the last thing I see to be grey sidewalks and traffic lights. I choose nature. And it’s like John Muir once said:
“Take a course in good water and air, and in the eternal youth of nature you may renew your own. Go quietly, alone; no harm will befall you.”
I read that and hear myself add “Probably” at the end, but it still counts. It still gets me out where the awesome is. The road back to Half Dome Village is all but empty this time of year, but that’s perfectly perfect for me. As far as I’m concerned, there is no “off season” in Yosemite. Just make sure you’ve got the right jacket for the season and you are assured lifelong memories of the colors, textures, and echoing expanse of this amazing place.
We all seek contentment in the moments between where we are and where we desire to be. And I genuinely believe that true contentment is found by honoring our experiences and giving each moment the veneration it deserves. For me, exploring the light and space of wild places helps me craft and define those moments. I encourage you to do the same.
“Everything in the wilderness reminds us constantly to be who we are.”
