Yosemite the Dream
When I was 10 years old, I saw pictures of Yosemite for the first time. Whether it was my mother or my 5th grade teacher Rick Redness who first introduced me to Ansel Adams, I can't really remember. I do remember thinking Yosemite was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. The photos inspired me to take up photography, begging my father for a communist made, East German 35mm camera (called an Exa, circa 1974) and eventually a B&W darkroom. Because of Ansel Adams, photography was all I was interested in for several years, driving many of my friends crazy with my obsessiveness.
Many obsessions would intervene over the years, but I always remembered the feeling Yosemite generated for me, never passing an Ansel Adams print without remembering how beautiful it was and how deeply I wanted to go.
Since buying a DSLR 2 years ago, I became friends with Ralph, a member of my local camera club. Eight months ago I mentioned to him that the Nikonians were sponsoring a photographic workshop and how it would be the perfect way to finally see Yosemite. After only a few days, he said we should do it and we started making plans. I couldn't believe it, I was really going.
On May 12, 2010 we both met Ralph's friend Scott at JFK and took a plane to San Francisco. After an uneventful flight to SFO, a rare treat these days, we drove 1 1/2 hours to the East and found a hotel for the night 2 hours shy of Yosemite. I fell asleep in the big comfortable bed knowing the next 3 nights would be in soft-sided cabins with no heat. I couldn't wait.
Yosemite: Day 1
When we started driving the next day, the terrain was all very flat. Florida flat. I was wondering if the GPS had lost its way. I checked my email and Facebook one last time, it would be the last decent signal I would have for days.
Ralph and Scott have known each other since high school, but they were careful not to reminisce that much and we descended into talking about guitars. I tried to keep my mind on the conversation, but my thoughts were flying over the hills ahead to Yosemite.
As we drove on, the hills stared rolling and I was starting to feel like we were getting closer. There were some interesting things to photograph, I rolled down the window and squeezed off a few shots (those shots always look like you took them from a car window). But Yosemite was the goal and we kept going up the many switch-backs that led to the park.
Now the terrain looked right. As we gained altitude I started to get very excited and then I saw the sign for the entrance to Yosemite.
Now after dreaming about doing anything for 36 years, I think anyone might get emotional during that dream's fulfillment. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I got a little misty behind my polarized wrap around shades. Alright I got a lot misty, but Ralph and Scott seemed to be totally unaware, so my manhood, in their eyes, remained intact (that is, until now). A thought started running through my head like a drum beat, "I'm really here, I'm really here." As we entered the park I studied every tree and rock, slapped Ralph on the arm, all the time thinking "I'm really here."
As we drove down the picturesque road we saw several people standing by the side of the road next to a marsh. Scott and Ralph said I guess they have never seen a marsh before. But from my trip to Yellowstone I knew what this kind of crowd meant. As we passed I craned my neck and saw it. In the middle of the marsh was a bear. I told the guys and we turned around as I attached my 300mm lens. Now before we had left home, the FAQ section of the Nikonians web site had said that the odds of even spotting a bear were between 1-5%. We had now been in the park 10 minutes and had beaten the odds. The 3 of us stood by the road squeezing off shots until the bear looked right at me.
It was then I realized I was pretty damn close, about 25 yards, and if he charged I wasn't sure I could make it back to the car. But it was a black bear (who was in fact brown). They are a lot mellower than grizzlies and since there were no cubs to defend, I figured I was relatively safe. The printed guide they gave us at the park’s entrance said in order to be in danger you would have to be within 20 yards. More on that later.
After we had taken our fill of shots, we said goodbye to the bear and drove farther into the park with plenty of time left to make our orientation at Curry Village in an hour. Then in the middle of the road a man with a stop sign loomed. "Sorry folks they are taking down some trees, the road is closed for about 30 minutes." Now the New Yorker in me quickly thought, "What are you kidding me?" But the newly emerged "Todd of Yosemite" intervened when I heard the loud crack of a 10 story lodge pole pine crashing to the forest floor. "We are on Yosemite time now."
Quickly we grabbed our cameras and began to shoot the loggers taking down the trees that had been killed by a fire.
They were experts at this and took down a large tree every few minutes. It is always a pleasure to watch a true master at work, and the 30 minutes went by very quickly.
We waved goodbye to our new friend, the stop sign holder, and drove through large fields of devastation. The fire had all but cleared the land leaving the occasional burnt pole of a tree and rocks. It must have been a very large fire.
We burrowed through a couple of tunnels that went through the mountains and then I saw it. In the distance was Half Dome. Not in some dusty book, but right here in front of me. "We have to stop", I said. Scott and Ralph resisted due to the time, but only for a few seconds.
Now it isn't the best photo I've ever taken, but each time I look at it I am filled the pure awe I felt at that moment.
As we drove into Yosemite Valley, we passed all the places I had known from Ansel's work, but had never known where they were in relation to each other. I took off my seat belt so I could slide easily from side to side in the back seat. I knew I could get hurt if we got into an accident but I had to see this unencumbered. Bridalveil Fall to the right, El Capitan to the left, Sentinel Falls, Yosemite Falls and dead ahead Half Dome. I was speechless and happy beyond reason. I was 10 years old again.
We pulled into Curry Village and walked very quickly to the center lodge. Made it by 2 minutes. Mike Mariant was the instructor for the workshop. He explained about how the tents were heated (an unexpected surprise) and that you needed to keep all food and scented items in the bear box outside our tents so a bear won't tear it apart looking for food. He made sure we knew cars could easily be pealed like a piece of candy by a bear, so we shouldn't leave anything in our cars a bear might want. This seemed very different from the 1-5% chance of even seeing a bear described in the FAQ, but I had come through my first bear encounter okay, so I was ready for Yogi. Mike then told of a rock slide that had injured a few kids in 2008 right here in Curry Village, but this wasn't the season for rock slides so we shouldn't worry. After someone asked how you know a rock slide is coming, Mike said it sounds like thunder. It felt like something out of Moby Dick, but undaunted we grabbed our harpoons and headed out.
As we walked I asked Mike what we should do if we heard a rock slide, he said, ”Run for the meadow." This sounded like the same advice they give you on an airplane for a crash; put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye.
We were going to our 1st location, the Cascades. But first Mike threw everyone a curve ball. We wouldn't be using the meter or anything other than manual this week, including focus. Now I had gotten used to shooting in aperture mode and had done enough manual metering to be comfortable, but no meter at all and manual focus? Although my heart was again 10 years old, my eyes were definitely over 40. I didn't want to come back from my dream with a bunch of out of focus images. But I decided to go with it and snap off a few "just in case" images letting the camera focus as well (none of which I needed by the way). Not to get too technical, but Mike's philosophy is to use a starting point called "Sunny 16" which is to set your ISO and shutter speed to the same thing and your f-stop to 16 in the sun. You then dial in your exposure from there. No looking at the meter or the histogram. It works and frees you up to be more creative with exposure. It was also the perfect Zen teaching of Yosemite, forget what you have learned, and start with a blank slate.
We were using -6 stop ND to shoot the waterfalls. A laborious process, but the only way to get that "cotton candy" waterfall look in bright sunlight. The Cascades were kind of a starter waterfall by Yosemite standards, but those shots have gotten a lot of comments on FB, so once again always trust your teacher. The lesson there was not to try and get the whole waterfall. When we shot the whole thing it didn't work, but when we went in tight it was much cooler. The metaphor he used was when carving an elephant from a bar of soap; carve away everything that isn't an elephant.
We drove back to Curry Village to move into our tents and have an early dinner, making very sure everything was out of the car and all scented items locked in the bear box. I took a quick snap on my phone of Half Dome, found the one intermittent hot spot in camp and barely got it posted it to FB. We were racing to catch the light at Bridalveil Fall. It was always about the light the whole trip; Mike knew when it was right down to the minute. When we arrived at Bridalveil Fall we were standing were Ansel had stood or damn close. Mike then admonished us, there are plenty of post cards in the store, try and take something different. So after a few post cards and a few failed experiments, I snapped the photo below.
Mike saw it and said you should put that on the gallery on the Nikonians web site. I had stood where Ansel had, and according to Mike, come up with something different. Now, as a friend of mine would say, I really was over the moon.
We drove back to Curry Village to dress warmly for some astrophotography. We walked out into the woods with Mike leading the way. It was pitch black. Mike led us to a river bank and gave a quick lesson on the technique. Unfortunately, I didn't have a cable release so anything over 30 sec. was going to be a problem. I did my best yogic breathing to keep as still as I could for 3 minutes while holding down the shutter release. The result is below.
On the way back to camp, I noticed fresh bear spore on the trail that hadn't been there on the way out. There were bears here alright, no doubt about it.
I brushed my teeth in the communal bathroom 50 yards from my tent. It was 11pm and I had determined I wasn't going to the bathroom again until dawn to avoid any late night bears. I lay in bed too excited to sleep, listening for bear growls and rock falls masquerading as thunder. What a day, but it would only get better.
Around 5:30 AM I woke up to the sound of rumbling, but it wasn't the sound of a rock slide pretending to be thunder. It was the sound of all the waterfalls in the Yosemite Valley mingling together. As I stretched my arms, I felt poetic and strong. Ever since I was young I’ve had a thing for waterfalls. When at school in Ithaca, I would spend hours just watching Taughannock Falls, lost in my thoughts. Mike told us this year was the heaviest water flow he had ever seen, so throughout the valley, little ribbon waterfalls were now flowing that would vanish over the next month. Like everything so far, our waterfall timing was perfect too.
After a shower, breakfast, a quick post to FB and securing everything in my bear box, we headed out to swinging bridge to catch the first light hitting upper Yosemite Falls. Mike had us park in a tow away zone saying, “They won't tow us until 10 AM.” Boy, he really knew this place down to the second. After a short hike, all 10 of us set up our tripods and started shooting waiting for the perfect light. Once again, Mike admonished us, “There is a DVD of post card shots in the souvenir store, try something different.” Of course I took a couple of post card shots, and some abstract images.
After making it back to the cars with 1 minute to spare. Mike took us to a location that seemed a little off topic. We were to shoot tight shots at Fern Spring and the Merced River. Our focus had been the big vistas, now Mike was trying to get us to think small. That stretch of the river had been where John Muir had camped with Teddy Roosevelt when trying to convince him to make Yosemite a National Park. It took some time to adjust to thinking small, but after awhile it started getting easier. It was nothing I couldn't have gotten in New England, but Mike was getting us ready to put it all together later.
After having lunch at Yosemite Village, we went to the Ansel Adams’ Gallery, which once was his studio and dark room. Then we walked next door to the Yosemite visitor center. The museum was, among other things, a shrine to John Muir. I snapped the quote below on my camera phone. It would stick with me the rest of the trip.
We picked up our gear and started walking toward lower Yosemite Fall. On the way Mike pointed out a famous tree under Half Dome that Ansel had shot, but once again said everyone and his mother has taken this shot, don't bother. Now I might be projecting, but everyone in the group wanted to stop and take the shot, but as everyone looked at each other, no one wanted to be the first. As the group walked away, I uncapped and pressed the release. I don't think anyone in the group saw me, but damn it, this was where Ansel had stood. I had to do it.
We arrived at the lower Yosemite falls area and the light was perfect. After an exercise in perspective, Mike turned us loose.
As the group walked toward the falls, we came on a group of Canon shooters in a different workshop. There is a small rivalry between Nikon people and Canon shooters, but rather than get into a gangland rumble, we just nodded as we passed by.
There was so much there I wanted to shoot. “I could stay here for another 3 hours”, I said. But Mike kept us moving into the field across from the falls and within view of Half Dome. After playing with some reflections and getting a post-card shot of Half Dome, the group was exhausted. Even my boundless energy since arriving was waning.
We drove back to camp and set up for cocktail hour in view of Yosemite Fall. Scott had bought a bottle of Merlot, usually a non-starter for me, but it tasted pretty good in the crisp air. Thankfully Dave had brought a bottle of Pinot Noir for the 2nd round, making the moment very close to perfect. After a quick dinner, we packed up our gear and headed out for a place called Tunnel View to catch the late day light.
Tunnel View is a scenic overview that provides sweeping views of the Park. Being lightly lubricated from cocktail hour, I relied on muscle memory to set my camera correctly. Since Mike’s system was so non-technical, it worked perfectly for my state of mind.
As the light began to fade, I started feeling the weight of the day. By the time we got back to camp I had a throbbing headache. Mike was going to go out to do astrophotography again, but I needed to recharge for the next day, which was being described as a challenging hike at altitude. So after downing some Advil, I reluctantly told the few who were going that I needed some rest. It was the last time on the trip that I wouldn't have an unlimited energy supply.
Walking to brush my teeth that night, I was worrying a lot less about bears and rock slides, in a sense I was becoming a native. I fell asleep wondering about the upcoming hike. I knew it would be great, but what I didn't know was it would be one of the best days of my life.
After dreaming about bears, John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt, I once again woke to the deep rumble of Yosemite's waterfalls. I knew I could listen to that sound every morning and die a happy man.
Once again, I took a low impact shower, posted my status on FB and had a decent size breakfast in an effort to fuel up for the big hike. But first Mike brought us to a trail beside the Merced River to shoot. Here again, everything was tight and specific, pulling our vision down to the small in the large grand valley. I found a rock that looked interesting and after taking the shot, Mike said I should post it on the trip gallery. There seemed to be 4 levels of comments from Mike: no comment at all, which I took as "I've seen it before", "interesting" which meant you have the beginnings of something good, "nicely done", and "post that to the gallery" which felt to me like a home run.
After our short stop at the river, we took the bus to Yosemite Village to buy lunch and headed back to camp to fill up the two 32oz. water bottles that Mike said were a must if you were going to go on the hike. Loaded with my camera gear, a fairly heavy tripod (I understand the appeal of carbon fiber legs now more than ever) a lot of water, a sandwich and some trail mix; we began our walk to the trail head.
The trail was fairly crowded, not with backpacking hikers, but with day trippers, determined to see Vernal Fall 1,000 ft. above the valley floor. Very few carried water, and in total were a good cross section of America. There was a pregnant woman with another child in tow, children sprinting up the steep trail with boundless energy and a farmer in dark orange overalls wiping his forehead with every step, promising God he would be a better Christian if he would just get him to the top.
The trail was steep and with all the weight I was carrying, my lungs were burning. But all in all I felt pretty good and was starting to feel very smart for staying in the previous night.
We came to a series of scenic outlooks which tempted me to put down my tripod and shoot, but Mike said I should wait because it would get much better. He was right.
After an hour of steady upward motion we arrived at the bridge across the rapids from Vernal Fall. It was packed with people mostly trying to get a picture of someone with the waterfall in the background to show everyone at home. I set up my tripod and attempted to take a timed shot of the falls. It was almost impossible. Everyone who walked by was shaking the bridge. And the one time I was able to fit the exposure in between walkers, a small boy with a stick started banging it very hard, shaking my tripod. I looked across the bridge and saw Mike shaking his head knowing very well the problem I was having.
Once I had put my gear away and sat down to eat lunch with our group, I drifted off into people watching. They were from all over the country, and the world, all coming together for this amazing view.
This is what John Muir had wanted, people from everywhere, gathering in Yosemite's breathtaking cathedrals. Renewing their spirit and humbling every person in rapturous beauty. And even though I knew many of these people would not fully appreciate his vision, I knew everyone on the trail that day would be changed by it. Suddenly they didn't seem like a Disney World crowd to me anymore, they were fellow seekers of the feral self, looking to shed the skin of domestication.
We strapped on our gear to hike higher on the trail, leaving the less determined and prepared travelers behind. As we climbed the switchbacks, I began to think of all of you reading this on FB. My old friends, new friends, workmates and such over the last 36 years. I felt like you were all standing behind me as I was climbing, feeding and pushing me on. My blood was pumping like a machine and I felt as strong as an ox.
As we stopped for some much needed water, Ralph and I started talking about the Mist Trail. I told him I had forgotten to bring a plastic bag to cover my gear, since Mike had told us we would be getting wet. Right on cue a bearded older man, who looked a lot like John Muir, walked past us on his way down. Having overheard our conversation, he pulled a new plastic bag out of his back pocket and offered it to me. I thanked him profusely and started once again to climb. Then we reached the John Muir Trail.
Mike pointed out a rock overhang that a famous photographer, whose name now eludes me, hung a sheet from to use as a field dark room. To be a photographer back then meant you had to be a chemist, frontiersman, technician, pack mule and an artist. I think they would have loved the DSLR.
As soon as we started on the trail, I was either on the verge of an altitude induced psychotic break or some kind of mystic wilderness epiphany. I felt like John Muir was becoming part of me. We stopped several times to take shots of the fantastic view of Yosemite Falls, which of course Ansel had taken. I felt something building inside of me. I thought of the poem by Walt Whitman that has the line in it, "I sound my barbaric yawp." I looked up and saw an immature bald eagle riding a thermal against the granite wall that reached upward into the sky. Then it came out. "Yawp!!!!!!" at the top of my lungs. It was primal, pure and satisfying. A few on the trail looked at me like I had lost it. I had and it felt incredible.
I floated up the trail and emerged on the backside of Half Dome. Then up over the ridge to reveal Liberty Cap and Nevada Fall. We were at 6,000 ft. and I was ecstatic. Drunk on the stunning beauty that was in every direction.
Then up the trail behind me came a shaken member of our group named John. A teenage kid had cut the switch back causing a small rock slide, smashing his lens and cutting open his hand. Mike patched him up and John was taking pictures with the rest of us in a few minutes. Yosemite was still the wilderness, if you didn't respect it, you or someone else, would get hurt. Mike scolded the kid who just replied, "You’re not my father."
Undeterred, we moved on to an overlook above Vernal Fall, yet another location unknown to the general population. We then moved on to the rapids above Vernal Fall and a member of our group got a little too close to the rushing water. Mike reminded him that in these waters there is no rescue, only recovery. Blunt force trauma would dispatch you long before the cold water took you out. We then passed the Emerald Pool and then to the edge of Vernal Fall.
We bundled up our gear to descend the Mist Trail. The people coming up were soaked, so I wrapped my pack in the plastic that “faux John Muir” had given me. Walking down the Trail was like being in a rain storm all generated from Vernal Fall.
We found the one dry spot on the way and took some shots, then bundled up the gear again to descend the rest of the soaking trail. It was like being blessed by the fall and the water soaking my clothes felt amazing. Later, Mike told me when he looked back, everyone else in our group was huddled, trying to avoid the water, but I was smiling ear to ear.
Then Mike stopped at a rock beside the rapids. He said that he knew everyone was tired, but this was a spot were Ansel Adams had taken his famous shot of Vernal Fall and we could stop if anyone wanted. Before he finished his sentence I was on my way down to the rock.
We took several shots, and then the sun lit up Vernal Fall, giving us a beautiful parting gift on this perfect day.
After a half hour, the good light was gone and we started to hike down to Curry Village.
Down was a lot easier than up. Mike had taken to calling me John Muir, which suited me just fine. We chatted on the way down, but I was still too intoxicated to remember much of what was said.
We made it to camp and went off to eat a leisurely dinner. Ralph and Scott wanted pizza with some beer and a few of us ate in the dining hall. During dinner Ralph tried to save a beer from being knocked over and cut open his finger requiring 3 stitches that evening. Mike, me and several others talked equipment and video editing until everyone was exhausted and had to go to bed.
While Ralph was off getting stitched up, I brushed my teeth and headed back to my cabin. Once inside I realized I had forgotten to put my toothpaste in the bear box and went outside, unlocked the box and put the toothpaste inside. I looked to my right 5 ft away and saw the outline of what I thought was a large children's stuffy. Then I realized what it was...a bear!! And I was way too close. My heart was racing, but I was surprisingly calm. I slowly walked up the stairs to my cabin going for higher ground as the bear checked my bear box and a few others to see if they were closed. Then, I remembered what the sign in my cabin said to do if you come face to face with a bear. "Get bear, get" I shouted and the bear quickly ran off. My accent would have made John Muir proud, pure mountain man. Then I realized I didn't get a picture, but I figured being un-mauled was good too.
Later on, I heard someone outside. It was a Ranger. I asked if he was looking for a bear. He said yes and told me that black bears had fur between their toes and that way they were totally silent on their approach. He said one time he had a bear following him for 10 minutes before he realized he was there. It was fun swapping bear stories now that I had two.
Then I went back into my cabin and I drifted off to sleep. Todd, climber of mountains and scarer of bears.
At 1 AM I woke up suddenly to the sound of thunder, the great white whale—a rock slide. I opened the door and looked up at the sky, nothing but stars. Then I heard the rocks hit the ground—the same sound as when you throw a large rock against another large rock but a 100 times louder and bone shaking. I figured I should wake everyone up and run for the meadow, but then the thunder stopped. Fearing that Moby Dick had just dived down for a minute and would soon resurface to finish me off, I waited. But I heard nothing but the rumble of the waterfalls.
After several minutes I went back inside my cabin and went back to sleep. I figured if Yosemite wanted to crush me like a grape, I wasn't going to be able to stop it. Plus when they found me, I would have a large flat smile on my face.
I woke up 5 hours later, un-mauled and un-crushed, ready to seize the final day at Yosemite. After breakfast, a facebook post and telling everyone in the group my bear story, Mike confirmed he had heard the rock slide too. My nickname had also changed now from “John Muir” to “Get, Bear, Get.”
We walked with our gear down the road toward Mirror Lake, yet another place Ansel had stood. Mike stopped to tell a story, but said later he was just waiting for the light. Ralph and I found an interesting tree to shoot as we all waited.
As we walked along the river leading to Mirror Lake, I saw a mossy tree trunk in the water I wanted to shoot, but Mike said not yet. After 5 more minutes of walking he turned us loose and I ran back to shoot the tree.
We wandered around Mirror Lake shooting the reflections, as Ansel had, trying to come up with something different. I asked Mike if he had any suggestions, he said, “No.” I guess the lessons were over—he wanted us to find it ourselves.
After what seemed like a short time shooting, Mike said we needed to head back to camp and pack. No one wanted to leave, but Mike knew how to get me moving. He began to hit my tripod with a stick, shaking it and ruining the shot. I pressed the timer again, pretending to walk away, Mike realized what I was doing too late and I got the shot.
I walked back to camp, stopping every now and then to try and take a shot before Mike started hitting my tripod.
We packed, loaded the car and drove to Yosemite Lodge for our farewell lunch. We ate and talked of hikes, John Muir, bears and of course Ansel. When it was time to say goodbye, everyone shook hands except for the one woman in the group, Eileen, who gave everyone a hug. Mike went to shake my hand, but I pulled him in for a bro hug. He seemed a little surprised but went with it.
After buying a few souvenirs and the DVD of post cards Mike had referred to the whole trip, we headed to the car, taking in the great view of Yosemite Falls that the lodge affords. Sorry for the cell phone picture, the gear was stored in the car.
Ralph said we should shoot our way out of Yosemite, which sounded about right to me. We stopped at El Capitan to shoot a ribbon of a waterfall and some rock climbers. Yosemite is rock climbing heaven. I felt that Scott and Ralph wanted to stay as much as I did, but we had a 4 hour drive to San Francisco and a plane to catch.
Right before we entered the tunnel that had revealed the Valley 3 days earlier, we stopped for one last shot. The light was terrible but it didn't matter, it was like the last picture of a loved one who you had no idea when you'd see again.
As we drove out of the park, I once again got misty behind my polarized wrap around shades. I knew soon I would have cell signal again and tried to think of a FB post to sum up how I was feeling.
I wanted to thank Leslie and Sara for encouraging me to go and I wanted to thank all my friends who were with me in spirit. I wanted to thank Yosemite for not killing me as I flew too close to the sun, I wanted to thank Ralph and Scott for coming with me, I wanted to thank Mike and I wanted to thank the group of photographers who shared this trip of a lifetime. I guess I was feeling pretty thankful.
But then I remembered Mike's first lesson. The way to carve an elephant from a bar of soap is to remove everything that isn't the elephant. Then I had it:
“Todd Jackson is leaving Yosemite. Thanks John and Ansel for re-inspiring this 10 year old boy.”
