Yosemite - Part 1

Entering Yosemite National Park several signs warn that 'Speeding Kills Bears'. Despite the obvious quip that perhaps they should slow down a bit, these signs are apparently placed in every spot where a bear has actually been hit, which is pretty serious. As bears generally avoid roads and people it would also suggest that there are a lot of bears in them thar hills.

Yosemite is as beautiful as ever but cold – well, we are up at 4,00ft. At this time of year the streams and waterfalls are pretty empty, and Bridalveil Falls are slightly less than spectacular as the strong swirling winds blow the water back over the tops. The surrounding lumps of rock more than make up for it.


El Capitan (not Steven Gerard this time) has people hanging off the side of it as they shimmy up the sheer rock face. Those who have only made it half-way will have to bivvy out on a ledge tonight, which may not be much fun as high winds and cold temperatures are forecast. A couple on their 19 year anniversary hand us a pair of binoculars so we can spy on the rock rats.

We drive through the valley impressed by all the scenery, but it is simply too big to fit into our photos. The Ansel Adams gallery has great examples of how it’s done properly. His black and white prints are magical and they look good in full-size format. He writes, ‘Yosemite Valley, to me, is always a sunrise, a glitter of green and golden wonder in a vast edifice of stone and space.’ Books tell you where and how to take the best nature pictures, but I’ll leave that to the experts.

It starts to snow and all the wardens and rangers are thrilled, skipping about with excitement. This makes for an interesting drive back through the valley past trees and mountains that have disappeared although we know they’re out there. A deer tiptoes daintily across the road with her two calves.

The snow picks out features and contours like a negative shade, outlining and highlighting like a child’s drawing when they’ve run out of dark-hued crayons. The setting sun filters through the snow tingeing the clouds and trees pink. So it really does happen; perhaps the Magic Roundabout script writers weren’t all on drugs afterall. But then again…