It was overcast when we arrived in the Yosemite valley on our first day. Since we had left so early in the morning, it felt as if we were in a sort of never ending afternoon without any discernible sun in the sky. It was surprisingly cold on the side of the mountains as we gazed into the valley from tunnel view. What the photos here don’t reveal are the crowds of tourists that surrounded us at popular stops like these. Buses of rowdy teenagers and groups of international travelers on photo tours quickly came and went around us at the viewpoint and bridalveil fall. There is solitude to be found in Yosemite, but you have to seek it out.
Once in the valley, it was a quick walk to the Bridalveil fall, which, at this point in the dry winter, was just a tiny stream of water that dispersed into mist before touching the rocks below. Signs warned of the danger of slipping on the wet rocks, but the falling water wasn’t particularly robust and visitors scrambled all over the rocks to its base.
We explored a little more in the valley before it got dark, checking out the camp curry tents and such, then drove the windy road back up to our cabin and settled in for the night.
It sounds a bit silly to say that I feel different after visiting Yosemite, but it’s true. There is something majestic about the place. It recharges your spirit to be in the presence of rocks carved over thousands of years by glaciers. Just the pure enormity of it all, of the time that has passed over this place, is awe-inspiring.