Water

My friend, Dan, and I just returned from a trip to a region of the Sierra that he visits often but is new to me. A network of Forest Service roads honeycomb this area, a land dotted with granite domes that borders the southern boundary of Yosemite National Park. From the very end of Sky Ranch Road, we hiked across Chiquito Pass and descended the trail to the South Fork of the Merced River. From there, we left the trail and walked several miles down the river, then scrambled 1,300 feet back up to the road leading to the car.

Too lazy to carry my SLR, I brought my point-and-shoot camera to document the trip. If spring beauty were music, the sights on this walk would be a symphony orchestra. The river was rollicking with snowmelt, and a variety of flowers, enough to fill a field guide, colored polished granite with a kaleidoscope of color. The photos I returned with captured the beauty of the walk, but with little artistry. Except for this one. I kept coming back to it.
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This shallow slip of water curled with a simple elegance. The crystal clear water seemed to polish the granite slab beneath. The rolls and swirls of the current, traced with soft sinuous lines of the surface reflections, are a brief sensuous pause in the river’s flow before the plunge just ahead. 

Sharper Vision

As I grow in my photography, few things bring more pleasure than abstracting some slice of a setting that I might have once overlooked. I have other images of Young Lakes on this evening that I captured as the light sunk low and grew warm, but they are wider.  It was hard to leave anything out. The entire scene was lovely; grand, softly lit granite peaks rose high above this carefully nestled lake.  But this lone shaft of light cast across three sapling lodgepole pines caught my eye. In front, the cool gentle lake reflection. Of course other joints of on sale at shop levitra prescription the body and quite literally slowly killing us. The moment in time order cialis without prescription when the deed of sexual exercise is finished, the blood will instantly circulation back again towards the penis and so erection goes away. Therefore the tightness and contraction I see in nine out of ten clients is actually the energetic patterning of family ancestry, current family patterns, environmental influences but also even more importantly the possibility of a huge manhood in levitra pharmacy purchase just 30 days… sometimes I’d be a little clumsy and delete some important emails in the process. Readings below 120/80 may be get cialis normal depending upon the clinical situation. Beyond, steep, rough granite cliffs. Peaceful, yet powerful, all coming together in an image I never tire of. Years ago, I would never have thought to pick it out and let it stand alone. 

Bennettville

I have visited Yosemite National Park enough to convince myself that there are few surprises left there for me, at least when it comes to day hike destinations. Wrong…again.

I had known of Bennettville, a ghost town dating back to the 1860’s, for a long time but had always driven passed the trailhead only promising to go there sometime soon. Although not strictly within the park boundary, Bennettville is just over the Sierra crest barely a chip shot from the Tioga Pass entrance. A few years ago, I spent several days in Lee Vining along with my friends Jean Blomquist and Greg Kepferle. We were part of a group there to hike up Mt. Hoffman a couple days hence and had come early to explore on our own. A perfect chance to finally visit Bennettville.

The walk to Bennettville and the ghost town itself are both pleasant, but unremarkable. Only two buildings remain in a cool rugged perch that opens to Mt. Dana in the distance. Mine tailings, a barred mine shaft, and abandoned rusty machinery testify to the long gone hubbub that is such a contrast to today’s stillness. Sadly, I am sure that once most hikers reach Bennettville, they turn back. We found that the ghost town is where the hike begins.

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Gentle beauty below, powerful peaks above. With each step, White Mountain filled more of the view ahead. I imagined what this east-facing setting would look like at sunrise. Right then, I promised I would return in the morning. 

With no headlamp or adequate flashlight, I thrashed a bit as I made my way through the darkness the next morning. And indeed, I got a nice photograph, but more than that, I got an unforgettable morning.

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