Sacramento—It’s easy to become blasé about Yosemite Valley. Even a touch jaded.
Especially when you live within easy driving distance and have visited countless times and in all seasons. Factor in the crowds and the hoops one must be willing to jump through in order to spend the day marveling at the sheer cliffs and tumbling waterfalls, and it becomes easier just to go someplace else.
Incomparable scenery, albeit with unavoidable hassle.
So for the last five or six years, a period that included a prolonged drought and COVID-mandated reservations, I avoided Yosemite Valley except while passing through to the Eastern Sierra.
This summer, however, both have vanished. Thanks to one of the snowiest winters in California’s recorded history, Yosemite’s world-famous waterfalls are gushing with strength not seen for decades. What’s more, spur-of-the-moment trips are back in the offing now that park officials scrapped the reservation system.
My moment arrived on a Monday morning. I left the house at 7, stopped for gas (and a breakfast burrito) at Chukchansi Crossing and passed through the Mariposa County hamlet of Fish Camp at 8:15. While approaching the southern entrance to Yosemite National Park, signs were posted at various intervals estimating how long visitors will be stuck in line.
I was oh so thankful to sail past the first sign, which indicated a 90-minute wait time. (Gulp.) The same thing happened at 60 minutes and 30 minutes until the line of red taillights finally appeared just inside the 15-minute marker.
Could’ve been worse.
Getting to Yosemite Valley proper wasn’t too bad, despite three short sections where washouts reduced travel to one lane. After picking my way through a traffic jam at the eye-popping viewpoint with El Capitan in one direction and Bridalveil Fall and the Leaning Tower in the other, I parked at the main day-use lot near Yosemite Village. It was just after 9:30 a.m.
My initial impressions after a few years away: Boy, oh boy is there a lot of construction going on. The first heavy equipment and fences I spotted were at Bridalveil Fall, closed for a $15 million “restoration.” The Ahwahnee hotel is covered in scaffolding, part of a $31 million renovation, and a new Yosemite Valley visitor center is going up near the Village Store.
The forest doesn’t look the same, either. There’s evidence of significant tree cutting, whether to make room for new parking lots and facilities or simply to improve the view, as well as forest management projects intended to mitigate wildfire risk, including controlled burns.
A logging truck in Yosemite Valley? Don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.
The first stop on my vague itinerary was Lower Yosemite Fall, an attraction I seldom visit but wanted to experience during these conditions. Gotta say it was pretty magical. Standing on the bridge below the 320-foot plunge and in thunderous earshot, one couldn’t help but be in awe.
That experience got me even more excited for a planned afternoon hike up the Mist Trail. And while making the walk over (forget about taking the shuttle; they’re crammed) I found myself absorbed in my surroundings. And not just the natural ones.
Besides the obvious scenic beauty, Yosemite Valley is also one of the world’s great places to people watch. Passing between families and groups, I counted the number of different languages being spoken and lost track after the list in my head reached double digits. My ears also detected a few barely recognizable forms of English—visitors from the British Isles, perhaps?—which is always fun.
On the bike path, in a meadow with a full view of Upper Yosemite Fall, a couple stopped me to ask if I could take their picture. Of course.
“Be sure to get the bikes,” the husband requested in a friendly tone.
Does this guy know who he’s talking to, I chuckled to myself. After snapping a few pics, making sure to get the couple, their bikes and the falls all perfectly in the frame while cropping out the road, I handed the guy his phone back.
“These are incredible!” he exclaimed. “Thank you so much!”
That’s the great thing about Yosemite Valley. Even a schlub like me can do a poor imitation of Ansel Adams.
Surprisingly, it was just the first of three photo requests made of me that afternoon. I also gave directions to four different couples, including a husband and wife from Indiana who were relieved when I informed them they didn’t have to walk down the slick granite staircase below Vernal Fall and could opt for the John Muir Trail instead.
I’ve hiked both trails dozens of times, usually en route to Half Dome, and can’t remember seeing so much water in the Merced River, or Vernal and Nevada falls so full. Truly astonishing.
By the time I trudged back to Curry Village and ordered a couple chicken tacos (made from tortillas about the circumference of a silver dollar) any sense of indifference for Yosemite Valley had been replaced by something else.
Tired legs.
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