It was our last day in Yosemite. We planned to spend the morning shooting, grab some lunch and head back to San Francisco in the afternoon. After the previous day’s disappointing skies, Jeff Fielding and I hoped for a little break in the weather and perhaps get a few more of the grand landscapes this place is known for. Sadly, it was not to be. This is what we got instead.

Hardly Clearing Winter Storm, eh? To top it all off, it was pouring, and Jeff and I got soaked waiting for the fog to clear. Eventually, the fog dissipated enough to get some pretty good stuff of the fog-shrouded valley, but the distant peaks—including Half Dome—were still completely invisible. Ah, well. Looked like we’d spend our last few hours here focusing on the details once more.

We again drove to the valley floor and to Yosemite Falls to see if we could find anything there that wasn’t a complete white out, but we weren’t too hopeful. The fog and rain were thick and heavy and pretty much stayed that way while we drove along. However, just before we got to the falls, the rain slowed and the fog began to lift a bit. We pulled over at one of the nearby meadows and hopped out of the car to see what we could find.

Yeah. Now we’re talkin’. While the fog was still pretty prevalent, it cleared enough to start seeing some of the valley floor and the mountains beyond. It was beginning to warm up a bit, too, so the fog also began to rise from the warmer air temperatures reacting to the cold snow on the ground.  It started to feel like there might be some cool stuff coming, so I spent quite a bit of time here, and this was by far my favorite shot.

Once we’d had our fill, we drove over to the Yosemite Falls parking lot. Here the fog was a little thicker, especially on the ground, and things were beginning to disappear again. There were a few deer grazing near the meadow, so I got a few head shots of a young 6-point buck, but there wasn’t much I really liked. One of the deer, however, broke away from the group and meandered out into the meadow by himself. I immediately thought of a photograph of the buck in the meadow with the fog, the trees and the towering mountains in the background. Cool, right?

I tried. I really tried, but I just couldn’t pull it off. Either the fog was too thick or the deer was in the wrong place or there was something else wrong. It was quickly turning into an exercise in frustration. I followed the buck around  for a little while (being careful not to pass him, though :-) ), trying to get the shot I had in mind.

Nope. Never worked.

He finally wandered off to the back of the meadow and into some rather thick brush. I stood there for a bit, hoping he might come back out, but to no avail. I turned to walk back to the main part of the meadow… and the fog cleared ever so slightly.

I really like this one. It shows how quickly the fog consumed the mountains in the distance, but opened up just enough to provide the perfect context for the trees and the creek  in the foreground. When I see this photograph, it instantly reminds me of that day.

After lunch, we changed into some dry clothes and pointed the car back to San Francisco. As we drove out of the park, the sun began to poke through the clouds, the rain stopped, and the fog began to dissipate—almost as if saying, “Nice try this time, but come back again. There are more wonders here to see.”

Not to worry, old man. I’ll be back.

Wednesday was our full day in the park and we were hopeful for some great opportunities. The sky was blue with just a few wispy clouds, so we thought we’d revisit the Tunnel View Overlook to see how things looked. Of course I couldn’t resist trying my best Ansel Adams impersonation.

I have to say that this is a tough place to shoot. Not that there aren’t a plethora of subjects available; the mountains, streams and valleys here have an amazing array of eye-catching scenes. (It really is difficult to imagine the scale of these monoliths from any photographs. The word “towering” was invented here, I think.) It’s pretty difficult to find something that hasn’t been done before. I’ve found myself falling victim to the same things I warn about it Close to Home: snapping away at the “trophy” images. I keep reminding myself that “your subject is not your photograph”.

So I’ve tried to take my own advice and dig deeper to find the photographs that describe this place to me. It’s still pretty hard to do, though. Trying to make a photograph that says “Yosemite” and isn’t one of the classic views is a(nother) lesson in humility. It doesn’t help, either, that terrific photographs by Ansel Adams, William Neill, and others are in practically every building in the park. It also doesn’t help that I’ve never been here before, and two and a half days isn’t nearly enough time to discover the soul of this place.

I can tell you the words that come to mind, though. Ancient. Everlasting. Monumental. If the stone here could speak, you would near the voices of all of those who have gone before us. These stones have seen the passage of time since this world was young, and their solidity and strength give me a kind of comfort. Touching them makes me feel like I’m reaching back in time and the cares of this world just fall away in the presence of something this everlasting.

Jeff Fielding and I had parked the car in the North Campground and walked the service road to the lake. It took us about three and a half hours to cover the 1.2 miles. We stopped multiple times and scrambled down the river’s embankment to photograph the rushing water through the rocks and the reds, oranges, greens and blues between them. The experience reminded me of the same kind of thing I did in the Smokies a few months ago.

Afterward we walked back to the car, taking considerably less time to do so, and drove to the lodge to warm up with a couple of drinks and dinner. Tomorrow would be the last day in the park and I was hopeful that we’d get a break from the crappy skies, but the forecast wasn’t too encouraging. I knew the rock would still be there, though, waiting for me.

That night, I dreamt of giants.

The day had come. Jeff and I tossed our gear, some warm clothes and a little food into the car and headed out of San Francisco to our destination: Yosemite National Park. As we drove from the city to the park, we passed some very interesting landscapes I would have gladly spent several days photographing—including an abandoned orchard and a rock-strewn cattle farm—but our destination awaited and we were excited to get there. (So excited, in fact, that we were given a warning by a ranger for speeding in the park. Oops.)

This is of course the famous Tunnel View through the Yosemite Valley and includes El Capitan, Half-Dome, Cathedral Rock and several other recognizable landmarks of the park. It also the location where Ansel Adams shot Clearing Winter Storm, one of my favorite photographs from him. (I looked for his tripod holes, but alas could not find them.) As you can see there was no storm today with the setting sun emblazoning El Capitan with a golden hue. As in San Francisco, I did take a few of the “trophy” shots, partly because they were irresistible, but also because I once heard a photographer (I think it was Art Wolfe) say you need to “shoot through the clichés.” In other words, and in this case, I needed to go ahead and get the iconic shots just to get past them and try to find my own personal interpretation of Yosemite. So Jeff and I spent a little time shooting from this overlook before heading into the Valley to see what else we could find.

Since we’d spent the morning driving, we didn’t have too much time to explore but we also managed to stop at Bridal Veil Falls to do a little shooting as well. It had been cold and a bit rainy recently and the path to the falls was wet and icy. we spent quite a bit of time trying not to fall as we walked along. The falls itself was interesting, but as it was late in the day, the light was not very good. Again, I shot a few images just for the record, but never really got a near shot of the falls that I liked.

So what do you do when the landscape in front of you isn’t quite as interesting as you’d thought? Why, you turn around.

This photograph was the first one where I felt I began to photograph my own personal interpretation of the park. One of the first things you will notice in the Yosemite Valley is the towering rock all around you; enormous walls of granite soaring hundreds of feet into the air. It’s hard to imagine the forces at work to create such monoliths. It felt a bit like walking through downtown Manhattan a few weeks ago, feeling more than seeing the skyscrapers all around me. That was my immediate impression of this place and the one I tried to convey in this photograph. I would continue to work this theme throughout the following days in Yosemite.

On Monday, my first full day on the west coast, Jeff Fielding and I spent time roaming around San Francisco; talking, eating, and shooting. San Francisco is a great place to photograph and as Jeff says, if you live here, there’s no reason you can’t make good photographs.

Of course, I am quite far from Mooreland, Indiana, so for me at least it’s not literally close to home, but the things I’ve learned photographing my own back yard have helped me try to get past the “trophy” shots (the Golden Gate bridge, Alcatraz Island—a few of which I did take) and move on to photographs that are closer to my personal perception of this place. This photograph is from the end of the day, when we visited the Marin Headlands across the Golden Gate bridge from the city. This area is an interesting place, with landscapes worthy of many other places on the planet. It reminds me a bit of some of the recent shots I’ve seen from Iceland and of course it reinforces the lesson that you don’t have to travel far to find good photographs. This scene is 20 minutes from downtown San Francisco.

We also spent a little time in the morning in Chinatown, photographing the shops and the people there, and just spending time wandering and talking. It’s kind of a tough place to shoot because there’s so much to catch your eye, making it difficult to keep yourself focused on what you’re trying to say. For me, there were two stories here: one about people who have established themselves as merchants and residents; some of whom are second and third generations (and beyond) living here. The sons/grandsons and daughters/granddaughters of the first generation are part of the second story; those who want move on to new and different places. Instead, however, I ended up learning something completely different. Something I didn’t like.

This woman was doing some late afternoon shopping at a small market, along with many other folks who live nearby. She went about her business slowly and deliberately, making me think that she was comfortable here. Why don’t I know? Because, I’m ashamed to say, I dropped into stealth mode here. The market was crowded and I couldn’t think of a good way to approach this woman—or anyone else for that matter—without imposing in their daily lives for something as seemingly insignificant as my need to make a photograph. Believe me when I say I’ve read and taken to heart the lessons about approaching people and establishing a relationship before photographing them, but it wasn’t until I was in this situation—and I didn’t do it—that I really understood the difference. It felt wrong, like I was actually taking something from them, where I could have gotten to know them first and instead given something to both of us. I find myself now guessing at what this woman was doing at the market, beyond the obvious need to buy food, and I’d rather I knew. Not because it would make this blog post more interesting —though it certainly would—but because knowing more about her is just as important as making the photograph.

I wish I had taken the time to try to talk to her and several other people I saw during our walk: the barber sitting in the doorway his tiny shop, cleaning and oiling his clippers while waiting for his next customer; the women in the fortune cookie factory who smiled indulgently while I tried to photograph them as they worked. I have photographs of all of them, but I think I’d rather have their stories; stories that would have been so interesting to know but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I didn’t start the conversation first and I’m the lesser for it.