People's Names in Yosemite

Part One

with date of first visit

Ayres, Thomas--1855, was in the first tourist group.  He sketched the first drawings of the valley, which Hutchings used in his magazine.

Bunnell, Lafayette – 1851, a doctor was with the Mariposa Battalion when it entered the valley in pursuit of the Ahwahnechee.  He was overcome with awe and thought the valley was called "Yosemite."

Cleenewerck, Henry--1880s, landscape painter.

Conness, John--the U.S. Senator from California who put the Yosemite park bill before Congress in 1864.  Abraham Lincoln signed the release.

Conway, John--In 1871 he built the Four Mile Trail; in 1873 he built the Upper Yosemite Falls Trail.

Curry, David & Jennie--1899, they started a new concept in tourist travel by setting up seven tents for summer travelers at Camp Curry.

Hill, Thomas--1862, early realist painter.

Hutchings, James--Organized the first tourist group in 1855, set up a hotel in the valley, and extolled its wonders through his magazine, Hutchings' Illustrated California Magazine.  He owned the sawmill where Muir worked. 

Johnson, Robert Underwood--1880s, working with Muir through his Century Magazine, he helped get the areas around Yosemite Valley made a National Park in 1890.

Keith, William--1868, after a trip with Muir, he began painting in the grand realism style.

King, Clarence--1860s, wrote Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada, 1872, a great example of early frontier literature.

King, Thomas Starr, Rev.--1860, a Unitarian pastor, he was the first person with a national audience to push to make Yosemite a public park.                                                                                                                                         

Lamon, JC--1859, first settler to live in the valley year round, planted apple trees that can still be seen in the area of the Curry parking lot.

Lebrado, Maria--20th century, often referred to as the last of the Ahwahnechee.

LeConte, Joseph--1870, early geologist, contemporary of Muir who also saw a need to preserve the wilderness, although for utilitarian reasons.

Prayer in the Wilderness

Prayer is waking up at dawn and listening to nature as you cook breakfast over a fire.

Prayer is a conversation we have with the mountains and rivers, with ravens and coyotes.  We share and as we listen to the Other, our perceptions about ourselves and the world deepen.  We grow in compassion for all creatures.

Prayer is an adventure because on the trail we don’t know what we will encounter around the next bend.  There could be a mother bear with her cubs, a mountain lion, or the trail may open to a stunning view over a river canyon.

Prayer is a cool breeze on a hot day when we’re hiking up the steep ridge behind North Dome.

Prayer is watching the Creator walk by in thunderstorms that rush and boom through the valley.

As we hike into unknown territory, we trust the spirituality of nature to guide us where to go.  We travel with holy intention on a search that may take years, but prayer is not an answer. 

Prayer is a journey, and prayer is our companion along the way.

Prayer is the beauty of white granite mountains and canyons colored by rose and purple alpenglow at sunset.

Prayer is falling asleep watching the stars overhead and joining their pilgrimage through the cosmos.

John Muir

I grew up in Wisconsin playing in the woods in all seasons and reading about John Muir, as well as about Aldo Leopold and Sigurd Olson, nature writers in Wisconsin and Minnesota. I lived near Muir’s home, we both went to the University of Wisconsin, and one side of my family is Scottish, so there are those connections. Then he headed west and found himself entranced and delighted by Yosemite’s grandeur.

When I moved to California, I wanted to experience the place that Muir raves about in his books, the place that nurtured his soul, so I went to Yosemite.  I was, and still am, amazed that such a place can exist – a valley with granite walls that go straight up for almost a mile, waterfalls that flow into the valley from every direction, mountain peaks that stretch to 13,000 feet, and giant sequoias that are 300 feet tall and 3000 years old. I continue to use Muir’s words to guide me around the valley and draw closer to nature.  He also liked to hike by himself, and by doing so I find solitude that nourishes me.

John Muir was instrumental in saving Yosemite from development and founded the Sierra Club in the late 1800s.  He realized the importance of taking care of not just the valley but also the watershed, for if the source of water in the mountains was diverted for irrigation, then the valley and its creatures would die. 

Like Muir, when I’m in Yosemite I feel surrounded by something much greater than my individual life.  I feel awe and wonder, as if I’m touching something eternal.  I feel a spiritual presence. When I stand on the top of Clouds Rest at 10,000 feet and look down at the forests, canyons and rivers that have looked this way for thousands of years, I am profoundly moved.  Nothing else affects me this way.  Nothing else inspires me like the wilderness. Nothing else gives me such hope.  

Tree Branches

Earth Day

Spring is late this year.  It actually was about to start early, then a snow storm came in, followed by a warm day, then a cold front with days of rain.  Now it seems that spring might finally stay longer, although lows in the 30s are expected later this week.  Tiny buds that I can’t see on trees in the distance are giving the woods behind my house a light green sheen as if some light is always shining on them.

I noticed a beautiful bare tree last week.  Without any leaves, everything was exposed from the trunk and main branches to the smaller branches as they tapered out thinner and thinner until they reached the twigs.  It was so symmetrical that I gazed at it in admiration.

And I had the thought that we are like trees and the branches are aspects of our lives – our relationships, projects, work, and all of our interests over the years.  As some of our interests end, those branches die and fall off.  As people we knew in high school move away, those branches never grow any further.  When we take on new interests and relationships, new branches grow.  What we were provides the support for our ventures now.

A few days ago I went into the woods and found a tree that did not survive the winter.  The bark on my old friend was beginning to come off in places.  I’ve enjoyed the beauty of this tree as I sat under it when it was full and glorious with its summer green, and I’ve watched it sway back and forth as it endured the strong driving wind and rain of thunderstorms.  Soon its branches will break under their own weight, and the tree will eventually fall.  Then it will become a home for insects and bugs, and attract a new set of birds. This is part of the life cycle, too.

(In honor of his birthday, California declared yesterday to be John Muir Day.)

Kathleen Norris essay published by Antler Journal

Antler Journal has just published my essay on Kathleen Norris and the spirituality of landscape.  You can read it online at: http://thisisantler.com/2013/04/dropping-in-on-kathleen-norris/

Trail Markers, part 3 (the not-so-well-known places)

Cataract of Diamonds – below Nevada Fall and above the Emerald Pool

Cave of Spirit Voice – This is the cave at the base of Upper Yosemite Fall.  From the valley floor it looks like a dark gap, but it is large enough to stand up inside.  Muir spent a night here.  I spent half an hour one October and collected Yosemite Falls in my cup.  It had been a dry year.  From the cave, the Lost Arrow is off to your left.

Contemplation Rock – one of two overhanging rocks at Glacier Point.  It is more commonly known as Photographer’s Rock.  You will see people dancing on it occasionally, although not legally.

Devil’s Elbow – a loop in the Merced River opposite El Capitan.  Its course was rearranged by the massive flood in 1997.

Diamond Flume – one name for the narrow canyon above the Nevada Fall bridge that is particularly glittery at dawn.

Enchantment Point – one of the early names for Valley View.  I like Enchantment better.

Fern Ledge – This is a ledge 450 feet up from the base of Upper Yosemite Fall.  The falling water arches away from the rock at this point, and Muir once tried to walk across it and got into trouble when the wind shifted the water back into the wall.

Ledge Trail – This was an early trail that went from Curry Village to Glacier Point.  It was only a mile long but really steep.  Much of it was wiped out by a rockslide in 1984.  After the rockslide, I tried to hike up from Curry on remnants of the trail until the trail disappeared and I began slipping on piles of loose gravel.  So I stepped off the trail and enjoyed a controlled slide back down to camp.

Horseshoe Grotto – At the top of Illilouette Falls.  If you hike the Panorama Trail between Nevada Fall and Glacier Point, spend time here rather than hiking through.  It’s a lovely, open setting, and some people have been known to camp here overnight.

Overhanging Rock – the other hanging rock at Glacier Point, east of Contemplation/Photographer’s Rock.

Sunnyside Bench – east of the top of Lower Yosemite Fall.  Every time I hear it called a bench I think of giants sitting on it with their legs hanging over.  Muir liked to hike up here for its unique view over the valley.  He got to it by hiking up Indian Canyon.  When I went up Indian Canyon to get on the Bench, I discovered that a gap existed that I could not get across.  I’m thinking that rockslides over the years took out the connection because I went up and down and did not see any way over.

Table Rock – on the flat area between Vernal Fall and Nevada Fall where Snow’s La Casa Nevada Hotel stood in the late 1800s.

Alone in Nature

We aren’t alone when we hike by ourselves in nature because nature goes with us.  If we have taken the proper precautions, nature is a companion who walks at our pace, and one who has stored treasures around each bend in the trail.  Sometimes nature converses so loudly that we can’t hear ourselves think, and sometimes it murmurs so quietly that we have to get down on our knees to hear what it is saying.

We don’t have to hike very far, or at all, to be in nature’s presence.  We sit and let nature come to us.  After half an hour, the birds and animals will set their caution aside, return, and resume what they were doing, and we watch them go about their daily lives.

We hike on and on without stopping until our senses go on overload and we pass out in ecstasy.

We hike by feeling our way, sitting when we feel like sitting, and getting up and moving until we feel like sitting again.  We follow one trail until it starts to head up a mountain, then take another trail that to keep us under the trees, along the river, in the meadow.  Unless we want to go up the side of the mountain, or we just want to see what nature is eager to show us.

Nature meets us where we are and guides us to go further into our thoughts and feelings.  Nature also brings new awareness and mysteries for us to ponder.

When we listen to nature’s dialogue, we hear our own wilderness respond.   When we both are silent, we simply lean back into the goodness of the other’s presence.