A small sunlit meadow filled with shooting star flowers meets the edge of a dense lodgepole pine forest, Yosemite National Park.
For some reason many of the photographs I made on my recent trip to the Yosemite high country seemed to focus on the trees and the forests, and perhaps a bit less on the rocky peaks and prominences of the park. This photograph was made in a place that is not “special” in the ways that specialness is often measured in this park. As far as I know, it has no name, though it is not too far from Olmsted Point. It is simply a little area like so many others in this part of the Sierra, but one that I feel a connection to now that I have revisited it on several occasions and gradually pushed out the boundaries of my familiarity with it.
I first stopped near this spot along Tioga Pass Road several autumns ago on an evening when fog blanketed the nearby ridges. Very close to this spot there was a break in the fog, and I could see the sunset light and its effect on the fog clouds, so I pulled over and made some photographs. A year or so later, now having an actual awareness that there was a pull-out at this spot in the road, I stopped again on a summer morning for no particular reason and saw that a faint trail headed off into the lodgepole forest that was mixed with glacial boulders. I walked a short distance out on this path and found a small pond that I photographed, and I filed the location away as one to investigate again later.
On this July’s visit, I put this spot on my agenda and made a plan to visit it early on morning after photographing first light on a nearby ridge. Because there is no single attention-grabbing icon at this spot, rather than leaving my car with a target in mind I wandered slowly into this forest and simply kept my eyes open. (And I tried not to think about the mosquitos that are always thick in the lodgepole forest at this time of year!) First I stopped at the pond that I had previously photographed; then I picked up that trail and followed it through the forest, past other ponds, and across some glaciated granite near the edge of this small meadow filled with shooting star flowers, with the light coming through the forest beyond.
UPDATE: As of 2020 I am no longer posting annual updates concerning this subject — and I am editing older posts on the subject in light of the need to be more responsible about not encouraging the onslaught. I also no longer recommend going to the Valley to see it. Unfortunately, too much exposure (yes, I played a part in it, unfortunately) has led to absurd crowds, traffic jams, littering, destruction of areas in the Valley where too many people go to see it… and the park has increasingly — and appropriately — cracked down. Parking options have been eliminated, at least one viewing location has been closed. Good news! The rest of Yosemite Valley is still there and often exceptionally beautiful at this time of year.
As more and more people now seem to know, late February is the prime time for the appearance of the “natural fire fall” in Yosemite Valley, when the setting sun may strike Horsetail Fall near the east end of the face of El Capitan, and when viewed from the right angle create a striking light show. I do not plan to be there to photograph the event this year since I’ll likely be shooting somewhere else during the prime time for the fall… and I no longer encourage others to attempt it. I’ll explain below.
The spectacle of Horsetail Fall is now quite well known. The initial renown came after Galen Rowell produced a striking and now-famous photograph of it several decades ago. Eventually others began to photograph it as well. (I read somewhere that several other well-known photographers made images of Horsetail decades earlier, but apparently no one “discovered” the special annual sunset light until Rowell shot it.) Since that time, and especially in the past few years, news of the phenomenon and information about when, where, and how to shoot it has become widespread – especially now that information travels so fast on the Internet. As of this article revision, a plethora of articles (newspapers, magazines, the web) and social media posts have built the thing up beyond all reason, with predictable and unfortunate results.
Twice each year, the setting sun lines up just right so that it casts its final light directly on this waterfall for a few weeks. The phenomenon is ephemeral and dependent on a series of conditions that must all occur at the right time. First, it must be during that short window of time when the setting sun strikes the location of the fall on a high cliff. Second, the waterfall must be flowing. Typically this means that there has been a good amount of snow followed by a warm-up that melts enough of it to get the fall going, though a warm winter rain could accomplish the same thing. Third, the western horizon must be clear so that the sun’s light will not be obstructed as it sets. (Those who have tried to shoot the fall a few times may have experienced disappointment when a crescendo of light potential occurs late in the day… only to be suddenly switched off as the sun drops behind low clouds to the west. To be honest, this happens more often than not.)
The photographer wants where light hits the fall more or less from behind. The number of suitable locations is quite limited and — no surprise — they end up being hugely crowded.
Having said all of this, be aware that it is going to be extremely difficult to get a photograph of Horsetail that hasn’t already been done. I’ve seen a few, but most essentially duplicate existing images. In some ways, I think that contemplating the fact that such a thing actually happens in a place that already contains as many marvels as we see in the Valley may be more rewarding than making another photograph of it.
A downside to the experience is that the popularity of “bagging this shot” has taken off remarkably in the past few years. Yosemite Valley is obviously already a place where it is tempting to run from well known spot to well known spot trying to recreate the well known photographic images that others have produced there. (Ironically, those who take this approach often miss many, many less known subjects in the Valley that can be every bit as beautiful and rewarding.) With Horsetail, the rush of photographers is compressed into a very short time period and focused on a few (mostly only two!) very popular shooting locations. Those who shoot from them on prime evenings may arrive in the morning to reserve a spot… to find a crowd of photographers is already set up.
As of the date of this revision in 2020 the situation has become quite insane, and the park service has had to take serious steps to control the mess. Literally thousands of photographers and others have been arriving in places that used to handle a dozen or two folks. Traffic jams ensued, the experience has been significantly degraded, parking is a mess, and the crowds are damaging park features. As of this year large sections of park roads are now off-limits to parking and one of the two popular locations has been completely closed.
I strongly urge you to NOT go.
I was fortunate a few years ago to have a nearly solitary experience photographing the fall. That winter Northside Drive was closed and all traffic was routed in and out of the Valley along Southside Drive. It had snowed, and one of the locations for photographing the fall was only accessible by hiking across the Valley in snow to Northside Drive and then walking a bit further in the snow to the place from which I shot. I walked over early and spent an hour or more shooting alone in the silent and snow-covered El Capitan meadow! Then, as sunset approached, I walked quietly to a place where I could see the fall and joined a small handful of fellow photographers waiting for the event. We weren’t disappointed.
That is the way I want to remember photographing Horsetail Fall.
(Some of my Horsetail photographs are found here.)
Just saw a twitter (ahem, a tweet..) from Jim Goldstein asking what folks are shooting on this spring weekend. My immediate plan is to get out and photograph some of the “impossibly green” California grassland and some spring wildflowers this weekend – but also to prepare for an upcoming visit to Death Valley.
Some of you who like my landscape/nature work may wonder what the heck I’m doing with the “urban photography” that I’ve posted here during the past few weeks. Get ready for more – there are currently about 10 photographs of similar subjects in the pipeline. Perhaps some explanation is in order.
This isn’t really a new thing for me – I’ve posted urban and “industrial” photographs in the past. (See the night photography section in my Gallery for some obvious examples, and also take a look at some of the “City” photographs while you are there.) Quite a few of them are what I think of as urban landscape photography, and to some extent I approach making these photographs much the same way I approach nature and landscape shooting. I wander about looking for stuff that appeals to me, often looking for effects of light, pattern, or color – and then I photograph it.
Besides the obvious subject differences – yes, I do realize that dilapidated buildings are not the same as aspen forests – I shoot differently, at least for some of this photography. While I do sometimes cart a tripod into urban environments, more often I travel light – ironically perhaps, usually lighter than I do when I go out for a weeklong pack trip! I generally do not use a tripod, I virtually never carry all of my lenses, and sometimes I just go out with a prime or two.
I hope you enjoy this change of pace, and that in some way you can see connections to my photographs of the natural world. (There is actually a long philosophical discussion I could have about that very topic, but I’ll spare everyone…) In any case, I’m sure that the flow of landscapes and nature photographs will resume in a week or so.
