“Place like a gaping mouth”

October 21&22, 2012

What could have prepared me for the startling grip of this valley upon my soul?!  The moment my eyes beheld it I think a bit of my very being was stamped with it.  There is many a lovely vista in the world but as the car sped through the tunnel and my eyes adjusted to the sheer brightness that this cloudy day held, my heart seemed clutched by awe.  I haven’t the words to describe the scene, the very vastness seems to seep into you and you see farther, feel deeper. 

But as the night has arrived my mind will have to ponder the greatness of the place in my dreams till tomorrow. 

Post Script: a stranger was trying their key in the lock and when finding an unfamiliar face at the window exclaimed, “Oh! Wrong cabin!”, because vacations need weird stories.

 

********

 

Well, big surprise, John Muir was right, even when the waterfall seems to resemble “embroidery” it’s surely a beautiful sight.  How wonderful that there’s no cause for a gushing torrent for beauty to be in this place.  I may even find the quietness suits me all the more.  The way to Lower Yosemite fall is more like a stroll than anything, I don’t know why but it surprised me.  To stand before this massive mountain with the softly falling water seems as though you should have been put to some test.  But there it is, easily found and never forgotten I suspect.

Next we made our way to the bridge before Vernal Falls.  Funny how I just can’t get enough of the mountains, my eyes can’t drink in enough to satisfy my mind that they are true and real.  I found myself reaching out to touch the stone beside me, and my head craning back to see to the top time and again, yet never really understanding the grandeur.  As we stopped on the side of the trail we heard the crack of a rockfall.  Surely there is someone better suited to describe it, so unlike anything else my ear has found that there was no mistaking it.  We reached the bridge and I see the spray of good ol Vernal, probably not much to those who have seen it in the spring but I fully enjoyed the small cascade.  Does everything in Yosemite dance?  The waterfalls, the leaves?  The movement of the valley is orchestrated and choreographed and I feel as if the performance is all for this one in the audience.  And I am completely unable to fully appreciate the art and majestic gesture of these wilds, but I will be enraptured nonetheless.

The Ahwanee lobby beckons to those who love the old fashioned.  I promptly sat myself down at a very old writing desk in the mural room and scribbled off some letters, surely of incoherent prattle, only the recipients can tell as I don’t really remember all that I wrote.  How can I concentrate with the window in front of me holding what it does?!  But as the desk had a little drawer I wrote down my favorite John Muir quote and stashed it there.  Probably to be found by a hotel employee who will roll their eyes, but I couldn’t resist the chance that it might be found by another visitor to this wonderland, and that it might make them grin.