Rangers and tour guides in this wondrous spot repeatedly ask visitors to imagine how such an abundance of natural magnificence came to be. It’s as if so much beautiful mountain scenery in one relatively tiny area poses a profound question.
Hard-headed scientists might reply in terms of geology, but those swept away by the enchantment of the place tend to lean toward mythic explanations.
My favorite tale of Yosemite’s birth concerns a native woman named Tesaiyac, who ran through what is now Yosemite Valley in an effort to escape her surly husband. Tesaiyac’s footprints formed the bed of the Merced River, and acorns that spilled from her basket seeded the riverbanks with mighty black oaks. When the husband caught up with her, they argued so violently that the gods–perhaps seeking peace and quiet–turned them both into stone.
Tesaiyac thus became Half Dome, the trademark peak of Yosemite National Park. Her husband (whose name seems to escape most raconteurs) was transformed into North Dome, a fairly minor formation. And the valley that separated them made their rift eternal–at least until the onset of another ice age and another legend.
Ranger Dick Ewart related this ancient tale one evening at Glacier Point, where a crowd had gathered to observe the setting sun as reflected by the face of Half Dome and to hear Ewart give a regularly scheduled talk that accompanies the spectacle.
Standing 3,214 feet above the valley floor (and 7,214 feet above sea level), Ewart gestured toward Half Dome, now blushing in the twilight, and invited his audience to search for signs of Tesaiyac’s sad features on that famous granite wall.
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“Look at the white area that doesn’t have any cracks in it,” he instructed. “See the brow? A bit of nose? The eyes? The chin down below? From her eyes, you’ll see there are a couple of streaks coming down. Those are the tears of Tesaiyac, who is crying even to this day.”
Ewart let the crowd form its own theories about the cause of her dismay. Regret? Perpetual anger? The thousands of vehicles and hikers, campers, rock climbers and scenery-gawkers who now glut her valley in the high season?
Just before the sun dipped completely and the valley appeared to be nothing more than a yellow snake of headlights, Ewart traced another history of Yosemite–the history that unimaginative sticklers for accuracy insist upon.
The gradual disappearance of an inland sea, the clash of continental plates, the rise of molten rock, steady erosion, the onset of glaciers–all contributed to the formation of this unique setting over millions of years.
Half Dome was once a full dome, until ice filled a flaw in it, expanded in the crack and sheared off a piece that one big glacier then dragged along in its westward path.
“Geologists think the section missing from Half Dome is probably only 20 percent of what was there,” Ewart said. “I think we should really start thinking about changing the name to Eighty Percent Dome.”
Ewart paused for the expected laugh and then went on.
“The other part of the dome was ground up by the glacier and carried away. Some of it is probably down in the San Joaquin Valley of California, helping to fertilize all those crops. That head of lettuce or that grape you ate today may have been fertilized by the soils ground up from the other half of Half Dome.
“Huh? What’s that? Ha! Somebody said he thought it tasted pretty good.”
Ewart’s whimsy sounded odd in that overwhelmingly gorgeous neighborhood of rock and forest and waterfall, its features nearly as familiar to Americans as the monuments on the Mall in Washington, D.C.: El Capitan, with its near-vertical face rising 7,569 feet; Yosemite Falls, highest in North America and fifth-highest in the world, plunging 2,425 feet; misty Bridalveil Falls dropping 620 feet; plus Sentinel Rock, Cathedral Rocks, Three Brothers and all the other formations lined up around one small and glorious valley.
And, of course, no one who has been here ever forgets that dignified face looking sadly down upon the meadows from a height of 8,842 feet: Half Dome itself.
Yosemite Valley feels enclosed and civilized, tamed and overrun by humans, swarmed upon in the 1850s by Gold Rush zealots and subsequently by entrepreneurs eager to take advantage of a new concept in leisure: tourism.
White exploiters chased away the native Miwok and Paiute people but did leave the area with an Indian name: u-zu-ma-te, eventually simplified to “Yosemite” and meaning grizzly bear.
The Miwoks called the valley Ahwahnee, or “place of a gaping mouth,” but it no longer seems to gape so much, what with all the things that fill it.
Stretching west to east only about 7 miles from El Capitan to Mirror Lake (at the foot of Half Dome), seldom more than 1 mile wide and only 7 square miles the narrow meadow land is walled by an abundance of intriguing spires and steep cliffs. The intimacy of it defies the Western concept of wide open spaces.
National park amenities tend to jerk attention down to eye level, where our gaze encounters the serviceable but unexciting shops and restaurants of Yosemite Village, the cabins and living units of Yosemite Lodge, the Valley Visitor Center, the refined rustic luxury of the Ahwahnee Hotel, the parking lots, the shuttle buses and almost every comfort–and annoyance–conceivable.
When I strolled through the valley (hiking would be too strong a term), I sometimes had to remind myself to look up and let those granite monoliths overpower me again.
People squeeze into this valley and stand in lines and complain about the crowds, while the mountains almost seem to chuckle at all those puny creatures who have domesticated themselves but will never completely succeed in controlling this wilderness, no matter how hard they try.
There are 1,162 square miles of Yosemite National Park outside the teeming valley, and enterprising visitors with stamina and time find a few untrammeled spots where the Wild West becomes wild again.
On and around lofty Tioga Road, motorists and the most intrepid hikers climb onto the High Sierra rooftops, where a few small glaciers linger, the meadows spread out for miles and the mountain peaks and domes reveal the true nature of this landscape.
Those who depend on vehicles miss part of the message, but hikers who follow the trails up there can regain a sense of this immense panorama as they tramp to the upper edges of the famous rocks and venture to the dropoff points where rivers and creeks first become raging waterfalls. Then they begin to comprehend the enormous substance beyond the entrancing facade.
John Muir, the prominent conservationist and wilderness eccentric, understood the value of the High Sierra and its vital role as a natural context for the freakily beautiful valley portion of Yosemite.
He first arrived in 1868, four years after the U.S. government granted the valley and the Mariposa Grove of giant sequoias to the state for preservation as a public trust–the nation’s first baby step toward a national park system.
Muir lobbied to have the entire area–not just the valley and the grove–designated as a national park, cajoling prominent public officials to visit and see for themselves why all of Yosemite should be protected.
In 1892, Muir and other sympathizers formed the Sierra Club to push for wider national-park protection, but the pioneer-spirit drive to “tame” natural resources, rather than preserve them, prevailed at first.
Pressured by officials in San Francisco, President Woodrow Wilson signed legislation in 1913 allowing the damming of the Tuolumne River. This project flooded the Hetch Hetchy Valley–a beautiful expanse in the higher regions of Yosemite–and formed the reservoir that still provides drinking water for San Franciscans. Hetch Hetchy was an Indian word for a kind of vegetable that grew in that valley and, of course, grows there no more.
Historians speculate that the loss of Hetch Hetchy Valley and the exhaustive fight to save it hastened Muir’s death in 1914. Currently, officials worry that the flood of visitors might cause Yosemite to die of slow strangulation.
Last June and July, visitors without camp or lodge reservations had to be turned away for six straight weekends. As autumn approached, park officials were experimenting with weekend changes in the traffic patterns, making some roads one-way and closing a few others.
Administrators seemed loath to blame the hordes of visitors who arrive with the warm weather. They like visitors. No, it seems that winter was slow to depart in 1995, a condition that kept Tioga Road and Glacier Point Road closed well into spring.
“All the traffic, essentially, would have been funneled into Yosemite Valley,” ranger Nikyra Calcagno explained. “During those summer weekends, it had reached a point when the park was basically at capacity. All the parking places were full. People were starting to park on meadow edges, and there was major gridlock.”
That, of course, is not why most people visit national parks. They prefer to imagine themselves off blazing trails, tromping through isolated mountain passes, catching glimpses of animals who are oblivious to them. Unfortunately, the trip into Yosemite Valley more closely resembles a family trek downtown to see the Christmas lights and the window displays.
“Go to Tuolumne Meadows,” Calcagno advised. A blissful light came into her eyes as we sat in an office at park headquarters. She sounded like a city-dweller talking about a secret holiday retreat. “Up there, you can really get a feeling for what Yosemite is all about.”
“Up there” is Tioga Road, a highway of long vistas and short seasons. (“Oh, you must have driven it during that one week that it’s open every year,” one jaded Californian cracked when I told her I had been there.)
The 55-mile stretch from the Big Oak Flat entrance at the western edge of the park over Tioga Pass (at 9,941 feet the highest automobile pass in California) to the eastern edge of the Sierras hardly could be described as isolated, but the unhindered views and isolated trails provide a backstage peek at the Yosemite everyone knows.
A short trail from Olmsted Point (named for Frederick Law Olmsted, the renowned landscape architect and early Yosemite overseer) leads to the edge of Tenaya Canyon and a stirring look at the rear, rounded portion of Half Dome. Strong binoculars might reveal intrepid hiking parties filing to the glacier-scrubbed summit.
Nearby Tenaya Lake, a mile long and deep blue, holds a mirror to the surrounding crags. And just around a bend in eastbound Tioga Road, Tuolumne Meadows startles visitors with its alpine flowers and its flatness–setting off smooth granite domes, providing both tranquility and drama.
I would have stopped right there and felt fully as satisfied as I did in the shadows of tall valley granite, but after a half hour or so, the urge to move on came over me. Yosemite, as crowded and familiar and famous as it is, still holds surprises, and I didn’t want to miss any more of them than necessary.
But in 10 miles, the terrain became un-Yosemite-like. Massive tan hills and scrabbly gray slopes closed in, then pulled away to let the harsh midafternoon light beat down on the car. I had left Yosemite, and the contrast was almost immediately obvious. This stretch of highway pierced a frighteningly rugged and imposing part of the Toiyabe National Forest. Not many miles ahead I would hit the Nevada border.
I turned around and fled back into the beauty of Yosemite, understanding better why a park becomes a park and all those less-enchanted lands become something else.
GETTING THERE
A surprising number of people consider Yosemite a day trip from San Francisco, the nearest major city, but that’s a drive of 195 miles each way. Fresno, Calif., about 100 miles closer, might be a more logical starting point, particularly if Yosemite is an important part of the vacation itinerary and not just a drive-through.
Some towns around the Yosemite periphery–such as Mariposa, Oakhurst, Fish Camp, Merced, El Portal and, approaching from the east, Lee Vining–offer overnight accommodations within comfortable driving distance, but book far ahead to snare a room during the busy summer months. Caution: Last summer, during periods of weekend overload, anyone not holding a reservation within the park was turned away. Also keep in mind that the park portion of California Highway 120 from Lee Vining closes when conditions become wintry.
GETTING AROUND
Free shuttle-bus service covers the eastern end of Yosemite Valley and most valley trail heads. In summer, the service (a separate route) includes the Mariposa Grove. When Tioga Road is open (mostly summer and early fall), shuttles run between Tenaya Lake and Tuolumne Meadows Lodge. A hiker’s bus with a limited schedule serves Glacier Point.
If you insist on driving, “The Yosemite Road Guide” (Yosemite Association; $3.50) serves up excellent itineraries in all parts of the park reachable by car. Discreet roadside markers at important sites are keyed to the guide. The book is available at Yosemite Village shops and the Visitor Center.
Hikers may take mild walks through meadows or strenuous climbs from the valley to the heights. Certain routes may require trail-head reservations and permits for overnight wilderness camping. Call 209-372-0740.
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Guided tours of the valley and other points of interest leave from Yosemite Lodge. Tickets may be purchased at the lodge activities desk.
DINING IN YOSEMITE
Seven fast-food spots are scattered about the valley, their prices and quality moderate. A well-stocked grocery and an ambitious deli, both in Yosemite Village, supply campers and picnickers. A store near Housekeeping Camp and a store near Curry Camp in Curry Village offer a more limited selection.
Fancier sit-down meals can be had at the Four Seasons and the Mountain Room Broiler, near the lodge (no reservations accepted), and in the uber-rustic-swank dining room of the Ahwahnee Hotel (dinner reservations a must; jackets on men strongly suggested). Call 209-372-1489.
An evening at the Ahwahnee is worth the splurge. Live piano music echoes off the massive beams, stone-slab flooring and boulder-studded walls. Entrees average about $22, and the wine list is chauvinistically Californian to the last drop (which ain’t bad).
ACCESSIBILITY
Many sites and accommodations can be accessed by the disabled. Information on services and facilities are available at park entrances, information booths and the visitor centers. The TTY number for general information is 209-372-4726, and for lodging 209-255-8345. Punch 911 for emergency calls to alert park staff.
YOSEMITE RESERVATIONS
About 4 million people visit Yosemite every year. Only 1,871 campsites and 1,632 lodging units, plus a few assorted group camps and horse camps with room for about 900, are available to those who want to stay overnight.
Yosemite Concession Services Corp. operates the housing units, which range from luxury accommodations at the 123-unit Ahwahnee Lodge to a variety of units at various prices in park lodges, tented villages and housekeeping camps. Prices vary from $42.50 a night for a basic tent cabin to $227 per room at the Ahwahnee. Campsites cost $3 a person (for walk-in campgrounds), or from $6 to $15 per site.
Reservations for campsites are accepted in one-month blocks, starting on the 15th of the month four months prior to the month or months with your preferred arrival date. For example: Reservations for Sept. 15 through Oct. 14 will be accepted starting May 15. No camps have utility hookups, but all provide toilets (three provide pit-style toilets only) and tap or spring water (the latter not potable until treated).
Campsites may be reserved through DESTINET, 9450 Carroll Park Drive, San Diego, Calif. 92121. Or call 800-436-7275. The number to call for general campground and park information is 209-372-0200.
Lodgings may be reserved 366 days in advance, and those who want to book a unit for a specific time in the peak summer months should be punching in the reservations number–209-252-4848–at precisely 8 a.m. Pacific time a year and a day before the date desired. Or write Yosemite Park Lodging Reservations, 5410 East Home, Fresno, Calif. 93727.
Of course, the housing situation relaxes considerably by November and all through winter–except December. But making reservations is always a good idea.
Those who cannot make plans for lodging that far in advance might try calling a month ahead of time, then two weeks ahead of time and, finally, a week before. Those are the periods when considerate people cancel their bookings. Or you could just show up and wait around the reservations desk at Yosemite Lodge. People who fail to show up or reconfirm by 4 p.m. lose their rooms, and last-minute arrivals get them.
WHEN TO GO
The crowds pile up from June through September and on almost any weekend with decent weather. Those who can avoid the peak season will find Yosemite delightful in the fall and spring. In winter, valley temperatures seldom fall much below freezing, and snow rarely accumulates deeper than 2 feet. The views from the valley floor become stark and dramatic. However, the Tioga and Glacier Point Roads may close as early as the end of September, and they reopen only when wintry weather has gone for good, which ranges from late May to early summer. Starting around April, as snow melt begins, the waterfalls cascade stupendously. In the summer dry season, some of the falls are reduced to a disappointing trickle.
YOSEMITE MAIN SIGHTS
Yosemite officials say the average day-tripper spends only two hours in the park. These are the essentials they should try to see. On busy days, two hours probably will not be enough time to cover them all. Visitors who want to include the Tioga Road portion will need a few more hours, ideally at least a full day.
1. Glacier Point view. A 32-mile drive, the road rising 100 feet per mile for a big payoff: a mind-bending view of Yosemite Valley.
2. Wawona Tunnel view. In the western valley on the way to Glacier Point, stop at the scenic turnoff near the tunnel entrance and turn around. The first people to lay eyes on Yosemite probably encountered this same panorama and no doubt wondered if they had stumbled upon heaven.
3. Yosemite Valley, ground level. Ditch the car (follow the Day Use Parking signs) and hop on and off the free shuttle buses. Or just walk and admire: the sheer granite walls of El Capitan, majestic Half Dome, meadows, lakes . . .
4. Bridalveil Falls. Notice the mist as Bridalveil Creek begins its 620-foot plunge from the top of the valley’s south wall. Lacy, no? Hence the name.
5. Yosemite Falls. Stand at the bottom in the spray and watch the water fall 2,425 feet. All that power comes from a puny little creek. Consider the implications.
6. Vernal and Nevada Falls. The trails to these beauties start at an area called Happy Isles. The trails require some stamina, but frequent scenic turnoffs allow you to catch a little breath so you can gasp at the wonderful sights in store.
7. Mirror Lake. The bus stops a few hundred yards away, and your short walk takes you almost to the foot of Half Dome. The lake is silting up, demonstrating how the entire valley floor–also a former lake–got to be so flat.
8. Mariposa Grove of Big Trees. Immense and ancient sequoias create their own perpetual dusk. Don’t miss the Grizzly Giant or the Tunnel Tree–a novelty photo op hacked out by unthinking tourism promoters and now felled by lightning.
9. Tioga Road and Tuolumne Meadows. Another impressive sequoia grove marks the beginning of this drive that skirts the north rim of Yosemite Valley. Nearly all the scenic turnoffs are worth a stop–especially Olmsted Point.
10. El Capitan climbers. In the western Yosemite Valley (perhaps on your departure if you made a big, quick circle), park with the other cars along the road, get out and look at the tiny specks crawling up the steep face. They are almost invisible without binoculars, but eventually you will see them–rock climbers taking risks for their own reasons but providing us groundlings with an astounding sense of scale.
YOSEMITE FACTS:
Established as a national park: Oct. 1, 1890
Area: 747,956 acres (1,169 square miles), about the size of Rhode Island. Yosemite Valley is seven miles long, about a mile wide.
Visitors: 4,101,928 in 1995.
Location: 195 miles east of San Francisco.
Flora and fauna: More than 230 species of birds, 80 species of mammals and 1,400 species of trees, shrubs and flowering plants. Home of black bears, mule deer and a few mountain lions. Two groves of giant Mariposa trees.
Entrance fees: $5 per car, $3 per bicyclist, bus passenger or hiker (all good for seven consecutive days). Annual Yosemite Passport is $15; Golden Access Passport for the disabled is free to U.S. citizens and permanent residents.
500 MILLION YEARS IN THE MAKING: HOW YOSEMITE CAME TO BE
500 million years ago: Sea covers Yosemite region; sediments grow thousands of feet, compressing lower layers into hard rock.
200 million years ago: Pacific and North American tectonic plates meet; Pacific plate slides under North American plate; deep below earth’s surface, Pacific plate melts into magma.
100 to 80 million years ago: Magma rises and cools below surface, forming huge blocks of granite.
50 million years ago: Surface of rolling hills and streams emerges, including tranquil Merced River.
10 million years ago: Sierra Nevada range rises, tilting toward the west. Merced flows more rapidly, carving valley.
3 million years ago: Canyon now 3,000 feet deep as ice age approaches.
1 million years ago to 250,000 years ago: glaciers carve valley into “U” shape, creating hanging valleys, waterfalls.
30,000 years ago: More glacier movement at slower pace.
10,000 years ago: glaciers melt, becoming a lake; sediment fills lake, forming valley floor as it exists now.
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Today: sedimentation process continues; Mirror Lake filling in.