A seasonal stream cascades over a granite ledge along Tioga Pass Road, Yosemite National Park.
This small cascade is one of hundreds seen along Tioga Pass Road on June 18 this year, the day the park service opened the road for the season. The opening date was later than usual due to the heavy snowpack, and there was water everywhere as the snow melt accelerated in the late spring weather. It was almost embarrassingly easy to find and photograph these subjects – this one was right next to the roadway.
This is part of a larger cascade, out of view to the right, that flows off the top of a granite area and drops quickly across granite cliffs. Here the water strikes a slanting ledge and bits of spray explode almost like Fourth of July fireworks. Obviously, the somewhat unusually long shutter speed was selected with this effect in mind. The reddish plants to the left, just beginning to come back to life after the long winter, hint at the early date in the season.
A seasonal spring cascade falls across the granite face of Polly Dome, Yosemite National Park.
I know that the chance to see the high country in winter-like conditions is part of what draws people to the opening of Tioga Pass Road, especially after a heavy snowfall season like this one. But for me the water is at least as much of a draw. The high country comes alive in ways that are not seen during the rest of the year. Because of the long and warmer days, the rate of snow melt accelerates, and when the snowpack is as deep as it is this year, that sets loose an amazing amount of meltwater.
I find full-flowing creeks in places where I didn’t even realize that water flowed. Creeks become raging torrents that threaten to jump their banks. In many places they do rise high enough to flood large expanses of meadow. Seasonal water falls and cascades appear almost everywhere you look.
I spotted this slender cascade high on the granite slopes of Polly Dome, above Tenaya Lake. My first idea was to make a photograph in which a longer stretch of the fall would appear, dropping perhaps several hundred feet. But as often happens, the more I worked this scene the more I wanted to eliminate extraneous material – and I ended up shooting at 400mm to edit out as much of the surround as I could.
The last evening light illuminates domes near Tenaya Lake and the summit of Mount Conness with briilliantly colorful alpenglow, Yosemite National Park.
The tall peak at upper left is the summit of Mount Conness, one of the highest peaks in Yosemite National Park. The peak is located on the park boundary and the Sierra Nevada crest a bit north of Tioga Pass, and is visible from many places in the Tuolumne/Tioga high country. It is also a popular destination for peak baggers. The left foreground granite dome is the lower face of Polly Dome, which drops to the shoreline of Tenaya Lake. The left slope of Pywiak dome is visible in the shadows at lower right and beyond is the more brightly illuminated Medlicott dome.
I forgive you if you don’t believe the colors that you see in this photograph. I barely believe them myself, and I was (obviously!) there for the show. What happened on this evening was a near perfect example of a light phenomenon that Sierra photographers watch for and are occasionally lucky enough to experience. I have learned to see the signs that indicate that this light is possible, but also to understand that even when the conditions offer this potential that they rarely deliver.
On certain cloudy evenings in the Sierra it appears that there will be no sunset color – everything is hazy and drab and washed out. But if things play out just right, this very set of drab conditions (that induce some photographers to put away their gear too soon!) can produce some of the most striking and intense color possible if a few things fall into place just right. On this evening I had stopped for a moment at Olmsted Point, thinking to photograph ice-covered Tenaya Lake with a long lens and including the mass of Mount Conness in the distance. When I arrived there, things were about as unpromising as they could possibly be. A dull, greenish-blue haze hung in the air, overcast washed out the light, and Conness was obscured by clouds. I had actually put my gear back in the car when I looked back up and noticed that the summit of Conness had briefly poked through the clouds, accentuating its bulk and the sense that it towered over the foreground mountains. The light was still awful (I have the photos to prove it! ;-) but I thought I’d see if I could get something with the peak emerging from its shroud.
But still nothing much happened. I turned the camera to photograph some nearby trees and a blackbird that was looking for snacks. Then I noticed that there was some brighter light to the southwest and I began to consider the possibility that the cloud cover might end a bit to the west – and that is requirement #1 for the light conditions I’m describing. If the cloud deck ends to the west, as the sun reaches the horizon it may briefly break under the clouds and send brilliantly colorful light up into the clouds in the Sierra from below, creating a miles-wide light panel of the most astonishing colors. But still, it was hazy and the peaks were shrouded in clouds. But then I noticed that the clouds around Conness were beginning to drift off to the east and thin a bit. I mentioned (knock on wood!) to one of the other photographers that there was a possibility of “miracle light,” but that I wasn’t making any promises!
Then the thinning clouds began to pick up a slight pink tinge and the left side of Conness began to get some light directly from the west. Then, within a minute or so, the colors went absolutely crazy. People around me were audibly gasping as the color changed. At one point several of us spontaneously looked up to the west when we noticed the light suddenly increase out of the corners of our eyes. At the same time, the clouds almost completely dissipated from the area around the peak and because the whole sky was filled with brilliantly colorful clouds, this light began to suffuse even the depths of the canyon and slopes facing away from the sunset with this amazing light.
Never put your camera away until the last light is gone. :-)
Young trees grow along the edge of subalpine meadows at Tioga Pass, Yosemite National Park.
This meadow, right below Tioga Pass – which is among the trees in the saddle in the upper part of the photograph – is something of a magical spot in the Sierra. It is, of course, the highest point that you can drive to in the park, and it sits right on top of the crest of the Sierra Nevada. At just slightly less than 10,000′ of elevation it is verging on the true alpine zone. Because of elevation and location, it is only open for a few months each year between roughly the end of spring and generally some time in November. (For those of us who think of this as it looks in summer, it is sobering to remember that during the majority of the year it is a cold and snow-covered place.) Once you pass over Tioga you begin to descend into the very different world of the high deserts east of the crest. Yes, it still feels like the high country for a while, but within miles you are in hot dry places that are not at all like this alpine terrain.
Oddly, while a thin band of trees crosses the saddle at the pass, much of the area on either side is meadow. This section is on the “Yosemite side,” and is an extension of the many meadows along the Dana Fork of the Tuolumne River which drains this area around Mount Dana. As if to reinforce the idea that this is not as gentle a place as it may appear in the summer, parts of the meadow are filled with the bleached remains of trees struck down by avalanches from the ridge that is out of this photograph to the left. The trail to the summit Mt. Dana, of the second-highest peak of Yosemite (being a few feet shorter than Mt. Lyell), begins by crossing this meadow.
Although I drive over this pass with some frequency, I virtually always stop and get out of the car and look around for at least a moment. On this late-July visit I stayed more than a moment, spending a good portion of an afternoon wandering about the meadow and photographing these young trees, small streams and ponds, fallen trees, some of the more distant mountains, and much else.
Photographer and visual opportunist. Daily photos since 2005, plus articles, reviews, news, and ideas.
Manage Consent
To provide the best experiences, we use technologies like cookies to store and/or access device information. Consenting to these technologies will allow us to process data such as browsing behavior or unique IDs on this site. Not consenting or withdrawing consent, may adversely affect certain features and functions.
Functional
Always active
The technical storage or access is strictly necessary for the legitimate purpose of enabling the use of a specific service explicitly requested by the subscriber or user, or for the sole purpose of carrying out the transmission of a communication over an electronic communications network.
Preferences
The technical storage or access is necessary for the legitimate purpose of storing preferences that are not requested by the subscriber or user.
Statistics
The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for statistical purposes.The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for anonymous statistical purposes. Without a subpoena, voluntary compliance on the part of your Internet Service Provider, or additional records from a third party, information stored or retrieved for this purpose alone cannot usually be used to identify you.
Marketing
The technical storage or access is required to create user profiles to send advertising, or to track the user on a website or across several websites for similar marketing purposes.
