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It continues to amaze me that in a highly developed, consumer-fixated country that is filled with 316.1 million people, 254 million cars and 12 of the world’s 100 largest cities, there is still space for undisturbed nature. Many of the areas in the USA comprising its most beautiful natural wonders are useless or difficult with regard to farming, forestry or factories, so they remain pristine and picture-perfect wilderness.
Thank goodness for that. After decades of living in densely populated and intensively farmed Denmark, being able to see miles and miles of unbroken and untamed nature is a true delight and feels like a luxury.
Yosemite National Park is one of those places. Bears and mountain lions hang out here. This is a land of stony landscapes, fragrant pines, and waterfalls that roar in the spring melt. Rounded and smoothed by aeons of weather, the greyish-white rocky domes and monoliths rise up like monuments to Mother Nature, beckoning hardy hikers and climbers to conquer them and photographers and painters to capture them. I drink in the spirit of Yosemite and do my best to capture the feel of the place in words and pictures.
John Muir, the inveterate explorer and admirer of the small and the large in nature, was good at that. He spent days, months and years of his life exploring, explaining, describing and delighting in all the things that Yosemite offered. His efforts were significant in paving the way for the American national park system, which includes Yosemite. His wonderful writings, such as the following quote, continue to inspire:
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn,” he wrote.
I could not agree more, although I must admit he was more adept at clambering and climbing the mountains, rocks and domes than I will ever be. Nevertheless, my friends and I hike up and down (mostly up, it always seems to me) the mountain trails. We follow the paths past twisted pines that hang on with their gnarled roots to the silky-smooth rocks and whose branches reach up to the azure sky. We enjoy the sight of the magnificent and famous Half Dome from several angles. We spot chickarees (Douglas squirrels), whose coats are patterned in such a way that the perky little animals appear feathered instead of furred.
