Darkening sky
The sky fades in layers, in the iridescent colors of an opal.
First a rich orange hovering at the horizon, tinging the clouds. Red, then darkening purple. To a dark blue and another band of clouds.
We’re trying to beat the darkness. We want to get out of the hills. We barely make it. The light hangs on for a long time, just the hint of red. We almost make it home before it is gone.
The day is filled with beauty. We get the late start of lazy people working nights. We hope to make it to Tioga Pass in Yosemite National Park, but the drive is long, and night comes faster these days.
Yosemite is only 60 or so miles away, but it’s a long drive between winding roads and slow drivers. Sometimes I’m the slow driver, and sometimes I want to bang my head on the steering wheel, behind some slower driver. Pull off into a turnout, I plead. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t.
What I do like about this drive once we get closer to Yosemite is that there are far fewer drivers this way, fewer tourists. The prime tourist season has ended, leaving a few hardy souls to straggle in.
For the first time, I experience the beauty and often silence of the park. It might be minutes before I see the next car, or hear it whooshing by.
There’s so much natural beauty in this park that it takes your breath away.
Steep drops from the road. I can hardly glance over to see the tree-filled valleys far below. The way is often misted by clouds.
And silence. And smoke from controlled burns. It stings my eyes, my lungs. We laugh at signs that say controlled burn, do not report. We imagine a situation where dozens of people call the park to report the burning, only to be countered with an irritated ranger who says, yes, we know. The forest is on fire. Can’t you read? Shut up. Don’t call us.
We stop at a few places to take pictures. I want to stay longer but am filled with urgency. We’re fighting time.
Tioga Pass in Yosemite will be closed in a couple of weeks, and won’t open until May or June. At its steepest, it’s at 10,000 feet.
We don’t get to that point. We’re losing daylight. We turn around at one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to.
Tenaya Lake.
The water is still like a mirror. There are a handful of other people, but I do my best to ignore them.
I gaze at the reflection of tree-covered mountains, and then admire the clear water, and the rocks just under the surface.
I can only guess how much more stunning this place will be on a sunny day.
I’d like to just sit here for a while, and stare. But it’s nearing the time we’d said we’d need to turn around, to make it out of the park, and the worst of the hills before dark.
There’s no going back for a while, unless I go back next week. It could snow any time, and the road will be shut for the season.
But I’m told that Yosemite is quite beautiful in winter and only a hardy few come visit.
Probably hardier than me. I’m not much of a hiker, and many parts of the park are accessible only on foot during the winter. Though that’s also true during the summer.
But a local in a nearby mountain town says the roads are kept pretty clear, are maybe just a bit icy. Nothing to fall into but big snowbanks, she says.
I don’t know. I might be reckless enough to try. The one time I wish I have one of those gas hogs known as SUVs.
I’d eventually like to get to know the park much better. My handful of trips have been relegated to the beaten path.
I also enjoyed the silence. Not so many people. The fall colors that remind me a little of home.
