Yosemite in Spring

Yosemite National Park -- A mid-week visit to Yosemite in Spring, when the weather is good but not perfect and the tourists are present but not overwhelming,  ranks among the great benefits of living in the nearby Sierra Nevada.

Our day trip took about three hours of no-traffic driving from our front door.
Spring is about many things, but is obviously is about waterfalls.


The first waterfall we encountered on the Big Oak Flat Road was the Cascades. The actual fall is up the mountain and obscured by trees and boulders, but the water below the bridge is a sight to behold.





A little further down the steep road, which clings to the mountainside as you descend into the Valley, are multiple views of the Merced River in full flow through the Valley. Bridalveil Falls is in the distance, spilling out of its hanging canyon high above the south wall of granite.   It is only 620 feet above the canyon floor, about one-fourth of the popular Yosemite Falls, but can offer some of the most spectacular viewing when the wind is blowing back against the crest.




Further down inside the Valley you begin to see falls, on both sides of the canyon. We did not get pictures of them all, obviously, as some are more subtle than others, and some beyond this photographer's ability.



Here is one of our first views  of Yosemite Falls, which looms 2,425 feet above the bottom where it crashes into the rocks and flows into the Merced River.  From this distance you only see the top of the waterfall. This was taken as we drove in, shot from near the loop road on the South side of the canyon.  You can see Spring popping out in the greening trees and grasses, and the still bare branches just waiting for a few more warm days.







Below are two ribbon-like falls just above Curry Village on the south wall.  The sound of water flowing is everywhere you turn, whether crashing off the top of the walls or cascading down the talus slopes. (Not far from here a large section of granite wall fell a year or so ago, scaring the heck out of people and slightly reducing the useable space in Camp Curry.)





At the upper end of the Valley you can look up toward Tenaya Canyon, and see and feel the power of the Merced River as if heads down the mountain. History note: this is one route the native Americans used when trying to run away from Gold Miners determined to wipe them out in the 1850s.






Coming back on the west-bound loop brings you to the trail to Yosemite Falls, the biggest and grandest of all in the park. This is one of the places you can see almost the entire waterfall, which actually comes down the mountain in at least three sections. A few weeks earlier the pool at the bottom of the top fall would have a large snow cone, but it apparently broke up before we arrived this week.





Here's a view from further away:




And here is what you see if hike up close: the bottom of the falls and a lot of cold blowing watery mist.




As we left the Valley we did what most tourists do: stop to look for mountain climbers on the face of El Capitan.  We forgot binoculars, assured each other those tiny dots on the granite were climbers, and enjoyed one last look at the Valley before driving home.




Go soon, before the crowds become intolerable, and while the water still flows.

Spring is trying real hard....

Camp Connell, Ca -- That's a Black-capped Oregon Junco pecking away at out bird feeder outside the kitchen window,
The bird, and his flock of friends, have begun swarming around the house in the last week or so as the weather is trying to decide what season we are in. We are at 5,000 feet elevation so Winter is still toying with us.
We have had a wave of Spring storms, mostly cold and wet, move in from the North Pacific.
So we have rain, then it gets colder, and we get a new layer of snow, then the sun comes out and it starts melting. Then the cycle starts again.
The icicles on the bird feeder are a result of those cycles, but the birds don't seem to mind.
The Grey Squirrels are moving around a lot too, as are the Stellar's Jays. The deer have not yet returned, waiting on the ground-covering snow to melt any day now.

Just down the mountain, the grass is a brilliant green and other critters are on the move. This beautiful skunk was getting a drink of cool water from a ditch near the Ironstone Vineyard near Murphys. I kept a respectful distance and he waddled away, only slightly irritated. but not spinning around and aiming his artillery in my direction as he will do when really threatened.



At Murphys' elevation, somewhere around 2,000 feet, the oak trees are not yet ready but the grasses are.

When you hear about the beautiful rolling hills of California, this is the place. It is spectacular in Spring as the plants awaken and the animals return to warm-weather patterns. The grass looks like the scenes we saw in Ireland last Fall. Almost hurts your eyes.

Or makes you sing for joy.
The old hymn "How Great Thou Art"expresses it perfectly:

O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

I did not try to sing to the birds and skunks and squirrels. Didn't want to scare them off.




Earlier in the week I was driving on the highway near Calaveras Big Trees State Park and a coyote started to cross the road in front of me. He saw me coming, stopped, and backed up to the edge of the road and sat down to wait for me to pass, completely adapted to passing cars even here on the edge of the wilderness. Smart critters. No wonder they are the source of many legends among native people.



I missed a lot of good animal pictures because I was too busy looking, my mouth hanging open.

As I was standing beside a dirt road admiring the green grasses, a Red-Tailed Hawk soared overhead, intently watching the grass for a sign of a careless mouse.

One of the Scottish folk songs I love has a line in it about a hawk. He captures and eats only what he needs, the songwriter says, "not one mouse more."

Would that we were that conscious of what we do to the earth.



Back at our house, the snow plow came this morning around 7 a.m., scraping and blowing away the snow and ice from the drive so we could get out to work in the park's warming hut.

By late afternoon the icicles were gone from the bird feeder. The forecast for the next few days is warmer and sunny.

But you never know.

Yosemite -- a primitive movie

Camp Connell, CA - I cheered up significantly today after getting advice from friends, ranging from "take an anger management class" to "take a walk in the woods."

So I went to the woods nearby, talked to the trees, watched the squirrels and listened to the woodpeckers beating their heads against something hard. I met a lot of nice people along the way.

Lots of life lessons there.

And I came home happy and tried to put together some video clips from a short trip Pat and I made to see Yosemite's waterfalls at peak flow. Understand that it is a primitive film -- no Ken Burns techniques here -- but you'll hopefully get the picture.

Spring comes a-creeping in

Camp Connell, CA -- It may be bad luck to say this, but I think we are done with snow for the year.
The dogwood are beginning to bud, and blooms are appearing even a few hundred feet down the mountain.
The birds are squabbling, which probably means they are in love, and four daffodils have actually bloomed with brilliant yellow.
The forecast for the next few days is sunny with highs in the upper 60s. Perfect weather for almost anything.
So here are a few pictures from our most recent hike in Calaveras Big Trees State Park, almost next door to our mountain home, along the Bradley Grove trail which follows Beaver Creek.
It's early yet at this elevation, but the mosses and mushrooms are obviously ready!

The first picture is of moss and mushrooms, refreshed by rain, on a stump:


The second picture is of a young Sequoia tree the squirrels scratched bark from to build their winter nests.



The third pictures is a wildly green plant, name unknown to me, but it is real pretty:


The last picture is of Pat, park docent and bat expert, checking out the roaring Stanislaus River. From the picture you'd think our drought was over, but the snowpack was low and it looks like the third year in a row for water supply problems in the valleys and cities below us.



We've already moved the deck chairs outside.

Spring at last! Spring at last! Maybe!

Camp Connell, CA -- When you think Spring has arrived around here, it snows.
Maybe not a lot, but enough to remind you that when the long-time local folks suggest you not plant a garden until after Memorial Day (or the Calaveras Frog Jump/ County fair), they know what they are talking about.

The first picture is from about ten days ago, and shows the bulbs trying to survive an early May snowfall.














But then you wait a few days, the sun comes out, and the daffodils bloom.











And then the tulips follow.
















And then, the mountain dogwood starts. (A thousand feet below us, in the vicinity of Calaveras Big Trees State Park, the woods are filled with dogwood snuggled under the giant trees.)





I asked the local snowplow operator when he could be certain we were done with snow, and he gave me the usual "you never know" answer, but then shared the widely-held belief that winter ends after the dogwood blossoms have been snowed upon.

That didn't help much because at some elevations that has happened already, and at others, including ours, we just missed that event.

One way or the other, Spring will get here.
The birds are coming back in larger numbers. The first hummingbirds are buzzing around the feeder. Flies and other bugs are starting to hatch. Robins are cruising the woods searching for the worms and critters they feed upon.
And the seasonal creek is bubbling happily, for now. It stopped once before when we had a dry spell of a week or two.
I think when it stops this time we will know summer has arrived.

One footnote for those who read about this being the "driest year ever" in California. That may be true down south, near L.A. and at Santa Catalina Island, but up here in Northern California we had an almost normal snowpack, and at this point it doesn't look a lot drier than normal, which is pretty dry every summer.
Of course that can change in a hurry and we are still clearing the leaves and pine needles away from the house, trimming dead branches off the trees, and observing the rules about burning outdoor fires only at night, and only on designated "burn days."
That's life in the mountains.