HC can only imagine that the only people that enter Yosemite from the Eastern entrance are the few that would be RV’ing across the USA from Reno, Nevada. Add a lone solo traveler road tripping from Phoenix up along the 395 highway. The quiet, majestic and rugged beauty from this end of the park was exactly how he hoped to start his few days here.
The haze in the sky that had been following him the last few hours broke free, opening up blue skies as he climbed in elevation. HC pulls off to the side of the road to hike along the Merced river’s humble beginnings, find deer enjoying the summer day under the shade of some pines.
He opens his cooler, makes a sandwich and has a little picnic, something he hasn’t done for decades. It feels good to just get back to simple things.
The urge to takes photos in Black and White is strong. Channeling his inner Ansel Adams, just like HC did nineteen years ago when he was first here. The circle of life, he supposes…..
