Golden Moments

I have a bad habit of not checking the calendar before I travel somewhere. Call it bad luck, poor planning, inevitability – at any rate, I usually end up someplace popular on a long weekend I wasn’t aware of. The most recent instance had me stuck in traffic on the main road in Yosemite, staring disgruntledly out the window. Tiny thunderclouds of frustration marred the beautiful President’s Day afternoon as the sun slipped closer to the horizon. I was in search of the perfect photo that had eluded me for three days, and I was pretty certain it wasn’t going to happen from the car.

I’d come to the Valley to photograph a specific waterfall – Horsetail Falls – at a specific time of year to get a specific photo. It didn’t happen. A drought meant the falls weren’t even flowing. Regardless, I was determined to capitalize on the abundance of beautiful opportunities. It was my last day here, the light was incredible, and if I could find somewhere with an incredible view to match…

With no luck at Bridalveil Falls, I headed back around the south side of the loop towards El Capitan. A roadside pullout had a tiny space left. There wasn’t much around – a small meadow, what looked like dense forest past that – but at this point, I wasn’t choosy. I just wanted out of the car, away from the traffic, camera in hand.

I followed a path that wound past picnickers and skirted the edge of the tree line until a gap revealed a small clearing. I stopped, stunned. Three thousand feet of granite, turned gold, rose in front of me. The light reflected onto the quilt of fallen oak leaves, left uncovered by a lack of snow. This was beyond a photographic opportunity; this was another world, another dimension. If Midas had a picnic spot, this was it.

“Hey!”

My attention snapped to the voice that broke my trance. Two climbers, lounging beside the river and eating out of a camp pot, beckoned me over. “You can get some great shots over here!”

I blinked, having completely forgotten about the camera in my hand, and stumbled over. The scene that had left me slack-jawed was mirrored in the river at my feet. Everything else faded away, and I sank down to the grass. The climbers nodded in understanding. We exchanged a few words, but mostly just appreciated the peaceful golden beauty that surrounded us as the sun slipped lower.

Turns out I never got that perfect photo. In some places, it just doesn’t happen. But I never stop looking for it. Sometimes I get a golden moment instead.