Yosemite

Not all the roads were open on the day I went to Yosemite. There was no reason to plow that much snow away. I'd venture to guess that only about one hundred vehicles entered the vast park. Nearly half had to have been professional photographers or highly skilled amateurs. Never had I seen so many tripods, even in the local shop catering to masters of the art. Most had two or more cameras hanging around their necks. There were long, expensive lens. Still, there weren't more than four of them in any one place. The largest concentration of people I encountered was in the main grocery/general store. There were about twelve people altogether, including the staff.

I walked to the lower falls, stopped in every turnoff area, visited the chapel, saw deer, listened to the water, and stared in awe. This was Ansel Adams live and in color. Mere words cannot do Yosemite justice. Even poetry can only scrape the surface of a day like this one had been.