Still In The Stream

I’ve recently fallen in love with Yosemite. Yes, I said recently. Having lived in this part of the country my entire life, I guess I always figured I could go anytime. Yet, never went, until last year.

Since then, I’ve gone into the valley in a range of climates & seasonal changes. Green leaves or empty branches. At times, not much water. Other times, much of the water is solid in the form of snow or ice. This last trip was after a quick snowfall. I came prepared with traction cleats, as my previous trip was hindered by so many trails of ice, my range was limited.

Additionally, when I had considered hiking to Mirror Lake in the fall, I had heard it was more of a lake bed than a mirror. But this time felt right, and so I was off. Trying to not overthink the mountain lion warning, as I’m a regular on Mt. Tam, where similar warnings are present (doesn’t make it any less thought provoking), its still enough to make you glance at each sound of rustling leaves or breaking branches. Hiking on your own, just you and your thoughts, is a beautiful thing. But auditory reminders you actually aren’t alone? Well, it’ll make you look.

Once I had reached Mirror Lake, it was beautiful. Not a complete mirror, as a partial ice covering blocked a bit of reflection. Nonetheless, it’s stunning.

I was a bit limited with a lens choice, as my widest focal length wasn't really wide at all at 50mm, so I tried to get creative. After finding a few compositions, I noticed a series of branches. Most of which had been soaked by the passing stream leaving Mirror Lake, and then solidified by the freezing temperatures (that morning had reached 4 Fahrenheit).

Hesitant, I saw a path of rocks. Some glistening from river flow, many dry enough to convince me it may be safe to walk out. It would be fair to share that the reason I didn’t have a wider lens is because it’s out for repair from… water damage. So, needless to say, photography in a damp environment still makes me hold my breath.

But, the flow of the water, the sound of the silence, the light as it grew, before I knew it, I was already across a few of the rocks. One branch reached out to me a bit more than some others. I began trying to place the tripod on a combination of above water & below water rocks, and once I believed it was stable enough, I was able to focus in, slow my shutter speed as much as I could (oh, I also left my filter back in the Jeep..), and began some test shots.

It took some wiggling, some moving, and some frustration. But, once I found it’s placement in the composition, all started flowing once again. Eventually, the landscape orientation even was turned on its side for a more impactful subject matter.
In a world where sometimes it’s the brightest or moodiest photos that get the most praise, putting yourself out there becomes an even more vulnerable task. To share art that means maybe more to you because of the moment it captured? That, I would say, has just as much, if not more, impact in the process. It’s my story.

And so, even as the world can seemingly rush right by like the flow of water, I don’t need to worry about trying to keep up with the current. I can simply be, and the beauty will be found in the stillness of the moment. Seen, by anyone whose ready to see it.

Thanks for reading,

R