#3.

Yes, this one I like.

Dead Tree. Yosemite Falls.

It was last night that I realized again that I like writing. It usually takes me a long time to find words that I'm satisfied with, but its a good process for me. I usually start writing something before I exactly know what I'll be writing about, or how I feel about it, so it's always a sort of a discover-what-I-actually-think type of thing.

I realized while emailing people from NZ that the best time of day to write is late at night when I'm tired. There's something about the lack of filter in my head then, and how the thoughts and words seem to flow more freely. I told a friend once that I'd like that same lack of filter to be present when the sun was still in the middle of the sky, but I'm not too sure how to make that work just yet.

Yosemite at Night #2.

Here's one more. This was our last stop of the night.

El Capitan from the Cathedral Beach picnic area.

Following this, we flipped the camera around, shot the other way, and proceeded to dance in front of it out there on that beach. What fools! You should've been there.

Yosemite at Night.

Exactly at this time a week ago, I dragged my two friends out of the campsite and around the Valley. I wanted to take pictures of the granite cliffs and waterfalls, all possible thanks to the glow of the three-quarter moon. Here's one...



It was night. It was foggy. It was freezing, almost literally. There was not a soul out there with us. We stood there, in that, unfortunately, now only nearly wild place. Uncomfortable. Cold. Scared. Scared of the dark, of what might come out of the fog, of that unidentified white object floating down the river towards us. In a petty situation like this I was able to stop and realize, this is all worth it. All of these things I would change given the chance and power actually make the situation more beautiful, more memorable. Beauty has depth you see. It's the despair and discomfort of things that bring true beauty to the situation. Real beauty. Beauty that's worth it.

Maybe I use the word beauty too much, I don't really care. The point is, how can I realize this same thing in situations that carry a little more gravity? How can I be grateful for the very things that I would change given the power and opportunity?

Sequoia and Yosemite... Bam!

Made the drive up to Sequoia National Park this weekend with some friends, Dave and Trav. We saw the big General Sherman, and then went and made the climb up Moro Rock.

From the top of Moro Rock, enjoying the dark clouds
and setting sun over the San Joaquin Valley

And then came the night. The third time was a charm for starting the fire, and I was out watching the last couple of logs burn out when the rain came around nine. The intensity of the rain was definitely exaggerated by the echoing effect of our tent, but then came the crazy flashes of lightning and immediate thunder booming off of the mountain walls around us. The rain soon turned to snow, and all of a sudden we're woken up by our tent collapsing in on us because of the weight of the snow on the roof. We had no idea what the heck happened, and it was hilarious. Needless to say, we woke up the next morning to almost a half foot of fresh snow.

A little detour from the hike we took that morning to climb a rock and get a view.

So during a hike to a waterfall that morning, the snow began falling again. Without chains, we thought it'd be best to get down the mountain as soon as possible, so we threw everything in my car and crept down the windy road. After a wet burrito in Visalia, we got the word that weather was better in Yosemite, and and spent the rest of our trip camping in the Valley.

Attempt #1, fail. Attempt #2, fail. Then I refused the help of a nice asian man. Attempt #3, success. I guess I underestimated that log.

Quote of the weekend definitely goes to Travis on our last night in Yosemite: "Hey look, we got a doggie." As Dave and I turn around to see a bear walking up to and through our campsite. Literally between my car and the bear bin. We all jumped up, Travis banged some pots together and we watched it run past our neighbors and into the dark. Then for the next couple of minutes we tracked the bear's progress by the sound of other campers' clanking pots from throughout the campground.