The Smaller Side of Yosemite — Slow Photography Movement

In Capturing Context, we share the story behind the image, providing insight into the photographer's approach and experience, and allowing the reader to connect more deeply with the work.

When photographers think of Yosemite National Park, visions of sweeping vistas and large granite walls, chasing the light at Tunnel View, and photographing waterfalls in the valley come to mind. As a landscape photographer, I often dreamt of the day I could visit and photograph those grand scenes. An opportunity to visit the park arose last autumn when, unfortunately, I was fumbling around in a walking cast due to a foot injury. I contemplated skipping my visit altogether but, after some introspection, decided to stick to the schedule and explore what this majestic park had to offer, despite my limitation. What I didn't realize at the time was that the cast, which I thought of as a barrier to creating imagery, would help me slow down, appreciate, and photograph the smaller details of this iconic and beautiful landscape.

As we drove through the valley, I started to feel a bit overwhelmed as the tall, granite towers around me seemed to close in, casting doubts in my mind about how I was going to hike around to find photographic opportunities. It started to feel like an impossible task, as I kept playing out all the negatives flying around my head. Since it was autumn, the valley's resident trees displayed their colors in preparation for their yearly final hurrah. Observing those colors on our drive to the campsite motivated me a bit, offering a glimmer of hope that all was not lost. I reasoned that I could still wander and explore the valley floor and come away with imagery that tells a story of a different Yosemite experience. Filled with this new motivation, we grabbed the map and started seeking out walks and small hikes that I could tackle.

“By removing doubts and expectations about what kind of imagery I’d find, it opened up my mind for seeing what was in front of me.”

Our first afternoon, we started by wandering around the Lower Yosemite Falls trailhead. I didn't have to travel far to experience the tall groves of ponderosa pines and the small creeks adorned with colorful leaf litter. My intention wasn't to hike to the falls but instead practice slow photography to experience all the moments and details this scene offered. For this, it’s important to be present and curious about the environment around you. As I wandered around, my attention became focused on small, still pools around the creek and bridges on the trail. I observed that each pool had a slight oil slick from leaves that had come to rest in the water. As the leaves started to break down, the biofilm left behind resulted in a slight sheen on the pool's surface. In turn, this sheen reflected the sky and surrounding yellow foliage. The oil gave the reflection a unique appearance, reminding me of an impressionist painting. The warmth of the yellow and cool blues fused to create a pleasing palette and unique natural abstract.

As I continued down the path, I discovered other water features that held a multitude of spent leaves and oil. I was entranced by these pools, transported to a far-off galaxy in the sky where the leaves orbited in the blue reflections. These reflections were limited to where the branches of the surrounding trees allowed the sky to show. It was reminiscent of the milky way and gave a celestial feeling to the pool. I was so engrossed that I didn't realize I had only wandered a few steps from where we had parked until I felt the rush of a bicyclist breeze by my tripod.

Twilight descended upon the landscape, as towering ponderosas seemed to be keeping watch over my activities. Their trunks glowed blue in the soft light, and their intricate bark patterns caught my attention. The maze of layers and patterns accentuated by the trunk's blue and yellow created a pleasing color contrast. These colors hadn't been evident in the bark earlier, when I had made my way to the pools before sunset. Now, bathed in the twilight, the colors and patterns stood out, and I took a few minutes to photograph them. Before I knew it, evening fell upon me, and I made my way back to the car. In just a few hours, and only walking a short distance, I had come away with imagery that excited me. I harnessed this energy and became motivated to see what other details I could capture the next few days, wandering the valley floor. The limitations I had associated with the walking cast had now disappeared.

This newfound creative freedom inspired me the next two days as we strolled down easy trails around the valley. By removing doubts and expectations about what kind of imagery I'd find, it opened up my mind for seeing what was in front of me. The next day, we explored more of the valley floor and stopped by the Merced River, choosing a pullout with easy walking access. I was captivated by the majestic El Capitan view rising off the valley floor, but enjoyed its reflection in the disturbed river water even more. The colors and textures congealed into abstract forms, and I used my telephoto lens to capture this mesmerizing interaction. It was a different take on this majestic monolith, one I may not have noticed if I had been hiking up and down the river looking for the best open views of the landscape.

We then drove up to Tunnel View, an easy place to access with great views down the valley. I didn't care that the light was harsh, as we were here to experience and enjoy this classic scene. As we pulled into the parking lot, I could see Bridalveil Fall through my polarized sunglasses. I noticed an explosion of color, as if the whole waterfall had transformed into a rainbow. The sun happened to be at the right angle, and the waterfall danced down the granite with vibrancy. I again pulled out my telephoto lens and captured a smaller scene framing the granite and this beautiful "rainbow fall," as I called it. This moment was a great reminder that there is no "bad light", just different opportunities of light when photographing nature. It’s good to always have that camera ready and clear your head of expectations. Slow photography is all about celebrating what Nature gives you during those moments.

That afternoon, we headed back to the valley floor to seek out and explore some final, short hikes. The afternoon light was glowing through the tree branches, and the warmth of the yellow leaves against the blue backdrop of the shadowed granite created dreamy smaller scenes. I took the time to experiment with different focal lengths and compositions while enjoying the afternoon among the trees, a fantastic way to wrap up two days in Yosemite.

Looking back, I'm almost glad I had the walking cast slowing me down. I would not have captured these images if I had been out hiking and exploring at my normal rhythm. These photographs were possible because of a slower pace. It's a great reminder to take time and be present, rather than rushing through an experience to capture photos. Engaging and being curious about the landscapes around you can reward you with more connected and diverse imagery. While I don't miss the cast, sometimes I think back on that experience when I'm out photographing, remembering what it showed me. While I didn't walk away with the grander scenes, I'm thankful that I had the opportunity to showcase the smaller details of Yosemite and tell a different little tale of that breathtaking park.