It is still a blur, a fly through nature's most spectacular sculpture. Today we were above it all at Glacier Point. It is the spot from which they used to launch the falling fires, yelling "firefall" as the embers plummeted to Curry Village below. You can see the entire valley from there and lording over it all is Half Dome, hunkered down among other humps. Two streaming waterfalls etch lines down to the Merced River.
I had a moment of reflection and irritation inspired by battery death at the highest level, elevation wise I mean. I was at Glacier Point, the ultimate vista machine, and my camera batteries died. Normally I carry extra but I had transferred them for my canyon ride and forgot to switch back. For several minutes I was practically paralyzed. Could I still see with naked eyes? I had my pen and sketchbook, but the team was waiting. What is experience? Is it the record that inspires memory or is it only the minutes of real time? Since time was limited I deferred pondering these and other questions of the sensorial until I was sitting in front of a grey box rather than the entire Yosemite Valley. Then I borrowed Katherine's camera.
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