John Muir didn’t think that “Sierra Nevada” was the right name for the range of mountains to the east of the Central Valley in California. Instead, he preferred the name “Range of Light”:
“And from the eastern boundary of this vast golden flower-bed rose the mighty Sierra, miles in height, and so gloriously colored and so radiant, it seemed not clothed with light but wholly composed of it, like the wall of some celestial city…. Then it seemed to me that the Sierra should be called, not the Nevada or Snowy Range, but the Range of Light.”
I’ve come to Yosemite National Park to see for myself why Muir named the mountain range for its luminosity. It’s my suspicion that Muir crafted the phrase “Range of Light” with a clever double meaning — the word “Range” referring both to the mountain range itself and the array of light present there.
I’m here to chase the light through Muir’s mountains.
BURNED AREA
I’m joined in Yosemite by my brother Devin. We arrive at our campsite in the afternoon, and promptly set off for a hike through part of the burned area that was heavily affected by the Rim Fire of 2013.
The two-tone forest of orange and black makes me forget that it’s the middle of spring. The floor is coated in pine needles, painting the grove in muted Autumn tones. Most of the trees still stand tall, their bark burned black.
After exploring the burned area, I anxiously urge Devin to drive towards the valley to catch a glimpse of the famous rocks, which we haven’t seen since childhood. We race against the setting sun, curving up and down the mountainside, until we reach a breathtaking vista. We both audibly gasp at the granite monoliths glowing orange before us.
CLOUD'S REST
Today we’ve set an ambitious goal: hike from Yosemite Valley to Cloud’s Rest, a summit that towers a thousand feet above Half Dome. The hike is twenty-one miles round trip, with an elevation gain of almost 6000 feet. I’ve never hiked more than ten miles at once, but today I feel adventurous.
We begin our trek in the pre-dawn glow; the trail is empty and quiet. Just as we start to gain elevation, the first sunlight spills into the valley. Muir’s “Range of Light” erupts in vibrant yellows and greens.
What starts as a refreshing morning hike soon turns into a steep, grueling trudge up endless switchbacks. The air is thin and the sun bakes the trail. Several miles from the summit, my water supply starts to dwindle. No matter how many rests I take, my heartbeat simply will not slow down.
Six hours into our hike, with the summit close in sight, I quit.
Devin offers some of his water, and tells me to rest. He runs ahead, eager to make it to the top. Ten minutes later, some guys come clomping down the snowy mountainside. They ask if I’m headed up to Cloud’s Rest, and I tell them my story. Recounting the epic views from Cloud’s Rest, they convince me to give it another try. I set off towards the summit, determined. Devin passes me on his way down and offers further encouragement.
I reach the final ascent; a series of steep makeshift stone steps. I hike seventy feet, then rest; I hike forty feet, then rest; I hike twenty feet, then collapse. My thoughts blur. The summit is just thirty steps away. Alone atop the mountain (nearly), I stand up, take a deep breath, and charge forward, yelling at myself,
“Come on, you can do it!!!”
They were right, the view is worth it. I am surrounded by gorgeous blue landscapes and skies.
After a long hike down the mountain, Devin and I have one thing on our minds: rest. We drive back to camp, make a small campfire, eat a big dinner, and go to bed under the stars.
SNOWY SEQUOIAS
I survived Cloud’s Rest, but Devin and I have practically destroyed our legs. This morning we’ve decided to take a much more leisurely three mile hike through the Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias. We set out before dawn, but there’s heavy cloud cover. The light is unfortunately quite dull, but the sequoias are stunning nonetheless.
Suddenly, I start to feel little particles bouncing off of my jacket: it’s hailing. The hail stones are tiny, smaller than peppercorns, but there are a lot of them. In a matter of minutes, the cloudy, drab forest is turned into a glowing white wonderland.
Hail turns into snow. I duck into a hole in the base of a sequoia to escape the precipitation for a minute and enjoy the silence. Branches swish gently in the wind. Light bounces off the fog and snow to illuminate the rusty-reds and deep greens of the giant sequoias.
The snow stops falling as we wrap up our hike. Bright, magenta-red snow plants dot the hillside of the path back to the car.
An hour’s drive north of the Mariposa Grove, we find no trace of snow in Yosemite Valley. In fact, it’s a sparkling sunny day, perfect weather for the last afternoon of our trip. We sit on the bank of the Merced river, soaking up the sun and marveling at the view.
CAPTURING COLOR
Devin sits watching the river go by, while I keep looking over my shoulder at the sun, trying to estimate what time it will sink below an angle of 42°. In the weeks leading up to the trip, I was fascinated by the physics behind my favorite optical phenomenon: the rainbow. I learned as much as I could about the angles of refraction and conditions necessary to view a rainbow.
Now I’m here in Yosemite, the waterfalls are producing plenty of mist, and locating a rainbow should be easy. We just have to find a western-facing waterfall, wait for the afternoon sun to get low enough in the sky, and move around until the angles line up correctly.
After 5 p.m. we make our way over to Bridalveil Fall, and sure enough, there is a brilliant rainbow glimmering in the mist. A full spectrum of colored rays, it’s the embodiment of Muir’s “Range of Light”.
Devin and I make our way up the Inspiration Point trail. The quintessential view of Yosemite Valley looks as brilliant as ever in the last light of the day. A manzanita bush clings to the mountainside.
I contemplate all the hues, intensities, twinkles, glares, reflections, and refractions of light that have caught my eye in the past few days. The light surrounds me and I feel at home. Muir was right about this place.
We’re exhausted, and more than ready to go home, but we take a moment to savor our last view of Yosemite Valley, the heart of the Range of Light.
Footnotes:
The "Range of Light" quote comes from "The Yosemite" by John Muir.