We Walked Among Wonders
Saturday is usually a day of rest for me.
This particular Saturday would not be restful. The day started off with an early morning photo shoot of a particularly glorious mountain range in Torres del Paine in southern Chile. These rugged mountains are softer than the Andes and had experienced a first round of glaciation which left them in odd formations. We walked through a meadow to get to a place where we could photograph them across a massive glacial lake, watching the clouds that billowed about, playing hide and seek with the sun.
Later that day in the afternoon, our workshop guide announced that we would be taking a two and a half mile hike out to a small lake, with an option of climbing another two miles up a steep trail to a great view. We drove out to a parking area, and our fearless leader took off at a brisk clip. A mile into this hike and I realized I could not keep up his pace. There were wonders to be explored; I was still recovering from hip problems -- I needed a slower pace to enjoy these wonders.
Five years later, we were walking the River Walk through Zion Canyon. Massive walls of red rock towered above us on both sides. Atop some of them was a layer of white, oddly formed rock that had eroded away faster than the red rock. Between the canyon walls lay the Virgin River, a clear, light green river that carved this canyon. As the afternoon sun sank in the sky, the river became golden with tints of magenta. The world grew smaller as we walked the River Walk. Trees obscured our view, so that the world seemed more about the endless walk. But here and there, a path opened up and took us down to the river, which brought us to small river rapids and giant rock formations in the canyon walls. The canyon walls were broken in places in sizes difficult to comprehend. We found ourselves walking right along the river. There were lonely places to sit, to contemplate nature, to try to grasp the majesty that was there. To contemplate the wonders.
Kenya brought us out of ourselves in a way I have never seen in myself. I have never felt more alive than I felt photographing wildlife in Africa. Their ways fascinated me. I felt such joy photographing creatures I never dreamed I would see just living their lives in the wild. Their wildness brought out the wild in me. The wild drew me into myself, into a place inside I had never been, and then drew me out of all I knew and loved, to see something extraordinary. Meeting Sarara was a magical experience for us. We met Sarara in Samburu. We saw him crossing the Ewaso Nyiro River. He was a magnificent bull elephant. Later we stopped and watched him and then slowly approached closer to where he was foraging. We communed with him for a bit. He gradually grew more curious about us. And then he did something quite unexpected. He walked right up to our jeep and began foraging on the many dry bird’s nests that hung from the tree beside our jeep. He looked in at us, and we looked out at him. He looked remarkably comfortable with human beings. I was so stunned that it was difficult to photograph, as he was enormous and right up beside our jeep towering over us. It was an absolutely exhilarating, completely thrilling experience!
Yosemite drew me into a place in my soul I had never gone before. Walking among the wild places there, amid the mountain peaks that line the valley, listening to the wind in the trees, watching waterfalls descend a thousand or more feet, walking along the river bank, stumbling upon a magnificent herd of deer: I began to realize that my spirit was joyous in this place, that I could never imagine living without Yosemite, that my spirit was kindled here. Yosemite brought me into close encounter with the soul, with my soul, and with the divine presence in nature. It made me want to tell you about what I found there. The pale moonlight shining on El Capitan, the star-studded sky up at Glacier Point, walking in the meadow, hiking up to Mirror Lake, and hiking up to Yosemite Falls awash in mist and spray: each of these brought me closer to something in myself that I could not name and could not live without.
The trip up to Glacier Point holds a surprise as you near your destination. Half Dome emerges as a monolith that appears so close you could reach out and touch it. Half Dome is a massive stone mountain. One day we had a special traveler with us, an elderly man who needed the assistance of a wheelchair to make it up the ramp to the overlook. Once there he sat for a long, long time absorbing the view of the mountain and the valley below. He knew it was his last trip to a beloved place he had visited many times. He took in the whole view and loved it so much. He was memorizing it for eternity. It was a wordless gaze, a silent encounter of an old man with a wild place, a place he had loved. A soulful watch.
