In July, 1999, My friend Gerald and I did a five-day backpacking trip out of Twin Lakes, near Bridgeport. It was a loop of around 50-60 miles into northern Yosemite with a lot of off-trail hiking. On our second day, we crossed into Yosemite and left the trail at Rock Island Pass. Approaching Rock Island Lake, we hiked through beautiful meadows, and as I stopped for a photo, Gerald continued on ahead of me. The lake was an awesome place to spend the night, very silent and no people. I woke up at dawn to see the moon over the lake and the sky in shades of indigo and purple.
The next day, we hiked east into Crazy Mule Gulch and then down into Slide Canyon. We battled ferocious mosquitoes for several miles up the canyon until we reached the feature for which the canyon is named. An enormous section of the northwest canyon wall had broken away and fallen to fill about a half mile of the canyon bottom. This must have happened relatively recently in geologic time because no vegetation has grown there. I thought it wouldn't be too hard to cross, but when we got out into the middle of it, the rocks were the size of cars and houses with deep gaps between them, and we had to retreat and find a way around the edge of the slide.
I've been enjoying seeing the world turn green and flowery and felt like showing it in a painting. A photo that I took years ago on a hike in Garin Park expressed it pretty well. As often happens, when I was about halfway done, I thought I had totally messed it up, and was considering throwing it out and starting over, but I kept working anyway. When it was done, I decided that it is not too bad.
