Yosemite Mist Trail

Bergführer Mia glared at me. "Come on. You'll always regret you didn't get to the top. You're almost there." I craned my neck back, trying to discern the stone steps disappearing into the rock's shadow, wondering how they led to the top of Vernal Fall. I let go of my momentary vertigo, snorted at Mia's exhortations, muttered something about Frodo and Sam climbing Mordor's secret staircase, and continued trudging upwards.

We were taking the Mist Trail up to the top of Vernal Fall, starting at the Yosemite Valley floor and hiking upwards of 1000 feet to stand on the lip of the Merced river before it took a deep breath and and jumped 317 feet downwards to a green pool where it would continue its riverly journey. Steps carved into granite, or painstakingly placed there by slave laborers, or National Park Service volunteers - either entirely heroic in their efforts - take the bold and energetic on a climb above a steep, graded path that starts at the valley floor.

It's a breathtaking hike (ha!), with views that force you to stop to exercise your photo taking skills. Massive granite cliffs, whitewater rapids that persist even into the terminal season of September, and boulders that the rock giants consider bread crumbs in comparison to the mountains surrounding Yosemite Valley, all serve as incredible subjects for viewing and photography.

And all along the way, Vernal Fall plays with your sense of perspective as you take another shot or selfie from a newly discovered vantage point. Eventually, it fills the frame. If you persist, it makes for a downward view when you finally get to the top.

We gazed at the plunging water and the river valley below, Mia admirably recovering from the climb while I overtly demonstrated my 20-year old like recovery and placid pulse. "Do you know how many people have fallen over the falls from messing around in the pools up here?" I asked, fascinated that anyone would be so reckless and foolish to do so. Mia looked at me and rolled her eyes. "You see this view and that's what you think about?" she replied. I smiled and nodded.

The path down is more perilous than up, as you concentrate on each rock step and try to control your downward momentum. I worried about Mia, who is famous in England's National Health Service medical annals for having broken her toe answering the phone. "You should probably walk in front of me," I suggested.

As we began to descend, a young family of Nordic gods approached the summit in front of us, slightly red faced and sweating from the climb, the father carrying a happy, mewling baby behind him in a large backpack. The baby was thumping his father on the shoulders. "He's saying, 'Go faster, Daddy!'," I translated helpfully.

As a young man, I made the climb only to the wood bridge far below the falls before turning back. It was spring then, and the mist filled the air and soaked your clothes, the river below a roaring torrent. In late September, it's a trickle, but Vernal Fall still had something to show for, even though its big brother, Yosemite Falls, was completely dry. Mia asked why that was. I said something about someone mistakenly turning off the faucet. It's really a wonder why she puts up with me.