Madhav Mehra

Jul 2026

When you reach Oakdale make a left

And that's when the anticipation begins. The expanse of the clear blue skies begins to get interrupted with puffy clouds and in the distance one can see the mountains. The meticulously arrayed almond trees slowly get replaced by rolling hills and the long straight stretches of roads, book ended by curves, become shorter and soon quite torturous.

the crop

California grows roughly 80% of the world's almonds, almost all in the Central Valley. The bloom — February into March — triggers the largest managed pollination event on earth: 1.6 million honeybee colonies trucked in from across the country, two to three hives per acre, to work the flowers before the petals fall. Without them, there is no crop. From the air, the rows run for hundreds of unbroken miles.

Yosemite beckons.

The winter has been kind, and the California hills are not as golden as usual. The Live Oaks are green and plentiful, dotting the landscape which is clinging to the last of the winter rain. And in testimony to the atmospheric rivers of the past two seasons San Pedro Lake is full to the brim, a thankful sight for sore Californian eyes.

the term

The phrase was coined by MIT researchers in 1992 for the narrow corridors of water vapour — typically 250–375 miles wide, 1,000–2,000 miles long — that carry roughly 90% of the moisture flowing poleward from the tropics. California depends on them entirely: a strong AR season can refill a reservoir like Don Pedro (2 million acre-feet, on the Tuolumne River just below) in a matter of weeks. A bad one leaves nothing but a bathtub ring on pale rock.

Don Pedro Lake, Jamestown — full to the brim

I have chosen to go on route 120 which is decidedly more picturesque than the other options. After Chinese Camp and just before Moccasin there is a road that veers off to the right — Old Priest Road — it's a secret that only the locals know but it shaves 20 minutes off the drive. Even though the views are beautiful, the steepness of this road and its sharp switchbacks do not permit one to enjoy them.

201 miles. The first hundred run flat across the Central Valley to Oakdale, barely 300 ft above the sea. Then Highway 120 climbs into the Sierra, cresting at 6,305 ft before the long descent to Yosemite Valley at 4,000 ft.

At the top of the hill is Old Priest Café, a place that I must visit someday but right now Groveland beckons. The next stretch of 120 climbs to a height of 6,500 feet and the May snow does not disappoint. Wet and heavy, it has mostly melted off the roads but still adorns the conifers. As the sun gets warmer, the snow slips off the laden branches and showers the road in a second coming of this late spring gift.

May snow at 6,500 feet · And then suddenly there it is

May snow at 6,500 feet · And then suddenly there it is

Now Yosemite is within reach. Highway 120 meanders down to the valley floor and before long I am driving by the banks of the Merced river surrounded by Ansel's dogwoods and engulfed by the sounds of the raging Merced.

Fern Spring, Cathedral falls, Sentinel bridge — all familiar stops as I make my way to my favourite place in Yosemite, Cook's Meadow. I just love the calm of it, with Half Dome majestically towering above and this magnificent oak quietly scribing the history of this amazing place.

Phyllis Maring

This format is interesting. I like it very much.

After a quick pilgrimage to all the salient views I settle to photograph Cathedral falls. Armed with a 4×5 large format camera with its tilt/shift capability, I am hoping for success. There is a rare yellow dogwood in full bloom in front of me and behind it, across the river, the torrential falls.

Just around the corner is Valley View — El Capitan on the left, Cathedral falls on the right. El Capitan is quite arguably the most famous sheer surface ever climbed by man. There is a small picnic spot called Cathedral beach, right at its base, and there is nothing like standing there to feel insignificant.

high water

A marker at Valley View records the high-water mark of January 1997, when the Merced River flooded to levels not seen in recorded history — more than 8 ft above the valley floor at this point. The flood destroyed roughly 1,000 structures across the park, closed Yosemite Valley for months, and led the NPS to remove several campgrounds from the floodplain permanently. The valley floor is, geologically, a filled lake bed; the river reclaims it on its own schedule.

Way back when Yosemite was the playground of the wealthy, the finale of the summer evenings would be to throw the burning embers of a bonfire over the edge from Glacier Point to the amusement of the patronage. Thankfully no more.

In 1973 Galen Rowell had the good fortune to see the sun setting on the ephemeral Horsetail waterfall. This happens only for a couple of weeks in February when the melting snow and the angle of the setting sun are in harmony for a measly 15 minutes — leaving the crowds hushed and in awe. This became the new Firefall.

the original

The tradition began in 1872 when James McCauley, owner of the Glacier Point Mountain House, kicked his nightly campfire over the edge to extinguish it. Spectators below paid his sons to repeat the act. David Curry revived it after 1899, adding the famous call: Let the fire fall! — every summer night at 9pm, for nearly a century. The last ember fell on January 25, 1968, when NPS Director George B. Hartzog ended it: crowds were unmanageable, meadows were trampled, and every dead red-fir tree within reach had been stripped for fuel. Glacier Point stands 3,200 feet above the valley floor.

the shot

Rowell was driving through Yosemite Valley that February evening when he spotted the light on Horsetail Fall. With a ranger in his passenger seat he broke the speed limit racing to the El Capitan picnic area, jumped a signed fence with his 300mm lens, and called back for his tripod. The ranger passed it over. His photograph — Last Light on Horsetail Fall — introduced the phenomenon to the wider world. Horsetail Fall tumbles 1,570 ft down the east face of El Capitan. Three things must align: enough snowmelt to keep the fall flowing, a clear western sky at sunset, and the sun at the precise low angle it reaches only in mid-February. In October the sun hits the same angle — but the fall has long since dried up.

Horsetail Fall at sunset — ephemeral, February only

The "Firefall" pizza, however, can be enjoyed all season long at Curry Village.

Dinesh, who is not usually a foodie

I am now craving pizza.

Firefall pizza, Curry Village Pizza Deck

May 7th is a new moon. The valley would be truly dark — the kind of dark that makes the Milky Way feel close enough to reach.

new moon · galactic core

May 7 was a new moon — the darkest night of the month. At 1am, the Milky Way's galactic core (Sagittarius) had just cleared the southeastern horizon, 15–20° up. From Cook's Meadow, Half Dome sits due east; the arch was rising directly behind it. The 28mm Elmarit at roughly 25 seconds held the field without trailing.

What I hadn't fully reckoned with is the valley itself. Yosemite runs east-west, and the galactic center, still low on the horizon in May, needs a clear southern view. The granite walls are magnificent companions, but they are not generous with the sky.

I gave it the college try. With the Leica and a tripod and a great deal of patience, I waited. What I got was Half Dome holding still while the universe wheeled slowly overhead. Not quite the shot I'd imagined. Almost better.

Preston & Phyllis Maring

And to see the universe above Half Dome.

Half Dome, 1am — Leica M11, Elmarit 28mm · Cook's Meadow

You went to Yosemite again? Yes I did. These pictures of the valley have been taken over 16 years. January, February, May, June, and November. The last two were taken 14 years apart to the day. It all started on a trip in 2009 with the guys.

Mark Cook · was there

Brought back memories of our trip together.

January 2009 — Yosemite, over sixteen years — tap any frame to open

May 2009 — Yosemite, over sixteen years — tap any frame to open

There is no place like this on earth, and no "possession" that should be dearer to all Americans.

A letter from Madhav

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