Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historical Park

Posted on November 10, 2022 by admin

Today was probably the last warm day of the year. For the next week and then some, at least, the chill will be on. Lunch and dinner were on our deck.

On the morning of October 15, a warm, clear Saturday in Atlanta, I got up early (for me) and walked from my short-term rental apartment in the Mechanicsville neighborhood to Garnett Station (on Marta’s Red and Gold Lines), mostly via Windsor Street, which was quiet and largely devoid of people.

From the station, I took the train to Peachtree Center, after which I spent time in Centennial Olympic Park.

The CNN Center is adjacent to the park, so I went there for a look too. Also, to find a bathroom, since the management of Centennial Olympic Park, in a gesture I take as hostile to the public at large, hasn’t bothered to re-open the park’s public bathrooms that closed during the pandemic emergency.

CNN employees can ride that tall escalator through a model Earth.

Soon after, I went to catch a streetcar — called a tram on the maps — which stops just outside the park. But I had a little time before the next arrival, so I looked around. In the vicinity of the park, you can see this building, whose name or address I didn’t bother with. Its Pac-Man-ish features, which appear to be the profile of a bold bird, move.

Then it changes its pattern, and they move some more.

The Ferris wheel Skyview Atlanta, another feature of that part of downtown, wasn’t moving yet.

After a short ride, I arrived at the streetcar stop near the Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historical Park and Preservation District.

I have the MLK park service publication in front of me. Don’t let anyone tell you that QR codes are better, NPS. The paper pamphlet unfolds in a way a smart phone image cannot, and it allows things to jump out at you in a way they can’t.

As soon as I unfolded it completely, the beginning of a sentence jumped out at me.

“In the twelve or so years that Martin Luther King, Jr. led the American Civil Rights Movement…”

Twelve years. Making Martin Luther King Jr. a bright meteor in American history, an illumination of the better angels of our nature, that’s over and done all too soon. Except that his legacy, his ethical bequest to the nation and the world, is hardly over and done.

The park captures the geography of Dr. King’s early life: a line from his birthplace and boyhood home on Auburn Avenue to his church — the church of his father and grandfather — also on Auburn, only blocks away.

When the King family led Ebenezer Baptist Church, it met here, a building now known as Historic Ebenezer Baptist Church, Heritage Sanctuary. It was completed in the 1920s and restored in recent years to look like it did in the 1960s.

Not open. Some kind of maintenance going on, I think. I’d liked to have seen the inside.

This is the Horizon Sanctuary, a 1999 structure, where the church gathers now.

It isn’t part of the park, but on its border, next to the main visitor center and museum devoted to Dr. King and his times. The church isn’t a relic of the past either, its congregation robust these days. Its pastor, Sen. Raphael Warnock, is in the thick of trying to win a full term in the U.S. Senate.

Close to the historic church and also on Auburn, Dr. and Mrs. King repose in a tomb perched on a circular island, the focus of a deep blue reflecting pool running the length of a brick plaza. Promenade might be a better way to put it, considering that people were strolling the length of it.

An eternal flame on the grounds.

I spent some time in the museum. A fair amount to read and view, but the most poignant artifact was the wagon that carried his coffin.

Outside the museum, there’s a garden with a mouthful of a name: The Martin Luther King, Jr. “I Have A Dream” World Peace Rose Garden.

Also on Auburn, his birth house.

It’s on the left. On the right is a book store and the museum shop. Tours of the birth house were already booked for the day.

“Auburn Avenue was the commercial, cultural, and spiritual center of African American life in Atlanta prior to the civil rights movement,” says the New Georgia Encyclopedia. ” ‘Sweet Auburn’ boasted a concentration of Black-owned businesses, entertainment venues, and churches that was unrivaled elsewhere in the South.”

The street had been renamed Auburn in 1893; originally it had been Wheat Street.

“During the next two decades, as restrictive Jim Crow legislation was codified into law, the city’s African American population became confined to the area between downtown and Atlanta University and to neighborhoods on the city’s east side, known today as the Old Fourth Ward,” the encyclopedia notes.

“It was during this period that Auburn Avenue first achieved prominence as a commercial corridor and became home to the city’s emerging Black middle class.

“Ironically, Auburn’s civic activism led to its undoing. As the NAACP and local voting-rights organizations, from their Sweet Auburn offices, lobbied state and local governments for an end to segregation, and as native son Martin Luther King Jr… led the crusade for civil rights before a national audience, the street began its steep decline. With the legal barriers to integration removed, many Auburn shopkeepers moved their businesses to other areas of the city, and residents began migrating to Atlanta’s west side.”

Historic No. 6 Fire Station, which is part of the park.

The NPS says: Built in 1894 in Romanesque Revival style, the fire station stood guard over the city for nearly 100 years. In the 1960s, it became one of Atlanta’s first racially integrated firehouses. It closed in 1991.

So before the ’60s, Atlanta firehouses were segregated. How nuts is that?

Besides sites associated with Dr. King, Auburn still features some shotgun houses, which mostly aren’t part of the park.

Plus some larger houses. This one is home to the Historic District Development Corp.

Eventually, I wandered beyond Auburn to a parallel street, Edgewood Avenue. It’s an active commercial street in our time, with various establishments.

Plus murals.

I had a late lunch of breakfast food at Thumbs Up, a diner. Its outside wall.

Eggs and pancakes, done up right. Worth the half-hour wait sitting outside.

Centennial Olympic Park, Atlanta

Posted on November 9, 2022 by admin

Remarkably, the election seems to have been anticlimactic. So far, anyway. Probably the best outcome to be hoped for, two sumo wrestlers huffing noisily to a draw. I did my little part, voting about two hours before the polls closed, because it had been a busy day at work, and every time I considered voting early during the last few weeks, I thought, nah.

Even more remarkably, we had lunch on the deck today. This evening at about 8, I sat out there in a light jacket under the waning moon and Jupiter high in the sky, and comfortably drank tea and ate a banana-flavored Choco Pie.

For anyone who’s interested, the International Olympic Committee created a report called “Over 125 years of Olympic venues: post-Games Use.” I can’t speak to the organization’s exact motives in producing such a document, but it seems to be a way to assert that most host cities weren’t stuck with too many white elephants after the Games.

Maybe so. The report notes that of the permanent venues used in both Summer and Winter Games from 1896 to 2018 — there were 817 all together — 85 percent are still in use. Many of those, if not most, already existed when the Games came to town, however.

Those 15 percent of unused venues are what tend to get attention. Or rather, a fraction of them.

“Of the 15 per cent of permanent venues not in use (124 venues), the majority (88 venues) were unbuilt or demolished for a variety of reasons,” the report says, using that charming British style for spelling out % and unbuilt as a verb.

“Some had reached the end of their life, some were destroyed during war periods or in accidents, while others were replaced by new urban development projects or were removed for lack of a business model. The remaining venues not in use are closed or abandoned (36 venues).”

Those last ones would be fodder for urban explorers and editorialists who want to discuss the deleterious impact of the Games on urban spaces. Tellingly, the report notes that Los Angeles isn’t going to build any new venues for ’28.

“The ‘radical reuse’ concept also applies to the training facilities and the Athletes’ Village,” it says.

Guess the IOC is going to have to live with the fact that cities are now hesitant to build spiffy new facilities that mostly benefit the IOC.

Here are photos of some of those abandoned sites. The ones that surprise me are the abandoned swimming pool and amphitheater from the ’36 Games. Sure, those were the Nazi Olympics, but the main stadium has been maintained by a more benevolent German government, why not the pool?

I took a look at that stadium — Olympiastadion — during a walkabout in West Berlin in 1983. That’s only one of two former Olympic sites that I can remember visiting. The other was a facility for the 1976 Montreal Games, the Centre Aquatique, where we went swimming in 2002.

I had these places in mind when I strolled through Centennial Olympic Park in downtown Atlanta. Its origins are on display.

The 21-acre park actually isn’t listed in the IOC report, because no sporting activity took place there. Rather, it was intended to be a gathering spot for visitors and spectators, and then a city park once the Games were over, and so it is. A pleasant place to wander on a warm weekend morning.

The park includes green space.

Water features and plazas.

Some structures left over from ’96.

Sculpture from that same year.

“Tribute” by Greek artist Peter Calaboyias, depicting (right to left) an ancient Olympic athlete, a participant in the first modern Games in Athens in 1896, and an Atlanta Games participant.

Poor old Richard Jewell has a memorial too.

Dedicated only in 2021. About time, I’d say.

The Georgia State Capitol

Posted on November 8, 2022 by admin

It’s been a good year for visiting U.S. capitols. Four all together: Utah, Nevada, California and most recently, Georgia. I believe that makes about 40 exteriors over the years, about 30 of which I’ve ventured inside, and not counting two provincial parliaments in Canada. Not sure about a few of those, because memory is an uncertain thing.

The Georgia State Capitol is in the thick of downtown. It has an impressive dome.

The painted copper statue that looks so small from the ground is known as Miss Freedom, dating from 1889, only a year after the capitol was completed. It’s about 26 feet tall, weighs over 1600 lbs. and is wearing a Phrygian cap, a detail one has to read about to know.

Fittingly, gold leaf from near Dahlonega, Georgia, adorns the dome. One of these days, I need to visit that place, to take in the historic mint. I’d toyed with the idea this time, but stuck around Atlanta instead during the day or so after the conference. The capitol was the first place I went when I had some free time.

The legislature isn’t in session now, and besides, a capitol is an office building — and a lot of people don’t work as much as they used to in offices. So the place was practically deserted. I wandered around the quiet marble halls, a design by Willoughby J. Edbrooke and Franklin Pierce Burnham of Chicago, no less.

The rotunda. Plain, but still worth a look.

The chambers. Closed, but with nice big windows to peer through.

The capitol also has a museum aspect to it, as many capitols do. Including something I’d never seen before in any capitol. Or anywhere that I can remember. A two-headed calf.

The unfortunate beast was born in Palmetto, Georgia in 1987, a nearby sign said. Other curiosities were on display at the capitol, too, but none quite so curious.

Or maybe this is.

It took me moment to realize it was Jimmy Carter, as governor. That isn’t quite the face the nation outside Georgia got to know in the late ’70s. Also, it’s odd that there’s no mention that Gov. Carter went on to, you know, some other office. Even the California capitol acknowledged that Ronald Reagan was more than governor for a spell.

Besides Jimmy, there’s a decided mix of other historic personages on display, some too famous to need naming. A chronological posting:

Interesting, but I was more delighted to find Button Gwinnett. Not only has this been a year for visiting capitols, but for Button sites too.

“Brief but brilliant was the career of Button Gwinnett, Revolutionary Patriot,” the bust says, emphasis on brief.

Guess I need to visit the Button Gwinnett House someday, to really be a complete Button tourist. Or was it really his house?

Buckhead From on High

Posted on November 7, 2022 by admin

Two days after I returned from the West last month, I went to Atlanta for a work conference for most of week. Atlanta and I go back a ways; I first went there by bus in ’82, but also later. Still, my most recent visit was in 1999, so it’s been a while.

This time, there was work to do, of course, and events to attend, and I got to spend time with colleagues I hadn’t seen in a number of years, or ever, except for Zoom. That was good.

I also had a few excellent meals not at my expense, especially one at The Consulate, a restaurant in Midtown that rates its own Atlas Obscura page.

I stayed in an upper floor of the conference hotel in Buckhead, which is like a second downtown for Atlanta, something like the Galleria district in Houston. I enjoyed some good views from the room.

Including much of the rooftop of a major regional mall. Not something you see every day.

Sure, the property’s mechanicals need to be up there. But isn’t there also the opportunity to use at least part of the roof for games that might attract hipsters and their always at-hand cameras — to promote the mall on social media — such as ax throwing, bocce and shuffleboard?

Golden West Nuggets

Posted on November 3, 2022 by admin

This is the kind of detail that keeps the built environment interesting. A visible part of an alarm system of some earlier vintage, operable or not.

To be found in Placerville, California. You can also take a look at a small tower of some vintage in that town.

Placerville’s old bell tower. For use in the pre-electronic communication days, with a ring meaning something’s going on, come quick.

Wish I’d been hungry in Placerville, but no.

Some miles away, a Coloma plaque. I’m a fairly regular reader of plaques.

Another. I could post nothing but plaques, but that would be more granular than I want to be.

It’s a good-looking part of California anyway.

With recreational opportunities.

Mark Twain on Lake Tahoe (from Roughing It): “At last Lake Tahoe burst upon us, a noble sheet of blue water lifted some 6,000 feet above the level of the sea, and walled in by a rim of snow-clad mountain peaks that towered aloft a full 3,000 feet higher still.

“As it lay there with the shadows of the mountains, brilliantly photographed upon its surface, I thought it must surely be the fairest picture the whole earth affords.”

Enjoyable vistas for sure. It was good to see other people there.

I had breakfast my first morning in Reno at a restaurant for old people — except that’s me now, isn’t it? But on a weekday mid-morning, I was one of the younger patrons. Decent food, though a touch expensive (a contagion from California, no doubt, plus the inflation du jour).

After I finished, I went out to leave, but noticed a sign I had to see, not far away. I took a closer look.

Not in the market, but someone must be. If that isn’t local color, I don’t know what is.

When serendipity is with you on the road, that kind of sighting leads to others. That’s what happened that morning in Reno. This was nearby the wedding chapel.

“Bee Dance” by Andrea Greenlees (2019), according to its sign, which also said it was created at Burning Man that year.

On the next block — all this was on West Fourth Street in Reno — was a closed off place called Glow Plaza, an outdoor event space that only opened this year. Well, open for concerts on the weekends. It wasn’t open for me to look around, though there was some construction going on at an adjacent site (probably new apartments), so maybe that restriction was just temporary.

Anyway, I got a look from the sidewalk. New-looking sculptures.

Including vintage Reno neon, or maybe close-replica homages.

Speaking of apartments, this property in downtown Reno has the look of a 2010s adaptive reuse. I checked, and it is. It used to be a motel. The loss of an SRO property? Maybe, but I didn’t know there was much of that left.

Now it’s an “upscale micro-unit living facility,” to borrow a phrase from Northern Nevada Business Weekly. I checked again, and its rents range from $1,100 to $1,700 (the low end of the range is for about 250 square feet).

Could have done an entire posting of name plates on vintage cars at the National Automobile Museum. The familiar and the less familiar.

That last one’s an attention-getter. You can find it on a Krit Motor Car Co. auto, made years before jackbooted lowlifes shanghaied the symbol.

The Battle Born Memorial in Carson City, dedicated to fallen soldiers from Nevada.

At first I thought, iron? True, iron is at the heart of modern war. But as soon as I was inside, and looked up, I realized how fitting the material is. A remarkable memorial.

Especially when you gaze up at it.

The names of the fallen are inscribed there.

Eight hundred and ninety-five names, I understand. Punch Architecture did the design, which was completed in 2018.

Later I looked up Battle Born. I didn’t know that was a nickname for Nevada. Everyone’s heard Silver State, but not Battle Born State. I puzzled on that a while, but eventually realized that when Nevada entered the union (1864; Lincoln needed another two Senators), it joined the fight, as a state, to keep that union together.

A much smaller metal-work, underfoot in Carson City. Good to know I’ve been on the Kit Carson Trail.

Underfoot in Reno.

On the road to Virginia City.

The drive out from Virginia City to I-580 is along Nevada 341, and it’s a winding drop of a drive through arid landforms. This snip from Google maps illustrates the winding-est part of the road, called Geiger Grade Road at that point. The entire drop is from more than 6,100 feet above sea level at Virginia City to Reno’s 4,500 feet.

Light traffic on a sunny weekday afternoon. A fine drive if you’re paying attention. Almost car commercial driving.

This instead of a real map.

No, California. Don’t do this. It’s false economy. I don’t know how, I just know that it is.

I figured out my way around without a gizmo map. I even found a spot a few hundred yards from a parking lot, and a little off a nearby trail, where I could sit in the sun for a few minutes, and listen to only faint sounds. Almost as quiet as Joshua Tree or Big Bend NPs.

The Hotel Charlotte in Groveland, California. Now a hundred years old, it’s the kind of place that gives you a brass key, and lets you know there’s a fee for replacing it. Basic and comfortable, though the most expensive place I stayed on this trip; you’re really paying for near access to Yosemite NP.

Main Street in Groveland (California 120), just after dawn.

A few more images. Such as in Sacramento.

I had to look up lumpia: spring rolls found in the Philippines and Indonesia. And northern California, it seems. Too bad I wasn’t hungry. Also, it was closed. Not long after, I saw a Balinese restaurant in Old Sacramento. Still wasn’t hungry. Damn.

I was driving to the last place I was going to stay in Sacramento on the late afternoon of October 7, and I got a little turned around, wandering some neighborhood streets before the inevitable moment when I pulled over to consult Google Maps.

I chanced on this place.

What a garden it is.

An extravaganza of roses.

Go in the garden and ask the rose its meaning.

Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament, Sacramento

Posted on November 2, 2022 by admin

Urban churches are often locked when no service is imminent, but on the other hand, sometimes a side or rear door is open, while the main doors won’t budge. That was the case at the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament in Sacramento.

A fuller view. The nicely written Wiki entry is worth quoting a bit:

“Among the first of thousands to seek his fortune in the Sacramento region during the California Gold Rush, Patrick Manogue had aspirations that differed from many of his fellow fortune seekers. His goal was to earn enough money to finance a trip to Paris, where he planned to enroll in seminary college and become a Roman Catholic priest.”

So he did, eventually becoming Sacramento’s first Catholic bishop in 1886.

“Inspired by churches he’d seen in European plazas, Manogue worked to secure property just one block away from the State Capitol, with a dream of building a cathedral in Sacramento. Manogue modeled the cathedral after L’Eglise de la Sainte-Trinite (The Church of the Holy Trinity) in Paris.”

The building, design attributed to Bryan J. Klinch, a San Francisco architect of Irish birth, was dedicated in 1889.

“Traditionally, cathedrals are built with the main altar on the east end, to reflect ‘Jesus coming like the rising sun in the east,’ ” the cathedral web site says. “While the exterior of the cathedral is Italian Renaissance, the interior was fashioned after the Victorian style of the day. Much of the decor was painted in a style called trompe l’oeil….”

Above the altar hangs a 13-foot crucifix with a crown overhead that is 14 feet in diameter, with a combined weight of almost a ton. They are held up by aircraft cables.

Side chapel art.

A little detail.

Gets right to the point, doesn’t it?

Capitol Mall & Old Sacramento Stroll

Posted on November 1, 2022 by admin

One place to go from the California state capitol is down Capitol Mall, a boulevard that generally heads west-northwest from that building to the Sacramento River three-quarters of a mile or so away.

The view down the Mall from the capitol.

The yellow-gold structure in the distance is Tower Bridge, which I decided was my destination that afternoon, on my last full day in California. The day was very warm, but I had a hat (acquired at Joshua Tree NP) and a bottle of water.

U.S. Bank Tower (621 Capitol Mall), an HOK glasswork, rises 25 stories over the street, making it the second-tallest building in the city.

I liked the blue tones of Bank of the West Tower, 500 Capitol Mall, designed by E.M. Kado and started construction in 2007, just ahead of the panic.

There are bears in front.

Another excellent styling, I thought: Emerald Tower, 300 Capitol Mall, an ’80s building designed by DMJM (pronounced Dim-Jim). It was a go-go decade for office development, after all, and this was one of the fruits of that era.

Soon the Tower Bridge was well within view, near One Capitol Mall.

An excellent bridge.

Built in the 1930s, the distinctive golden color is actually much newer than that: 2002.

I wanted to walk across it — walk across bridges when you can — and so I did, even though as a vertical lift bridge, there was a chance I’d be stuck on the other side for a while. But I made it across and back without the lifting-bridge alarm bells sounding, and I even got a view of Old Sacramento on the riverfront.

In full, Old Sacramento State Historic Park. It’s a renovated tourist district these days, with restaurants, shops and a few museums, but of course it was a working riverfront in the 19th century. Actually, I suppose it’s merely doing a different kind of work in our time.

Not to forget the good ship Delta King, built in 1927 and docked at Old Sacramento.

Except it isn’t really a ship anymore, but a floating hotel with restaurants and a theater. Popular as a wedding venue, too.

Delta King used to ply the Sacramento River to San Francisco and back as a passenger ferry. After its days as a ferry were over, it suffered the usual period of neglect and shifting ownership, but was renovated closer to our time. It’s a remarkable story.

The California State Capitol

Posted on October 31, 2022 by admin

Halloween looked the part this afternoon: cool and misty, almost clammy. By dark, 22 kids had come by. Twenty-two in ’22. We gave away full-sized candy bars.

This isn’t the California State Capitol.

Such is the zeitgeist that someone, somewhere could claim that it is, and that nefarious persons — lizard people, even — are up to no good inside, and it would have some chance of being believed, at least by a fraction of the population.

I won’t be that person. That’s the Golden 1 Center. It happens to be in Sacramento too, and I happened to see it. I will say that it has some interesting detail.

Design by AECOM and Mark Dziewulski Architect, the arena was completed only in 2016 and is home of the Sacramento Kings, a team originally formed 99 years ago as the Rochester Seagrams. The development of Golden 1 Center was a “long-running and convoluted… drama,” according to the Sacramento Bee.

Anyway, this is the state capitol of California. It has interesting detail of its own.

San Francisco architect Reuben S. Clark, clearly inspired by the U.S. Capitol, designed the building, which was constructed between 1861 and ’74. Sacramento had been state capital since 1854, apparently picked as a midway point between where the action was in early U.S. California, namely the Sierra Nevada gold fields to the east and the port of San Francisco to the west.

The building is currently undergoing renovation. The park behind the capitol, which takes up many whole city blocks, was entirely closed off by a temporary wall (ah, that’s where the lizard people are scheming).

Too bad. I hear it’s quite a park. But Lilly and I could get into the capitol itself, via a temporary covered walkway through a construction site, and through metal detectors.

If there’s a rotunda, the thing to do is look up at it.

State capitols tend to feature portraits of governors, and California is no different. Some are more recognizable than others, though I imagine even Arnold’s fame will fade over the coming decades.

On the other hand, Minerva isn’t likely to fade from her fame among classicists, eccentrics and a few schoolchildren.

Minerva and not Athena because the signs with this depiction of state seal (mounted in the capitol) called her Minerva, and besides, Athena has been associated with another place for thousands of years.

A few other details about the seal. The bear is a California grizzly which, despite being important to California symbolism, was hunted to extinction. There are 31 stars, the state being the 31st to join the union. A miner toils for gold, and ships connect California to the rest of the world in the early days.

Why Minerva? She was born fully an adult from Jupiter’s brow. As for California, it was born fully a state, skipping territorial status.

Fall Colors

Posted on October 30, 2022 by admin

Alternating warm and cold, with intervals of cool, here in northern Illinois since I returned in mid-October. About what you’d expect. Less expected has been the fact that most of the warmth has been concentrated on the weekends — especially last weekend, October 22nd and 23rd, but also yesterday and today.

Our coloration is past peak, but there is still color. Today —

Seasonal decoration in our neighborhood, both simple and complicated.

Our last garden harvest this year.

Other colors.

Not specific to the fall, but the pictured spot, some miles from where I live and entirely visible to the public, is still colorful in the fall.

Yosemite National Park

Posted on October 27, 2022 by admin

This kind of national park review ends up on humorous lists: “Trees block views and too many grey rocks.” So we can chuckle at the philistines. Ha, ha.

Today I spent some time with Yelp one-star reviews of Yosemite National Park, and while I’m sure somebody actually posted the above as a genuine review (philistines are out there), that’s not what most of the one-star reviews were about. Rather, people were bitching about the management of the park, and specifically admissions and backcountry permitting.

Nothing untoward happened to us during our early October visit to Yosemite because of entrance snafus. But many — most? — of the one-star complaints have a ring of truth to them. Yosemite began requiring timed entry last year and did so this year (but not after September 30), and to be charitable, it sounds like there are still a few bugs in the system, plus genuine issues with rude or indifferent customer service. The permit system to climb insanely high rocks seemed poorly run too.

We call all mock government incompetence, can’t we? Or is it hard to run a major national park when it’s starved for funding?

When you arrive at the park — and get in effortlessly — all such questions melt away. Lilly and I arrived on the morning of October 6, 2022, at the Arch Rock Entrance and from there drove the winding two-lane road to the valley.

In the Yosemite Valley, it doesn’t take long to get to grandeur.

On the line separating the grass and the trees in this image, far to the right, are cars barely distinguishable as such. That’s where we parked. Grandeur wasn’t very far from there, either.

The path across the field, away from the parking lot, offered some more stunners.

After crossing one of the valley’s twin roads (one goes each way), we headed for the Lower Yosemite Fall.

Big rocks make smaller ones.

The fall.

The image doesn’t capture it too well, but there was a ribbon of water or two coming down the side of the cliff. Autumn isn’t the season if you want majestic water volume. Spring has been the season for that for millennia, but maybe not as much in recent decades.

Rocks and more rocks. Erosion in action.

Mirror Lake sounded like another good destination, walkable from the valley floor. First, Tenaya Creek.

Along a road used as a walking path.

Just off the path further on — it was by now was a regular footpath — there’s a patch of cairns, if that term applies in America (and why not?). Temporary, human-arranged rock formations. But only a little more temporary than the rock and bolder piles calving from the surrounding cliffs.

Half Dome. Famed in accounts of the people who have climbed, countless photos and a 2005 U.S. quarter dollar. Ansel Adams’ ashes were scattered up there.

If Google Images is to be believed, that’s a slightly unusual angle, but only slightly. I saw the feature from a few other places, and its granite heft never disappointed.

Mirror Lake, dead ahead.

Dry.

The park shuttle bus had taken us from Yosemite Village to the trailhead for Mirror Lake. We returned to the trailhead and took the bus back to Yosemite Village, which really is a village with a small population (about 330), a school, clinic and post office, but also a complex of hotel rooms and museums and NPS service buildings, including park HQ.

Those buildings were the only places in the Valley that day that sported genuine crowds. Other trails and sights were well populated, but not to the point of distraction.

A handful of people, about 60, repose in Yosemite Cemetery, which is on the edge of the complex but has been a cemetery longer (since the 1870s) than any of the buildings in the village have been around.

“Some of those laid to rest here are well-known figures in the history of the park,” says the NPS. “Some spent their entire lives in Yosemite and are now almost forgotten. Others were visitors about whom very little was known, even at their time of their deaths. There are people who died here while on vacation, early settlers and homesteaders, old timers and infants, hotel proprietors and common laborers…”

One resident is James Hutchings (d. 1902), businessman, Yosemite settler and publisher of Hutchings’ Illustrated California Magazine, which put the Yosemite Valley on the map, at least in the minds of 19th-century Americans. And that’s not all.

“James Mason Hutchings, the first to organize a tourist party to visit Yosemite in 1855. Hutchings unknowingly made an enormous contribution by hiring John Muir to work at his sawmill in 1869,” the NPS notes.

Sadie Schaeffer, drowned in the rapids in July 1900, it looks like.

A.B. Glasscock, died 1897, aged 53.

Albert May, died 1881, aged 51.

Walk on. By this time, the valley is catching afternoon light.

Yes indeed, we got a different view of Half Dome.

Dry now, but it does get really wet around here. At least it did in 1997.

Late in the afternoon, we left by way of a roadside view of El Capitan. The road to the closest grove of the park’s giant trees had been closed, so big trees will have to wait in case I ever return. But I wasn’t going to miss the mass of El Capitan. The boss rock.

Not far from the road.

Further back. I walked about a quarter-mile and El Capitan still dominated the view.

Closer.

It’s virtually impossible to see them in the image, but there were climbers on the face of El Capitan. I watched for a few minutes, and they seemed to be on their way down. Bet that’s a good idea in the afternoon. Except, no. There are nighttime climbers.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Category Archives: Been There