Play: A virtual jaunt to Yosemite brings the granite splendors home to your laptop.
DISCOVER SURPRISING SIGHTS AND SOUNDS WHEN YOU
Yosemite National Park is shuttered right now, its granite splendors sheltered in place, just like we are. But we can dream …
If we were there right now, we’d be hiking the trails, gazing at waterfalls and marveling at close-up encounters with wildlife — perhaps a bit too close up. Rangers, including wildlife biologist Katie Patrick, have reported that the park’s black bear population has been thoroughly enjoying the now-unpopulated Yosemite Valley.
“The bears are just literally walking down the road to get to where they need to go,” Patrick said during a 30-minute Facebook Live event last month. “For the most part, I think they’re having a party.”
So as we hunker down at home, getting our wilderness thrills vicariously via webcams, we’re keeping our eyes open for bear sightings, as well as those waterfalls.
Those webcams, which are trained on the spectacular Yosemite Falls, El Capitan, Half Dome and other sights, are livestreamed at Yosemite.org — and it’s fun to take a very quick peek to see what’s happening in real time. The answer: Craggy granite grandeur with the occasional creature cameo and the mesmerizing flow of 2,425-foot Yosemite Falls.
What’s mind-blowing, though, are the archived, time-lapse feeds at Halfdome.net, which include Badger Pass, Inspiration Point, Ahwahnee Meadow, Sentinel Dome and Yosemite Falls. You can see an entire time-lapsed day — specifically yesterday — in less than a minute. And the video is so full of surprises, we must have watched each one 10 times.
For one thing, Yosemite Falls moves. The water flows down, of course, but it also moves back and forth in great splashy cascades, as if the granite gods were waving a fire hose. Hop over to the “yearly movies” tab and you can see an entire year play out in a series of 365 second-long flashes. Yosemite Falls gains an icy lace edging in winter and snow dusts the trees, then melts away as spring turns the cataract into a gushing twisting torrent.
What looks like a flaming comet arcs over the night sky on the Badger Pass livestream — it’s the moon moving across the revolving starscape, the stars spinning out
of sight as the planet turns. And that obliterating ball of fire? That’s the sun.
Full of questions — why is the waterfall doing that? — we happen upon Yosemite Nature Notes, a series of 33 video podcasts produced by the National Park Service, that bring in park rangers and scientists of all sorts to discuss the park’s plants, animals and iconic landscapes in six- to 10-minute sessions.
Remember Dug, the lovable but constantly distracted dog in Pixar’s “Up”? That’s us. Except instead of squirrels distracting us, it’s podcasts about soundscapes (episode 29), night skies (19), grizzly bears (30) and moonbows (15).
We forget all about cascade queries as we plunge into the musings of ranger Karen O’hearn and bioacoustician Bernie Krause. Over the course of six minutes and 37 seconds, they roam the park and talk about the sounds of Yosemite, from the park’s geophony, the non-biological sounds made by water and wind, to its biophony (bird songs and frog ribbits) and
anthropophony (human sounds).
Our vocabularies are growing by leaps and bounds. So is our sense of wonder.
Krause, who has studied sound for decades, says he discovers something new every time he goes into the field to listen and record. “It’s all magical and informative and engaging and life-affirming, this awareness of our connection to the living world,” he says during the podcast.
By the time we find episode 2 — Yosemite Falls — we’ve nearly forgotten our question. Viewing the turbulent mists and great clouds of vapor that surround the waterfall from a perspective this close makes us realize this is like the revolving starscape. It’s not what the stars are doing, it’s how we’re looking at it.
“It’s not often,” geologist Greg Stock says on the podcast, “that you have a river free-falling through the air.”
Yosemite Falls isn’t just the cascade, it’s Yosemite Creek — suddenly rounding a bend and finding only sky.