Bridal Veil

Bridalveil Creek Camp, in the Forest Service's own words, is one of Yosemite's best kept secrets.  Being open just three months each year keeps it relatively little used and on few people's agendas. This is the great good fortune for the lucky ones who venture to the site. 

Bridalveil Fall

My own recommendation is that one should plan to arrive in the a.m. and remain until at least the following noon.  Bring along your 18-55 zoom and a 250 telephoto, too.

El Capitan

Why?  A very short walk north brings one to the Bridalveil Fall overlook.  From there you are facing Yosemite Falls and El Capitan across the valley. Below is the Merced River winding past Curry Village. 

Half Dome

Northward, you see the entire Yosemite valley past Half Dome to Tuolumne Meadows in the hazy distance.  The Fire Fall is nearby on your right. Vernal and Nevada Falls decorate the farther right. It is the view that locked John Muir's heart.  Nothing on Earth can cap it.

The camp itself, at least when I was lucky enough to be there, was definitely primitive.  There was a water faucet, a campfire circle, and, um, uh, and a couple of small signs.  Oh, yes, there was a trash can with a lid.  The lid was chained to the can, and the can was chained to a stake anchored in concrete. That should have been enough to warn visitors about the caveat: Protect your food.

I noticed that the few other campers had lashed bags of what looked like food to overhanging branches that were at least eight feet above open ground.  Deer, I thought. 

I should have done a bit more thinking. 

              

I took my sandwiches out of my plastic cooler, tied it to a bag, which I tied to a clothesline, which I flung over a very high branch.  Deer can't leap twelve feet, I thought.

              

Merced River

After spending the entire day along the rim, clicking at the fairy story falls, shooting across the valley, turning to photograph into deep woods up stream, catching the wondrous shifting of cloud formations, trying to snap birds, chipmunks, jays, and wishing I had a recorder, while missing two meals, I finally realized that it was dark.  I needed to eat.

              

A family was spending the early evening at the campfire. They invited me to share thier marshmallows.  I told them what I'd been doing, and they decided to remain until the next afternoon.

I crawled into my sleeping bag around nine, promptly sleeping deeply.  Sometime in the night I became conscious of a clanking. There was no moon, but the clear, starry sky allowed me to make out moving shadows beyond the campfire circle.   A bear was pulling a trash can over.

He was clawing at the secured lid. In moments he had it off.  He promptly stuck his head deep inside. Then his head reappeared.  Apparently, he was too late. The Forest Service had already cleaned out the can. 

              

The bear clawed at the can now resting on its side. He stuck his head inside again.  Shortly, he backed out again. He glared at the can some more, his head swaying.  He turned to walk away, but suddenly whirled and gave the can a resounding whack.  The can bounced the foot or two to the end of its chain tether, clanging loudly. The bear glared still.

              

A second time the bear walked off a few paces, then spun once more, and whacked the can so hard it bounced crazily, losing much of its earlier roundness.  Apparently finally satisfied that he had taught the Forest Service and the can a lesson, he lumbered away.

              

In the morning, I was awakened by some rather colorful language. A male voice was unhappy.  Peering out from my bag, I saw my marshmallow host standing by a branch dangling from a tree.  A piece of string and the remains of a plastic bag rested at the end of the broken branch.

                

A deer must have leaped higher than the man thought he could.  It didn't take rocket science to see that the eight feet was not enough.

              

Mr. “Marshmallow's” wife peered out from their tent.  “Honey,” she said.

              

“I don't want to hear it,” he snapped.