Images along the Tioga Road in Yosemite National Park – Northern California, taken in July 2018.

Heading over the Tioga Road through a granite domed area of Yosemite National Park to the north of Yosemite Valley I was on my way to visit Devils Postpile National Monument on the east side of the Sierra mountain range. I had hoped for better but the smoke was still pretty thick and by the time I got to Olmsted Point all I could see were shadowy outlines of massive mountains and granite domes. I remember thinking, ‘that must be an amazing view’ and a wave of sadness came over me. Not today.

After my visit to the national monument I encountered a rainstorm that followed me north to the beginning of the Tioga Road at the entrance to Yosemite Park. As the rain stopped I now had clear views of some of the sites I missed on the way up here earlier in the day. The Tuolumne Meadows and the magnificent granite domes and rugged mountains to the west were now visible and a valid subject to be photographed. Blue patches through the clouds actually started to appear as I arrived at the banks of Tenaya Lake. I got out and shot some pictures and marveled at what I could now see; things that were not there earlier in the day. It was like I was in a completely different place even though it was the very same road I was on just hours before. My enthusiasm was soaring and I was anticipating what else I might be able to see down the road. Knowing that Olmsted Point, one of the most celebrated viewpoints on the Tioga Road, was just around the corner I hopped back in my car and eagerly drove off. It would only be a minute or so before my heart would fall off a cliff steeper than any drop-off in this park. Smoke. Filling the valley in the distance in front of me; the valley that is just north of the Yosemite Valley. As I approached Olmstead Point I could see that there were a handful of people there looking into the valley and probably feeling the same way I was, disappointed. I took a picture of the smoke filled valley and then noticed that the pavement here was dry. It didn’t rain here; it didn’t rain on the west side of the Sierra Range. It rained on me but it did not rain on the Ferguson Fire. I guess I had about an hour or so of hope and happiness. I knew that a short rainstorm wouldn’t be able to put out a 21,000 acre fire but if it could’ve cleared the air for just another 20 miles or so, for just another hour or so, then I could’ve at least seen the entire length of the spectacular Tioga Road. It was not to be and my heart sank again. At a pullout just a few miles down the road I stopped to try to make lemonade out of the lemon I had been given, taking a picture of the shadowy trees partially shrouded in smoke. Rolling down the road deeper into the smoke, I wished I was heading the other way; out of the gloom and into the light. I had that for a short while and it felt great but that feeling already seemed like a distant memory. Smoke, thick grey smoke was all that lay before me.